….or And Then What?
Lance just pointed out that it is actually 24 hours since we crossed the border so in theory we have been in the country without community contact for fourteen days and therefore are technically done our quarantine. So I suppose I could run out the front door screaming for all to hear “SWEET FREEDOM!!” but I shan’t. Instead I will put a fire in and, like every other evening, settle down in the easy chair to see what the rest of the world is up to.
Have I showed you my Isolation Bread yet? Are you sick to death of looking at pictures of people’s Isolation Bread yet? All those folk out there who have been baking bread on a regular basis all these years are, I’m sure, just a-rolling their eyes. I am not a not a Johnny-come-lately bread baker in the strictest sense but nor am am a regular bread baker. I’d say I’m a sometimes, often enough bread baker, enough of a bread baker to think of bringing back my jar of yeast from Florida.
Ah, what the heck, here’s my obligatory bread picture:
Anyhow, I got through the strict isolation unscathed. Lance thankfully kept his whistling and banjo playing to a minimum and once I decided that clutter was a sign of genius I was able to settle down a little. The shabbiness of the house had to be put aside; no point in fixing one or two little things, it would just make the rest look shabbier in comparison. Thank heavens for my Scrabble app.
Yesterday and the day before we saw a wild N’oreaster blow through. I think it must have been a contrivance of the government to keep us all indoors (good thing I’m getting out soon, I’m starting to buy into my own conspiracy theories) The wind lashed the bare trees relentlessly and drove the rain up river sideways. It was, in a word, nasty. This morning saw the wind dropped but there was snow flurries and a noticable absence of spring.
At least until you looked closely or listened. That reliable harbinger of spring, the robin, was skipping about the grass looking for nest bits and I could hear the chickadees and a cardinal in the trees. And with the birds come the cats.
And with spring comes the thaw and the river brings us little gifts. This year it was ashtrays and handguns.
You gotta love spring.
© Judy Parsons 2020