As a pretty lady recently said, it’s been a warm…bizarrely warm…winter so far, with nothing in the forecast but more of the same. Predictions of a new Dust Bowl aside, it makes for a mighty fine weekend.
Saturday morning was chilly, but glorious and found us at China Beach.
Fern was so sad that we couldn’t go in the water. I tried explaining how arctic the temperature would be and she would just nod and say, “Ok. I do! Let’s do it.”. These brave souls didn’t help much.
Sunday we schelpped it out early to the Alemany Flea Market. It was a good treasure day for me and I’ll have to post about my finds later this week.
Flea Markets aren’t as difficult with the hot cookie as they used to be, but there was still a lot of this:
This has got to be one of my favorite ways to spend a morning. I fall in love with far more than I can afford to buy, but just being immersed in the history of the detritus that so much life has touched is enough bliss.
Fern and I were appropriately dressed for the occasion.
After lunch at home, our friend Paul came over to spend the afternoon. Fern still can’t say her brother’s name and instead calls him, “Gumball Guy” and in general skips all proper nouns except for Paul. I think he might be her first love.
We went on a wagon walk through the neighborhood. First stop was Duboce Park, where I discovered that Fern has been absorbing more than I had dared to dream.
And there were Daddy hijinks.
I had spotted something earlier in the week, so we went to check it out.
There are at least four unless swings in the hood. The facebook page says to look out for more to come. Yay swings!
Although more than a little bit of me feels alarm at the extreme weather, and I feel like a peach tree trying not to get tricked into being unseasonal, I must say that my heart falls for feeling like it’s spring, hook line sinker. It’s easier to let the love light in, and something inside anticipates unfurling, sprouting, blooming. All of nature seems to be confused in this way right now, and the crab apple trees are in three seasons at once, half dying leaves, half flowers, a smattering of fruit. I pray for rain, and yet after so much personal darkness in the last half of 2011, I am grateful for a reprieve.
Hope this week finds you swingin’ on a star.