Spring Break Fever

Has it been ten days already since we all last had classes. More than that, about six weeks, since I have found time to provide any updates. The thing about winter in Florida is that it plays a deceptive hand. Some days rainy and cool overcast and even a frost, and then a teasing almost springlike for weeks. Finally this past week we got rain. A lot of it. Since then, three days of sun.

Outback, the coral honeysuckle have begun to bloom, deep orange pedals with bright yellow stamen. In the winds that blew on Thursday, a large Bromeliad tillandsia was forced out of an elbow in the live oak and fell to the ground. It is an endangered plant species, so we installed it on the trellis as well, affixing it with wire on the north side of the lattice. Maxim also decide it was time to tent and when she could not convince me to pull out the real camping tent, she made one of her own.

On Friday, Maxim turned ten. 10. She invited about ten girls and they had a dance contest, a water balloon fight, got to swing on the tire swing and get sprayed, ate pizza and cake, and then went out to the movies with Lanita, Alana's mom. Yesterday she attended her friend Sophia's birthday party, after spending the afternoon ice skating with another friend. Birthday weekend. Noah mentioned his desire to drive all of the girls except his sister out of the yard after a few hours, but he had Demarco, Brandon, and Jonah to play with on the side. And they all got cake, water balloons, and a swing on the tire swing of cold water, too.

But he's eight, so he doesn't see it quite like that. He's a boy who loves superlatives, and comparisons, out of which the true essence of things emerge. "I didn't have this many kids at my birthday party," he says forlornly. "You had exactly as many." I remind him. "Not if you don't count sisters and friends. I didn't have this many girls!" he says with extra emphasis and contempt on the last word. But Noah is doing well in the real world. He is enjoying playing baseball and he and the boys in the neighborhood play epic games of get the bad guy around the houses with their nerf plastic rifles and the dogged seriousness of pre-adolescent boys. Sometimes they don't even notice I am walking among them. The game just goes on.

And then there's Marcela, who has just received the largest painting in the world to fix and preserve in her small studio. It is called "I Don't Paint Feet," and she has been commissioned by Saratoga County to stabilize it, repair it where possible, and house it for display. Four years ago, Papa and I built a work bench for Marcela (2' x 5'). This painting exceded its size (it is 3'9" x 6'10"), so this morning, I went to the lumber yard and got a nice piece of hardwood plywood to provide enough surface for the work she intends to do. The piece needs flattening, repairs with Japanese paper, and work on the painting side, too. It's exactly the sort of project Marcela trained for in Buenos Aires. She is excited and nervous and ready to get started. I am excited fo her.

And then there's me. I'm good. Six more weeks until summer. :)

KAC