Tidbits and surprises
These children. Sigh. Are you with me, sighing over your own gorgeous, wild clan?
Sometimes it seems they’re growing up too fast, like when we went to the birdfeeding store yesterday and Col asked “can I pick something out if it’s under $2?” And I remembered when he was three and we’d go to the gift shop at the local train station and Col would play for an hour with the model train set, without realizing that every fabulous thing there was actually for sale. However, the money thing is still fuzzy because last week Col was sorting through his coin collection and gave Rosie all the “silver money,” hoarding the “gold money” (pennies) for himself.
The new development around here, besides joining the potato clan (more on that later), is that the kids have become like a very short, old married couple and I seem to be the interloping great aunt. And it’s not that I really want to play Sailing to Alabama on the livingroom rug with Ducky, Rammy, Sealy, Bunny, piles of play food, several baby blankets and sundry clutter, but even if I did, apparently no role has been scripted for me. This is a passive-aggressive way of saying, as long as they have each other, they kids don’t actually want to play with me. So, I hike up my great aunt, elastic waistband and get back to reading the paper, or I make a few loaves of bread and wonder if maybe Rose is developing a little bossiness when I overhear: “Okay Coley, you go get the extra clothes for all the babies, I’m swimming to Alabama.” Col seems to follow Dan’s lead when confronted with demanding women. “I just tune her out,” Dan once said to me when Rose was barking repetitively from the backseat. Surely this isn’t related to those times Dan falls asleep while I’m monologuing in bed.
This is what Col worked on while tuning Rose out:
I’ve had the new MacBook for one week and we’re still in that awkward phase of a new relationship where everything is so new and I sort of miss my old PC despite its tendency pass out in an alley and not respond as I try and shake it awake.
We’ve been having a great, highly-filling time with the potatoes. Thanks for all your worthy responses. Here is what we’ve done so far.
Home fries, french fried potatoes baked in oven with garlic and olive oil (which we’ve decided we could eat every day), potato bread (tasty, but as Dan pointed out, one potato per two loaves is “small potatoes” when there’s seventy pounds sprouting by the minute, potato-crust pie filled with chard and friends, potato curry soup (which somehow gets more voluminous each time we dip into the pot), pierogies, which I botched despite a flawless recipe (was it the chard I added or my inability to use white flour?), mashed potatoes with dandelion greens and cheese (loved by the old, married couple), and a heaping, sprouting bunch went to our garden potato bed. We have about thirty pounds to go. Who’s coming over for dinner?
Spring has been slow and cold at 6512 feet. Our playgroup hike got canceled yesterday and Col said “a lot of things are getting canceled,” which is more a result of him just learning that word than anything else.
The garden is chugging along.
The plum trees are blooming a cheery white over the chicken coop.
The peas are climbing out of the ground like snakes writhing to the snake-charmers song.
The tomato plants are getting robust in the greenhouse:
Here they are as toddlers in early April:
And the tomato planting crew, dropping dreams into soil back in early March:
So, those are the tidbits. Here is the surprise:
We spotted a rose-breasted grosbeak in our backyard crabapple this week! If you live in the Northeast, or Midwest, you may know this black-headed bird with the bright magenta triangle on its breast, but this was our very first sighting of this bird whose territory does not seem to include Southwest Colorado, and yet, here he was, a lone eagle, blown off course perhaps by the spring wind.
Col drew a picture of our friend which chimes the bell of my heart everytime I see it.
May your weekend be full of wonderful surprises.