Slate-colored skies

After I’d finished “Jane Lends A Hand” I decided to read “Nancy of Paradise Cottage “ the only other book by the same author, available at Gutenberg. Both books were written in the early 1920s, and I really enjoyed the slightly old-fashioned language as well as learning more about the daily life ninety years ago. The dialogs are humorous, but there is a serious undertone as the leading character is determent to support herself.

"Charlotte wanted to study music, "not like a boarding-school miss," she told Nancy. "I want to make it the real thing. I tell you I don't know anything about it—but I'm going to, yet." Old Mr. Spencer, while he had no objections to one of the arts as a ladylike accomplishment, felt that it was not exactly respectable for a girl to go into it seriously, just why, he would have been at a loss to say. "You know," Charlotte had explained, with her humorous smile, "there is a notion that it's all right for a 'lady' to dabble in anything, painting, music, or embroidery and so on, so long as she doesn't attempt to make a profession of it, or think of making money by it."

Walking to the mailbox yesterday, when the sun evidently wasn’t on duty, I was wondering if young people of today have seen a slate. Maybe a slate roof, guess that depends on where you live.

Yesterday’s sky was closer to pewter-gray than slate-gray — it drizzled all day, which softened the drive way to the extent that I’d put down the old sofa in the middle of it, to let people know that if they want to see us, they have to walk up. If I have to go somewhere, I have to do it early in the mornings, while the road still is cold and not yet so soft that I get stuck in the middle of it.

I’m still waiting for the beautiful spring to arrive — so far it’s only brown and muddy, with a few, very few flowers.

Alive, if not exactly kicking

A High Kicking Dancer

Ferdinand von Reznicek

not this high anyway. But my legs, are moving slowly — just like the rest of the body.
Some of you have written and asked if I'm OK.
There are several reason that I've been so remiss in blogging. Brain fog and lack of energy are a couple of reasons, but also having workmen here and trying not to miss several appointments.


Spring is here and we've been sitting outside all afternoon today — for the first time this year. My darling loves when the door is open and he can come and go as he likes. And I love to watch him, when he's sniffing in the air, and checking out every square inch of his property.

If you wonder if I'm alive, you can always check my Swedish blog — and get Google's version of my life. I can't guarantee that you'll understand the translation, but I can guarantee some confusion and a chuckle or two.

Finally

Most of the snow is gone.
Most of the ice on the river is gone.
A few, very few, flowers have dared to come up.
The darling is spending more time outside than in — and his waist is starting to show.
It is Spring!

We have had quite an assortment of workmen coming and going — going more than coming. The plumber left us with water only in the kitchen and one toilet, and no shower, before Easter. And remember that Sweden closes on the evening of Maundy Thursday and is closed until Tuesday morning! It was bad planning, not an emergency, a job planned in advance! But this morning two nice guys came and put up the new shower and gave us the water back. Now we're waiting for the carpenter to turn up again — he was here before Easter to remove the threshold, to make it easier for my mother to move around with her walker. But he disappeared with the plumber — perhaps he needs the moral support from his friend to be able to work...
We have waited so long for this to happen, I do hope something will happen very soon. We're also waiting for workmen to install a stairway elevator, but fear we have to wait some more

Spring?

I think we finally can discern Spring.

My darling has started to so spend some time outside.
It is raining.

Our driveway will soon become too soft to drive on.

The river looks rotten.