These beautiful tulips were greeting the sun on the kitchen table this morning - a gift from my dear, sweet daughter. There is nothing like tulips to soothe my spirits. They watched over me as I ate, drank my coffee and did the crossword puzzle, sending a softorange reflection down on the paper.
Miss Emma found a sunny patch in the bedroom and dreamed of dog bones, digging holes and chasing her tail! Seems like she's been cold all winter. Now - it's just after four as I write this - she is laying on the dining room floor on my painting cloth, again enjoying a warm patch of sun.
And the cheese! This is an artisanal cheese created at Diversity Farm in Troy, Maine. I interviewed Farmer Bob today and visited his farm - an Old MacDonald kind of place with horses, cows, rabbits, chickens and cats dancing in the hay. He makes 7 different kinds of cheese, including this delicious cheddar, and ages them in a cave below his cheeseroom. They develop a breathtaking mold - one looked like silver feathers! - and the rind is delicious as well. He doesn't live too far away and I can see that I will likely be a regular customer!
Oh the sun today! In just the last hour, as I sat here at the computer writing my cheese cave story, I have seen so many signs of spring:
*the dog walkers are out in the park in full force - the dogs are leaping and jumping and so happy to be off leash.
*three young men walked by dribbling a basketball, headed for the courts in the park.
*two of those young men were wearing short sleeves!
*enough snow has melted in the front yard that the realtor's sign that disppeared sometime last December has just reappeared.
*children on bicycles are EVERYWHERE!
*the entire girls' softball team from the local high school just went jogging by.
Also, between here and the farm in Troy, I saw THREE clotheslines filled with flapping laundry...ahhh that smell...
And the good news? Tomorrow is supposed to be even nicer. Finally. I needed this weather and the sun today.
I'm still having trouble processing my son's stabbing.
I can't get past that someone tried to kill my child. That someone slid a knife into his belly button as if he wasn't a friend, a son, a father, a brother - a person that MATTERED to other people. As if he was a chicken sandwich or a chocolate cake or something that didn't cry or laugh or tickle. If this had been an accident, like a car crash or he fell off a ladder, well, somehow that would be so much easier to deal with. But to think that his life, his pain mattered so little to someone. That whoever did this had no thought that this was a human being, a living breathing person he was stabbing....it's hard to get my head around that.
My thoughts are a bit fractured. I'm making mistakes (I upset my BFF Trudy yesterday because I wasn't paying attention) and I can't seem to focus on anything. Yesterday I couldn't manage to write a single story, when usually I'm good for three or four.
I'm flitting around like spit on a griddle and last night was the first night EVER that I can remember I was afraid of being alone and so after supper, I went out to my son's and visited for a while...
This odd, shaky feeling is better today than yesterday but I still catch myself sort of stopped in mid-work or mid-thought, sort of comatose - just staring vacantly and trying to jump start myself again.
Tonight I'll try sewing for little Kiley's birthday next month and hope that will get me smiling again. If that doesn't work, I'm drinking the other half of Monday's bottle of wine!