Wednesday, June 01, 2011

Long Weekend in NH






We spent the holiday weekend in New Hampshire, excited to be heading up to Holdenfield for the first time this year. (We are trying to come up with an annoyingly pretentious name for the house that we can use when we tell people we’re going. “We’ll be spending the weekend at Lamb House.”) The drive up was easy, and Lucia didn’t even wake up when we transferred her to her crib; but she was up bright and early—just before six—the next day, and not much later the next couple of mornings, unable to put herself back to sleep in a new place.

But that was okay. There’s nothing to do there but relax, which is what I did from the moment I set foot in the house. I read a whole book. I occasionally napped. I sat on a bench in front of the house and looked out at the fields. I read an out of date local paper. Lucia, too, had fun, especially splashing around in the pool we brought up for her. She swam twice in a bathing suit, twice in her clothes when a trip out to visit the wa-wa turned into stepping into the wa-wa and then, of course, into sitting and playing. No matter. That’s the kind of place it is: where I can just sit on the grass and smile while Lucia swims in her clothes.

Andrew, coming off a ridiculously busy week of work, took a little longer to unwind. The house hadn’t been cleaned before we arrived, and though cleaning acres of dead bugs from the floors and countertops isn’t my cup of tea, he seemed to take some perverse satisfaction in it. He even dragged out an ancient hose-style vacuum, unearthed some sort of attachment, and sucked up the inches—literally—of dead bugs from the insides of all the windowsills.

But we both found time to do New Hampshire things: went out for ice cream and pizza, had lunch at the Harpoon brewery, grilled steaks, swam in the pond (Andrew), ate every dinner by candlelight, saw a deer in the yard. Things move at a different pace there, and the relaxation and calm of it just sink into your bones. It’s always hard to leave, though not so hard now that we know we’ll be going back in just a few weeks.

We did not complete the weekend in perfect health, unfortunately. Lucia still has a cold and a hacking cough. (I took her to the doctor yesterday; she’s fine.) And I, too, have developed a violent cough. And Lucia has decided food just isn’t for her, save for graham crackers and raisins. The doctor said it’s understandable, given her stuffiness and the pulpy gums she has from teething; but it’s still frustrating.

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