Sunday, August 02, 2015

weekend at the farmhouse

It's the last day of Snowdrop's visit. For those who look for general nuggets of thises and thats on Ocean, rather than just grandma notes, move on! My day is full of my granddaughter. This post, therefore, belongs to her.

Snowdrop is just a farm girl at heart. Wake up with the roosters. Again two hours earlier than her usual at home.

Never mind, she's in a great mood!

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(And yes, we finally lowered the crib today. Clearly she is moments away from climbing out.)

Eat your bananas, beets and blueberries, little one! The label says HappyBaby...

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I ask you: does this look like a happy baby?

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The words "by myself!" were invented with Snowdrop in mind.

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The much needed bath.

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She drinks her regular stuff, then she gives me that "now what?" look. (All the while practicing her vowels.)

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An aside: the pillow reminds you of Oreo? Here's an update. He's with his 21 hens and they finally decided to let him join their clique. And back at the farmette, our girls couldn't be more docile and good -- no bickering, just pure hen love. Snowdrop, Ed and I are part of their brood. They follow us everywhere, clucking away in hen happiness.

Alright, time for the adult breakfast.

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Well, adult plus.

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Ed looks on.

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We play. It's tough to do that when you're not even seven months and so, predictably, Snowdrop wears down. Of course she does! I take her outside to look at butterflies, flowers and crab apples. I'm not sure she picks out the ever fleeting Monarch on the milkweed.

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And the crab apples are only worth a tired grab or two.

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But I have no doubt that she takes in the flowers. And the hens.

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A few more fairly quiet moments...

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(by myself!)

And finally I put her down for a nap.

After -- she's ready for more jumping, moving and executing what, to me, looks like a nearly perfect downdog.

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All this, of course, tires her. (Grandma is reaching for reserves of energy as well). We need a pause. Where to go on a hot and muggy August day?

Ed, do we need anything from the grocery store?
Can't think of anything.
Which one?

We're on it!

It's nicely cold in a grocery store (as opposed to, say, in a park) and the shopping trip offers educational opportunities as well. But the hot initial minutes in the car are discouraging. I pep her up with the usual generational tale: when I was your age, my family didn't have air conditioning. She is too young to come back with: when you were my age, your family didn't even have a car.

Salsa (and a bottle of Cava for dinner) in hand, we go back to the hot car and being the great sport that she is, Snowdrop, whose name isn't Snowdrop for nothing (she prefers the cold to the hot), hardly even articulates her displeasure.

At home, we track her mommy and daddy's flight on Never do that! I am greatly distressed when I see the flight turning around and heading back to where it came from. And then it turns again. And again. Okay, I get it. Weather circles. Your mommy and daddy are going to be late for dinner, I tell the little one. She lets out a tiny groan. Possibly because she understands, more likely because she slept too little last night.

Evening. Snowdrop and I do some deadheading of spent lilies and watering of the flower tubs. It's beastly hot, but the girl is interested in the proceedings and boldly hangs on as I bend and twist and squat and straighten, maneuvering through the dense beds and aiming the hose just so.

The lilies are hanging on for another week of brilliant bloom. I swear Snowdrop appreciates their beauty.

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As the gold tones set in again and the hot wind picks up, we finish our work outside and return to the cool farmhouse.

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We wait for the parents. It amazes me how good Snowdrop is, especially on this evening, when she surely wants to catch up on sleep.

She "watches" a public tv show with Ed...

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She jumps higher than ever on her jumparoo...

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And when it seems like she has no more oomph in her, even as her parents are a ways away, I pick her up and do what I did with my youngest daughter again and again -- I cook with Snowdrop slung on my hip.

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She is most certainly a future chef.

Tired that she is, every bit of the shrimp stir fry is fascinating to her.

Snowdrop, you are a kitchen super star (even if you haven't quite discovered the value of bananas, beets and blueberries yet)!

Finally the parents drive up, I hand her over.

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But I'll not ever forget the week-end. She and I were best pals, even if I never could quite get her to wave a hello or good bye. Next time.