RiverFork of Trill

[ismo]

That was a nice day, even though it started with less than 6 hours of sleep. We watched internet church. I took apart the chicken remainders to turn the bones into broth and the meat into chicken salad for tomorrow. I worked on my story some more. We went for a long walk, all the way to the college campus, empty now because classes have been canceled. The college is on the grounds of a lumber baron's former mansion, and behind the mansion, which is now offices, there's a pretty though neglected garden terrace, with a small reflecting pool, with a bench beside it where we like to sit. We haven't been there in ages. It takes longer to get there now, because the Sparrowhawk walks more slowly than he used to, but we made it, and had a pleasant interlude enjoying the blue sky and the bright sun on the white birch branches before walking home again. The bluebells are coming up in the woods there already! I honestly did not think they'd be up yet. Blue scylla are everywhere in the woods. We heard a little girl exclaim to her father, "The field! The field of flowers!"

We tried ordering takeout for the first time since coronavirus. We called the order in and paid online, and a nice young man of the restaurant family delivered it to our door in no time. We got mu shu pork, dumplings, egg rolls, and Mongolian beef with extra vegetables. I washed my hands, dumped everything into clean containers without touching it, threw away all the packaging, and washed my hands again. Oh, and washed the little plastic containers of sauce with soap and water! Then let the Sparrowhawk plate it and microwave it. If that doesn't kill those little critters, I don't know what will. It was a lot of work, but it was fun to eat something we didn't cook ourselves, which we haven't done for three weeks now. Also these restaurant owners seem like such nice people, and I really want them to survive.

As I'm sure I've mentioned before, we like to read aloud before going to sleep. We just finished Swallowdale, by Arthur Ransome. It's such a lovely book, all hiking and sailing and cooking over the campfire, and those remarkably friendly and helpful uncles, farm women, and adults of all kinds who appear in children's fiction of a certain era, plus parents who think it's just fine for kids to spend the summers on their own in a tent, or on a boat. My favorite part is where Titty and Roger get lost on the moor in a fog, and Roger hurts his ankle and has to stay overnight in the mysterious hut of the charcoal burners. It's a magical moment. The book has become quite funnily mixed up with current events for me, so when I look back on coronavirus quarantine, I'll always think, "Oh yes, that's when we were sailing with the Swallows and Amazons, and John smashed the boat on a rock and they had to salvage it all by themselves, and Pirate Captain Nancy had to wear a white frock and recite poetry to her great aunt. I remember it now . . . ."

Comments

[queenoftheskies]

It sounds like the area where you walk is beautiful.

Thankful to hear it sounds like you're staying healthy.

[ismo]

Thanks! We are, and I hope you and yours are doing the same.

subvert the dominant paradigm

[siriosa]

sounds like you've nailed it. go you.

Re: subvert the dominant paradigm

[ismo]

Ha--I first read that as "survive the dominant paradigm," which is also a thing.

Re: subvert the dominant paradigm

[siriosa]

only way to survive it is to subvert it. though blowing it entirely up has a certain appeal.

[oracne]

There is fic for Swallows and Amazons, when the kids are older and spying at sea in WWII.

[ismo]

Oh my gosh, OF COURSE there is! Why did I not think of that . . . . Someone on Facebook (Ellen Kushner?) posted recently about Simone Segouin, and I thought "That is exactly the kind of thing Nancy Blackett would have done when she grew up!"