what a day!

The title of this post suggests great weather, great happenings and great exhaustion. As in: don't expect much from my report here because I have had "what a day!" and I am tired and it is late and I haven't the talent to produce something literate and worthy of your attention.

You would be right to read all this into the three words.

And yet -- in the calm of the night, I think back to the small details of the day and I know that they require few words. I mean, in the scheme of things, not much really happened. Or did it?

You decide.

Let's start with a safe place: breakfast. The usual!





And now things begin to stir. I plant just a handful of tulip bulbs. Ed is hovering.
Should we play disc golf? Should we maybe run a few errands together? Maybe pick up a box of chocolates? Or some chicken feed?

Whoaaaa! One thing at a time! I only have a handful of hours before Snowdrop pick up time. Let's play our disc golf and proceed from there.

We are not alone on the course...






Well, now we are.





I play a terrible game. My arm is giving out on me. Ed's whole body mass hurls into that swing. My whole body mass teeters by comparison.

And yet, we have such great fun!

Ed, don't you think that if the disc goes to my rear (meaning even further away from the goal than the starting point), I can start again?
Gorgeous, we can make up any rules you want, but honestly....
Okay okay okay...

It's rare that I laugh this hard. Ed (who is overall a far stronger player) bounces his disc gainst a tree. I collapse in mirth.

Let's take a glance at the beauty of the landscape...






Fields and forests... so many wrong throws, so much to admire anyway!






The morning does not end here. After the game, in anticipation of a Very Important Day tomorrow, Ed suggests that we drive out to pick up a box of my favorite chocolates.

I'm agreeable.

He knows that I love cards commemorating important milestones. Lucky break for him: the chocolate store also has a rack of cards.





Mission accomplished.


And now it is time for me to pick up Snowdrop at school.

These heavenly days of sunshine and warm air are a godsend. They allow the little girl to spend hours at play in the great outdoors. No toys, no comfortable spaces, no privacy. Just a park and a playground and a host of interesting situations that may develop.






Here she is, watching as older kids flood the play structure...





It's always hard to pull her away from all this.

There's a lot of cajoling begging and insisting that takes place. Eventually, we're in the car and as it is Thursday, we make our way to our local farmers' market. It's the last day for picking out cheap tomatoes off of Natalie's truck. Snowdrop, as always, is in seventh heaven up there.







I can carry the bag by myself, grandma!





(Well, sort of.)

The sun is nearly setting. Snowdrop's parents are about to show up to pick up their little girl. Ed turns to me -- So I've found these chickens...

He has been suggesting that two hens (our current brood) is suboptimal. Three, or better yet four!

I've argued the cons: that would mean there would be more claws digging up my flower beds!
He's raised the pros: fewer ticks, greater chicken camaraderie, more eggs.

I cave.

I tell Snowdrop: we're getting two more chickens! You want to give them names?
She doesn't hesitate: Apple! And the second one? Peach!


And that's how it comes to be that after the little girl goes home, Ed and I meet up with a woman who posted on craigslist two adorable hens for sale. Of course, everything that she claims about them (they're friendly! they lay eggs! they're young! they're wonderful!) is suspect, but still, we're won over by their sheer sweetness.




We bring them home, stick them in the coop for the night with Henny and Java and hope for the best.