wet Thursday

Oh, it rained! So hard, without pause, all morning long. None of us expected it, not even Oreo the rooster who somehow got stranded on the path, midway back to the coop, in all that wetness. Watching him from the kitchen window, I felt sorry for the miserable beast and called over to the sheep shed so that Ed would rescue him.

Yes, it rained. At breakfast time I glanced out at the porch and thought -- nah. Not today.






No interest in reviewing the flowers either. You'll have to be satisfied with my garden posy and the wooden cheepers on the kitchen table.






We were somewhat hurried. It's an unusual day (not only because of the constant drip and dribble from the skies). The young parents have many obligations throughout, including this morning and so Snowdrop is scooped up straight from her home crib and plunked onto the farmhouse kitchen counter. She is hardly awake and perhaps a little surprised to see me so soon again, but the girl is all smiles in the morning so she and I proceed as if this were perfectly ordinary -- this tub in the farmhouse kitchen sink, a splashy few minutes in the warm water, then a fresh little play suit for the day and a ready bib for the breakfast before her.






She is now a big girl, a really big girl -- eating four meals a day just like the grownups! (Well, this grownup is prone to evening snacking, but not in front of her!) Her appetite grows and grows and that means a post eating situation can be messy. All this to say that I am glad I had a spare play suit for her at the farmhouse.






Rain, rain, you wont stop, will you?

We practice sitting some more, because with that total balance will come a host of independent minutes of play. And she is so determined, that she outdoes herself! Sitting champ of the farmette!






Of course, she wants to be upright. She nearly always wants to be upright, up up, up and running. We settle for dancing to the music of Raffi.






Finally, toward the late afternoon, there is a break in the rain. Snowdrop and I go out to give the cheepers bread. Or rather, it works like this: Ed grabs the rooster, Snowdrop and I distribute the bread while the hens hover around us, we retreat, Ed puts down the rooster.






After being spoiled by warm weather, today's mid-sixties feel nippy. I make the excuse that we're not dressed for the great outdoors and take Snowdrop back inside.

And there is a lot to do with the little girl. Perhaps the biggest leap forward comes at lunchtime, when I was given permission to try giving Snowdrop a mushed food. Which food comes first for an infant? Would you believe avocado? Her reaction: puzzle, puzzle, scrunch, spit, scrunch, complete fascination. Let's see if just two photos can convey this lovely set of emotions:











I'll let that be the last image of Snowdrop at the farmette. Sigh... I wont see her here until July.


The day ends like so many late spring Thursdays end: with a trip to the local market, where we trade in our eggs for cheese curds and pick up the most wonderful sweet peas and delicate strawberries...






At home, I've timed our meals so as to leave plenty of leftovers for next week. Tonight, I make an oyster mushroom pizza. We eat just about half of it.





The weather people promised an evening of torrential rains, but we never got them. The skies remained gray, the cool breezes pushed aside any thoughts of summer, but we stayed dry. Unlike last year, no tornadoes passed through the farmette in spring and today as well, the rumble of thunder seemed distant and remote.

The land is refreshed, the plants are thriving. Luck. We've had it this year. In abundance!