I would not be surprised if this turned out to be the warmest day of the month for us. Quick to arrive and equally quick to leave us as we return to more normal readings tomorrow. But for today -- toasty warm.
This is the week of irises and peonies. I like both, even though they both have such a short blooming period. All the more reason to give them extra space here on Ocean.
(Butter and Sugar Siberian Iris)
(A very unusual color for a peony)
I wake up a sleepy Ed at 9 and ask him if he'd like to come down for breakfast. Dutifully, he agrees to join me...
... though the only sign of wakefulness is in his open eyes. I patter on about the news of the day (overnight damage to the coop and the trap by a persistent racoon, terrible election result news coming from Poland, a quilt in need of a wash...), he listens. I think he hears me, but I cannot be sure.
There is one flower field that I've sort of let go of -- the one next to the sheep shed. We decided that it looks okay with only a cursory pluck of some of the more noxious weeds. Still, I clear a little more of it this morning -- just enough to tempt me to do more! But not today. I have an appointment later this morning and this one I am actually looking forward to -- it's for a good back massage (and other parts of the body, but the important focus is on the back and neck). After all that yard work, I feel I need it. And as I lie there in a cloud of lavender and rose aromas, I think to myself -- this is perhaps the most intensely relaxing hour I will ever spend. But it is expensive. And I wonder, if I could have only one of these two -- an occasional massage or an occasional professional house cleaning (I've never had a maid clean my home), would I always pick a massage? Would you? The benefits of a massage may be significant if you do this often enough, but my last one was in the dead of winter, so I average about one per season. I don't think that's nearly often enough to feel any lingering effect. But then, doesn't the house get messed up equally quickly? I tell myself that yes it does, and that I am perfectly capable of wiping down surfaces on my own. But sometimes I wonder if I am simply becoming One of Those Older People who no longer sees or cares about the dust balls left behind. I hope not!
In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. After a difficult Friday, she is once again feeling happy and enthusiastic about her school day. About nearly everything, actually.
Toward evening, I drop her at her play rehearsal (this time she's in a production of Shaw's Don Juan in Hell. We'll see how that goes!).
And I shop for groceries, I return home late. In trying to move away from my love of a good white wine, I've taken up a new predinner habit -- a nonalcoholic beer with delicious crisps. Buckwheat with almond, or those with apricot and pistachio. I was amused to hear a story this morning on NPR about how good the nonalcoholic beers are these days. I thought I was the one who discovered them! For a person who enjoys a drink before dinner but has found that there is a price to pay for always having it be one with alcohol (a wakeful night), these beers are an amazing thing! I pop one open, knowing that I can have a second if I wish, guilt free, and I start in on dinner. Which is very, very late.
(evening visitor)
with love...
