Wednesday, July 27, 2016


Breakfast. Outside, of course. Looking toward the flowers, enjoying the splashes of color everywhere. (And the coffee. I really love my morning cup of coffee.)

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To me, it's just about the greatest show around: the parade of flowers through the month of July.

Does it sadden me that we are near the end of the month? No, not at all. When the quiet seasons roll in, I enjoy the quiet. In July, I look outside and at first I see the perfect tableau before me. Then I see what needs to be done so that it will remain good for the rest of the day. And I go out and do it, weather, bugs, time pressures -- whatever impositions there may be, I ignore them and get my hands dirty.

Ah, but it is (for me) a most perfect tableau. And I take no credit for it. I only bring together what nature has already created.

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It's been a while since I took care of Snowdrop in her own home. Today, I'm back there, greeting her at her wake up time.

(She is still in her octopus pajamas, but her desires are already as clear as can be -- can we go outside, grandma?)

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So (following the usual morning routines) we do just that. All the way to the distant coffee shop...

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Where it's iced tea weather for sure. (A cookie piece is good in any weather.)

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As always, we use the stroller to get there, but for most of the way back, she walks. She is a familiar presence in these blocks. And she herself recognizes past friends and foes. Here she deftly side steps into someone's yard to avoid an overly friendly dog who once, quite unexpectedly managed to slobber her with kisses as we walked by.

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At home, she is as playful as ever, inviting me to participate in her games again and again.

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My granddaughter always seems so much older than the last time I saw her. I look at her and think -- she's not even 19 months old yet. And then I think -- she is already nearly 19 months!

In the evening Snowdrop, her parents and I walk over to the Capitol Square. It's warm still and there is a slight chance of storms, but the Wednesday concerts are drawing to an end. We don't want to miss too many. And so we head out.

And as in prior times, Snowdrop is mesmerized out there, on the vast green spaces, eating her picnic food, taking in the sights and sounds of Madison at its sweetest, kindest.

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It's a beautiful evening for her, for us.

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And then the concert comes to an end.

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We walk home, toting chairs and folded blankets. It's dark by the time we round the last corner. Me, I'm so glad the weather held. Snowdrop points upwards -- sky! she reminds us. Sky!