Sunday, February 21, 2016

farmette Sunday

Yesterday, Snowdrop's music teacher talked abut the importance of repetition. For kids, for adults as well. Ah, yes -- don't I know it!

They're standard images, these photos of Snowdrop's visit this weekend. It could be any grandparents, living on a rural road with a couple of chickens who wander around and often mess up the pathway leading to the farmhouse door. Images that repeat themselves here and the world over.

And yet, for me, each day is so different! Snowdrop is growing fast and she has her moods, too. She can be tired, she can be cutting edge funny or intensely focused. And the weather, of course -- it's been so mixed. It's spring, it's not spring, it's calm, it's windy, it's yukky it's drop dead gorgeous.

So many moments whiz by -- most do not get a photo of course, but those that do are somehow, to me, representative of a state of affairs. They're here exactly because they're not unusual. They stand, in my eyes, for the typical. Yes, it is like that. It's exactly like that! And aspects of it will recur even as so much will change!

Snowdrop once again wakes up just a short while after me. I have a few minutes to let the cheepers out, to shower, to tidy, to start in on breakfast and then her chatting in her bed becomes more forceful and I go up to get her (and to nudge Ed to prepare himself for breakfast, because I can't stall the girl much).

She and Ed eat a breakfast that is truly local. Oh, the fruits come from someplace sunny and warm, but the eggs are yesterday's, from Butter and Scotch and the jam is a grape thing that Ed made from the grapes that hang down the sheep shed walls. She loves the eggs, loves the jammy toast, loves eating what we eat.

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Again, this is not unusual, it's not unique, but in its predictability lies its charm.

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It's colder today, though still above freezing. I'll take it!

After some play minutes knocking around with Ed...

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... she has her bath and as she busies herself, I review the possible adventures we could fit in this morning.

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Most often, these are her patient hours. Not hungry, not tired, ready for whatever comes her way.

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Well, more or less ready. Let's just say the outdoors is still a bit mysterious to her. She likes the chickens, but you can't build a whole playtime out of watching hens eat a bread slice.

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I sling her on my hip again and we walk the land. I show her a great spot among the fir trees for a hide and seek game, but she is not fully convinced. We'll try again when it's warmer.

Inside, I do play with a self-timed photo. She surely is used to those and she quite loves looking at the result immediately after.

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If the outdoors doesn't really pull at us today, going out adventuring surely does. You would laugh at what rises to the level of adventuring: a trip to the grocery store to pick up more milk and then a trip to Paul's Cafe to restock our supply of pickles and to pick up a muffin for Ed. Snowdrop does quite love this place. It's vast and there are plenty of places to explore...

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... and honestly, from her (and mine) perspective, life doesn't get a whole lot better than a sweet crumb, the smell of pickles and constant people watching opportunities.

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Her parents pick Snowdrop up late in the late afternoon. I'll end her weekend here with one last flip by grandpa Ed...

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... and one last jiggle on grandma's lap (this photo is by Ed).

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And then it grows oddly quiet at the farmhouse and life returns to its own sweet ordinariness -- though not for long: tomorrow is Monday and if it's Monday...

But wait. The day has a few more hours after all. My good good friend is in town and this evening we eke out some hours together over a ginger beer.

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Later, at home, Ed and I pop a movie into the DVD player. I don't have to remind him to turn the volume down. No one is sleeping upstairs. The monitor is turned off.

Still, a pair of pink boots stands waiting. Until tomorrow.