Monday

It is such a Monday-ish Monday! It has all the makings of a typical day that begins another week.

Here are fragments of it, but honestly, I am sure you can fill in the rest. You know what Mondays are like.

Sunrise.





I let the cheepers out and one of them -- Butter -- immediately goes to the barn and lays an egg in her new hiding place. We have no idea why no one is laying anything in the coop and we can't find the other hens' eggs (if they're even laying). Butter, the most reliable of our girls, has chosen a spot behind a discarded water heater in the barn. Darn chickens!

I return to bed, but not for long. It's Monday, after all.

Breakfast.






And an eye doctor appointment -- because I like to stack these on Mondays. The week looks less cluttered if you get things out of the way. (I hadn't been to one in several years and I am amused how the conversation begins with the words -- you know, people our age, that is in the sixties, have three things to look out for... Yes, I do know. People past sixty never ever have flawless vision. It's just a matter of how much this or the other thing needs adjusting. So far, I'm coasting on pretty strong vision, but you know, people our age...)


Noon. I pick up Snowdrop.
("Where is the car?")






I expect her to be a tired little girl -- she had a full weekend and little time for napping during it. But, as always, she rallies. We've been playing a game of "go find the car" and she considers this to be an important assignment.






Once she locates it, she is off and running, not towards it but away, making sure that I chase after her. We have strange routines!






At the farmhouse I suggest that we rake some leaves. Unfortunately, our rake is rather on the large side.






She quickly gives it a label -- ahah's rake.






Not that she doesn't try to work it...






... but clearly it's just too big. She asks for "Snowdrop's rake," but finding none, she settles for the broom by the house. This at least she can more or less use. More or less.






Inside, she remembers that I promised cookie baking once more. It's not the cookie dough that she loves and not even the final product. It's the process. (And the raisins.)






I count to myself as I flatten the cookies on the tray. ... three, four, five, six... She takes over: ...seven, eight, nine... I smile and ask -- what's next? Three! -- she tells me with conviction!

Ed is with us, fixing himself a sandwich. She climbs down from the chair and follows him to the living room, all the while eyeing his bread with tomato.





Which, of course, he shares.



After her nap we play. Oh, do we play! And Ed is included, because the little one always includes.











(The two discuss the day's events.)






She wants Ed to read a book. It's intense!






She goes back to study her favorite. About the weather.






Yeah, I think she has that one figured out!





And then I take her home.


There is a moon tonight that defies all moons. It's best to view it just at early evening. I do not go out to see it then. This is the time when PBS commemorated Gwen Ifill who passed away today. Ed and I -- we are such loyal PBS viewers and I had searched google high and low to figure out why she was not covering the election results this year. So instead of the rising moon, I listened to the tribute to her.

And then, at the end of it, Ed and I went outside.


 


Bright and uniquely beautiful, just a touch sad tonight.