Friday, September 11, 2015


This is my Snowdrop-light day, which means that I (ridiculously and regrettably) attempt to stuff too many errands into the daylight hours. Truly, in the future, I must reform!

The start was easy: for the first time since returning from Europe, I let Ed open up the coop. I am too set in my early wake up routines to really sleep in, but I drift in and out of a dozy state that feels quite luxurious while Ed goes about the sunrise routines.

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But of course, it's Friday and so we must get up and running and it's an especially important day for Ed, as it's his last day of managing the ship at Tormach, the company that tragically lost its CEO in the middle of July. Ed has tweaked and taught and transferred and reorganized things sufficiently that a new CEO will begin his duties on Monday and Ed will once again (he hopes) return to his designing projects at the sheep shed, attending, like before, only a Friday techie meeting at the company offices.

And so breakfast is a bit rushed and in the kitchen (welcome to the cool mornings of September in Wisconsin)...

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... and wouldn't you know it, as he rushes out, he finds that his motorbike has a flat tire.
Can I please borrow your moped?
Rosie is not meant for the speed with which you ride her!
I guess I'll take the car then... (glum look).
Oh go ahead and take her; I'll use the car. No one loves riding a motorcycle more than Ed.

I fuss around Scotch and Butter. Honestly, Butter seems a bit depressed, but what do I know about chicken feelings... Still, I find her more than once peering longingly inside the farmhouse.

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Sorry, Butter, you cannot come in. And in any case, I haven't much time for cheepers contemplation. It's grocery shopping day and, too, I have cucumbers and tomatoes spilling out over the counter -- they have to be pickled, or frozen, or cooked, or something and I, of course, think this is the perfect morning for it which really puts the pressure on the shopping expedition.

And so when the noon hour comes around and I know it's time to set out to be with Snowdrop, I feel a sense of relief. My time with her knows no rush. I must accomplish nothing else while I'm there except perhaps diversify our play efforts somewhat. These are the moments to clear my head and refresh my spirits.

Hi Snowdrop! Lunchtime!

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Just a few photos today. The week is winding down after all.

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Yes, but did you have fun, grandma? Oh, so much fun, Snowdrop!

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A hug for the sloth...

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and a real favorite: a bounce on the knee (photo on a self timer)

In the late afternoon my daughter comes home in time for us to do the walk around the lake together. Snowdrop loves this best -- to hear our voices behind her, as she babbles on, possibly thinking herself to be part of our conversation.

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And now I am home. Dusk. Ed and I go out together to lock up the two hens. It's chilly outside! For the first time, I throw on the fleece jacket that hangs in the mudroom.

Butter is still hiding in the garage. I hold her close and walk her to the coop where Scotch waits for her.