Sometimes I have a better clue as to what my beloveds are thinking than I let on. Other times my guess is as good as yours.
Today, I think I can do some second guessing. Follow along.
Morning walk to the coop. Ed's happy -- I'm doing the early walk. What's there not to like?
Breakfast. He's been a tad under the weather. But if you ask him -- how do you feel? He'll always, always say -- great!
I know better.
The girl comes to the farmhouse after school. Here's her "Italian old man" walk:
She insists on taking the stroller out. I oblige. I push her up and down the rural roads. I retreat.
She insists then on taking the wagon out. I oblige. Up and down the farmette lands.
She wants so much to go out into the fields to the east of us. I oblige.
She says then -- eat peppers!
I say no way, no no no! These peppers are so hot that if you touch them, your fingers will be tainted for days.
She goes to the flowers. The farmers have always invited me to pick as many as I want for myself. I never have done that. But today I let Snowdrop do the picking for me. Sure, she only tackles one or two blooms. Half spent ones at that. But still, I am grateful that she is welcome here.
I am also grateful that she just manages to avoid sweeping her hand over the bloom with the bee intensely occupied and possibly not welcoming a Snowdrop interruption.
Here, she's for sure thinking: why aren't you rolling forward? I want to pull you! Why are you stuck??
Snowdrop has her n'th "I've just begun school" cold. After her nap, she learns to wipe the nose of all her stuffies.
You can see the tired look in her eyes... And still, she plays full steam ahead with her necklace and her owl bag. Snowdrop loves owls.
Grandpa Ed, you know -- the guy who's feeling great, the one who spent the whole afternoon sleeping, comes down and reads a book with her. She is happy. He is happy.
It all falls into place at the end of the day. For all of us.
And that's a good thing.
Today, I think I can do some second guessing. Follow along.
Morning walk to the coop. Ed's happy -- I'm doing the early walk. What's there not to like?
Breakfast. He's been a tad under the weather. But if you ask him -- how do you feel? He'll always, always say -- great!
I know better.
The girl comes to the farmhouse after school. Here's her "Italian old man" walk:
She insists on taking the stroller out. I oblige. I push her up and down the rural roads. I retreat.
She insists then on taking the wagon out. I oblige. Up and down the farmette lands.
She wants so much to go out into the fields to the east of us. I oblige.
She says then -- eat peppers!
I say no way, no no no! These peppers are so hot that if you touch them, your fingers will be tainted for days.
She goes to the flowers. The farmers have always invited me to pick as many as I want for myself. I never have done that. But today I let Snowdrop do the picking for me. Sure, she only tackles one or two blooms. Half spent ones at that. But still, I am grateful that she is welcome here.
I am also grateful that she just manages to avoid sweeping her hand over the bloom with the bee intensely occupied and possibly not welcoming a Snowdrop interruption.
Here, she's for sure thinking: why aren't you rolling forward? I want to pull you! Why are you stuck??
Snowdrop has her n'th "I've just begun school" cold. After her nap, she learns to wipe the nose of all her stuffies.
You can see the tired look in her eyes... And still, she plays full steam ahead with her necklace and her owl bag. Snowdrop loves owls.
Grandpa Ed, you know -- the guy who's feeling great, the one who spent the whole afternoon sleeping, comes down and reads a book with her. She is happy. He is happy.
It all falls into place at the end of the day. For all of us.
And that's a good thing.
When her bangs are blown back, I sure see her mother.
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