Monday, November 07, 2016

Monday pleasures

If you have a sunny and warm day in November -- you feel it's a gift. But what if you have one after another, just like that? Truly, for us upper Midwesterners -- it's over the top.

We eat breakfast in the front room, though honestly, there isn't a room in the farmhouse that does not benefit from all this sunshine.

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I work for an hour or two on clearing the flower beds (with greater finesse than during my previous efforts). But you can't proceed blindly with clearing and removing spent stems, when there is still so much out there that hasn't quite faded to the degree you'd expect by November.

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(At least the crab apple leaves have mostly fallen...)

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Oh, but what a glorious day it is! Blue skies, gentle breezes. Short sleeves for Snowdrop as she leaves school.

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(Protectively, I push her to wear her jeans jacket. She's fine with that.)

At the farmette, I ask her if she wants to help me water the front flower bed. (I'd put in some bulbs and they've not seen rain yet, nor is there rain in the forecast.). She considers it, but ultimately sticks with her definitive "no."

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But tumbling in leaves? Now that gets a big "yes!"

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After, as we walk toward the farmhouse, I point out the kayaks that came back with us yesterday. Ed hadn't yet stored them in the garage and so they stand out in the courtyard.

Snowdrop is intrigued. Oftentimes, she is hesitant to try out something completely new. Not so with the boats.

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She loves climbing in and out, directing ahah where he should sit...

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In and out, in and out. Endlessly. Enthusiastically.

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Then with Ed, working the paddle. Loving every bit of it.

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Look out world! Here we come!

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It's hard to get her inside. Finally. With a pause by the flowers.

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I tell her I need to throw a sheet of cookies in the oven. Her energy returns and she is there, moving the chair to help me.

Here's her classic request for "just one more raisin" (or one more of anything).

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Keep mixing, Snowdrop!

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After her nap, she wants to be outside again, this time with her wagon. Very quickly, she scrambles to get out. I steer us toward the farmed fields where it's safe to let her loose. She wants to be in charge. No, gaga! I push it!

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It's tough going and sometimes it's just impossible for her to move the wagon without my assistance, but she does not give up.

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"Just one more time!"

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At home now. She takes to a stack of books.  She is so beautifully sensitive to the mood of the house (quiet now in the early evening) that it's hard to remember that she is just 22 months old.

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She goes home. The house grows quiet. A stack of books remains on the couch, a few puzzle pieces are scattered on the floor. I smile and turn my attention toward preparing dinner.