You expect rain, mud, melting snow -- in March. But here we are, toddling along through February and we're getting that dreary weather again, with lots of good old fashioned rain.
So we eat breakfast in the front room.
Here's what the world looks like from the kitchen window (looking out onto the porch).
Just walking to the mailbox is treacherous and muddy all at the same time. The icy path is still icy, interspersed with sloshy puddles. Bleh!
And so I revise my plan as to how to spend the afternoon with Snowdrop. When I pick her up from school, I tell her we'll first go to the bread bakery, then to her home to play.
She's okay with that. She's an agreeable child after all. Besides, she knows she'll have some choice of bread product.
I want a croissant!
Ask nicely.
Please!
As a treat, we also share a macaron. It seems fitting, given that she has spent every day of the past several weeks at the farmhouse playing with the toy macaron cookies. And you know what? She gives it the perfect pronunciation, rolled "r" and all! Children are such sponges!
She is a happy girl.
As we get out of the car at her house, she tries to talk me into a walk to the playground.
There is no way that I can work up enthusiasm for that idea. We compromise: I let her stomp her feet in puddles for a minute or two.
And inside, she settles into her usual play. I have no good photo of that. She works hard on repairing the roof of her play house with a hammer then a fork. She is tickled when I talk on her play phone, telling everyone and anyone that Snowdrop is your go-to person for fixing roofs. She sits and watches for the UPS truck. Oh fine, I do have a photo of that. She looks very serious. The UPS truck is a big deal.
Evening. Drizzle outside, warm thoughts inside. It's too early to think about spring. I'll just think about how good it is that the days are getting longer, warmer, brighter. For the most part. Mustn't be greedy.
So we eat breakfast in the front room.
Here's what the world looks like from the kitchen window (looking out onto the porch).
Just walking to the mailbox is treacherous and muddy all at the same time. The icy path is still icy, interspersed with sloshy puddles. Bleh!
And so I revise my plan as to how to spend the afternoon with Snowdrop. When I pick her up from school, I tell her we'll first go to the bread bakery, then to her home to play.
She's okay with that. She's an agreeable child after all. Besides, she knows she'll have some choice of bread product.
I want a croissant!
Ask nicely.
Please!
As a treat, we also share a macaron. It seems fitting, given that she has spent every day of the past several weeks at the farmhouse playing with the toy macaron cookies. And you know what? She gives it the perfect pronunciation, rolled "r" and all! Children are such sponges!
She is a happy girl.
As we get out of the car at her house, she tries to talk me into a walk to the playground.
There is no way that I can work up enthusiasm for that idea. We compromise: I let her stomp her feet in puddles for a minute or two.
And inside, she settles into her usual play. I have no good photo of that. She works hard on repairing the roof of her play house with a hammer then a fork. She is tickled when I talk on her play phone, telling everyone and anyone that Snowdrop is your go-to person for fixing roofs. She sits and watches for the UPS truck. Oh fine, I do have a photo of that. She looks very serious. The UPS truck is a big deal.
Evening. Drizzle outside, warm thoughts inside. It's too early to think about spring. I'll just think about how good it is that the days are getting longer, warmer, brighter. For the most part. Mustn't be greedy.
