Thursday

To work already! Get those bulbs in! This is my running mantra this morning. Because really, if not this week, then when...

It's a tiny bit warmer today. I notice that on my walk to the barn.

Still, when you put yourself into slow-down mode, as I did due to Covid, it's very hard to wind up those gears again. I was so active before Covid rebound! I am so slow since that fateful second round! My doc said what I already knew -- this is not long Covid. It may feel long and it may feel Covidish, but this is not the dreaded LC. It's recovery. Covid is out of my system, but the battered respiratory tract hasn't fully healed yet. So, I've been moving at a snail's pace. My worry is that at some point I will have adapted to this crawl, and I will have lost my movement goals, and I will become one of those old people who basically never gets up or out, and has tea delivered to her table because she is too weak (or full of self pity) to get it herself.

Okay, perhaps I exaggerate, but still, the bulbs must go in!

I'll get to it after breakfast. And breakfast takes a long time because I had purchased some persimmon fruits and Ed and I are about to add persimmon trees to our newest orchard, so we study and analyze these fruits to get a feel for what we're getting into.

And now comes the time to bundle up and take out the shovel.

Hours later: I feel proud. All tulips went in (which, unfortunately, is food for all the animals that love my tulips!). All the Spanish bluebells went in. All the allium went in. Half the daffodils went in. Not bad for a someone who lacked motivation just three hours ago!

No time to gloat. Off to pick up the kids!

I have to say, the breaks in my childcare this past month on the one hand were good for the kids, in that they are tickled to be back at the farmhouse. On the other hand, it's as if we have to find that groove once again. On the first two days, I saw that competition flare up (despite the fact that I have forbidden such competition!): who gets to tell a story from the day first, and for how long and with what permissible interruptions. This then slides into who gets to the door first (absolutely no racing -- I say. They race, with the qualification -- it's not a race! I just got here first, that's all!), who washes hands at the kitchen sink before the other, and who feels sadly ignored or slighted. I was wondering how long it would take them to get back into a good rhythm. 

Not long at all. By today's pick-up, they were as calm and content as two doves in a silo nest. (We actually do have two doves living in the silo.)

There will be days where chaos will make a comeback, but it never lasts. These kids are on the same page in wanting to do right by their parents, by me, and therefore, ultimately, by each other.

Evening -- no adjustments needed here. Ed and I slide into our time together as if there were no breaks, no interruptions. With plenty of appreciation for the warm comfort of an evening at home.