So Summer Begins…Sort Of….

A chilly rain and strong northeast wind rattled the leaves. As I drove to pick Oakley up from day care, I wondered for a brief moment if somehow we’d skipped Memorial Day and all of summer, landing at Labor Day.

No, the leaves were too green.

We had to put the heat back on yesterday. I’m not going to torture myself (the thermostat read 64 yesterday morning) to prove toughness to my Nordic ancestors or conserve energy. And I’m not going to ask that of Hubby. Between his Mediterranean genes and being of an age where it’s getting tough to maintain a comfortable body temperature, we just did it. He was freezing, so he dragged himself out of bed and turned it on.

Bless him.

In a few days we’ll likely have to put the air on again, so no worries there.

I gave up on plans last year. Too fragile, too brittle in this ongoing pandemic. Desires, intentions, and preferences abound. Ren Faire? We’re both vaccinated; masks at Bristol will be mandatory. How many will be unvaccinated; how many will refuse to mask up? Too many variables could spin the experience towards the negative, so as of today we’re leaning towards a pass. Day trips during the week to less crowded destinations? A possibility. New parks to explore? Yes, definitely. What will unfold will do so in divine right order, so we’ll let it do so in its own time.

This week, things will be planted. The seedlings that I planted in early April all died, so a trip to one of the local garden centers will be in order. Again, during the week when crowds dissipate. Not sure where I’ll go, though. There are a couple of good ones closer to our nearest large suburb. The ag store where I’ve bought seedlings in the past has turned into a club for the people who refuse to mask up. Last time Hubby was there, he dodged a mask-less shopper. The mask-less one proceeded to follow Hubby around the store, six feet away, but still followed him around. Needless to say, Hubby was rattled to his core. Management took no action. I don’t think I can go back there.

One thing is certain, however: sometime this weekend per Hubby’s request, I’ll barbecue some chicken. Some potato salad will join it. That will provide the needed fuel to poke holes in the garden and plant some stuff.

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