Tuesday, September 12, 2017


On our walks after her school day, I try to explain to Snowdrop that we are now in the season of fall. Even though we aren't, calendar wise. But a toddler's fall should be only loosely bound to dates and day lengths. They should, I think, have the visuals in place: cooling temperatures (so, more sweaters and jackets), drying leaves, pumpkins, harvests -- that, after all, explains the season far more vividly than the statement -- in ten days, we will officially begin the season of fall.

But what if you get a day like this one? The sun is brilliant, the temperatures are climbing, really climbing, a few summer plants are throwing out new blooms.

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So is it summer? If it is that, then why isn't the pool open? Where have the sandhill cranes gone?

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Those are late afternoon thoughts. In the morning and well into the early afternoon, I work to water and clear several more of the flower beds.

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Breakfast for us is late. Very late. Close to noon late.

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And not too long after, with a sore back but a much less parched garden, I pick up Snowdrop. A tired girl who is one of only two who are not napping during nap time in school, but a sweet and happy child...

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And so it's summer, right? Well, maybe for a moment. Today. This afternoon. At the farmette: summer.

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Can't play outside too long though. Must feed the babies indoors!

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Babies taken care of. Time for real play. Wait, do I see Snowshoes on your feet, Snowdrop? What season are you in exactly?

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No matter. It's what it is: a warm and beautiful day with sunshine streaking bands of gold all through the farmhouse.