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I gave the “garden” a bit of water when I went out for rhubarb this morning and I saw 3 cucumber plants poking through.

Well… one and 2 halves.

The one was definitely a cucumber- two sturdy leaves well above ground.

The two halves were only half up- the merest hint of a green leaf trying to poke through. But they were in the right place, following the row nicely, so I’m going to believe they were also cucumber plants making a valiant effort to push their way through.

And between the football game in the next room and the song bird in the back hedge, I’d take the song bird, except that I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on the game so I can text my absent men the score.

I’d mute the television, but then I’d not hear the obnoxious screaming and cheers when Saskatchewan scores… and I take my glasses off to see the computer screen, so I need the elevated crowd noises to notify me that there has been a change in someone’s fortunes.

They seem to get pretty excited about interceptions too.

There.

T.V. turned down a bit.

Now.

Back to reality.

He did the most thoughtful thing:

He came in from making his evening rounds with a sprig of wild roses.

A lovely little branch that just nicely fits in a vase… at least half a dozen buds yet to open, and several already fragrant blossoms.

Wild roses smell so nice-

And these ones seem to be sweeter than usual.

“You should get a job at a gas station,” says Himself to myself as I was wiping down the shower walls with the squeegee we bought to keep mold and fungus at bay.

I had to explain that I would not last long as a gas station attendant.

People like to have more than the outer 2 inches of their windshields cleaned.

And that’s on cars- small, foreign cars- never mind vans or trucks that need running boards for one to gain access to the cab.

Nope. That job would not be for me.

Besides, although he may dispute it, there are a few things that I am quite perfectionist about, and which, consequently, take far too long for me to do: vacuuming, cleaning mirrors and windows, getting all the water drops off the shower walls.

So, even if I dragged a small ladder around with me, I’m quite sure I wouldn’t be able to wash a windscreen before the gas was finished being pumped.

Good thing I’ve never had any aspiration in that direction.

That’s the long and short of it.

It doesn’t feel like 4:30 pm…

But maybe that’s a good thing.

The PA friends have taken our son away with them, and the table’s been reduced again, and the extra chairs put away.

If this is a portent of things to come, it will indeed be a very quiet, possibly boring week.

Good thing we have a few coffee dates lined up. At least I’ll have some goals!

Ah, yes.

Sunday afternoon in The Field; with the shades drawn against the hot afternoon sun, and the windows all open to catch the breeze, and the birds going mental in the trees outside the open windows.

Where the soft rumblings of the dishwasher and the gentle whirring of the fans create a white noise rivaled by the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind.

Nice.

Now… to the Sims 2 or to seek out my other half…

Well, considering that he’s probably asleep on the couch by now… I really shouldn’t disturb him… it would be a kindness, really, to just go visit my new Sim family…

I posted the story.

It’s off to Toronto on a wing and a prayer.

Well, $1.18 worth of stamps.

Twelve to sixteen weeks one should expect to wait.

So, let the waiting begin.

I may need to find a mouse yet, (I’ve never been great with the “touch pad” thingy) and my pinkie finger appears to be too short to hit the “shift” button, (nearly every “capital” letter I’ve tried to make has been a “\” sign first)

But, other than needing to familiarize myself with the new keyboard, the Toshiba lap top Randall brought home for me yesterday is wonderful!

Wow.

As long as I get the hang of the shift and enter keys pretty quickly. If I don’t it will be a great annoyance… hmm… I wonder if it writes in French… the keyboard seems to be bilingual… I don’t suppose there’s a manual somewhere… probably hidden in an ambiguous file…

Oh, well.

It’s up and running, and that’s the fabulous thing.

And it’s 9:00, so I think I will tear myself away from BBC Radio 4 to see who’s on the Graham Norton show tonight.

Ta ta for now.

I know some would argue against “old”,

But it looks like it’s shaping up for both Micah and Thomas to be gone next week.

I’m wondering what that will look like…

I will probably turn my alarm off and spend the week sleeping in.

Beyond that, I’m interested to see who we’ll be with no kinder in the house.

I don’t suppose it will feel much different to me, except for mornings and supper time. I’m usually shuffling around the kitchen by 7:00 am or so directing the breakfast traffic and making lunches.

And supper continues to be a family, sit down meal, so it will be a little quieter with just the two of us.

But, it might be nice.

I guess we’ll see!

The table is still great.

The windows?

Wonderful.

The View?

Not bad.

But the computer?

Maybe dead after all.

Obituary, perhaps, to follow.

Absolutely fine.

Long, long ago Randall had an idea about getting a little writing desk that would fit in the “bayed” window in the sitting room on the main floor.

We went looking at various antique shops and Ikea… and that’s when I fell in love with the “library table” that he eventually bought for me.

We put it in the bay window, fulfilling the original vision.

Last week we also expanded our furniture department by purchasing a china cabinet. (that’s another story)

In the course of washing china and organizing the cabinet, I ended up de-cluttering the kitchen/dining room, and decided to move my computer from it’s usual place on the kitchen table.

I relocated it to the library table under the window in the sitting room as a temporary measure. I was concerned of the possibility of heat damage to the wood surface from the bottom of the laptop, so I wasn’t thinking  this would be a permanent move.

I’ve decided, however, that sitting here, facing the trees at the front of the house, with the windows on either side of me open to bird song and the breeze is so pleasant that it far outweighs the inconvenience of having the computer off most of the day.

To which end, I may just leave it here, on this table, and turn it on when I want to write or check email or make a fabulous Facebook Scrabble move.

That breeze IS completely delicious.

And the grass was cut today, so it smells marvelous too.

Beatrix Potter may have had the Lake District… but if that was heaven, this is pretty close.

“Miss Potter” in and of itself is a grand movie.

“Miss Potter” in The Field is a recipe for professional discontent if not self flagellation.

If Miss Potter, at 32 or 33 could move against the Victorian upper class stream to become a well loved author of children’s books, then why am I, even at 46, still sitting on my duff with one virtually ready for launching on an unsuspecting publishing world, and many more swirling around in my brain.

This week.

That will be my goal.

I must get it sent out.