Monday, April 17, 2017


There is a book that I read to Snowdrop where everything, as far as the eye can see, is brown. I swear, the author must have spent a March in Wisconsin. Then on the very last page, a little boy steps out and the world is green.

I have this image in my head that things turn here right around the date of my birthday (April 21st). This is when I always remember the buds on trees popping with new life. The brown begins to co-mingle with a gentle green.

But this year, there isn't a question but that the world has turned green already, without waiting for my birth date!

And it's warm enough for breakfast on the porch, and that's just so wonderful!

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And the daffodils are nearly at their peak -- against the backdrop of a thicket of green!

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Snowdrop was out of school for spring break last week, but today she is back in full swing.

Has it only been a week? Everything about the world seems transformed!

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A week ago, after school, we walked the neighborhood in search of blooming flowers and found the occasional crocus and bluebell -- little else.

Consider today's walk!

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I cannot believe the changes!

At the farmhouse, Snowdrop wants a little quiet time. That is, if you can call playing baseball with Ed quiet time.

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There -- this is her sedative, her respite, her chill time: serving tea at her little table. I can almost feel her exhale.

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After her nap, there's more indoor play. I'll include just one set of photos, where she cooks soup for her new chickens.

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Wait. That looks threatening! Does the chicken understand that she is one step away from the soup pot?

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Late in the afternoon, we go outside. The real chickens join us. Or, join her: they're convinced that she holds the key to chicken heaven.

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I pick up my shovel and continue to weed the strawberry field. This is a big project for me as I've let the weeds take a firm hold in the last couple of years. Snowdrop understands I need help. She is more than willing to assist!

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And she is, in fact, a terrific digger.

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We work side by side until her dad comes to take her home.

The wind has picked up some, but the sun is still out. I glance at the daffodils. Golden and ivory. Perfection.

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