Sunshine

"Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather."

-John Ruskin

Mr. Ruskin had obviously never been through a Category 5 hurricane. But anyway.

A glorious, brilliant January day out there, ten degrees and not a cloud in the sky.

We take these sunny days for granted in Florida during the winter. In fact, it simply can't get particularly cold there without cobalt blue skies to enable the chill. But up in western New York, the winters are gray and snowy, a little insipid sunlight creeping over the horizon for a few hours. This sunlight is a real treat.

So much going on these days. It's our anniversary, Peg and I. All those years looking back to the day we married in my mother's living room, picking our day and venue out of fear that Mom wouldn't survive a surgery only a few days later. As it turned out she did, but was never the same, and the end came three years later. I'm glad we did what we did that day not only because it allowed Mom to be a part of it (she loved Peg dearly, as near as I could tell), but also because it began this amazing ride the two of us have had together. I couldn't love someone more than I do her, which isn't always the case in marriage. Maybe it's just that we're old enough to know ourselves and to be a better partner, more complete. I just wish we had more days. That's a genuine regret on this beautiful morning.

There's a mixture of anticipation and sadness this morning on the real estate front. Two years ago we learned through friends of the most striking condominium unit in this community, right there in their building: 2200 square feet in a converted primary school built in 1909. with thirteen foot ceilings, a kitchen beyond anything a poor kid from Hemet (or Bluegrass) could ever imagine, and a wall of windows providing a spectacular vista across the entire Chemung River valley. Its original resident was, I'm told, one of the scions of the Houghton family that once owned Corning, Inc., but the current occupant is a Harvard educated executive vice president moving away after nearly forty years with the company.

Well, it showed up on the market after lunch on Friday, and by lunchtime Saturday we'd made an offer, which was accepted shortly thereafter. By the second half of March, funds willing, Dio will be supervising the renovation of the place (which mostly consists of some paint and bookshelves) while we're in Mass for Peg's work.

Which all means the end of the Tara era. Things change, people move on, it's vanity or delusion to think anything will last forever. I know all that in my heart, but the same organ's feeling a little sadness this morning, anticipating the end of Lucia leaving a light on for us when we arrive home, lazy evenings on the front porch enjoying a summer breeze while the Braves play on the radio in the background, Dean & Slane frolicking in the snow outside, days watching football in front of a roaring fire with the Traeger smoking something wonderful out back. We've had a wonderful, magical three plus years in this spot. But part of what made it so precious was that it was so very finite. The generations who lived in this very spot all could have told us as much; maybe that's what Lucia tried to convey in her own way.

That was us on the day we bought her, anticipating a surfeit of happy moments in the days to come.

But life goes on, and we'll build more great memories at the old schoolhouse.

All a better place to be mentally than anywhere near the Capitol rotunda this morning. He's already called the prime minister of Denmark, blackmailing her with threats of a trade war if she doesn't hand over Greenland.

https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2025/01/trump-greenland-crisis-denmark-europe/681371/

I see a massive failure of imagination in those whose crystal balls don't contain images of disaster for this country, for the world, as a result of the simply stupid electoral choice my neighbors have made. He's going to wreck everything, he and his talentless minions, and then blame it on people like me who are politically unreliable.

But I can't worry about that now. I need to make sure there are appropriate groceries and flowers to celebrate this most special day with P when she gets home from work later, do a little work of my own in this holiday space when the phone presumably won't be ringing off the hook, and find some time to go to the gym since I walked past a mirror yesterday shirtless and was confronted with my jiggling self. That won't do, not at all.