We're entering the mushy, freezing, biting and inhospitable, gray days of the month. I have no interest in taking my camera with me to the barn as I let the cheepers out. I do not want to prolong my stay outside. I give the girls food and water and I hurry back to the farmhouse.
Our breakfast is lovely and way too short. I could linger at the table for a good hour or two. As you can see, we're eating in the kitchen, which offers a sweeping view of the path toward the barn. Occasionally, flocks of birds swoop down on the crab apples and tear off a few more fruits, but otherwise the world is still and colorless.
Perhaps you'll blame the winter craziness that hits most of us here in January and February, but I have to admit to having taken on a new pet. Her name is Lolita and she lives in the bathroom. She has long legs and I know she thinks of me as her friend and supporter -- I feed her the occasional box elder beetle that comes into the farmhouse in the winter. Lolita is getting plump. Ed says she'll lay eggs for a thousand baby spiders, what with the food I give her. (Yes, she is a daddy long legs and I've taken on Ed's love of these guys: they eat mites and other bugs and keep our air pure and clean. At least that's the theory.)
I finish off a chunk of writing.
And then I force myself to step outdoors again, but this time with the sweet goal of heading out to visit Snowdrop.
Now is the time to say something that perhaps you've guessed already: Snowdrop is her own person. I had two daughters and so I thought I came to this game somewhat prepared. But Snowdrop is a whole new discovery for me. I've never seen anyone at her age or at any age have such a drive to explore, to discover!
To figure it out.
It's so hard to hold back. To not do it for her. But she never asks for help. Never complains when it's tough. She just keeps on going. And when she succeeds, the grin is tremendous.
And she is a girl with a sense of humor. I wont bother mentioning what silliness on my part brought forth this round of giggles.
Ah, Snowdrop... You sure put a big spark into a January day.
Our breakfast is lovely and way too short. I could linger at the table for a good hour or two. As you can see, we're eating in the kitchen, which offers a sweeping view of the path toward the barn. Occasionally, flocks of birds swoop down on the crab apples and tear off a few more fruits, but otherwise the world is still and colorless.
Perhaps you'll blame the winter craziness that hits most of us here in January and February, but I have to admit to having taken on a new pet. Her name is Lolita and she lives in the bathroom. She has long legs and I know she thinks of me as her friend and supporter -- I feed her the occasional box elder beetle that comes into the farmhouse in the winter. Lolita is getting plump. Ed says she'll lay eggs for a thousand baby spiders, what with the food I give her. (Yes, she is a daddy long legs and I've taken on Ed's love of these guys: they eat mites and other bugs and keep our air pure and clean. At least that's the theory.)
I finish off a chunk of writing.
And then I force myself to step outdoors again, but this time with the sweet goal of heading out to visit Snowdrop.
Now is the time to say something that perhaps you've guessed already: Snowdrop is her own person. I had two daughters and so I thought I came to this game somewhat prepared. But Snowdrop is a whole new discovery for me. I've never seen anyone at her age or at any age have such a drive to explore, to discover!
To figure it out.
It's so hard to hold back. To not do it for her. But she never asks for help. Never complains when it's tough. She just keeps on going. And when she succeeds, the grin is tremendous.
And she is a girl with a sense of humor. I wont bother mentioning what silliness on my part brought forth this round of giggles.
Ah, Snowdrop... You sure put a big spark into a January day.
