We have fallen into our winter morning routines. You can tell without my mentioning it if it's a sunny morning or not by where we eat breakfast. Front room today (aka the old farmhouse porch, now used mainly as Snowdrop's play area). Cloudy!
But it is a misleading beginning. By late morning the sun is out and indeed, it feels ridiculously warm outside. Is this really the middle of October?
As I step out to drive over to Snowdrop's school, I listen for a while to Ed and his friend try to pry the rusted parts off of the old truck. I like the sound of two men (it could be women, but around here it will always be two men) shouting directions, working cooperatively toward the higher goal of breathing life again into something that at least visually belongs in a junk pile. It's reassuring to know that what seems impossible to one, suddenly is not so impossible when someone lends a hand. By the time I leave, they have nearly all of the offending parts removed. (The fix is the next challenge. There is always a next challenge.)
It's so pretty outside! I bring the stroller with me so that the little girl and I can take a spin around the neighborhood. Today was picture day at school and so she looks extra fine for it. No matter how many photos I will take of Snowdrop, nothing will match the specialness of a very first school picture day.
She pushes the stroller...
... but not for long. This really is her tired time.
Still, she is happy to stop by the coffee shop and waits patiently (well, reasonably patiently) for her piece of cookie.
We sit outside of course and she is in the sweetest of moods. Her weekend bug seems so far away!
We're right next to the playground and so I let her have a few minutes on the swing -- which she loves, proving that she has many genes from people who are not me.
She tries to keep her hair out of her eyes and mouth, but it is too windy. I hand over my own hair tie. She is happy to keep it on this time.
But when she starts climbing on anything that is climbable, I tell her it's time to go home.
We're at her house this afternoon and she is content to scoot around with her penguin until I insist that it really is time to rest.
In the evening, there is a bit of extra fun, as both Snowdrop and her mom come over to the farmhouse for supper.
(Predinner play)
(Appetite -- back on track)
(Close of the day laughter)
Ah, but that everyone's day would end with a big wide grin, a snuggle, a hug...
But it is a misleading beginning. By late morning the sun is out and indeed, it feels ridiculously warm outside. Is this really the middle of October?
As I step out to drive over to Snowdrop's school, I listen for a while to Ed and his friend try to pry the rusted parts off of the old truck. I like the sound of two men (it could be women, but around here it will always be two men) shouting directions, working cooperatively toward the higher goal of breathing life again into something that at least visually belongs in a junk pile. It's reassuring to know that what seems impossible to one, suddenly is not so impossible when someone lends a hand. By the time I leave, they have nearly all of the offending parts removed. (The fix is the next challenge. There is always a next challenge.)
It's so pretty outside! I bring the stroller with me so that the little girl and I can take a spin around the neighborhood. Today was picture day at school and so she looks extra fine for it. No matter how many photos I will take of Snowdrop, nothing will match the specialness of a very first school picture day.
She pushes the stroller...
... but not for long. This really is her tired time.
Still, she is happy to stop by the coffee shop and waits patiently (well, reasonably patiently) for her piece of cookie.
We sit outside of course and she is in the sweetest of moods. Her weekend bug seems so far away!
We're right next to the playground and so I let her have a few minutes on the swing -- which she loves, proving that she has many genes from people who are not me.
She tries to keep her hair out of her eyes and mouth, but it is too windy. I hand over my own hair tie. She is happy to keep it on this time.
But when she starts climbing on anything that is climbable, I tell her it's time to go home.
We're at her house this afternoon and she is content to scoot around with her penguin until I insist that it really is time to rest.
In the evening, there is a bit of extra fun, as both Snowdrop and her mom come over to the farmhouse for supper.
(Predinner play)
(Appetite -- back on track)
(Close of the day laughter)
Ah, but that everyone's day would end with a big wide grin, a snuggle, a hug...
