Spring Days

Is there anything better than a stack of books and a cat in the window?

Yesterday, A.’s mother was home, sick, so he and I spent most of our time outdoors, to try and let her rest. We took a forty-five minute walk, and he was remarkably good and only got restless toward the very end. The weather was perfect—just on the edge of chilly, but bright and clear. A. spent most of the walk pointing out every vehicle, along with their color. “Hello, white truck!” “Goodbye, blue truck!” (Which sound more like, “Hewwo why tuck!” and “Bye, bloooo tuck!”)

At home, he’s got a library book about heavy machinery, which he loves, and at one point in our walk we passed a big truck obliterating some tree stumps, and A. called out, “Backhoe! Loader! Backhoe! Loader!” (“Loader” is for “Front-end loader.”)

We also spent a good amount of time in their backyard, which is more garden than yard—a tangle of roses, azaleas, and camellias under a canopy of Japanese maples, loquats, and a couple giant oaks, all with stone and brick paths snaking through it. It’s idyllic, especially on a cool spring morning, all dewy and soft light, the birds singing and swooping down to the bird feeders for a morning snack.

They’ve got a couple tiny chickens and a white rabbit who live back there too. Yesterday, as A. and I inspected a set of irises, the bunny hopped up to us and stared and A. was captivated and excited but trying so hard to be quiet and still until the dog ran up, wanting to play, scaring the rabbit off. Later, the chickens came within arm’s reach of me and then wandered off under a tree to scratch for bugs. What a life, I thought, a two-year-old boy with fine blond hair and a yard with flowers and tiny spider webs and a bunny with one ear flopping over and tiny chickens clucking.

The rest of the afternoon was errands, lunch, a chat with Simona, more errands, garden stuff with Sharon, bill paying, and another Congo meeting. It was a little rushed, a little crazy, but today the weather’s good again and the garden will get more attention and I’ll get to write. And there is a stack of books that needs my attention, and I’ve got no intention of making them wait.