Spring has come to Suffolk! After seemingly endless days of cold rain and pressing gray skies, the land again remembers how to laugh. Spring comes slowly and early here. We were accustomed to its arrival in April with a riot of color, like a prisoner released. But here we've had blooms since February, scattered in pockets here and there. Now there are more of them, presented in a fashion that may be described as orderly.
Along with Spring's vivid sights there are sounds and smells. The sheep pasture is alive with the bleating of little nobby-kneed lambs. The air smells faintly, continually of cow manure. In the morning the magpies twitter in the trees while Mr. and Mrs. Mallard quack and splash in the River Lark.
In our house, the boxes are everywhere. In the bedrooms, in the living room; large wardrobe boxes filled with sweaters and suits, smaller boxes filled with toys and appliances we'll never use. I take a deep breath and unpack, trying not to think too much. My goal: two boxes per day. One for me and one, I sardonically grin, for my pal Sisyphus.
Normalcy is taking root, slowly. Routine is beginning to smooth away the rough edges. The days begin and end early. In between is the familiar everyday mundane that has taken on new luster since our arrival, proving yet again that a change is as good as (if not better than) a rest.
Chris and Elena have settled nicely into school. Chris enjoys an accelerated program; half the class is conducted in Spanish. He has finally found a teacher who knows what he needs and can impliment it. Elena is beginning to read. And she's made friends with "Teenie", a perky older red-head from school who admires Elena's diminutive spunk.
Judy's work day is longer now with more structure and paperwork, and she's had to adjust to a military mindset. I've become the house-husband ... not an unfamiliar role ... taking care of the daily business so we can enjoy the evenings together. Some of Judy's co-worker's husbands are having a more difficult time with the adjustment, but I think they will see the situation as an opportunity.
The coming weeks will bring Easter, my new British driving license, a new coat of paint for Chris and Elena's room, and more adventures to share with you. Sorry for the delay, but we've not been idle. Keep those letters coming! ###
We had a fire in the conservatory early Sunday
morning after the movers had gone. The cause: a short in the electrical heating
pad under the carpet that warms the room. I awoke from sleep with a start, sniffed something
acrid in the air that set alarm bells ringing in my head, and scrambled down
the stairs. Judy followed in her underwear.
Through the kitchen door we spied an ominous
orange glow. I rushed in, setting off the smoke detector
in the hallway. A thin line of fire was creeping across the room. "Get water!",
I coughed as I ripped the cord from the wall socket, disconnecting the power.
Judy began filling a Dixie cup at the kitchen sink. "What are you doing? Use
a BOWL!", I yelled and in a moment the fire was extinguished.
I imagined the face of our landlord Mr. Twinn
as he listened to the voice message I left for him. He came over the next
day, mortified by what he saw. Luckily all the packing paper and empty boxes
from that room had been placed outside prior to the blaze else the entire
room, constructed of aluminum and white vinyl, would have melted.
I spent the next few days cleaning off the soot.
Elena's step stool was ruined along with a chair and a table leg. A contractor
will come by this week to remove the faulty heating pad and replace the carpet.
Mr. Twinn wanted to replace our furniture, but we were satisfied with a smoke
detector and fire extinguisher for the kitchen. We are content not to linger on what might have
happened.
