THE VISITOR
Wednesday.
It doesn’t really matter what day it is, but unless I make a note of it, I get
confused.
I slept in. It was 7:00 when I awoke, so Bess and I were late as we headed off down the lane to the mailbox. It was about 60, but I was comfortable in a t-shirt.
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| The mailbox was in this area |
As I walked, I thought of my dad’s sister, my Aunt Lynn, who lived here as Grandma Ina’s companion some 65-70 years ago. An energetic, hardworking person, she walked this lane to the mailbox most every day. In those days, the mailbox sat where the road comes into the lane, and it was a wooden fruit box (remember those?) set on a long side with a piece of fabric affixed for a curtain – definitely not regulation!
When I was a child, I thought it was a long way for Aunt Lynn to walk to the mailbox, but today, I walk right past that spot, up Plank’s Pitch, and on to our regulation mailbox out on the road.
Son Clint came to visit this afternoon, and I had him set the old-fashioned kitchen clock – hopelessly behind after Monday’s outage. Like I say, there’s a limit to my resourcefulness, or perhaps I could say that Clint was my resource.
I talked to Mike tonight. We agreed to meet in town on Sunday. Clearly, it’s time to focus and get things done. KW
HEATING
UP
Thursday.
I was awakened at 5:00 by a flicker working away on the house. “What would Mike
do?” I asked myself. So, I rolled out of bed, put on robe and slippers, and ran
outside to see if I could locate the culprit. However, it was gone, and that’s as
it should be.
Again, Bess and I took an early walk to the mailbox and back. We take shorter walks around the pond during the day and play fetch in the front yard. I know she prefers Mike, but she graciously tolerates me.
Every day the fields are lighter than the day before. The bright green of spring is gone, replaced by the summer ripening process. Summertime is the shining hour in farm country. We're watching as the fields grow ready for harvest.
Hallie and Silas called to visit on FaceTime this afternoon. “Redda but-ton, redda but-ton, redda but-ton,” says Silas. “Push the red button and Grandma will go away,” says Hallie. “Push redda but-ton,” says Silas again. And Grandma went away.
It was 85 today, and I realized at bedtime that I had forgotten to open and close windows. Tomorrow, I must not forget to perform this summertime ritual. Summer is here, just in time for the Fourth of July weekend. KW
Your staycation is about over. You have had quite a few experiences on this one. You are quite resourceful and seem to have a lot more energy than I do, Your pictures are great, and your description of your activities is superb. It looks like summer is about there, and I suppose you are eagerly awaiting Mike's return. What will be your reward for this staycation? Thank you for your descriptions.
ReplyDeleteYes -- and I didn't even mention the dead woodrat I found in the yard. Mike's snake tongs have so many uses! And then as I stitched away on the quilt, the odor of dead mouse reached my nostrils, and I had to take care of that.
ReplyDeleteI am due a reward or two. My collections of things that inspire me seem to be saturated. In past years, especially if we staycated in town, I had a delivery most every day. At the farm, I think twice about that.