Well, it was time to get up on the roof. There's more than a foot of snow on it and though the porch glass roof can take even more (we think), it does make for a darker kitchen. A clear roof would be very nice, especially on gray winter days like today. And yes, it's officially winter!
I write this because first of all, you know I didn't fall off (shoveling on a glassy incline is a challenge when the bottom layer is icy), or I wouldn't be at my computer right now and well, because I think it's a fine way to welcome the official start of winter.
We eat breakfast in the kitchen which is again bathed in the light of the outdoors.
As for Snowdrop's visit -- I have to admit to being a less than perfect grandma this afternoon. First of all, I suggest at the outset that we take bread to the chickens in the barn. Fine. But I have the not so clever idea of taking her in the little sled. It's just at freezing, so I do not fret about the fact that Snowdrop is not in her snowsuit. Too, she wants to nibble on the bread. Off come the gloves.
... and the snow piles into the sled and it's all so cold and wet and so we bail ship and hurry to the warmth of the farmhouse.
While ahah is making bagels with melted cheese, I once again try to pin back her hair in a pony tail. This time, she wants to examine the bag of rubber bands that I keep hidden on an upper shelf.
There are maybe one or two million teeny tiny rubber bands in that bag. I'm not quite sure why so many were packed into it. Perhaps it's for an army of little girls all clamoring for pony tails. In any case, Snowdrop is not satisfied until her little fist takes out every last band from the bag.
Every last band.
At first, she tries to add some bands to her pony tail.
(But hey, why stop with just putting one in her hair?)
And then she just wants to toss the colorful tiny things into the air.
I try to make light of it and gently suggest an end to the game, but she just giggles and throws them higher.
And higher.
I'm sure she truly believes that this is their purpose. In any case, I explain that I now cannot play because I have to spend the next two hours picking up two million tiny rubber bands from all corners of the room.
Ed thinks this is all terribly funny. I tell him the throwing was a lot funnier than the picking up.
Sweet Snowdrop rewards his kind words by giving him her coveted raisins.
As she naps, I gaze out at the changing light on the farmette fields. A drop of sunlight does wonders!
The little girl sleeps a very long time. It's as if the schedule of early school, intense play, outdoor activity, Christmas -- all of it, has worn her out! That's okay! Today is her last day of school until the new year. The little one will catch up on beloved rest.
It's nearly dark when she wakes up from her (very long) nap. Well that's understandable. It's the shortest day of the year, remember?
She leads me to the sun room, to my desk. She climbs up on the chair and does what she loves so much - reaches for the pens and pencils and sets to work. (Yes, that's the post nap remains of a pony tail.)
"You click a pen for "on," why don't you click a pencil?"
"Sigh... I've got writer's block..."
Day is done. Tomorrow we'll have that much more of "day." And there will be the snow days and eventually it'll rain -- not rubber bands, but real spring rain, the kind that makes the crocuses explode. And writer's block will come and go... And so it continues.
I write this because first of all, you know I didn't fall off (shoveling on a glassy incline is a challenge when the bottom layer is icy), or I wouldn't be at my computer right now and well, because I think it's a fine way to welcome the official start of winter.
We eat breakfast in the kitchen which is again bathed in the light of the outdoors.
As for Snowdrop's visit -- I have to admit to being a less than perfect grandma this afternoon. First of all, I suggest at the outset that we take bread to the chickens in the barn. Fine. But I have the not so clever idea of taking her in the little sled. It's just at freezing, so I do not fret about the fact that Snowdrop is not in her snowsuit. Too, she wants to nibble on the bread. Off come the gloves.
... and the snow piles into the sled and it's all so cold and wet and so we bail ship and hurry to the warmth of the farmhouse.
While ahah is making bagels with melted cheese, I once again try to pin back her hair in a pony tail. This time, she wants to examine the bag of rubber bands that I keep hidden on an upper shelf.
There are maybe one or two million teeny tiny rubber bands in that bag. I'm not quite sure why so many were packed into it. Perhaps it's for an army of little girls all clamoring for pony tails. In any case, Snowdrop is not satisfied until her little fist takes out every last band from the bag.
Every last band.
At first, she tries to add some bands to her pony tail.
(But hey, why stop with just putting one in her hair?)
And then she just wants to toss the colorful tiny things into the air.
I try to make light of it and gently suggest an end to the game, but she just giggles and throws them higher.
And higher.
I'm sure she truly believes that this is their purpose. In any case, I explain that I now cannot play because I have to spend the next two hours picking up two million tiny rubber bands from all corners of the room.
Ed thinks this is all terribly funny. I tell him the throwing was a lot funnier than the picking up.
Sweet Snowdrop rewards his kind words by giving him her coveted raisins.
As she naps, I gaze out at the changing light on the farmette fields. A drop of sunlight does wonders!
The little girl sleeps a very long time. It's as if the schedule of early school, intense play, outdoor activity, Christmas -- all of it, has worn her out! That's okay! Today is her last day of school until the new year. The little one will catch up on beloved rest.
It's nearly dark when she wakes up from her (very long) nap. Well that's understandable. It's the shortest day of the year, remember?
She leads me to the sun room, to my desk. She climbs up on the chair and does what she loves so much - reaches for the pens and pencils and sets to work. (Yes, that's the post nap remains of a pony tail.)
"You click a pen for "on," why don't you click a pencil?"
"Sigh... I've got writer's block..."
Day is done. Tomorrow we'll have that much more of "day." And there will be the snow days and eventually it'll rain -- not rubber bands, but real spring rain, the kind that makes the crocuses explode. And writer's block will come and go... And so it continues.
