Blessings on Ostara, Dear Readers. It's been a productive one for me.
I worked this morning and noticed someone else had cleaned the windows. Thank God because my elbow hates doing it and I was supposed to do it today since it's warm and rainish and not going to snow for at least a few days.
I got a raise of 25%. Go me.
When I got home I brought coffee and then did the floors and then Lochlan and I began the arduous task of trimming back the grapevines before they begin to bud so we can control the extra vines and get the best bang for free. We made a little wine this winter and we'll make some more next winter. I opened a bottle of cherry wine to have with dinner. I've made pies for shepherds and plenty of them and so it will be nice. The wood is laid in the woodstove for a fire tonight and it's supposed to rain. I've lit the last winter candle and plan to move on to the next color tomorrow. The winter ones were red. The spring ones are silver and cream. I'll never buy red again but they were nice all the same.
Henry loves Shepherd's pie. He's been talking so much about learning my recipes and he watches what we're doing and helps so that when he moves out he can make his favourite meals. My heart pings all the way to my knees every time he does that and I spend more time collecting the tiny pieces of myself that get chipped off all the while chirping about secret ingredients like garlic or basil until I can disappear around the corner and have a tiny cry. I don't want him to feel guilty. You raise your children essentially to leave you, to become independent. It hurt in the weirdest way when Ruth moved out, like the dread of homesickness or the want to turn back the clock to appreciate time just a little more. It's a whole new grief of a completely different kind and I hate it but I welcome it, a job well done, a change in my whole life, a landslide, if you will, apologies to Fleetwood Mac and all.
Life is so much harder than most people let on. Are they asleep? Medicated better than I am? So much more organized and able to function and deal with every curveball, every fucking bat to the head that they take? Why am I not like that?
On the upside, the garden is ready. Some day it will be above eight degrees at night and that's when I start to get excited about stupid things like herbs, vegetables and my beloved gigantic dwarf perennials and you will get to hear about that because I don't want to talk about boys lately.