Dinner is simmering. The "camp" as they say in Maine is cleaned and open for the season. Sheets are washed, beds made, floors scrubbed, rugs swept, bathrooms spic and span. We are ready for visitors.
There's a slight drizzle and it's a low gray sky, but across the river the trees are misty, seafoam green and our daffodils are still blooming. We have a great swatch of them in the middle of the blackberry brambles. I thought that they'd be gone but they're still in perfect form and they make such a nice splash of color in an otherwise still early in the season landscape.
Yesterday, we were in Connecticut for a bridal shower for Miss S., my step daughter. It was a really lovely affair, and if I do say so, the Bride-To-Be was even more lovely. It's been a while since I've been to one of these shin-digs and I forgot how uncomfortable it must be for a young woman to sit, with all eyes on her, open gifts and make the proper exclamations of thanks. She did it with grace and style and I was really proud of her. I had nothing to do with her raising up so I'd like to acknowledge what a great job her mom and dad did. I love you, Miss S., like you are my own.
Ok, personal interlude over.
We finally found an opening in my work travel schedule and RG's golf calendar and we headed out to Cushing first thing this morning. I've not been up since Super Bowl weekend. RG has come up a few times to check for squirrels and leaks (none of either, thankfully), so it's good to be back.
TWC-Maine turned on the internets as promised and I'm able to work from the mid-coast for the next two days. Weather permitting, we'll also try to neaten up the grounds (I swear we raked leaves in the fall, but you surely wouldn't know it), and maybe put together the bunk beds in the sleeping cottage. So far, we don't have any 14-person weeks planned for this summer but you never know when we'll get lucky.
Finally, if you're looking for a good book recommendation I have two--polar opposites:
Blind Side: The Evolution of The Game. Even if you're not a huge football fan, there's a human interest story here that's so compelling it's hard to put the book down.
The Sweetness At the Bottom of the Pie. 1950's England and a precocious 11-year old narrator who is trying to solve a murder in her garden. Delightful--she's like Harriet the Spy, only English.