Thursday, July 23, 2015

onto Thursday

We're establishing new rhythms. They start early. Our usual breakfast around 9 has shifted: today it is around 7:30, as Ed has meetings to attend.

farmette life-7.jpg

It's the last meal with our house guests. They pack up and leave shortly after. You might nod sympathetically and say -- good to have your house back, what with all the tumult. I suppose. Establishing new rhythms requires a time of a meditative quiet. At the same time, I look around and notice that the lawn is mowed. The chicken coop is cleaned, the dishes are washed, Snowdrop's jumparoo is assembled. Our house guests saw us through a tough week, using a huge amount of tact and elbow grease. On top of it all, Ed had sympathetic listeners. I had an enthusiastic pal to help me uncork and sample an Islay whisky.  These guys helped move us from square one to square two. We were so very fortunate to have them here.

farmette life-4.jpg

Afternoon? Snowdrop time!

I must proudly report that the girl received her first certificate of accomplishment today: she completed her swimming course! I don't know that much was required of her -- showing up was plenty sufficient -- but still, the certificate hangs on the young family's refrigerator door: a congratulatory note attesting to her "swimming" progress.

Snowdrop wakes from her nap just as I arrive...

farmette life-3-2.jpg

She and I play, though if you watched her, you could hardly call it play. She is intense and she works hard at perfecting her finger grasp. Too, she rolls so adeptly and without regard to any obstacles that I have to carefully steer her away from potential collisions with furniture.

A few hours of this and she needs a pause. The three of us (her mommy joins us) take a walk around the lake and yes, do note that this is her downtime. Her expression tells us as much. (The "tatoo" on her arm is her swimming badge of honor.)

farmette life-7-2.jpg

And now I'm home. I spend an evening hour deadheading day lilies. You don't have to do that: eventually the spent flowers fall off of their own accord. But there is something deeply satisfying in tidying a yard in full bloom. You're not the designer, the developer, the digger and planter anymore. You're the gentle hand that adds a touch of appreciation to what's before you. Nothing more, nothing less.

farmette life-9-2.jpg