chicken promises

If you were to give me this day say in January, I would be quite happy with it. There is snow on the ground -- a lovely snow at that. (So many animals visit the farmette each night...)






The sun is out. It's cold, but not extremely so. Single digits at wakeup, but it'll climb to just below freezing by afternoon. January weather.

Except that it's March 14th.

The cheepers, ever the hopeful girls, set out as a pack to traverse Ed's path to the garage. It's not snow-free, but at least their dinosaur paws are not buried in the white stuff.






I watch then do this and, feeling sorry for them,  I dash out, without jacket, in my slippers to greet the girls with bread and warm water. And I make them this promise: you wont feel so cold again for a whole ten months! I promise!

Are you listening, weather gods? I do not like to break chicken promises!



Breakfast is in the sun room.






All that sunshine -- it's warm when it streams into your home, but it's not so warm when I step outside to pick up Snowdrop, noting that at noon, it's a mere 20F (-6C).

I know she'll ask for a walk again. Should I go along? Or should I tell her that this is the very very last day of bitter cold for a good ten months and so let's just forgo the neighborhood adventure one more time?

It's a no brainer. She is all bundled and ready when I arrive. I tell her the stroller is set and waiting for us on the sidewalk. She is delighted! (Putting on your own winter gear means that you don't always get the boots right...)






It's not a long walk. I had parked the car by the coffee shop and we had a lovely fifteen minutes admiring the snow for (I hope) one last time this season.

Snowdrop wanted to go to the play ground, but I told her it was closed due to the snow. We did go to the neighboring lesser lake and that was the toughest part: the wind was harsh. One minute of it was too much. (A new layer of ice is forming on the lake! Yech!)






We were both happy by then to retreat into the sun drenched car and head for the farmette.

The excuse for the absence of hat and mitts now? Oh, it's just a few steps to the door...






... I mean, look how Ed navigates the path from sheep shed to farmhouse!






Inside -- oh, there's a lot of dancing. And I know you have seen a lot of photos of Snowdrop dancing, but hey, we are still suffering the return of winter and a joyful exuberance is a much needed antidote to what's taking place outside.

(Today -- with puppets...)






(... with ahah...)






(... and any number of other combinations.)






Post nap... Nearly evening. It's the relaxed part of the day... We read, we color...






... and always, there is the love of sitting at her table and dishing out pretend foods.











Such a day!

Evening, Ed and I go out on a dinner date. I've been anxious to try La Kitchenette -- it just opened last fall and it's the kind of cafe-bar-brasserie that makes you think of all the wonderful suppers and lunches you had in your travels through France.






Understandably so: Virginie Ok, the woman who took over and is both owner and chef is in fact French. Parisian. And the place is just so evocative! With buckwheat crepes, croques and tartines, stewed chicken and yes, boeuf bourguignon, with lovely wines by the glass and just a few perfect bistro type desserts to tempt your sweet yearnings, La Kitchenette is just grand.






I only wish it were within walking distance. Next to a flower shop perhaps? Or a bakery? Oh! Did I forget that Madison Sourdough, where I routinely buy croissants for Snowdrop, is just across the street? And flowers... well, spring is around the bend. There will be flowers everywhere. I promise!