My daughter and I are down at Windrock this weekend, and already I can feel the cares of my workaday life melting away in the cool fog off the bay. The day broke in a warm rain, then got downright steamy and seduced my child to take a dip in the downright frigid ocean. True to form, she stayed in for 10 minutes passed sanity and took an hour of shivering in blankets afterward to revive. Then the fog unfurled and the wind picked up and it became another type of day altogether (though any day at the shore beats a gorgeous day at the office).
The daffodils are still in full bloom here, but unlike the late March visit Elias and I paid where we camped out in the livingroom to take advantage of the fireplace in an unheated house, it is now warm enough to dispense with such things. We've walked in the woods, made a doll out of found objects and a toy sailboat that was inspired by a piece of driftwood and now looks capable of sailing close to the wind.
Emily and I found a number of great books to read on our own and to eachother - one of the great pleasures of this grand old house withseveral generations worth of reading material tucked into every corner. She polished off Misty of Chincoteague last night, and is into The Great Brain and Owls in the Family at the moment. I found The African Queen and am thinking about its diorama possibilities...
We'll be cooking up a stack of blueberry pancakes for Sunday breakfast. There is a claw foot tub to soak in tonight. The replacement windows don't rattle like the old ones but the timbers of the house still respond to the wind at night. I planted butterfly weed from seeds I collected last Fall, and reintroduced Siberian iris to the property with some divided plants from mine. I wish I had a month here, but even a weekend is such balm for the soul.