Thursday

Oh, Thursday -- you are too chock full of the details that add up to very little! Perhaps we should move on to Friday? Take my early morning: the highlight may well have been the walk to let the cheepers out, though I was a bit taken aback by how chilly the landscape looked. As if we are just creeping up on the heels of winter.






And of course, breakfast. Always a good meal. We linger over it, though we discuss the unpredictability of real estate investments, so I suppose it is more serious than sublime (even as you'll get no disagreement from me on this point: real estate giants -- I'm thinking, for example, those who then plunge into politics -- may wish you to think otherwise, but in the end, they owe much of their success to good luck).






I have an hour or two at the farmhouse before heading out to Snowdrop's home. How might I describe this time?  Bursting with the mundane!  Let me throw out a few examples:
-- packing up the inevitable returns from online orders. In my case, it was a sippy cup that came with a hole in its bottom. I asked Ed if this could possibly be intentional, but he assured me there was nothing in the field of physics that would warrant that kind of a design.
-- another example: harvesting box elder beetles. [What, you don't know about my ongoing battle with the beetles? Well it's like this: there are so many boxelder trees in Wisconsin! And so many boxelder beetles live in them, and in our beautiful maples too. The beetles migrate from trees to house come wintertime and no, we wont spray, so it's a question of throwing them outside (Ed's choice) or flushing them down the toilet (my choice).]
-- etc.


I have to smile when I finally make it to Snowdrop's home. So vivacious! So full of spirit and determination! Run this way, run back again. And again. And again.

Time to say good bye to mommy...






Fortunately, there is another shoulder to lean on. (In a very grandmotherly fashion, I make myself a cup of tea.) Don't you think she's ready for a morning nap? Yep. Up she goes.






In the afternoon, the little girl does have a quiet moment...






But it is just a moment. She has a new goal: why walk from point A to B when you can run, and not just run, but do this on tippy toes?






Okay, sweet child, let's go out for a walk.

[This is how distracted I can get: I make a mental note of all that she needs: sweater -- check. Warm cap -- check. Shoes, in case we wind up in a place where she can walk/run -- check. A stuffed animal to tide her through the rough times -- check. An extra blanket in case the wind picks up  -- check. My phone, my wallet -- check, check. We're off! Halfway down the block, I look down and notice that I am in my slippers. Oops.]

It is, in fact windy. That thermometer reading of 35F (2C) feels much colder when the clouds cover the sun and gusts come in from the lakes. I tell her -- let's go as far as the coffee shop. She perks up. She knows what's what.





At the Lakeside Cafe, the scone is really for Ed, but both she and I break off a crumb, just for the taste.

You'd think she'd be unhappy with the fact that I give her only a morsel, no bigger than her thumb nail, but no. Inevitably, the locality will grab her attention more than the sweet crumb of a scone. She spins herself around in the high chair to get a good look at her surroundings and especially at the people there.






This is when I put on her shoes and lift her out of the high chair. (Owl is her Occasional Traveling Companion.)

She'll be comin' round the corner when she comes...






A few circles around the cafe and I am ready to reel her in.

Getting her outfitted for the windy walk home is a production, but with this, she is patient.






I think how a kid living up north has to get used to the fact that the outdoors is never predictable and not always kind. But oh my, isn't the joy of a good snowfall, or of a summer evening chasing fireflies worth it? Snowdrop would surely say yes it is. And I would agree.