bright days

When the sun comes out after a spell of gray days, the heart just soars! Oh, there are people in Sorede or California that'll boast of nearly daily sunshine. But that then becomes their wallpaper, no? If you wake up to it each and every day, aren't you missing something? Much as I groan at clouds, wind and rain, it is an indulgent groan. The kind you have for your grandkids when they misbehave, knowing that you love 'em to pieces anyway and by the by, aren't they the cutest little devils?  The damp forest canopies, mossy earth, mushroom clumps, wet leaves -- heavenly fragrances! And you know that in a few days there'll be that glorious sunshine! And your heart will soar!

It's an unusual Friday for us. Yes, there's breakfast in the sun room and that's very very normal. (The iris that I cut down on the eve of our first frost have now exploded into enormous branches of yellow blooms.)






But rather than doing the weekly grocery trudge, I flip things for us: shop tomorrow -- a rainy day, they say -- walk today.

And so in the late morning, Ed and I set out for Owen Woods. And that in itself is grand: I have finally conquered that terrible horrible bug that I have been fighting all week. Off the couch and into the woods!






It is a dazzling walk. Yes, I was dazzled here before, earlier this week. But of course, every walk is different and every glance reveals new brilliance.

















When we return to the farm, Ed loads a cart of wood chips for me and I trim the front flower border with this much needed bit of ground cover.

Afterwards, I'm ready to rest on that couch again (I know I am doing too much too soon), except that it is time to pick up Snowdrop (who herself has not napped, so that makes two sluggers now...).

She is on her teacher's lap, by the cubbies, listening to a story...





Weatherwise, the afternoon is a tad strange: cold, but calm... no rain but almost no sunshine. I'm torn as to outdoor time. I'm low on stamina and I'm guessing the little one is tired as well.

But in fact, we both rally. Of the choices I give her, she immediately opts for a long trek to the distant coffee shop. She had remembered its existence yesterday and had wanted to walk there then, but the rain foiled her plans.

So today we walk. (I bring along her baby cap and mitts as I await the arrival of this year's stuff; the fit and look are a little off, but the warmth is a godsend...)





...All the way to the distant coffee shop, where I order for her a cup of hot chocolate -- something she loves in theory more than in practice (terrific for a grandma who wants to please, but doesn't want to over-sugar the child).






We then walk back to the old familiar turf of the playground, chatting as one does on these November walks...

(a sample)
Grandma, what does ahah call you?
Gorgeous.
Why?
I suppose he thinks I'm beautiful...
You're not beautiful! You're grandma!







It's nearly evening when we finally retreat to the farmhouse. (The arrival of a new book has her excited! It's the third in a series of new beloveds -- all three are about a girl named Maple and her sister Willow. Between this series and her goto favorite, the Seven Silly Eaters, Snowdrop can be kept happy for a long time, even if Gaga has hardly any voice left at the end of the day...)





But there's one easy way to get her to stop begging for more reading -- suggest a game of school, where she is the teacher.

I would like some fruits for snack...
But grandma, the fruits are for the teachers. See? The fruit basket is now empty!







Such a week! Really, such a tough but exciting and lovely week!