Yesterday, Susan was mentioning in an email how she misses the snow. (Dare I say that she only misses the IDEA of the snow?)
Not one to let someone miss out on something I can surely share, I sent her some pictures.
(Standing at my kitchen sink, doing dishes, I can gaze out at the kiddos while they play. That is, when they’re not holed up on the couch with a mystery virus, three drink decisions, fifteen blankets and afghans, and an endless litany of kiddy shows.)
(See that stack of wood? I’d like it ALL to be in my stove right now so my fingers and toes would WARM UP! Or perhaps I should not be sitting in the kitchen to blog this morning? Ah, but how else would I have taken this picture, which is right off our kitchen? This tree was a wee thing ten years ago. And yes, that’s a basketball hoop and our very own patch of concrete behind it. We can’t WAIT for warmer weather and well children!)
(This is the barn, and I know for a fact that this picture has a special spot in Susan’s nostalgia. Mine too. This picture somehow summarizes the warm feeling I have for this patch of property where we live. That silo? We haven’t used it in years. But I just can’t stand the thought of having it taken down or sold. Just in case it ever is, though, I make it my job to take lots of pictures of it!)
(And this little barn (the one right past the end of my clothesline there) we have only recently (and tentatively) named the “Claypool Crib,” which is Prince Charming aka John Wayne’s brilliant brainchild. You see, Heather has a bit of a passion for what we previously called (in all our creativity) the middle barn. And, in its heyday at the height of this farm being part of a BIG farm with cows and pigs and fields and such, this barn was a corn crib. (Don’t you just love wordplay?) Crib also makes it sound hip and fun and worthy of photography, because NOW it’s where the kids’ toys go in the winter, where we do some tinker-doodling, and the place where, in all likelihood, the roller-skating will take place in the winters when roller-skates are Christmas gifts.)I wasn’t so foolish as to actually step foot outside to get these. Nope, not heat-loving me. I stood at my windows and just pointed the camera. These are straight out of the camera; no jimmying to make them pretty, no adjusting to make them perfect.
In response, she sent me pictures of blooming flowers and green grass.
Needless to say, I’m a little envious. (The grass is greener…literally!)
Today, she asks, “What’s the weather like where you are?” My response:
(Gazing to the road from the front window. I really must name that tree. It’s begging to tell me its story, don’t you think? I’m sure it’s a tale of interesting twists and turns and seeing the road transformed from a rutted dirt path to a busy asphalted highway.)
…more of the same.
How about you?
