joyful weather, continued

As promised, the skies are blue, the temps are rising. It is, in one word, joyful out there!

 

It's thrilling to be alive in this moment, at this time and in this place.

And yes, I even like Daylight Savings Time, though I understand the arguments on the other side.

Speaking of arguments on the other side, they bring me back to politics, but not in the way I've been confronting them in recent weeks. Today, after a delicious breakfast of sweet nothings...

... I glanced through the paper and settled on reading Ezra Klein's opinion piece in the NYTimes. The title tells you a lot about its content: There is a Liberal Answer to the Trump-Musk Wrecking Ball. (And yes, I. gifted it for you so you can read it for free if you want.) It's not a piece I especially stand behind or for that matter disagree with. But I read most of the Readers Picks comments that followed and I must say, I very much liked the discussion the article provoked. So much so that I kept interrupting Ed's work on his machining design to share and discuss points raised in Klein's piece and in the comments section. I spent a good two hours on this -- obviously a luxury only a person without family and work obligations can have. But here's the point -- it's a hugely challenging topic: how to govern in the America we have today. It's clear that we don't have a consensus on how to move forward. Many think our country right now is ungovernable. (In Klein's piece -- that would mean that we are incapable of building a fast speed train in America, in the same way that we cannot provide health care for all.) Many weighed in from other countries (prominently from Europe, also from Japan -- democratic countries where high speed rail service is superb). And many weighed in from states featured prominently in the article (California of course, but also Texas).

The point is that Trump is a horrible nightmare, but also in a way a distraction. Weighing the divergent opinions on what's missing in the lives of so many Americans (enough so that they would vote for Trump) and how to address what Klein calls this "crisis of scarcity or perception of scarcity" is what we have to do now. Intelligently. None of the solutions will come from the leadership in place at the moment. Of that I am sure. (Indeed, none have been proposed. Wrecking is not the same as building.) So what's next? Even if I may not have strong opinions on this, I thoroughly enjoyed and benefited from reading the opinions of others. It was a morning well spent.

[And yes, I have an update or two: Pancake still comes and goes. He is eating well and looks somewhat better. Thank you all for your concern about his fate and sharing your worries with me. Ed and I both think that the downsides of trapping him and taking him to the vet outweigh the potential benefit. We've trapped 7 of the ferals thus far so we know what's at stake. Pancake is not a good candidate for this right now. Indeed, this evening, he was once more embroiled in a fight with the interloper cat. We don't understand the dynamics, nor even who the aggressor is, but my guess is that Pancake lives to defend his territory and right now, he considers the farmette lands his territory. And in other news, I decided to give a hard-shell suitcase a try! I know it will get scuffed up. Who cares. I need to try something different from what I've been with for decades now.]

 In the afternoon Ed and I bike to McFarland -- the town across Lake Waubesa. It's a brilliant day for it, albeit windy! Still, Ed's down to shorts and a t-shirt. (We have a high of 59F/15C.)

(biking next to the railway tracks and a sandhill crane)

 

As is our love, we go to the Cafe there (Grace), where Ed eats lunch and I sip a latte. Total bliss.

On the return, he asks -- want to go the hard way?  Well that's ambitious! The "hard way" loops around a bunch of hills -- more of an exertion for him. I can always up the electrical boost. But yes, it's beautiful out there, let's give ourselves that challenge.

We pause by Lake Waubesa. It's melting, but not totally yet. 

 

 

There is a dock at the side. We park our bikes and sit, facing the sun. Soon my sweatshirt and my shirt come off. I tell Ed -- if you close your eyes, it's like the Alps on a sunny day. Utterly sublime.

It is true that I return to the nightmare of tax forms afterwards. I still had to do my mother's taxes and I spend some time on finishing those today. It is the last tangible thing that I have to do for her and it does feel very final. I was "in charge" of her life for so many years now that it almost felt like I'd always been in charge and to some extent it was indeed on me -- to get her through her separation from my father way back in 1980, to support her various moves, to make sure she had the income to take care of her expenses, and finally to make decisions for her, even as she resisted my decisions to the very end. With a person her age (she almost made it to 101!), you're always wondering if you did the right thing. If you filled out the right forms, purchased the needed goods and services, maximized her well being. You need to be tough to withstand the protest, the dissatisfaction, the constant anguish coming from someone who didn't think life had been fair to her. And yet, on balance, it all worked out pretty well. She lost her vision two days before she died. In the 71 years that our lives overlapped, she never went hungry: she had climbed out of childhood poverty remarkably well. And of course, there was always family for her -- sometimes to feel good about, oftentimes to grumble about, always to add interest and rich emotion. So yes, tax forms filed, a door closed. What is left -- well, you leave behind memories. She did that. They are plentiful -- rich in color, drama, and a certain perseverance. She was there, for 71 years of my life, she was there.

There is no Sunday dinner today. My daughter's family is ensconced in the visits of other grandparents. What with the play and various friend parties and sleepovers and performances, they've had a packed weekend. If they need anything, it's quiet time.

Which means Ed and I, too, have a quiet evening at home. For us, this is the epitome of luxury. Not having to go out, not needing to do anything really except cook up a few farmette eggs, add some veggies, make a salad and flip on a show for an evening of light viewing. Something with laughter. Yes, we've had a good set of days.

with so much love...