I look outside at dawn: the sky is again so very beautiful! Should I wake Snowdrop for it? No, of course not. The colors will fade quickly and more importantly -- the girl needs her sleep. On the other hand, she's likely to rise soon enough. Should I nudge her?
I let her be.
I tiptoe downstairs and go outside to let the cheepers out. The sky may be less brilliantly orange and red now, but it is no less beautiful!
In fact, Snowdrop has a late (by farmhouse standards) wakeup: after 8. And we have a leisurely beginning to the day. Ed is still asleep. Snowdrop and I leave him to his dozy state and go downstairs to push the day forward.
One morning task for me is to check the mousetraps. Boom! One is loaded.
When Ed does wake up, I tell him that his first task is to take the mouse (still in the trap) to the distant fields. I shop Snowdrop the little critter -- she's quite taken by it. Yes, cute -- I tell her. But it belongs in the fields, not in the farmhouse.
She watches as Ed takes the motorbike out to cart the little mouse several miles away from here.
It's weird how easily mice find their way back. In fact, Ed and I listened to a show on NPR where the news person was trying to ask all the right questions to determine how and why pigeons can always find their way home. I wonder if this is something mice and pigeons share: the ability to figure out where they are in space and time. No one knows how they do it, but they indeed do it, again and again.
It's all very impressive.
We play then...
Ah-ah joins us, she is delighted...
And then Snowdrop gets breakfast number 2 and Ed gets breakfast number 1 -- pancakes. (I bring to the table my own beloved oatmeal, which I douse generously with fruit and honey.) Snowdrop shows off her most perfect smile as she turns to Ed: Ah ah, I need more maple syrup! And then she turns to me: ga ga, I need more honey. And we go back and forth like this for a while, until she is certain that she has had her fill of everything.
On the floor again, playing...
She will build the tallest tower and never give up hope that the building will hold sturdy.
When the time comes for us to get moving, I tell her -- Snowdrop, we have to go now and pick up mommmy...
She listens, then turns to Ed and explains to him: Go to pick up mommy. She pauses, then explains: mommy fell down.
Outside, she gives a spirited run...
... then heads for the car.
In the afternoon, the air remains cold. The temperature probably did come back up from below freezing, but just barely. The cheepers' water dish remains icy and I have to refresh it from the kitchen's warm water tap. I throw some seeds. They come running!
Still, Ed and I want to go out for a walk. we've been itching to hike again on the familiar nearby stretch of the Ice Age Trail.
It's a lovely ride out into the country.
and we're happy to have before us a walk in the forest.
But we're not prepared. I'd forgotten that the deer hunting season began yesterday. Within ten minutes, we come across four hunters, rifles ready. The last one reprimands us -- don't you known the hunting season is on? Wear blaze orange!
I wonder if they shoot at anything that moves (and does not wear blaze orange). We retreat, though nor immediately. There's a view to take in from here!
(More hunters. In blaze orange.)
After some thirty minutes, we turn back and drive home.
In the evening, the young family is here for dinner and Snowdrop is immensely joyful once more. (Here she is showing off the moves that we think are part of her school yoga routines.)
How sweet it is to end the weekend this way!
All is calm. I'm not yet working the big Thanksgiving meal thorough my head. That will start... tomorrow! Definitely tomorrow!
I let her be.
I tiptoe downstairs and go outside to let the cheepers out. The sky may be less brilliantly orange and red now, but it is no less beautiful!
In fact, Snowdrop has a late (by farmhouse standards) wakeup: after 8. And we have a leisurely beginning to the day. Ed is still asleep. Snowdrop and I leave him to his dozy state and go downstairs to push the day forward.
One morning task for me is to check the mousetraps. Boom! One is loaded.
When Ed does wake up, I tell him that his first task is to take the mouse (still in the trap) to the distant fields. I shop Snowdrop the little critter -- she's quite taken by it. Yes, cute -- I tell her. But it belongs in the fields, not in the farmhouse.
She watches as Ed takes the motorbike out to cart the little mouse several miles away from here.
It's weird how easily mice find their way back. In fact, Ed and I listened to a show on NPR where the news person was trying to ask all the right questions to determine how and why pigeons can always find their way home. I wonder if this is something mice and pigeons share: the ability to figure out where they are in space and time. No one knows how they do it, but they indeed do it, again and again.
It's all very impressive.
We play then...
Ah-ah joins us, she is delighted...
And then Snowdrop gets breakfast number 2 and Ed gets breakfast number 1 -- pancakes. (I bring to the table my own beloved oatmeal, which I douse generously with fruit and honey.) Snowdrop shows off her most perfect smile as she turns to Ed: Ah ah, I need more maple syrup! And then she turns to me: ga ga, I need more honey. And we go back and forth like this for a while, until she is certain that she has had her fill of everything.
On the floor again, playing...
She will build the tallest tower and never give up hope that the building will hold sturdy.
When the time comes for us to get moving, I tell her -- Snowdrop, we have to go now and pick up mommmy...
She listens, then turns to Ed and explains to him: Go to pick up mommy. She pauses, then explains: mommy fell down.
Outside, she gives a spirited run...
... then heads for the car.
In the afternoon, the air remains cold. The temperature probably did come back up from below freezing, but just barely. The cheepers' water dish remains icy and I have to refresh it from the kitchen's warm water tap. I throw some seeds. They come running!
Still, Ed and I want to go out for a walk. we've been itching to hike again on the familiar nearby stretch of the Ice Age Trail.
It's a lovely ride out into the country.
and we're happy to have before us a walk in the forest.
But we're not prepared. I'd forgotten that the deer hunting season began yesterday. Within ten minutes, we come across four hunters, rifles ready. The last one reprimands us -- don't you known the hunting season is on? Wear blaze orange!
I wonder if they shoot at anything that moves (and does not wear blaze orange). We retreat, though nor immediately. There's a view to take in from here!
(More hunters. In blaze orange.)
After some thirty minutes, we turn back and drive home.
In the evening, the young family is here for dinner and Snowdrop is immensely joyful once more. (Here she is showing off the moves that we think are part of her school yoga routines.)
How sweet it is to end the weekend this way!
All is calm. I'm not yet working the big Thanksgiving meal thorough my head. That will start... tomorrow! Definitely tomorrow!
