Home and Family

Finally, a day without rain. The sun full out and brightening up our world. Our little dogs were ecstatic that they could sprawl out in front of the dining room windows and catch the sun, while the ambient outside air was still chilly. Later, they agitated continually, while we were busy after breakfast, to go out and soak up the sun on the deck; in and then out again, their usual irritating routine.

We were busy, we had things to do in the morning, as we so often do. Because the furnace room and the workshop have now been cleaned up and vacuumed, it was time for me to wash the other floors in the basement, the ceramic-tiled floors that had sustained a bit of a work-out as things were hauled up and outside into the dumpster to be taken out of our lives forever. All the bits and pieces of construction and the glassworks, gone finally.

And while I was busy with that, my husband busied himself applying wood preservative on the tops of the posts of the newly-built deck, before screwing down the caps, some of them decorative, others with lighting capabilities. The entire deck has stained and weatherproofed and that's next on the agenda; the inclement weather we've had over the past month made that impossible up to now.

Finally, we were able to haul ourselves off to the ravine for our morning perambulation, alleviating our little dogs' anxiety over whether they'd get out there at all, this day. And there we were greeted with a fresh new look, everything washed clean, the trails still steeped in mud, but the canopy not dripping for a change. The songs and sounds of the pileated woodpecker, cardinals, nuthatches lent the woods their usual soundstage effects.

And now buttercups are in bloom, surprising us, since we don't recall their blooming quite this early. The dogwoods are blooming, as are the lilies of the valley, the bunchberries, and false Solomon's seal. And the Jack-in-the-pulpits have grown huge and tall. Meadow rue is beginning to spread, everything fresh and beautiful. Honey suckle bushes with pink and with white flowers, and cherry trees with their tiny perfect floral fingers.




Our daughter tried most of the day to get in touch with us. We discovered, each time we returned home the flashing message, but no message had been left, so we knew it was her; she calls, but rarely leaves a message. No message, nothing urgent, nothing to fret about; wait for another call, when we're accessible. We could call her back but for the fact that we fear interrupting her at some workplace meeting.

In the interim, off we went again, after our ravine walk, to deliver two bagsful of ceramic costume dolls I had decided to relinquish to the Sally Ann. Their cultural value was nil, they represented nothing much other than decorative items which I had appreciated for years, but felt now that this house would be better off without, in the general atmosphere of ridding ourselves of non-essentials, of which we have more than plenty.

From there we dropped by our neighbourhood Marks Work Warehouse to look at hiking boots since each of us could use a new pair. We looked at and tried on several pairs, but none felt sufficiently comfortable. Gotta go to Mountain Equipment. Button and Riley received the usual attention from other shoppers and the store staff, intrigued with their quiet presence in their carry bags. And we were able to pop in next door to pick up a large bag of their kibble; chicken and rice with glucosamine to help their poodle-joints.

Then it was time to look around the gardens, tie up a few plants, cut back some die-back, and generally admire the early-spring brilliance of all growing things. A neighbour came by to talk of his family and his concerns and neighbourhood occurrences. He has convinced himself that he must replace his house windows, because others have done that, despite that he has no problems with his windows. While my husband cautioned him against rash decision-making ($18,000-worth), I took photos of the gardens.

We enthused with a neighbour across the street that her cat had returned after a two-day absence. He had run off, wearing a collar and short leash and she of course had feared the worst. It's likely the cat made its way into the ravine, where his leash got caught on something until he eventually freed himself, slipping out of the collar and in the process slightly scratching himself. When he appeared back home he was ravenous, and slightly the worse for wear.

And our daughter, when she finally was able to contact us in mid-afternoon informed us that she had received an early-morning telephone call from our granddaughter's teacher. First thing the teacher said was that our granddaughter had something to relate to her mother. We waited with hushed breath, just as our daughter must have, only to hear her child excitedly report she had received an 87% mark on her hour-long math test. This, a young girl who had formerly found math so dreadfully difficult.

Then her teacher came back on the line, while our granddaughter left the office. Her teacher enthused to our daughter how she wished her entire class was comprised of students like her daughter. How it was that this particular student never made life difficult for her, as a teacher, and how much she appreciated her obliging manner. And what an impression she made on her and the other staff for her empathy with the younger students, comforting them and making them laugh.

Oh yes, and the saga of a fox kit wandering along the road in front of her country home, causing one of her dogs, a rescue, some four years back, from Iqaluit, to run onto the road, just when a car was coming by. She had been alerted by their barking, ran out of the house just in time to see the oncoming car stop, and the driver get out to greet her, helping her get her dog and both watching as the fox kit, about the size of a cat, run into the ditch beside the house.

Can anything possibly be added to this day's satisfaction?