Beautiful Days, Tiring Days

Monday, May 1, 2006

The first of May – perhaps it was May Day; Collette didn’t know. Monday was full of enchanting green forests and lawns all clustered together back at the house in the cool winds of the morning. And the lamb-shaped puddle was in its usual place before Balboa. Inside, there were still several slices left of Mom’s chocolate mint cake, cold from the fridge. And the day couldn’t have been more beautiful against the deep violet blue storms behind the pines and honeysuckle and choruses of windy greens.

And the morning was begun with Rose hanging the Peruvian cowbell around Pumpkin’s neck and sending her out into the living room during her mathematics lecture. Meanwhile, Sunday night, Collette remained at the house till 11:30pm in the aiding of the two term papers, and after she had left, Carrie discovered to her disgruntlement that she had a third paper due and stayed up till 4:30 in the morning completing it. By the time Collette arrived Monday morning at 8:15, Carrie was already awake again and still wearing the fedora. Such was the life of a college student.

Later, during Rose’s writing class, she quietly mused something to herself and then said out loud to Collette:

“I’m going to bring the Norse language back to life.”

Collette vaguely recalled telling her something about something or other regarding her comment.

“I’ll learn it and teach it to my kids and they’ll teach it to their kids…”

And even later, Linnea fell out of a tree, leaving a red stripe down her side. She soon began to giggle again (after the terror of hydrogen peroxide) once Collette managed to unintentionally tickle her by putting on a bandage.

And after a rather rough day altogether, Collette drove home to make chili and rolls for dinner, pick up OLeif from work, before the storms came in, and then OLeif left to work on the church building to prepare for the Thursday inspection. Meanwhile, amazing thunderstorms rolled through, fantastic lightening, and Collette pulled on her shoes just in case. Crazy nights.

“So here I lay in my 23rd year,

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now!

It’s been 6 years since we sailed away

And I just made Halifax yesterday

“G~d ~~~~ them all!

I was told we’d cruise the seas for American gold

We’d fire no guns-shed no tears

Now I’m a broken man on a Halifax pier

The last of Barrett’s Privateers.”