The difference a day can make

Yesterday...

Today...

Yesterday was beautiful. Not as warm as Sunday, but sunny and bright and warm enough to still be barefoot and free, and we spent most of it outside. Today started out a little rainy, so we spent the morning at the library and came home with books on Spain and stickers for building a spring garden. Calvin decided to finish up his folder on the middle ages with a pictorial how-to for making glass and a picture of knights jousting. He finished reading his book on knights, we read more Oz, he made his sticker garden, and that was about when the sun broke and we rushed outside to enjoy it.

I know spring is coming. The daffodils finally starting blooming today and the cowbird is back. I think I heard him on our walk a few days ago, too, his beautiful water-like tone, but I couldn't be sure, and then there he was today at our feeder. He is one of my favorite harbingers of spring.

Oh, and doves on the roof, sparrows in the tree, kid on the lawn, me in the driveway with a book. That was today.

Ahhhh....

I've been waiting for spring, but it was summer that visited our neck of the woods today.

I woke up early this morning, awakened by a gray sky before the rest of the house was even stirring, and it felt like vacation for some reason. The fog was so thick I couldn't see the neighbor's house, the morning was dark, and I just felt an immense calm and joyfulness. With everyone else still asleep I picked up my book for almost an hour of quiet reading before I heard our door click open and the pattering of feet racing up to Jon's side of the bed, and the day was on.

Jon made breakfast, I played with the new camera, and Calvin danced through the house. It was a late start, but not a lazy one. The boys practiced the piano, we did some straightening, I ran—outside for a change—and while Jon taught, Calvin and I spent the entire afternoon in the sandbox, playing with sand, discussing birds, and listening for sump pumps. He played individually, too, while I read my book again and enjoyed the soft, warm breeze on skin that has felt only layers of clothing for too many months. We were barefoot. We were happy. It was over eighty degrees here today, and brilliantly sunny.

We grilled dinner on the deck and ate it there. We went for an evening hike in the meadow, hoping to find deer, but only finding their tracks. Calvin was so dusted in sand and splattered in mud that he played in the bath before bed, splashing around while I read Oz aloud. I'm still practicing with the new camera, but so far I like what I see.

Old camera (with Nikon f1.8 35mm lens, unedited)...

New camera...(with Nikon f1.8 35mm lens, unedited)

The boy is in bed now, and was asleep before we adults had even made it downstairs I think. I agree with him. The fresh air and sunshine leaves me feeling deliciously worn out and my skin flushed and warm. Tomorrow it is supposed to storm, and if any thunder arrives tonight I'll consider that the perfect cherry on top of our perfect Sunday.

Working on it

If spring is about moving forward, about cleaning, and about renewal, we're taking all of that very seriously right now.

Calvin is on a juggernaut's path of mental absorption. His reading has taken off, he's all over math concepts, and the middle ages have become almost a passion.

Last night we enjoyed a wonderful dinner with extended family and met the newest, tiniest addition.

And today we spent an entire day taking care of a few issues around the house, like the broken dishwasher (that makes hearing music or TV, when we want to watch it, all but impossible), the un-backed-up sump pump (that visits my nightmares every spring along with the torrential rains), and the frustrating camera (that has begun to stick only when I really, really want it to work).

But while spring may be about renewal, all of that renewing business is pretty exhausting. With the camera issue taken care of, though, and the promise of warmer weather in the works, there will probably be a plethora of pictures and stories to share tomorrow. For now, good night and good luck.

Losing a landmark

Snow today. Not much, and it didn't stick, but enough of it in the air to remind us that winter isn't done just yet. This time last year it was unseasonably warm, and remembering that I can't help but be disappointed by spring's tardiness now. We lazed about this morning, eating cherry walnut pancakes and playing geography games. Jon and Calvin practiced the piano while I hit the treadmill (really, spring, I'm ready to run outside already). After lunch, though, we broke our winter coats back out of the closet and headed out into the still frigid world. Jon was teaching, but Calvin and I spent that time perusing the jumbled and dwindling shelves at the closing Borders store in Ann Arbor.

It's hard not to go there. We shopped there the weekend they announced its closing, when the discounts were much smaller and the shelves much more full. It's hard to resist sixty percent off classic fiction, science books, and even children's books. We usually buy our books used—almost always—but some wish list titles are hard to find that way, especially new releases or more obscure older ones, so we gave in on a few books, to the tune of a few dollars each. At that price it's almost like buying used anyway so all I have to reconcile myself to is the tree loss. There's a Tolkien rewrite of a Norse legend and a new Elizabeth Kostova that I can't wait to read. But after wading through shelves of books that are no longer sorted alphabetically, and barely even sorted by subject, I think we've said our goodbyes to the Arborland Borders.

Bird walk, finally outside again.

We did it. We got back outside. Sun and relative warmth (mid 40s will do) and the need to pick up the mail lured us. We are now down to counting the hours left in our week-long stint as a single parent household, and it's hard to decide which of us misses the daddy more. He is, after all, the one who usually gets the mail. That being said, since he's business-ing in the snow he might be the happiest to be coming home. Thankfully we seem to have dodged the threat of rain and snow this week and the foreseeable forecast is a return of the warming trend. Ahhh.

Reading in the morning, a trip to the bookstore to get my new book (released today, and I finished my tour back through the earlier releases in time), puzzles, lunch, books, journal, piano, and finally a walk through the neighborhood. We even saw neighbors. And lots, and lots of birds. The footpath may look peaceful, dead even thanks to being pre-bloom spring, but the cacophony was a sure giveaway to its surfeit of avian inhabitants.

The robin always makes me think of spring. I know they're here all year round, many of them anyhow, but we see many more of them in the spring, hopping around in our fields looking for worms and gathering material for their nests.

The red wings are prevalent in our pond spaces and fill the air with their throaty rattles.

We have seen this little Downy on every one of our walks along the path this year, but I believe he's new the area because he wasn't around for our bird walks last year.

And the daddy cardinal. His chirupping song is the song of my childhood. They performed often in our back yard and I can still hear my mom whistling back to them, mimicking their calls. Maybe that's because she still does this all summer long.

And this little guy? He's on all of my walks as well. His name may be Calvin, but he more often makes me think of Linus.

And the book cataloging project? It's still underway.