A perfect morning for breakfast outside, on the porch. Theoretically. It's warm -- in the 70sF (mid 20sC). The grass is greening, trees are budding. And yet, I eat inside and I'm more than okay with that. I have daffodils from the farmette flower fields. A contained beauty on the micro scale.
I've said this before --the porch at Sally's House is miserable. The worst views imaginable. Trees are budding? What trees? I don't see any trees. Construction mud, dirt and noise. Basically, it has zero appeal. Do I miss the farmhouse porch? Again, at some level yes. But I know, too, that after winter, after the seasonal shifts, the rains, the winds, the cats -- the place is dirty, really dirty. A spring refresh is most definitely in order. Dead annuals in containers remain untouched. Bugs that have cycled through their life spans litter the place. Cobwebs by the glass ceiling haven't been touched in years. I know the glass panes there need a good wash. Someone should climb up on the roof with a hose and a mop and hope that they won't slip on the mossy wood strips holding down the panels, only to come crashing down, either on the glass or to the ground below. And the view from the porch? Well, the screen is greening with micro algae. You need to wash it down with vinegar, but that is one huge job, considering the height of the panels What about the gardens beyond? Yes, pretty now, with the daffodils reaching full bloom. But, they are also one big reminder that there's work to be done there. Lots of it. And I haven't done it.
For many years, I had this vision and I used every free hour to get close to it. A clean space with warm breezes, the song of birds, the scent of flowers, all in the early morning light. A moment of breakfast bliss. I scrubbed, weeded, planted, wiped, washed. And then I'd take my fruits, granola, maybe a croissant, along iwth that milky coffee onto a clean tablecloth, Ed would join me, and truly I felt that there could be no greater contentment than having our day start in this way. Now? I no longer think that the work is worth it. There is too much of it. I knew that at some point I would lose the race to get it done. That spring would not offer enough warm sunny days, enough free hours, enough stamina to gain control over the porch and the flower fields. What I didn't know is that I would make the decision to abruptly stop. I thought it would all slowly fade. That I'd let go a little at a time. But has that ever been the way I do things in life?
My little girl is learning the ropes. She now lets me take a shower before she lets loose with her announcement that she really has to go. We walk a longer bit, and then we both settle down to breakfast. As always, she is at my feet, then on the couch with me.
I have a lot to fit into the day. My monthly cleaning service is here this morning to take the construction dust out of the house and to give it a quick go-over. A luxury that I finally accepted as a necessity last fall if I dont want my home to get to the state where I lose control over the order that I love, inside and out. So, pup and I need to disappear for a while.
We first go to the state revenue building to deliver my state tax forms. I know I can mail in the forms. But the Department of Revenue is even closer to me than the post office and it is free and interesting! I take Millie in with me. Not sure it's allowed, but no one stops me. I put in my name and then wait a handful of minutes to be called. There are three pairs before me and though it is now standard protocol to take out your phone and surf while waiting, I find it much more fun to sit and listen. It reminds me of the days when I wanted to do participant observation research as a sociologist. You learn so much just by blending into the setting and listening to the exchanges. Two women who sell things at the farmers market and haven't a clue as to how to file sales taxes. Two guys -- a dad and his grown son -- needing information about special forms. Really, I could spend many hours just sitting here, with Millie snuggled closely to me. My support animal!
From there we go to the farmette for a walk along farmette fields. It's so beautiful now, at the cusp of the growing season.
(virginia bluebells, daffodils and Millie)
(shed Friendly, watching her every step)
(to roll around in the grasses: bliss...)
(Gorgeous, did you call me? Where are you?)
And then I take Millie to daycare for a 4-hour puppy socialization period. I'm told she branches out now, playing with fellow pups, albeit still cautiously.
While she is testing the waters of puppy play, I go back to the dermatology clinic, to the doc who sliced up my cheek in the late fall. That huge scar is looking splendid! I volunteered to be part of her study and so she is checking her handiwork.
And from there, to Sparrow's school, then home with him, then to Snowdrop's school, then to Millie's daycare. I have a whole system in place!
(they love holding her...)
(playing with her, walking her...)
In the evening, Ed comes over to help assemble a bench. For Steffi's House. I'm pretty sure he thinks buying a bench is up there with other ridiculous purchases I have made, but he has never refused to be the assembly person for me. We eat a light supper, he returns to feed farmette animals.
Me, I watch Millie as she tries to make sense of her reflection in the patio doors. She runs, the image runs. She barks at it, and yet it doesn't bark back. It's enormously funny puppy play. And yes, she does get her wildest zoomies just before bedtime. It's when she has most of her accidents. I can't see how I can avoid it: no matter how many times I'll take her out, after a good sprint, she'll surprise me with another unfortunate potty event. In our braggy chat during the agility training class, we exchanged stories about our pups. The doodles her age were completely housebroken. Mine was the most difficult to potty train. This is the trade off -- you get an older pup, she'll come with whatever habits she had in her early months. When you adopt a dog you're almost always told that she is either entirely or mostly housebroken. No one wants to go through this period where they're "learning." Millie is much much better than in her first days with me. But she is still far from being reliable. Except at night. Knock on wood! Come on, Millie, let's go upstairs!
With so much love...