Biker girls |
We raked the thatch from the
lawn in front of the flower bed, weeded said bed and cleaned out the winter
litter, and started turning the dirt in the vegetable garden to prepare it for
the seeds we’ll drop there as soon as the sun has adequately warmed the dark
earth. I pounded stakes for the pea trellis into the soft ground and returned
to the front yard to find the kids in an impromptu t-ball game. That littlest
one might be afraid of ladybugs, but not of much else, and she has a wicked
swing of the bat.
The kids have been begging to
eat outside, a request I denied just yesterday when the temperature was chilly
enough for hats and mittens. But today it seemed shameful to be in if we could
be out, so we lunched al fresco. Partway through our leftover pizza, we heard a
familiar bird call that told us the hawk (broad-winged, I think) from last year
was back. About an hour later I saw her flit past the still-bare apple trees
toward the woods and the nest from last year, built high in an old white birch
tree along the woods road.
We went for a walk to visit
the grandparents around the corner. My son mastered riding his bike sans
training wheels, striving to keep up with his twin sister, who has been pedaling
free for weeks now. The “big girl bike” for the littlest one arrived at our
doorstep, was assembled with only moderate consternation, and now she’s in the
biking mix, too. We ate dinner on the porch, with background music provided by
the peepers in the pond across the road, then rode bikes around the driveway
some more.
Yep, today could have been
tough. Instead, thankfully, it was beautiful in so many ways. It’s a gamble,
during April vacation, to stick around northern New England. It could be
snowing. It could be 70 degrees and sunny. It could be 40 and raining. Many of
my children’s classmates and their families have fled for the week to safely
sunny Florida, or at least as far south as New York City.
But today, the gamble paid
off. The sun came out. The coffee kicked in. The kids played hard, and they are
wiped. I hope they sleep tonight.
Original content by Meghan McCarthy McPhaul, posted to her Blog: Writings from a full life.
No comments:
Post a Comment