I had a very quiet weekend. I had the disconcerting sense that my marionette strings had been cut and I could only flop in a corner.
I am juggling so many projects right now (most not involving the farm, so not discussed here) that I have been pushing for a long time. But not this weekend.
DH had given me a series of out-of-print used novels for Christmas by a favorite author, Elisabeth Ogilvie, and I read one each day, in between slowly cleaning the house.
DH has been pushing harder than I have, and he leaves tomorrow for the first of two business trips, but his “break” was to take Lucy skiing after work (by headlamp in the falling snow) on Friday as I fixed supper. Then Lucy skied (in the rain) on Saturday, and on Sunday (the weather now cold again) he took her to another paintball biathlon race. She won!
Though her cross-country technique is very good and she is fast, we are sure another factor is that Lucy has managed to ski more in this almost snowless winter than any of the other competitors.
She and DH share the nordic mania. Watching the temperatures, they have skied before school or after nightfall. They have skied on frozen lakes and on shoveled tracks. DH has broken the carbide tips off three of his ski poles on rocks.
It always makes me happy to see them come in together, flushed and tired and happy. But I was content to change sheets, bake bread, roast a leg of lamb, and curl up with my books.