The pause is in the weather. It's cold today! True, we get only this one lousy day of rain (yes, more rain) and nippy air, but still, I wish the kids began their vacation season with something other than this. Me -- well, I have my usual indoor work to catch up on, so I don't really mind. That much!
My very early walk to the barn:
(Rorschach question: what do you notice, the new Clematis or the cat? Or the cat crushing my new Clematis?)
('Tis the week of the Tradescantia, which sounds a lot better than referring to it by its common name, Spiderwort.)
Despite the cloudy-with-a-chance-of-rain skies, I do drive over to the farmers market. For the kitchen bouquet, for the carrots, and for a few potted annuals to replace a diseased tub flower.
(on my way!)
I'm not surprised that it's not crowded at all.
(This is one eight of the total market, which wraps itself along the Capitol Square.)
There's lots to buy, if you are in the buying mode, but our fridge is full, from my weekly shopping, from our CSA delivery, and from our Thursday trip to the local market. Nonetheless, I cannot resist these strawberries!
Absolutely stunning! I'll put them out for breakfast.
(And flowers, of course, though I do see that the growers are struggling here: too much rain. Too, the lupines are barely holding it together, peonies are almost done, and the summer blooms haven't yet opened up.)
(Here's an unusual bunch! Poppies!)
After the market, I drive over to Batch Bakehouse. We'll be celebrating Sparrow's 6th birthday today! (His family is out of town on the day of his real birthday.) So we need a cake. He's going for all chocolate. Fine with me, fine with all of us. And while at Batch, I get to pick up some stuff for a very indulgent breakfast.
(And I admire the pies: such an American classic! You do not see pies and brownies so expertly executed in many other countries!)
We do eat on the porch, but I'm back to wearing a hoodie.
Now come the emails, the paper work, and, too, there are the issues surrounding my mother's care.
My mother's care. Skip this paragraph if you want to stay with the upbeat! My mother has spiraled into a cavernous dungeon of unspecific complaints. What exactly does that even mean? Well, to her, everything and prtty much everyone is awful and she is suffering total neglect, mistreated by an uncaring and spiteful staff. Given her history of such messaging, you can't take her at her word. The same accusations have been levied against other places, other caregivers, other people in her life. Nonetheless, as the person who oversees all aspects of her care, I can't ignore her dissatisfaction either. You dont want to learn later that actually, for once, for the first time perhaps, she was sounding proper alarms. So I try to extract specifics, get absolutely nowhere, am lumped once more into the category of no longer miracle daughter. And so I call the staff, which means that they now have a double waste of time -- on her incessant calling for unspecified reasons, and on me, because I need to talk this stuff through with them, ask for details, make sure that they are doing their job and that her harshness -- well, that it's just the usual stuff. Nothing that can be fixed for her, nothing that could possibly be improved upon. And I walk away from all this once again resigned -- knowing that she has a team of compassionate, professional individuals and yet, she has been and will continue to be belligerent and hostile toward these hardworking people. And to me. Because we dont measure up to some imagined standard. As they say -- it is what it is. She is safe. She is cared for. This other layer of drama cannot be wished away, or washed away. It's there. Built over decades. You listen to it, take a deep breath and return to a better space.
My better space is... everywhere and everyone! And today, I'm very focused on Sparrow's celebratory dinner. They all come, of course, and it is lovely.
(the big two lead the way)
(To stave off starvation: predinner snacks. the gold standard? D'Affinois cheese on very long crackers, and olives)
Sparrow is like they all are -- unique and loving. He's a real hugger and his sensitive soul is epic, known far and wide! He gets no pleasure out of mischief. This kid wants to be your friend! Your grandson. Your brother. Your sweet child. Not rough and tumble, not especially turned on by athletics -- he prefers his art projects, his math sums and his dance class.
(Head of the table for the birthday boy)
Happy, happy 6th, Sparrow. And many more!
with so much love...
