Ed said to me this morning -- all things in life eventually imitate a Seinfeld episode. He clicks on one to prove his point.
Well maybe. Or perhaps we are so overwhelmed by the magnificence of spring that we lessen our efforts at getting a grip on our own lives and they quickly spin into something comic and ridiculous. As in Seinfeld.
And we are in the midst of spring, of that I'm sure. Even with a dense morning fog shielding the sun, I sense the impending warmth. The cheepers do as well. There is so much bare ground now that they venture forth without trepidation. All the way to the farmhouse door! Welcome back, girls!
I feed them under the crab apple, Ed collects eggs -- they're all laying now, on schedule. Suddenly we again have too many eggs.
Breakfast is very late. Ed calls it lunch. I'm not sure how this happened. Perhaps I spent too much time lost in thought, wondering, imagining, predicting.
Little Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse promptly at noon today and she is as lively as ever!
Up go those little legs! (Up lifts my heart!) Then stretch. Then smile.
We play. I show her dazzling daffodils.
Are you having fun, grandma? I am, little one. I am.
And eventually the temps reach the mid forties and I am ready to head out for a stroll. So is she!
Ed tags along and we make our usual rural loop, pausing for a while to listen to the loud honk of geese.
Swans have made it to our cornfields as well. A first lesson in ornithology for Snowdrop.
It takes a sharp eye to note the deer at the edge of a corn field, or the geese hidden among the dried stalks. Some day, Snowdrop will point them out to me and ask -- see them, grandma? See the deer??
... and the hidden geese??
For now, she just looks on, tasting the fresh air, feeling the almost warm breeze.
Well maybe. Or perhaps we are so overwhelmed by the magnificence of spring that we lessen our efforts at getting a grip on our own lives and they quickly spin into something comic and ridiculous. As in Seinfeld.
And we are in the midst of spring, of that I'm sure. Even with a dense morning fog shielding the sun, I sense the impending warmth. The cheepers do as well. There is so much bare ground now that they venture forth without trepidation. All the way to the farmhouse door! Welcome back, girls!
I feed them under the crab apple, Ed collects eggs -- they're all laying now, on schedule. Suddenly we again have too many eggs.
Breakfast is very late. Ed calls it lunch. I'm not sure how this happened. Perhaps I spent too much time lost in thought, wondering, imagining, predicting.
Little Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse promptly at noon today and she is as lively as ever!
Up go those little legs! (Up lifts my heart!) Then stretch. Then smile.
We play. I show her dazzling daffodils.
Are you having fun, grandma? I am, little one. I am.
And eventually the temps reach the mid forties and I am ready to head out for a stroll. So is she!
Ed tags along and we make our usual rural loop, pausing for a while to listen to the loud honk of geese.
Swans have made it to our cornfields as well. A first lesson in ornithology for Snowdrop.
It takes a sharp eye to note the deer at the edge of a corn field, or the geese hidden among the dried stalks. Some day, Snowdrop will point them out to me and ask -- see them, grandma? See the deer??
... and the hidden geese??
For now, she just looks on, tasting the fresh air, feeling the almost warm breeze.
