After a beautiful day yesterday, it seemed only appropriate that this morning begins with rain — a drizzle that suggests an afternoon movie and, if we’re lucky, a nap. But by noon, it’s sunny, and the backyard calls.
There, we find that the cabbage in the backyard planter, growing since sometime in October or November, has reached the point that putting off consuming it would be almost wasteful — at the very least, it would hint of sin.
So what’s a Polish girl to do but make a surowka out of it — basically, a vinegar cole slaw. The Girl helps with the sauce/marinade. But that only keeps us busy for so long: our newly discovered park is only four miles away, so K packs some fruit while I entertain the Girl in the swing, then just before four, we head out.
We take a different route, with a trail head buried in the back of a Little League park I’ve passed almost every day for five years. Who knew?
Same park, different sights.
A quick stroll through the woods brings us to the lakeside and a small observation platform built out into the water.
With the temperature and the amount of green, it’s difficult to believe that spring is still technically two days away. And from what I’ve been reading, it seems to be the same situation through most of the States.
“If it’s this warm now, what will it be like in August?” people wonder, as if weather had a cumulative effect.
Cumulative effect or not, there is a cumulative effect of all this walking: a tired, fussy girl who’s ready to head home and get some food. We make it across the largest bridge in the park just to sit long enough to decide it’s time to head back
counting and noting the steps along the way.
And what does this have to do with the twenty-sixth day of Lent?
With an end like this, does it really matter?