The moon gave us a winter white night. Long shadows, blue snow.
I know all this because I have developed sympathy new-parent-sleeping-habits. Two hours into the cycle I am wide awake, thinking baby thoughts. There are no baby noises at the farmhouse, but I imagine what they must be like and I lie there listening.
I'm sure the new parents are exhausted. And I'm exhausted for them!
We are entering a two day period of intense cold. A wind is buffeting the already freezing air and we have warnings popping up everywhere telling us to stay inside.
I go to the barn to visit with the cheepers. They huddle, but they find a sunny spot and try to take in some of the sun's warmth.
As I throw them bits of bread, I notice Butter is off to the side, staring at the tractor-mower. Ah! There is a barn mouse right by the little wheel... see it?
Butter glares at the mouse. The little critter is feeling brave, wanting to join the feeding party. No way! Butter pounces at it. The mouse barely gets away.
We have a mouser-cheeper!
I leave the brood to their devices and head over to the hospital.
Day two of little Snowdrop's life.
How she has changed already!
Her parents as well. I sit back and admire the scene. It's as if they've been doing this stuff for years!
Time with little Snowdrop is precious. Very precious. A parent is overwhelmed with responsibilities. A grandparent sees only the beauty of every move, every yawn, burp, scrunched face.
It's dark when I pull into the long farmette drive. The cheepers are locked in their coop, Isis is eating cheese and crackers with Ed, both waiting to see what supper ideas I had for them.
We pick up our evening routines. I cook supper, we watch some documentaries.
Someday, snowdrop will quiet down in the evenings. Someday. Probably not today. Not just yet.
I know all this because I have developed sympathy new-parent-sleeping-habits. Two hours into the cycle I am wide awake, thinking baby thoughts. There are no baby noises at the farmhouse, but I imagine what they must be like and I lie there listening.
I'm sure the new parents are exhausted. And I'm exhausted for them!
We are entering a two day period of intense cold. A wind is buffeting the already freezing air and we have warnings popping up everywhere telling us to stay inside.
I go to the barn to visit with the cheepers. They huddle, but they find a sunny spot and try to take in some of the sun's warmth.
As I throw them bits of bread, I notice Butter is off to the side, staring at the tractor-mower. Ah! There is a barn mouse right by the little wheel... see it?
Butter glares at the mouse. The little critter is feeling brave, wanting to join the feeding party. No way! Butter pounces at it. The mouse barely gets away.
We have a mouser-cheeper!
I leave the brood to their devices and head over to the hospital.
Day two of little Snowdrop's life.
How she has changed already!
Her parents as well. I sit back and admire the scene. It's as if they've been doing this stuff for years!
Time with little Snowdrop is precious. Very precious. A parent is overwhelmed with responsibilities. A grandparent sees only the beauty of every move, every yawn, burp, scrunched face.
It's dark when I pull into the long farmette drive. The cheepers are locked in their coop, Isis is eating cheese and crackers with Ed, both waiting to see what supper ideas I had for them.
We pick up our evening routines. I cook supper, we watch some documentaries.
Someday, snowdrop will quiet down in the evenings. Someday. Probably not today. Not just yet.
