It’s 10 am Sunday. 5℃ outside, 9℃ in the greenhouse. It was 4.3℃ at 7:30 this morning. I can leave things uncovered at night. But it would be just my luck that the temperature would plunge if I did that. I will be patient and careful till April. It will be good exercise walking back and forth to the greenhouse now that my ski season is over. I will keep up with the routines to keep my head and heart healthy.
Sundays are for bacon, eggs and sourdough pancakes. For a moment I had thought today was Saturday but then I remembered our breakfast. Where would we be without these time reminders? And Saturdays used to be swim mornings and breakfast at A&W after once or twice a month. Saturdays used to be dusting chores when I was a child. I had to do some laundry, too. That was before we had a washing machine. I learned to use a washboard and to rub the cloth between my hands. My mother was preparing me for when she had to go to the hospital to have my little brother. Even though my grandmother came to stay during that time, I was expected to do the chores.
My mother prepped me well for life. I know how to keep house, mend and sew, pay bills and not live beyond my means. I never had to cook though. I guess I learned from observation and trial and error when out on my own. Her passion for us was education. She made sure we had time for homework and studies. She only had the opportunity of Grade 3 in China but she never stopped learning. I guess I got the bug from her. If something catches my interest, I’m off investigating and experimenting. That’s how I got into the sourdough. It was a year or two before the Covid-19. It started with just a bit of water and flour. Thank goodness for Google and the generosity of people who want to share their knowledge. The little bits of water and flour grew and tranformed into loaves and pancakes. It’s somewhat magical. You can learn anything if you have a mind to.
So here it is that after lunch blues time again. I’ve put the dishes in the sink. Pots are soaking. I took time out to make that dental appointment finally. Ugh! I have an aversion to making and going to all kinds of appointments. I’m always in the flux of dismay. I should just get over it. Make the appointment. Go to it. Stop fretting. Stop talking about it. I’ve dug out a few more old nursing textbooks for the recycling bin. My top shelf is almost empty! There is light at the end of the tunnel. Maybe there is a Santa Claus, Virginia.
I’m enjoying my second cup of tea for the day. I’m sipping and tapping away the blues. For every little thing done, I feel just a little better. It is more than good enough. Too much would be overwhelming but I can taste and savour a tiny bit of joy. I will remember it and draw it out in moments on cloudy rainy days. It will be that sunbeam lighting up an idea, a dark corner or whatever that needs brightening.
The dog and I are walked. It has warmed up to 11 degrees C. With the sun out, we and the bedding plants can stop shivering. It will go down to -1 degrees tonight. The plants will have to be brought inside again. That’s how it is with our Canadian climate. At least there’s no snow in the forecast.
It’s 5:30. I’m enjoying my decaf, toast and jam. It won’t spoil my supper. I’ve worked hard, cleaning the oven and racks. It’s one of those jobs you want to turn a blind eye to. I have but today was finally the day. I set my mind to it. It was a lot of muscle and elbow grease. There was no way around it. And those damn racks. If there’s an easy way, please let me know. I don’t like using the self cleaning function. I’m afraid of leaving it on at 900 degrees F for 4 hours. Eeek! It’s like having a bomb in the kitchen. I would be a sitting duck when it explodes.
Ok, so much for the drama. Time to wrap it up. Another day and another month done. Be back next month.
Saturdays have always been my favourite day of the week as far back as I can remember. One of my chores was to dust on Saturday. The sun lit up the dust on top of the chest of drawers that my father somehow had made. I can’t remember what other chores I had to do that day. I remember helping with the dishes and bringing in coal for the pot belly stove. When my mother was in the hospital having my brother, my grandmother came for a few days. My mother gave me a list of chores which included doing the laundry. We didn’t have a machine so it was by hand.
I think I always associate Saturdays with that sunlit dust. I can still see that beam of sunshine coming through the bedroom window in that little house behind the cafe. Of course not all Saturdays are sunny but they are in my mind’s eye. That little house with the coal shed is also there. Funny how some images stay with you after so many years.
Today was not sunny either but my Saturday sunshine is in me. It’s been a mellow yellow day. So happy that I could get myself to the pool though it was dark as night at 8 am. The University Bridge was lit up in bright Christmas lights of green and red. I wished I could have taken a photo but I was in moving traffic. I was alone and driving. I had not only a lane but the whole pool to myself. Just me, a brand new life guard and no loud music. It was heavenly. I could relax and pretend I was a mermaid. No worry of sharks on my tail. I splashed at my own speed to my heart’s content. I had planned to do a short swim but given that much freedom, I stayed the whole hour. Wouldn’t you?
I stopped in and visited with my mother on my walk with Sheba in the afternoon. Sheba was content to be outside. She preferred the snow rather the blanket I brought for her. I let her be. Kids and dogs. They have minds of their own. My mother was not as chirper as could be. She had her heating pad draped across her shoulders for her aches and pain. Some days are like that. That’s how it is.
She’s excited all three of her orchids are going to bloom. She told me how she saved her goldfish. It was constipated and in distress. What could she do? What do we do for our constipation? Vegetables! Fish eat plants. She chopped up a bit of lettuce for it and cut back the pellet food. It made all the difference. I showed her a picture of my new sewing machine. She was impressed by its size and that it’s computerized. I was surprised to learn that hers had embroidery and other accessories. It is older than my old Kenmore and it is OLD. So many memories when we visit. My mother is a very good conversationist and story teller.
The day has turned into evening. Supper and dishes are done. Saturdays have always been kind to me. Feeling mellow and content.