The doorbell rang and I put my knitting aside.
My sister called from Atlanta last night: her husband was in California on business, and a meeting had been moved to–Wait! she told him. That’s where my sister lives!
Business trips usually leave no time for anything but work, but he had a break during this one. And so between that meeting and Ned’s 5:30 flight, he came on by and we caught up on each other and our kids, the first time we’d seen each other on my home turf in 13 years. He’d seen three of my kids at college a couple years ago while visiting his and told me how great they were (and both winced and laughed at himself for doing a double take when that pretty tall blonde who’d joined his boys out at dinner called him Uncle Ned. Wait–*Michelle*?!
And as we caught up, he was happily facing my birdfeeders and occasionally laughing over squirrel antics as he told another tale or two. We had a great time.
He loves birdwatching, my sister told me afterwards. They’d had a birdfeeder, but it got put away when Ned had enclosed their porch.
I have no doubt it’s going right back up when he gets home. He was enjoying my flock just way too much not to.
I was going to send him home with some Meyer lemons but forgot. He’ll just have to come back.