Sunny Sunday, Mowing Monday

/ Richard R. Barron
Gail, Ethel, Abby, Rachel, Aiden, and the Chihuahuas Max and Sierra visit two horses that are currently grazing Ethel's pasture.
Gail, Ethel, Abby, Rachel, Aiden, and the Chihuahuas Max and Sierra visit two horses that are currently grazing Ethel's pasture.

Abby and I went to her hometown, Ryan, Oklahoma, yesterday, to see her father’s widow Ethel. We brought her lunch, KFC as usual, and she gave us cookies and cream ice cream (I know, “cream” twice, but whatever.) After lunch we were visited by Abby’s sister Gail, Gail’s daughter Rachel, and Rachel’s kids Ally and Aiden. We brought along one of our printers, the one that scans and copies, so Abby could copy a bunch of family recipes, which she, Gail and I did with assembly-line precision.

I even got a nap.

Abby seemed to be feeling better than she had for months, and it was both a relief and an inspiration. Maybe, just maybe, she is finally on the mend from what could only be called the Winter of Sickness.

Our drive home as the sun went down was wonderful, with the light on the drought-recovering countryside nothing short of spectacular, and Abby was perky and chatty. It was a great day with my wife.

Rain is forecast for tonight and tomorrow, so I hope to mow a bunch, then maybe dig in the garden, assuming I can get the cranky tiller to start. Either way, I will be outside today, filling myself with springtime.

A sunstar shines through our front door peephole this morning. I don't see this often, since it only happens a couple of weeks in the spring and fall, and Abby and I are often at work when it occurs. It makes a rainbow circle at the end of the hall.
A sunstar shines through our front door peephole this morning. I don't see this often, since it only happens a couple of weeks in the spring and fall, and Abby and I are often at work when it occurs. It makes a rainbow circle at the end of the hall.