We did make it up to the cabin for the weekend. Dave launched the plane Friday afternoon. We went to check on it later that evening to make sure the floats were not leaking. Sinking the plane is a bad way to start the season. The weather was fine for flying so we went up on Saturday morning and came home Sunday evening.
There was some winter damage at the lake but not bad considering the colossal forces all that snow and ice put on our various structures. Half a dozen trees were broken, one of our ramps snapped and we could see some buckling of a metal brace on the porch roof. Otherwise, unscathed. The place looks generally ratty, normal for this time of year. In two weeks or so, everything will be leafed out and lush.
Trumpeter swams flew by in pairs, honking. Two were drifting near by, then took flight. Their wings sounded like canvas flapping. It takes a lot of effort for them to get airborne. An otter glided by, quiet. Loons called in the distance. And that rapping sound, just outside the kitchen window? A red-breasted, yellow-bellied sapsucker.
Doris Lessing books are a pleasure these days. I read "Love, Again" and "The Sweetest Dream" and liked them both very much. Barry Unsworth wrote "Morality Play" which I liked and I am waiting for his book "Sacred Hunger". In the meantime, a Jean Thompson short story collection "Who Do You Love" is keeping me company. Don't know why drug addicts and sad social workers are appealing right now. Many paths to understanding, I guess.
There are piles of books and lists of movies and new albums and old songs. For some reason, Phoebe Snow singing "Madame George" is just the right tune for now. It has been around forever but this week, it just needs to be in my ears. It has a lovely melody and she has a fabulous voice and with Van's stream of consciousness for lyrics and that snare drum, well, it is a beautiful combination.
And, word is, the ice is off the lake. Might be, we can launch the plane and go to the cabin and get the summer started. That will be an enjoyable way to spend the weekend.
Life is normal and life is strange. Ray has a science fair project and I have a phone growing out of my ear. My sister, my other sister, then my brother. Then the sisters again, my brother and then my niece. Then my brother, my sister and my mom. Later, my sister. Things settle down. It was all just a tangent yesterday, sort of unrelated to my mom but it is all related somehow. Those small, noisy people I shared a bathroom with all those years ago are still down the hall. Family forever.
The sibs found a place for Mom. The tours and consultations with professionals resulted in a decision to house her in Assisted Living instead of straight into the Alzheimer's unit. She is "high functioning" and the more protected area is right next door. We are all lined up. Mom is okay with it. Calling it an apartment instead of a nursing home seems to help. She wants a new recliner. She tears up and cries, "I was an only child." Which means, I guess, that she has always been independent. I try the neighborhood analogy. There will be neighbors at the new place, people who will look in on you and who will need you to look out for them. I dunno. She will move in a few days and I will go down in a couple of weeks.