home, with half a foot elsewhere

Yesterday's overseas flight was extra long (headwind), but extra comfortable. Air France decided to switch planes close to the departure time and as a result, everyone's seat was reshuffled. It's been a while since I got a free upgrade that would put me in any of the three classes that are higher than my sardine class, but the reshuffle caused them to push me up to business. Not quite first, but I'll take it! Once upon a time the difference between the upper strata and the lower rungs wasn't so great (the uppers were just slightly better off and the lowers were just slightly less pampered), but these days the differences are huge! I mean really huge!

You'd think that I'd sleep comfortably in the reclining position of these supremely comfortable chairs but no! I was just finishing the first of the Elena Ferrante Naples books so I wasted the sense of comfort on losing myself entirely in my novel.

When I got up to stretch my legs, I met a little 6 month old traveling for the first time to meet the American side of her French (dad)/American (mom) family. I asked if she had slept at all. The dad said -- not much so far, but she was, nonetheless, very sage.

Yes, this is what makes a French parent proud: the child's ability to cope. To understand the circumstances and respond accordingly. Little Charlotte was already mastering this important lesson in life.

I was not to be outdone and told the dad that Snowdrop, too, is a sage little girl. It's not a competition, of course. Just an expectation. It's what parents (and this grandparent) talk about.


Ed was waiting at the airport and I was just so happy to finally be there with him, given his rather lonely existence of late. I stayed up fussing with unpacking and tidying things that didn't need to be tidied and I even washed Snowdrop's new clothes, so that I could hang them in her closet the next day.



Friday morning. You sleep, I'll let the cheepers out. (I'm on an early wake up cycle right now anyway.)

Scotch, our brown hen is nearly naked, choosing to do her annual feather loss right now in winter time. Ah well -- she should be plumed by the really cold days of January.

I missed Isie boy tremendously then, as we always had an early morning visit.


I watched the dawn catch hold...






And then I prepared our breakfast. Because you know how important it is for me to record this beginning to a fine day.






Grocery shopping is a bit different. Besides the usual, I find myself putting into the cart such items as ricotta and chard. Whole nutmeg rather than the grated kind. And a squash. I wanted a zucca (pumpkin), but the supply of pumpkins in the States this year has been very poor and very erratic.


And finally it is time to see Snowdrop. How is it that she grows two months' worth of growing in just two weeks? Or is it my imagination?






It's wonderful to see her so thoroughly engaged in her environment.






And as always, so very joyous.






... and giggly.






... and utterly huggable.






It was interesting to watch her make sense of my sudden presence again. She was so puzzled when I showed up to pick her up from her morning nap. But of course, she is so total accepting. You've been away, grandma? Well now, you're back! That's so cool! Let's play!

Kids know that love survives breaks and interruptions.

I return to the farmette when the skies are dark. Time to make soup for dinner.

I am so happy to be home.