Sunday

Gardening reminds you how easy it is to become one of those people who is never satisfied. You run the danger of always wanting some improvement. More rain. More sunshine. Less wind. More predictability. Even more rain. But not that much rain. And so on.

I a little bit fell into that trap when Ed said this morning that our high tech rain measuring device (a bucket in the courtyard) recorded about a quarter of an inch of rain -- and this after a steady drizzle that must have lasted at least eight hours. So much moisture in the air, so little water on the ground! 

Still, it was a comfortable addition to the flower fields. I will likely have to do some watering anyway (there's no more rain in the forecast for the next ten days), but this night shower will have helped many of the plants that I just don't reach with my hose. So, I'm grateful.

But it is cold outside. We actually turned on the heat again, because my new knee does not like the cold! (It's a fussy thing: it also does not like bends and twists, heavy blankets, itchy cloth, steep steps and a sedentary lifestyle. Honestly, keeping it content is a full time job!) We're not getting record lows, but seriously, tonight's 44F (about 6C) feels terribly out of place after the heat of June days thus far.

My morning walk is brisk and with a hoodie zipped up tight.

And our breakfast is in the kitchen of course.

I have a graduation party to attend this morning (yes, I have friends that young: their daughter just finished high school!) and my mind spins back to those years when my girls were just about to take off for college. It's an intense period in your life. Not so much in Poland or countries where most college kids live at home, but certainly here, where one moment your day is mindfully arranged to interface with these half-independent half-home focused offspring, and the next day your slate is wiped clean and the kitchen table is miserably empty and no one is asking to use the car in the evening. 

In this case, the party was with brunch foods and it was a fantastic eating and greeting situation. My friends almost always themselves have good friends and I whiled away my time listening to the delightfully joyful and adventurous plans as laid out by one of the younger members of the gathered group.

And the rain kept drizzling and the bucket in our courtyard remained basically nearly empty.

In the evening the young family is here.

Dinner is in the kitchen of course.

(Afterwards, Snowdrop shows her brother "the cat game" on Ed's computer. Ed, of course, can sleep through anything!)

I wont see the kids much in the next couple of weeks. Summer programs and sitter schedules are such that my usual pick up routines are on hold. I joked with my daughter that I am on vacation, but the reality is that I have to do what every vacationing individual has to do on days off -- I have to catch up. Some of it is related to Covid, of all things. Paperwork related to my mom's care was on hold during the pandemic. It's not on hold anymore. There's lots of it waiting for me. Too, I am still aiming for that purity and minimalism in the farmhouse that requires slashing and burning (don't take me literally here) through stuff that has accumulated, in closets and shelf spaces. So I'll be busy. Reading to Snowdrop suddenly seems more vacation-like than what I have in store!

Nonetheless, on the lighter side of things, Ed and I will take longer walks. I am determined! 

But for the rest of this evening, there is the couch, a chocolate bar, and an iced, elevated leg. Mondays are for launching big projects. Sunday evenings are for exhaling.