I should call this week "winter's challenge." Though Ed keeps reminding me we've had a relatively gentle set of months, I don't really pay attention to how it's been. All I do is look forward and I cannot offer much enthusiasm for the occasional snow shower and for the cold that will be with us for the better part of this week. The kind of cold where you worry about Snowdrop's cheeks, merely on the walk from the driveway to the farmhouse.
The insignificant flakes cavort and swirl just as I make my way to the barn to let the cheepers out.
I scrape the car of ice, I sweep the walkway to our door, but it's all rather pointless, as there will be more freezing precipitation on and off, on and off, like the dreaded boyfriend whom you no longer like, even as he keeps showing up, flaunting his awfulness. Sheesh!
And so I focus on what's inside.
The farmhouse is tidy and content, if a farmhouse can really be "content." It has, for me, that feeling of days well spent. The breakfast aromas are still faintly in the air (or in my imagination, which is sort of the same thing). The linens are folded and stacked -- a reminder that they were used with great pleasure, just a day ago.
As we sit down to our own morning meal, Ed and I talk about the farmette land that abuts the street.
How should we improve it? Is it ruined by the salt that seeps into the soil from the road? I tell Ed that I can just barely keep up with the farmette's flower beds that we've built over the years and yet I don't want to stop with our launching of new projects. I will find the time! I will!
And in imagining the months just after this one, I am able to move past the snow showers, the falling thermometer. What's a handful of days when you have weeks and weeks of spring, summer and fall just before you?!
Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse today and it's really lovely to have her here again.
Grandma carry!
Grandpa Ed play!
She doesn't care that we're in the thick of February's most unsavory weather, so why should we?
As with all toddlers, every day brings a milestone. I gave her a fat crayon several months ago. She was excited. She wanted to chew on it. Today, she worked it over the paper, looking to see if it left a mark.
The thing about your kids and grandkids is that they are forever in the spring mode. Forward looking. Excited about the possibilities.
The insignificant flakes cavort and swirl just as I make my way to the barn to let the cheepers out.
I scrape the car of ice, I sweep the walkway to our door, but it's all rather pointless, as there will be more freezing precipitation on and off, on and off, like the dreaded boyfriend whom you no longer like, even as he keeps showing up, flaunting his awfulness. Sheesh!
And so I focus on what's inside.
The farmhouse is tidy and content, if a farmhouse can really be "content." It has, for me, that feeling of days well spent. The breakfast aromas are still faintly in the air (or in my imagination, which is sort of the same thing). The linens are folded and stacked -- a reminder that they were used with great pleasure, just a day ago.
As we sit down to our own morning meal, Ed and I talk about the farmette land that abuts the street.
How should we improve it? Is it ruined by the salt that seeps into the soil from the road? I tell Ed that I can just barely keep up with the farmette's flower beds that we've built over the years and yet I don't want to stop with our launching of new projects. I will find the time! I will!
And in imagining the months just after this one, I am able to move past the snow showers, the falling thermometer. What's a handful of days when you have weeks and weeks of spring, summer and fall just before you?!
Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse today and it's really lovely to have her here again.
Grandma carry!
Grandpa Ed play!
She doesn't care that we're in the thick of February's most unsavory weather, so why should we?
As with all toddlers, every day brings a milestone. I gave her a fat crayon several months ago. She was excited. She wanted to chew on it. Today, she worked it over the paper, looking to see if it left a mark.
The thing about your kids and grandkids is that they are forever in the spring mode. Forward looking. Excited about the possibilities.
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