Notes From Home

It rained today, hard at times, but cleared for an evening walk with Lucy the dog. All was washed clean and sparkled in the evening light.

Spring chores to do: gather firewood, replace back door sill and storm door, replace shop porch newel post, scrape reglaze paint up stairs bath window before it rots, replace large area of grass with vinca ground cover, reset front stoop stones.

But for a few late bloomers, the oaks and hickorys, our mantle of green is complete, a new bright green, not the faded stuff of mid summer.

Dylan was sick, scary sick, but is now on the mend.

The dogwood, bleeding heart, and lilac bloom. The lilac's perfume is like a little cloud around the bush.

A bird has nested under the eve at the front door and we are met with a chorus of cheep, cheep, cheep, each time we approach.

Margy hung the hummingbird feeder on the porch yesterday and they were on it in a wingbeat.

Lucy is a joy and a chore. She literally jumps for joy at the prospect of a measly cup of dry dog food. She must always be on a leash or she will run off.

I was inspired to build a rocking chair in the style of Sam Maloof but have barely started. I come home with intentions of going to the shop but after doing the dog and dinner I stay on the couch and do emailin' and bloggin' and facebookin' and then it's time to get ready for tomorrow.

We eat fresh asparagus from the garden every day, sometimes minutes from picking to the pan, and have more to give away.

A bluebird has nested in the box near the garden this year.

Robin is a farmer and a cook and a traveler and has been gone long enough that we can't wait to get to know her again.

Lucy and Simon are friends. He rubs against her just as he does against our legs.

Tuesday, playing racquetball, my knee collapsed just like old times. Hadn't happened in 10 years or more. I fall in a heap grabbing my knee, it hurts like the dickens but quickly fades. I limp for a day and wonder what to do.

It's 10:30 and Margy isn't home yet. This new job is hard. Interesting, new people and places, but very consuming.

Dylan got straight A's this semester.

Ginger the rabbit must be nearly 10 years old now. Her eyes are cloudy. She is more affectionate than she used to be and leans into your petting hands.

Dinner with the folks on Wednesday. Dad, 93, the songster, Mom, 90, unable to finish a sentence but still a look of love in her eyes.