Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

Another chilly and overcast start to the day. Another day of taking Holly to swimming lessons. Another day of wanting to get things done outdoors, and hoping for sunshine to take over. Alexander Pope said it best: "Man never is, but always to be blessed."  I can honestly tell you that I'm quite tired. Yesterday was not the quiet and restful rainy day; it was busy, and I'm really wondering what I've gotten myself into. But we persevere. Maybe we can plant the new strawberries today. Holly is a busy, intellectually curious, and chatty child. All good things. But I am having a hard time trying to keep her entertained, as she is not as willing to just go play or draw or whatever by herself as I'd like (we'll work on that). Meg was a far different child, and I'm struggling to keep up. We'll get into a rhythm, I think, and that will help, but I'm really ready for the weekend! Yesterday was not a swimming lesson day, so she did a few things in her pri...

As predicted, it's raining. And also as predicted, I don't mind. Yes, I have some outdoor things to do, eventually, but I could use a quieter day. I hope Holly is up for a quieter day. At any rate, she won't be here for another 45 minutes, so I have my coffee, the dog is sleeping, and it's raining.  I've been busy, as I'm sure you can guess. Most summers (heck, all vacations from school) are packed with cleaning, projects, and running around. I wonder what it's like to just kick back. No one sets my off-time agenda but me, and I am a brutal scheduler. I trace this behavior back to my mother: we had to always, always be busy doing something productive. In fact, that was one of her favorite lines to say, "do something productive." Why must I always be producing results? I mean yes, the laundry is a thing, and the bathrooms, etc., but why can't I just sit and read or daydream without feeling guilty? I'm almost 60 years old, and I don't kno...

I think I won the ant battle, and I have hopes that it's done with. Now, what are we to do with the weather? The pool is up, and it's 44 degrees this morning. That water will never warm up.  And the part of the tree that fell in the rain storm the other night took only 25 minutes to remove: they sawed it up, fed it into the chipper, and off they went. Nice work done.  Holly has swim this morning at 11:30, but the shallow pool they use is not so cold. And it ought to be a little warmer by then. I sure hope so. G is heading out to pick strawberries at 4 Corners; today's the first day of PYO. Then he has a list of things he wants to get done, so I'll just stay out of the way. I have my own chore list, but it's not so lengthy as it has been. I got a lot done yesterday, after I ambushed the ants.  Summer fun. At least I finished reading a book. I highly recommend pretty much everything by Dan Brown, and Secret of Secrets did not disappoint. I think I'll go with a li...

In 1854, Thoreau published Walden , and in it there is a part of chapter 12 that is often read as a sort of stand-alone essay titled " The Battle of the Ants ." In this section, he explores what happens when two opposing factions have a territorial dispute, and he warns that without cooperation, such battles do not end well for any party involved. So be it.  Except. This. Week.  We have a plethora of small "sugar ants," those tiny brown, very industrious and invasive ones. It's been hot, then rainy, and the ant hills in the front walk are humongous. They have begun to occupy the house, as well. At first, I was relatively patient; they usually go away quickly, and I just smoosh the rogue ants as I see them. I'm losing the battle, though. Yesterday, I put out ant bait in the kitchen behind the trash can. This morning, there are so many more, all coming and going through a crack along the base of the wall. Now, I know the house is old, and the additions were no...

Yesterday was pretty good, all told. The homily at church was spot-on; Fr. Rory did a bangin' job of putting out a call to action, I think. He talked about the commissioning of the apostles, that they were to go heal the sick, drive out demons, etc. He reminded us that in the Creed, we profess that we believe in an "apostolic church." And that the original twelve were all just regular guys, some even a little suspect (tax collector Matthew, for example), but they accepted the mission given them. Fr. Rory ended his homily with this: "They all had names. And so do you." Oof. Great ending. (Well, it was the penultimate sentence, but you know what I mean.) We have a job to do, if we truly believe what we profess every time we go to Mass. Fr. Rory enjoined us to understand that we are "born for this" time in history-- as difficult, messy, and scary as it is-- because we have been called to action by our beliefs. No more sitting back wringing hands and offer...

Hey, how about that? The Red Sox won two in a row. The Knicks did their job and all of NYC is excited and pleased. It's good to see a couple of good things in the news feed.  This morning, there were two huge spiders in the bathroom. I did not save them. Squished and flushed, they will not be stalking the toothbrushes or the shower any more. And as the old wives' tale goes, it'll likely rain. Which, truth be told, would be okay, if it washed off the pollen that has coated everything solid. I'm not necessarily allergic to flower pollen (it's probably my roses anyhow), but it does make everything yellow, gritty, and a little itchy. It's tree pollen that gets me going in the spring.  Today, with a little help, we'll get the pool up (I hope it's still okay), and move the damaged glider off the deck. A huge ice chunk fell on it this winter, and it's dented pretty badly. It's also seen better days in the general sense, so it'll be moved down by the...