Tuesday

How many times have you heard this warning in recent weeks -- you may be done with Covid, but Covid isn't done with you yet? Yeah, me too. And I had another twist to this when I learned that Sparrow's class has again shut down for a week to ten days because of Covid exposure in the class. So even though Sparrow has had Covid, he can't go to school because of Covid exposure. If that makes sense to you then you are a smarter person than I am. I called the school. They will revisit their policy.

Outside, the day is sparkling! I mean, just stunning!

The kind that has "crisp" and "brilliant" written all over its lovely face!

It's bitter cold, of course. My walk to the barn was in readings well below 0F (-18C). But, that's why we have bulky parkas that make us look plump and keep us toasty warm. It's exhilarating to be outside, truly it is.

It's also perfect weather for baking something. I have a ton of frozen rhubarb so a rhubarb coffee cake sounds so very perfect.

For breakfast (and for an afternoon visitor -- my granddaughter -- who just loves coffee rhubarb cake).

I have a bunch of emails to catch up on and I do that, thinking all the while about the graveyard of forgotten aspirations. That's what I call my Inbox, where messages lay dormant because I once intended to pursue them -- maybe read a suggested article or do a clever activity (like practice my French) -- but over time, they moved down, well beyond my eyesight and I forgot about them completely. I could clean it all out, trash that reminder to do X, or read Y, or buy Z, but somehow I cannot. Perhaps one day I will scroll through the emails of my life during the pandemic and take note of all that seemed doable but somehow never got done. Add that to the list of why the pandemic sucks: it pummeled our aspirations and build a wall of excuses for us. Because if I can't go to France, then why bother repeating conjugations of irregular verbs. And if I can't leave the house, then why read about places I could only theoretically explore. Fighting pandemic numbness takes energy. I concentrate on the kids, on Ed, on farmette work. On the occasional ski run or quick skate. After that, I have little left to fight the urge to just chill and watch a mini series with Ed where people shoot and kill each other but there is always that last episode in sight, where everything will resolve itself and the characters will have moved on. Just like someday, we will have moved on beyond the pandemic. Just not yet. Because, you know, it's not done with us yet.

In the afternoon, however, we return to a schedule long forgotten -- where I pick up Snowdrop from school and bring her to the farmhouse. I refuse to go skating today. It's cold and I find it hard to lace up four skate boots with ungloved hands. My fingers freeze right about midway up the second boot. And, too, I'll admit it -- I have to give my knee a rest. The ribs, after being bumped around some, are willing to return to some state of calm, but the knee -- it needs time, so today I give it time.

Snowdrop doesn't mind. It's been a while since she's had an afternoon at the farmhouse.

(It's still in single digits F (so below -12C), but she is certain she does not need a jacket to walk from car to house!)

(Ah, back to our old normal.)

 

 

 

Food, books, games. A tease with Ed.

And in the evening I drive her home, with a special treat: a drive through a car wash! What kid, what grownup doesn't love suds being whipped on the car while you're in the warm safe interior, waiting for the transformative experience of having the car emerge out of the bath squeaky clean and ready for the next set of adventures?

(Here's a fellow who might not like the experience, even as he loves his car games at home.)

Tonight may well bring down the temperatures to their lowest numbers yet. We're ready for it. The house is warm, winter is one third behind us. Aren't we lucky!