Thursday, February 22, 2007

It's safe to be a sturgeon again

Today, as I looked beyond my laptop and out my front windows, I was amused by the endless procession of pick-up trucks towing ice shanties away from the lake. We're starting to thaw.

By this past Monday--President's Day--it had been a very long week. Opie came down with a mild fever the previous Monday, so that meant no school for him for three days. Friday is my regular day off and Monday was a holiday. Of course! I love! spending time with my kids! but maybe not so much time for so many days in a row.

What got me past the wall of this particular marathon was that the temperature finally approached freezing (instead of being below zero), so Monday afternoon we hauled out the wagon and took a walk. First we checked out the lake and the ice-fishing. Further up the shoreline, a few families had cleared off enough snow to create a rectangular ice rink. We waved to a dad (hi, anesthesiologist on whom I once barfed) on skates who was pulling his two daughters behind him on a sled. We waved to two more boys in full hockey gear making their way down to the rink. Turning the corner, we approached a different, thawed area of the lake. Instead of ice shanties, here we found what seemed like hundreds of Canada geese taking a breather. Soon we were talking about migration, about what geese eat and whether bugs live in the water, and of course about all the goose poop we had to dodge on the sidewalk.

Back near our street, Jo started spotting birds’ nests, including a curious, smooth, round ball in one of our next-door neighbor’s trees (I chose not to mention that it might house hornets instead of songbirds). This soon led to a discussion of how the trees have no leaves in wintertime and then to speculation about all the things trees are good for.

Thus I regained the strength for the tantrums that followed seconds after we walked in the door (hot cocoa denied, etc. etc.) and the dinner and the bedtime and the laundry and the dishes and whatever else.

And if you need strength or a restoration of faith, don't miss the comments on my last post. Y'all are a bunch of superior monkeys, for sure.

7 comments:

mothergoosemouse said...

I love those conversations. Both Jo and Tacy really do pay attention and ask questions that show their comprehension levels.

Likewise, it has been beautiful here for the past several days. The snow isn't ALL gone, but close. THIS is how Colorado winters are supposed to be.

And ditto the process by which we regain our strength. I swear that I have a late-afternoon witching hour similar to that of a newborn.

Lady M said...

Brrrr. Sounds like a fun walk in the cold! It rained hard last night and part of today, which isn't so bad for us office-workers. The big cycling race going on (the Tour of California) got pretty damp though.

I want to see those ice fishing huts sometime!

Summer said...

Glad you liked "superior monkeys." Of course, a few hours after I posted, I remembered more of our family taglines. An appropriate one for today would be "I got my long johns on!" (That one's from our days at a middle o' nowhere college; Vince picked up a hitchhiker, who was willing to ride in the bed of his pickup truck despite the chilly weather, because "I got my long johns on!") Unfortunately, today I have my low-rise jeans on, not long johns, and my walk to work this morning was marred by the wind slapping the inch of bare skin between shirt and waistband. Brrr.

And now I want caviar.

Kate said...

I love the impromptu conversations and walks. Sounds like a nice, albeit cold, walk you had in such an idyllic space. How very Mayberry of you. :)

movin'mom said...

Boy you are really laying the ground work for that birds and the bees talk huh?

WELL we woke up this morning to the color white again huh?

:(

movin'mom said...

please disregard one of those huh's ?
in the last comment

Lisa said...

You just CRACK ME UP. My little guy and I have made it a point to walk our dog a few times a week after a long day. Then we get a chance to talk... Its something I hope he'll remember as an adult. Its time I treasure.