Saturday Morning

It is Saturday morning and my children are still asleep.  Little Man was to have had his first soccer game of the spring season, but it was canceled on account of soggy ground.  It has been raining cats and dogs around here, and not scrawny little dogs like mine. I’m disappointed because those soccer games are a mighty good time, though I am taking full advantage of the extra minutes to write.  I let the kids sleep and sat down with you over a nice cup of tea.

As much as I am ready for the ground to dry out, I was thankful when the rain began yesterday.  Little Man was home afflicted with the family cold, so I was tethered to the home post, too.  Promptly at eight in the morning I heard the windows begin to rattle and a deep low rumble.  It continued all day.  The house that stood behind ours at eight in the morning was gone by four. The rain kept the dust down.

The New View from Our Backyard

I don’t know if we will survive the planned construction.  We are an outdoorsy, garden-party sort of family. We take our meals outside whenever the weather and insects will permit it. If we wish to do that now, we’ll be sitting next to the porta-potty.  I have the kids at home in summer school for much of the summer and there will be hammering and sawing and such all day long.  (Just as there has been all day long at another site across the street which is nearly finished, but it has been cold weather, windows closed.)

The new builders have yet to come with their chainsaws to cut down my favorite tree. An arborist came and deemed that the tree wouldn’t survive the construction. My favorite neighbor came by with his ladder yesterday to remove the bird house Little Man built at his 6th birthday party. We have watched a lot of wildlife in that beautiful tree and it is sad to see it go. I’ll probably cry. As you already know, I’m sentimental.

We are a church-going family so Saturday mornings (when there is no soccer) provide the only unstructured mornings and they always remind me of the unstructured mornings of my childhood.  I would wake under the thick bedcovers in my cozy bed at the farm.  While my brother and boy cousins would wake early to do chores with my grandfather, I would sleep in, having stayed up late over some book, likely Jules Verne.  I would wake to the singing birds, the laughter of women ringing down the long hallway, the smell of breakfast, bacon or sausage from the animals my grandfather had raised last season, potatoes, pancakes, eggs; the whole house warm and friendly.  I would go to set the table and laugh with the women until the men and boys came in and washed.

It’s been nice having tea, but I think I’ll go make some hot breakfast for the kids to wake up to.

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This post officially approved by Little Man, who is now gathering ingredients for waffle making.

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