How does anybody ever have time to do anything?
Things may have settled down in theory, but in the real world? No. It’s not that anything important is happening. I’m waiting to see if our house is going to be destroyed by the raging of our usually civilized river, what with the mountains and their burgeoning load of snow. And I spent all day looking for three felt Easter Eggs I made two years ago, going through every cupboard, drawer, sack, box, or closet I own.
My house is not orderly – and the addition changed things up pretty severely – but you know, I think moms have this sort of instinctive sort of GPS fix on the things they own. I can usually lay my hands on just about anything within a few moments. When I can’t, when something is NOT where I supposed it to be, my brain starts to short out.
I did find two significant bracelets I had misplaced. And some needle felting tools I hadn’t seen for two years. And a tiny felt bird I’d forgotten I’d made. And a bag of beads. A mouse nest under a long unused desk drawer (yow!! Long abandoned, at least.) Some old kid drawings. And the black roving I bought two weeks ago and lost track of. Ginger’s 24 hour Fitness card (how did that get under my craft table, Ginger??). And some other things shifted in the moving and re-organizing – things I’d forgotten, and was delighted to find that I owned. But no Easter eggs.
I would not call this, then, a very productive day. I did start the dishwasher. That’s gotta count for something.
So I was going to post this long thing about Sunday and the really wonderful things that happened this weekend. And catch up on the fifty or so blogs offered by friends and fam – in the last week and a half. But there were too many shots to process first. And I couldn’t sleep last night; spent two hours (between one in the morning and three) making helpful notes all over one of my b-i-l’s college students’ papers. (Did any of my comments make sense, I wonder?) So I was just sort of stupid all day. Which you can probably tell. Easily. And calls from the kids. And catching up with Rachel.
A day of people, discovery and abject failure.
All of this yadda yadda, by the way, is nothing but an introduction, then, to the first post about last weekend. And also an apology to those I am so behind in answering.
Our Weekend
Friday was a pretty nice day. Well, not a bad day. That night, we went to bed – and I fell asleep very sweetly. Till, some time in the black bowels of night, we both sat up wide-eyed and shaken. There had been this tremendous noise, the cracking and popping of heavy wood, the crash of something huge falling, the sounds of things hitting the house. G peered out the windows: a great wind had blown in yet another storm from the north. And this is what we woke up to on the 2nd of April:
(Well, actually, what I woke up to. G had already gotten up and dressed and was gone to feed the horses before either the sun or my own self had dragged our sorry selves into full upright position.)
Yes. Those swags are Christmas lights, still not collected.
See? Sky was blue, and the snow would have been beautiful if it weren’t so danged intrusive.
The first thing I did was get out the camera. The second thing I did was start tree shaking. See how heavy that snow was? Those branches are terribly weighed down, the snow had turned to ice on them. So I ran around shaking them and getting ice down the front and back of my shirt and all over my head. Some of the branches simply broke off in my hands.
What we’d heard in the night was a big branch peeling off one of the grand old trees in the back. It hadn’t hit the house, but the wind was knocking other branches against the walls and windows for hours. We’ve got huge branches littering the yard now. When it gets to be really spring, there’s going to be hours of clean-up. We’re afraid we have lost the rope-swing tree entirely.
The lilac is nearly flattened.
Pretty though.
By afternoon, most of the snow was gone. But not all. The whole state is gearing up for flooding. I find myself very reluctant to think that our home of thirty two years could end up being drowned in mud. Shakes me up a little. A lot. We’ve got a lot of plans this summer; none of them factor in having to find a new place to live while we dig our homestead out. But you never know, you know?
So that’s all I’ve got tonight. Wish I were clever. Or philosophical. Or something. Maybe I’ll sleep tonight and wake up suddenly brilliant. Stranger things have happened.
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