Happy Spring Days

We had two couples (one with three children) come for dinner on Saturday, and managed to have them stay almost five hours. They are all moving in the next couple of months, and it struck me anew how very precious every visit is. Even with my closest friends, there is such a finite number of conversations in a lifetime. I long to make the most of every one of them.

Sunday after church many of us stayed and had a picnic. We sat and talked to our friends for two and a half hours. I asked one of our single friends if he had any physical contact. I have sons I can pat on the back every day, and a baby to squeeze all day long, not to mention a husband. Like many mothers, I have sometimes reached a point where I just don't want anyone touching me any more!

But for our single friends ... their sole physical contact might be a handshake in a business context. The Bible does say to love one another with brotherly affection (depending on the translation, that phrase comes up in various places, likes Romans and II Peter). Is there a way to do that more? I would love to hand Caleb around to be squeezed, but he's become quite the mama's boy, and, really, that's a temporary solution at best anyway.

I talked to my sister for a couple of hours. She's expecting right now, and we have talked about pregnancy. She had a rough first trimester, but had the interesting point that, although she was more sick physically with this pregnancy than last, she is much better emotionally and mentally. She isn't living in fear, for example. It is interesting to be physically bad off, but still feel like overall you are a more healthy person.

That was a striking thought. By that measure, though I didn't leave the farm for four months when pregnant with Caleb due to horrific morning sickness, it was the first pregnancy I had where I didn't feel like the essential Amy vanished for 18 months or so. Besides the months of incapacitation, the worst part of the first four pregnancies was losing myself, feeling like my brain was operating at about 40%, that my sense of humor was gone, that I was missing.

If only there was a sure-fire way to not be sick. It would make pregnancy a whole lot nicer for a lot of us.

Monday was an ice cream making day. Phil made over a gallon. We did the same thing again today, but he figured out how to streamline the process and get a more uniform product.

Phil said today that he feels bad that I milked the cows for so long. He has a system that he likes; he feeds the cows alfalfa cubes and they line up for milking; he manages their udders and their feed and the jars of milk and the cleanup.

It was pouring for much of the middle of the night and this morning, the kind of violent squall that sends sheets of water on the earth that erode sheets of red clay. I was up early and heard a steady drip. When Phil got up, he knew exactly where it had come from: he had noticed last week that the high temperature sealant around the chimney had already cracked. At the time he thought, "If we get a heavy rain, I bet we'll get water right down."

He said ruefully, "Why didn't I fix it right then?" Well, there is always something else, some other bit of more pressing maintenance, or at least, so it seems.

No permanent damage done: the water was nowhere near any drywall, and hit only on the wood stove and the hearth. But I sure don't like drip sounds!