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One of the best things about summer when you’re a teacher is being able to spend more time on things that get short shrift during the school year. For example, the garden. It had become a full-on jungle over the past month. Rogue vines had grown up the honeysuckle and chokeberry (more like choked berry – hah), grass had sprung up between the patio rocks, and other plants had well overstepped their boundaries.

After my rowing and strength workouts (educating myself on menopause has lit a fire to battle a possible onset of osteoporosis in the next ten years or so – more on that another time), I stepped out into the backyard after dousing myself in mosquito repellant. After watering every inch of the garden, pulling Creeping Jenny out of the pond (she crept right on over the rocks and and into the water), sweeping up dead leaves and branches, and filling the green compost can to overflowing, I stepped back and breathed a sigh of relief. My beautiful garden: you were there the whole time. You just needed a little love and sweat.

After a weekend of festivities, I attacked my “to do” list with gusto. I woke up early, read the news while drinking my coveted two mugs of coffee, and made a smoothie. In a still-silent house, I hit the rowing machine for my 30-minute workout with my favorite Apple Fitness trainer, Anja. She guided us through 18 imagination-fueled all-out pushes involving escaping piranha, crocodiles, and strong currents. When I emerged from the basement, the house was still quiet. Chris is in Asheville visiting his parents, and the young adults were still asleep.

I went outside to empty the pond skimmer basket and tilted my face toward the sun. A warm, balmy breeze blew across my skin as a I daydreamed of lounging on a beach. Focus. I had a list. It was off to DMV to transfer the VW Beetle into my name from my dad’s, the car my mom insisted on giving to Edwin. It bugs him a tiny bit that it had to go to me in name, but we all know it’s really his. I came very prepared; I had the title filled out correctly, as well as the title transfer application. Both clerks I interacted with remarked that I really knew what I was doing. I couldn’t help but feel pleased with myself.

Still on the list: retrieve daughter and take her shopping for all the stuff she needs for summer camp, find shoes to wear to a wedding, and go grocery shopping.

This first official day of summer break was very productive, but not very summery. In good time.

This was the first Easter morning Maxine has ever had without Edwin. They haven’t dyed Easter eggs in years, but they have competed in the home egg hunt every year since Maxine could walk. With Edwin away at school, Chris and I hadn’t even thought about Easter baskets and hidden eggs.

We visited my parents yesterday, and as we were saying our goodbyes, Maxine remarked that she would get all the candy and money in this year’s Easter egg hunt. Chris and I looked at each other. What egg hunt?

“Um, you want to hunt for eggs by yourself?” I asked her.

“Of course! What do you mean??”

“Oh. Right. Okay, then.”

After I dropped Chris and Maxine at home, I muttered something about running some errands and drove to Giant. I loaded my basket with a dark chocolate bunny, Starburst jelly beans, Tic Tacs, gum, Dove dark chocolates, and a bag of Doritos (nothing says Easter like Doritos, right?). I went through the charade of hiding the loot and then recruited Maxine in helping me get the Easter decorations from the attic.

Within a half hour, I had arranged the delicately embroidered eggs in a bowl, fanned out the two sets of wooden Easter eggs from the Obama White House we had received from family friends, and filled two Easter baskets with the plastic grass I save every year.

Like every Easter morning, Chris and I got up earlier than the kid(s) to stuff candy, quarters, and a few dollar bills into plastic eggs and hide them around the main floor. We used the same old spots plus a few unexpected nooks.

For the first time ever, Maxine descended the stairs by herself on Easter morning, picked up her basket, and proceeded to search for the eggs. It was stunningly calm – no shouting, no accusations of cheating, no running and stumbling over furniture. She admitted that she missed Edwin, but she looked pretty serene with her easily won pile of loot.

I think the cats missed us. They’ve been following us from room to room since we got home from our trip yesterday.

Last night, when we went upstairs for bed, Ricky started meowing from the main floor. I called him a few times but didn’t see him. I went to the top of the stairs and called his name again, and I then saw two little heads peeking around the corner from the landing. I called both of them one more time, and up they came.

Maxine and I have settled onto the couch to watch a movie, and Rick and Jessie wasted no time settling in beside us.

I had been keeping spring at arm’s length, refusing to change out my winter wardrobe and crossing my fingers for continued frosty nights. It was purely selfish: we had a ski trip to take. I wanted roaring fires, snow-covered pine trees, and deeply blanketed slopes.

We made it just by the skin of our teeth. When we crossed the state line into Vermont last Sunday afternoon, winter welcomed us with open arms. We had our roaring fireplace and snowy glade ski runs. Tuesday was a little warmer but still snow-covered. By the end of the day, my skis started to catch in the warming snow, but I had gotten in a full day of skiing.

By Wednesday morning, the rain had set in and the temperatures rose in earnest. Spring was ready to claim her spot. By the time we arrived back in Stowe that afternoon, huge green and brown swaths of the mountain had emerged; the snow was limited to the main ski runs and patches of woods sheltered from the sun.

Chris and I woke up early in Ithaca this morning and watched the sun rise over the Cayuga River as the Cornell crew team skimmed across the glasslike water. I still needed a sweater, coat and hat in the chilly morning, especially since most of our two-hour tour of Ithaca College would take place outside. I knew what was awaiting, though, as we planned to make our way back home. I kept my hoodie handy, and, sure enough, once we were midway through Pennsylvania, I had traded out my turtle neck sweater for a cotton hoodie.

Now my thoughts are turning to removing the rest of the dead leaves from the garden, spreading mulch in bare spots, planning the herbs and flowers I’ll plant in late April, and moving my indoor plants outdoors. Nothing is holding me back from embracing warm spring weather. Thank you for your patience, Spring!

We drove from Stowe to Ithaca today. Most of the journey was on scenic byways along and over lakes and through small towns and hamlets.

When we were nearing Ithaca, I suggested we drive through the campus of Cornell. Wow. It was stunning. Many of buildings are Gothic, and the main campus is surrounded by sleep slopes plunging down into creeks and adorned with waterfalls.

Maxine was impressed by the dramatic beauty of the campus but noted that many of the students looked stressed.

“You know, they’ve worked so hard to get into an Ivy League school, and then they’re in an Ivy League school and they really have to work hard.” Personally, I didn’t see the stress; I saw busy young people heading places in a breathtaking setting.

Maxine has no plans to apply to Cornell; we are here to tour Ithaca College and to see the town – oh, and to eat at Moosewood (more on that later).

We had a fun day visiting UVM and Burlington today. We had Maxine’s good friend and her mom with us, and they found out two other friends from Arlington were there for the same tour.

It’s the perfect school for the outdoorsy kid. I’d say we have a semi-outdoorsy kid with the potential to be full outdoorsy. That transition plus a hefty merit scholarship might put UVM in the realm of possibilities.

We did it. We put in two full days of skiing and each made it off the mountain in one piece. It was not another bluebird day but still very pretty and somewhat warmer.

By the end of the day, the snow was starting to catch at my skis a little, and I felt a little less in control. The slightly melting snow coupled with my tiring body told me it was time to call it a day. Chris felt the same way as we met at the bottom of the slope.

Maxine had pushed herself a little beyond her comfort zone with the group of friends she ended up with after lunch. Before we went our separate ways, I warned her, “Don’t put yourself in an uncomfortable position.”

When we met up a few hours later, she said, “Mom, I did what you told me not to do.” She had a few minor falls but was fine. She and one friend decided to take it down a notch and ski the last couple of hours together and let the more advanced thrill seekers do their thing.

After we dropped off our rental equipment, we all let out a big sigh. It was great fun, but part of the fun of skiing is putting up the skis and giving your (hopefully unbroken) body a rest.

It has been a gorgeous day on the mountain, what they call a “bluebird day” because the sun is shining and the sky a bright blue.

I am so used to mid-Atlantic skiing that I can’t get over how long the runs are here. We’ve done all greens and a few blues, and none of them has disappointed. My favorite trails are the glade runs, those that go through the forest.

I am kind of sore and a bit buzzed from the 8% beer at The Alchemist, the brewery about a 10 minute walk from our house. They are known for their brew “heady topper,” and this is the only place ON THE PLANET (my friend keeps reminding us) where you can get this beer on draft.

It’s takeout pizza and salad from our organic farm delivery for dinner, followed by an early bedtime and one more ski day. Fingers crossed for another bluebird day!

We had a smooth drive up to Stowe, Vermont today. We pulled out of the driveway at 6:40 AM and were driving past NYC at 10:15 AM.

We were texting with our friends, who were about an hour behind us.

“Any sign of snow yet?” they asked.

Nope. Not when we got north of the city, not in Connecticut. Nothing in Massachusetts but flowering pear trees and brown leaves on the ground.

Hold on. As we neared the border of Vermont, the shaded areas along the side of the highway looked powdery.

“Oh, we have some dusting here…it’s getting thicker.”

Powdered sugar turned into thick icing. By the time we crossed the border into Vermont, it was wintertime. We had arrived.