Day 203

What happens to a Queen Anne's Lace flower when it is going to seed.

She rushes around dropping boys off at different places, then puts her blue-sky shoes on, collars the dog, and off they go into the bright meadow, where grasshoppers leap away into the grass ahead of her, like dolphins at the front of a boat.  White fluttering of small surprised butterflies as they zoom past, although she does not really zoom, and nor does Molly anymore. 

She arrives home hot and sweaty, although it is a nice dry heat today.  Feeds all the animals, and the birds.  A little nuthatch comes when she throws peanuts out for them, creeps all the way down the tall pine, picks one up, then flies up to a perch where it has to work hard to crack the shell.  Enter another nuthatch, who, instead of getting its own, steals the first one's nut!  The dominant one then proceeds to eat the nut, while the first nuthatch flies back to its station on the pine, telling itself off with little soft peeps.  "Next time, I swear... next time!"

And then it is cleaning, tidying, as she is not a very good housekeeper, does the bare minimum, in fact, so for the past few days has been on her hands and knees, vacuuming under things, in corners, sending all the spiders scuttling, rescuing a few and putting them outside.  Wiping surfaces, dusting, putting things away that had almost found another permanent home.  She supposes it is good to do occasionally, but her nose suffers, and her eyes itch and gum up, her ears and throat are scratchy.  Is it really worth it? 

She hopes her daughters will be pleased with her effort.  She goes to wait at the airport for the first one, the oldest, and is almost beside herself with excitement, so that after 35 minutes, when she finally sees the beloved face, she rushes out of the barrier behind which everyone stands, and she and her beautiful daughter kiss and hug and hug again, with everyone looking on.  She is smiling widely and tears creep out of the corners of her happy eyes.  Twelve days of being able to hug her whenever she wants, to look on her with all the love of 31 years.

This is Emma the last time she was here, on Christmas Day last year.