Life is nothing more than a pinwheel.
Well, okay, it's a little more complicated, but it surely has the spin, the colors, the repetition.
You see the repetition, of course, in my morning run to the barn to let the cheepers out. (But isn't the sky suggestive of perhaps an unusually pretty day ahead?)
There's, too, the breakfast routine. Early today, so we're in the kitchen. But in many ways, special as it may be to me, it's a repeat performance (and perhaps that's what is so special about it). And always with a few blooms to get us off to a colorful start.
An early morning with Snowdrop. Is that a rerun? No. At least not in the way it appears to me. Take this morning. She wakes up all smiles and giggles. Sunshine streams into the house and I think -- maybe we should go for a walk? It's just below freezing but there is so much brightness outside! I haven't taken her out in a stroller since... oh, maybe October!
Put on your snowsuit, little girl. And let's borrow mommy's scarf to use as a lap blanket. Off we go!
We walk our summer route -- right through the old neighborhood where.... there is indeed that trusty pinwheel perched on a white picket fence! Same one! Same delighted recognition on the part of Snowdrop!
We reach the lesser lake -- frozen now. What does this mean to her? Once blue, now white. All I can do is repeat that explanation which really is no explanation at all -- it's snow-covered!
We're back by her home. I want her to relax in the snow, but putting her down to make a snow angel isn't going to do it. What are you doing, grandma?? -- she seems to ask. A diaper change??
And still, Snowdrop shows me each day her beautiful faces of play. They're familiar. And so enchanting. Or, is it that the pinwheel of time is spinning a basket of grandma delights felt by grandmas the world over?
We do have one task to accomplish: I'm bent on taking a photo that she needs for one document or another. I think I got it. But believe me, it takes a lot of stupid facial expressions on my part and good natured patience on her part to get us through it. Here's a photo that isn't quite what I used, but it does shows my strategies for getting the little one to sit still.
And now it's evening. Ed needs my help jump-starting his truck, left in a distant parking lot (a colleague had been using it and the headlights had been left on). On the upside, helping push the truck out of a tight space surely firmed up my upper arm muscles. Too, driving home, I saw that wonderful cloud-dappled sunset over the farmette.
At home, it's my turn to ask for Ed's help -- I want to send for printing the photo that I had taken of the little one for her parents' document needs. It is one of those frustrating tasks that's made all the more exasperating because the editing programs don't match the instructional materials which, in turn don't match the printing directions. Moreover, Ed is incensed that there is a $7 surcharge for printing out a particular size. He will go to great lengths to avoid avoidable surcharges, but my patience for the project runs out. Still, I am surprised that I can be brought to (near) tears by a printing job, but there you have it -- we all have our weaker moments.
A pinwheel, I tell you. Life is just a pinwheel of colors and spins and repetitions, with the occasional snafu that tests your resolve to stay calm.
Well, okay, it's a little more complicated, but it surely has the spin, the colors, the repetition.
You see the repetition, of course, in my morning run to the barn to let the cheepers out. (But isn't the sky suggestive of perhaps an unusually pretty day ahead?)
There's, too, the breakfast routine. Early today, so we're in the kitchen. But in many ways, special as it may be to me, it's a repeat performance (and perhaps that's what is so special about it). And always with a few blooms to get us off to a colorful start.
An early morning with Snowdrop. Is that a rerun? No. At least not in the way it appears to me. Take this morning. She wakes up all smiles and giggles. Sunshine streams into the house and I think -- maybe we should go for a walk? It's just below freezing but there is so much brightness outside! I haven't taken her out in a stroller since... oh, maybe October!
Put on your snowsuit, little girl. And let's borrow mommy's scarf to use as a lap blanket. Off we go!
We walk our summer route -- right through the old neighborhood where.... there is indeed that trusty pinwheel perched on a white picket fence! Same one! Same delighted recognition on the part of Snowdrop!
We reach the lesser lake -- frozen now. What does this mean to her? Once blue, now white. All I can do is repeat that explanation which really is no explanation at all -- it's snow-covered!
We're back by her home. I want her to relax in the snow, but putting her down to make a snow angel isn't going to do it. What are you doing, grandma?? -- she seems to ask. A diaper change??
And still, Snowdrop shows me each day her beautiful faces of play. They're familiar. And so enchanting. Or, is it that the pinwheel of time is spinning a basket of grandma delights felt by grandmas the world over?
We do have one task to accomplish: I'm bent on taking a photo that she needs for one document or another. I think I got it. But believe me, it takes a lot of stupid facial expressions on my part and good natured patience on her part to get us through it. Here's a photo that isn't quite what I used, but it does shows my strategies for getting the little one to sit still.
And now it's evening. Ed needs my help jump-starting his truck, left in a distant parking lot (a colleague had been using it and the headlights had been left on). On the upside, helping push the truck out of a tight space surely firmed up my upper arm muscles. Too, driving home, I saw that wonderful cloud-dappled sunset over the farmette.
At home, it's my turn to ask for Ed's help -- I want to send for printing the photo that I had taken of the little one for her parents' document needs. It is one of those frustrating tasks that's made all the more exasperating because the editing programs don't match the instructional materials which, in turn don't match the printing directions. Moreover, Ed is incensed that there is a $7 surcharge for printing out a particular size. He will go to great lengths to avoid avoidable surcharges, but my patience for the project runs out. Still, I am surprised that I can be brought to (near) tears by a printing job, but there you have it -- we all have our weaker moments.
A pinwheel, I tell you. Life is just a pinwheel of colors and spins and repetitions, with the occasional snafu that tests your resolve to stay calm.
