sprung

Yesterday was scrumptious.

I can't really think of any other way to put it - summer temperatures in March??

The weather was talked about like juicy small-town gossip -
'Can you believe?' Shocked faces. 'No, I never...'

And then people would trail off and breathe deeply and shake their heads a little in disbelief.

Funny, isn't it? How an early spring or unseasonable temperatures lead to remarks about what's waiting in the wings, about what we're going to have to endure - as if this fine March day (it was warmer in Nova Scotia than in JAMAICA!!!) will have to be paid for with high winds and encroaching waters.

My poor little quince bush, though. It put out shoots and unfurled leaves like little waving flags to welcome spring and now we're supposed to have flurries by the end of the weekend.

My kids left for school in tshirts and sweatshirts and came home in shorts and tank tops. And suntan lotion.

In MARCH.

Big breaths in like cake, sweet and frothy and perfect, the birds and trees and everything greening and announcing that spring spring SPRING was here!

A day that made you glad to be alive.

 Just scrumptious.

hiding in closets with birthday boys

My grandfather's ninety-fifth birthday was last week.

And he spent most of it in the closet.

When I called to wish him a happy birthday, the phone rang and rang and rang - a little odd, but maybe they were out? Celebrating, no doubt. Painting the town red. Why ever not?
I would call back later.

I checked Facebook that afternoon and found out that not only was I wrong, I was really wrong. Not only were my grandparents not out kicking up their heels, they were huddled in their bedroom closet with towels wrapped around their heads*, worrying that a tornado would burst through their walls and send them on a spin through the countryside.

Happy Birthday, Grandpa. May this next year not be so tumultous.


*My aunt's idea, to protect from debris. A good one, even if the visual still makes me crack up a little.

the silver bells of whye*

I'm taking a quick break from putting the bulletin together on this blustery, wow-winter-really-is-here day. (it's cold and bitter and not at all what we've become accustomed to)

I'm not used to being here in the manse at this time of day anymore - it's light and bright and the school bus drops off kids right off on the corner.  There's a lot going on!

(The parents have decided to take their munchkins in warm cars - no homeward strolling  in this wind today.)

But yes, I haven't been here in the middle of the day in awhile and I can hear the church bells and they're lovely and pealing out over the wind and still joyfully ringing out

and still
and still??

It must be a wedding. Except who gets married on a Thursday at three pm? That must be a coooold wedding party. I started to feel sorry for the bride in her white dress, resolutely setting her teeth against the shivers that wanted to crawl up her spine and worry her knees, the groom, wishing he had a wool waistcoat instead of just a cummerbund, the flowergirl pulling at her skirts and sitting down to protect her ankles.

And then I remembered that the minister here is an avid gardener who loves windchimes.




*Why so worried, sisters why?  (Look it up, it's pretty. And kind of grim.But pretty, like the windchimes here)

{wink}

I love how the slightly mismatched windows of the old yeast factory wink in the morning sunlight.

ziteous maximus

I'm hiding behind my computer a bit today, a litle perplexed by the giant scab/dead skin patch on my chin where a rogue blemish lurked beneath the skin for awhile. Then I got impatient and rubbed at it, and now it looks like I've got some creative rug burn. Or something.

I'm forty, for pete's sakes. Why the acne now?? I thought I'd found a skin regime that would stop all this - this is my first breakout in three months, so I guess I can't complain, really...

Probably just couldn't compete with the news that the kids' school is on the review list. Again.

We've stopped this before. Clearly the odds are against us. But we have fire, and we have conviction.

And I have a zit. Damnit.

cat's in the cradle

We told each other that things would never change. That living so far apart didn't mean anything - how could it, to such old friends? - and we'd always talk on the phone and be able to pick up where we left off.

There were phone conversations and months-long-comfortable silences and christmas cards.
And then things
 went 
dark.

She had a new marriage, a guy that loved her with his whole heart and soul, a new business and a new outlook and was refinishing her house and she had been a whirlwind always, surely we would connect soon? and we..just..drifted..apart.

Sure, there's Facebook, but being a voyeur into an old friend's life is strange and unsettling. I've never been more aware of the public persona, of how I come off when I post. How odd it is to know someone better from the outside, and to have only memories of the inside.

We haven't emailed or even facebooked in quite awhile. Still keeping tabs on each other, still whirling in our own little orbits, but so very, very far away from the chattering girls we once were, comfortable in our own skins.

And now, to further hammer home how our lives have diverged, there is a baby. A baby! I'm thrilled for her and wish her the very, very best.

But it was odd to first learn of the baby's existence with the birth announcement on Facebook.



(please understand this is less hurt than puzzlement - how on earth did we ever move this far apart? Our lives are completely different now, and that's the way it is and will be - I'm just becoming aware of the last few tendrils of things I called home snapping lately.So how can I be homesick, when I don't really know where to call home anymore?) 

Is it October yet??

You know how when you first start doing something, it's fun and wonderful and wacky and all-consuming?

Last year I helped out with the Halloween event at our school, and we've already started plotting...and the learning curve this year? DAUNTING.

Latex...pvc pipes. Welding, for pete's sakes! I have an entire weeks' worth of material to read about pneumatics. Until last month I had a vague idea that pneumatics were something that shut doors, or maybe some complicated pivot device that lowered rowboats. And now, this spring, I'm going to be working with people to fashion devices that will use these new technologies. It's a little mind-blowing.

Of course, we'll be doing a lot of scavenging too. (Because this halloweening of stuff? Is expensive.) Spring Cleaning should be fun. (Anyone want to get rid of any old plywood, ceiling fans, motors, pallets, foam sheets, plastic sheeting, circuit boards, or other assorted stuff? Lemme know!)

I hope to be sharing some of these new props as I make them (just to tease, you understand, to see the whole thing you'd have to come to the Shocktober event)

Cass is thrilled that his old mom is doing such cool stuff - while trying to talk me into using something with torpedoes in it, while Roo is steadfast in her head-tossing 'I will nevah go down there, Mama!'

We'll see.


Now, I'm off to figure out how to read about a bewitched shovel. (Delicious shudder.)

I can't wait to get started.

sitting on the side of the road

I ran out of gas today.

Really.

There was a little bit of spousal involvement (Honey? You are always welcome to take the car I'm going to take to work the next day if you pay attention to how much gas is left in it when you get home, m'kay?) but I can't kick too much - he's the one who came and rescued me.

It was beautiful there - I was close enough to the side of the road so I didn't have to worry about being smushed, and close enough that I could (sneakily) people-watch. It was a sunny afternoon, clear and crisp. (This would be an entirely different post had I spent the time waiting for Galahad wet and shivering.)
Instead, though, I spent the time watching the people on the outdoor track, how busy and industrious and happy they looked, like a gaggle of robins, and made out a mongo shopping list.

I'm beginning to enjoy my enforced car time - Tuesday night is C's judo night, and the studio is juuust far enough away that driving home is ridiculous, so I've gotten quite happy with a book and a coffee and the stillness of the night around me. (I saw the most gorgeous moonrise last week. It hung in the trees forever with a pumpkin-orange glow, and took my breath away every time I looked up.)

Life lately seems to be a lot of hurry. Sometimes it's nice to sit and sip and stare at the moon and do nothing.

out of season

The quince bush is confused by the harum-scarum winter we've been having ( or maybe not having would be more truthful) and is putting out tender new buds.

Buds. In late January. And they were pretty and new and breathtakingly sweet and a lovely harbinger of spring-yet-to-come

and it snowed this afternoon.

It was a quick storm, actually, threw first snow, then rain on the area then left, sullenly grumbling about coastal temperatures and tidal pulls, how inland there'd be woods and fields that would be fine dumping grounds, fine...then it blew itself gustily away and we were left with stillness.

Now the air is still and questioning and everything is crisp and hushed and waiting, somehow.

I know it's winter. I know.

*sigh* But I was rooting for those dainty little out-of-season quince buds.

i am lucky

I am lucky to have this Sunday.

Sunday around here means hot coffee, something yummy for breakfast - today, cheese eggs and bacon -  long deep draughts of fresh air and sunshine.

The woodstove roars as we plan walks and adventures for after church, our kitten-filled laps warm and purry and full of snuggles.

There is some out-loud reading. Barbie and the Princess School. An article from CNN.

The whole family kitted out in pyjamas and wool socks and laughing as we make plans for a sunny day.

Days like today, how could I want to be anywhere else??

things that go scritch in the night, or I get itchy just thinking about it

I didn't get a lot of co-operation when I suggested ripping the bedclothes off and letting the beds air a bit today, (actually, I got the rudimentary beginning snortings of a snit from one and the total involvement in a video game from the other) so....

so I pulled out the big guns and gave them a science lesson about dust mites. How they live on dead skin. How a protein in their feces (we covered what feces were, too) causes wheezing and runny noses. How about 80% of the dust floating in a sunbeam is bits of dead hair and skin.

And when that wasn't enough, I showed them the weird, headless elephant pictures of microscopic dust mites.
 Viewing those was a fine line between health hazard that you should watch out for and nightmare material that will wake you up screaming in the middle of the night, but I think they're both okay.


The beds were stripped. Windows were opened (briefly, my gosh it was -12C out there!) and dust wiped out of corners. Fresh linens on, we all checked our pillows (I sharpie-marker the date we started using them on the tags) for their sell-by date (2 years) and talked about how fresh air and sunshine was important for everybody, not just growing boys and girls.

It was a nice night.

Now up to a verah long shower and pj's fresh out of the dryer.

Goodnight, all.