I bring my daily morning animal report to Ed: I think Apple is hiding her eggs. Also, I searched the whole barn but found no kittens.
They're gone?
They're gone.
We'll never know what brings them here and what drives them away. Are they somewhere in the fields to the north of us?
We don't know.
Do you notice the wisps of blue in the sky this morning? Within a few hours, the clouds disperse. We're in for a lovely day -- perhaps the last of the days when we climb above freezing.
(Breakfast)
It's a perfect day for Ed and I to play disc golf, under skies that turn a beautiful cornflower blue.
Playing disc golf... we do it on the sly, creating our own goal points, as the real ones have been removed. (The course is closed for the winter.) Why would a park close for winter? Why wouldn't you encourage people to come out and play, especially on the occasional warm day?
Soon after, I head out to pick up Snowdrop.
The girl isn't napping today. This means that I have to proceed cautiously: she may be up for a lot, or she may be more fragile.
But those cornflower blue skies help: I tell her that we can go out to her school playground for a while. She rallies.
And she stays upbeat...
... all the rest of the day.
I don't intend Ocean to be a record of her life, and yet it feels incomplete not to mention two strong, and I mean really strong currents in my time with Snowdrop these days: first of all, she loves (and I mean really loves) when (in the car, because I refuse to take it outside the car) I tell her a (made up on the spot) story about this penguin family, which in some ways resembles her family, but in many ways has anxiety producing adventures that Snowdrop would not immediately think of as her own. (For example: a baby seal wonders to the penguin household on a stormy day ... what now???).
Secondly, she, herself, has become the consummate story teller.
Snowdrop knows how to hold her audience. She uses anything and everything in her knowledge base to enrich her stories, and when she is on a roll, you are spellbound! If she ever becomes a standup comic, do remember -- it started at age two.
I'll add just a few small details of our play together today. Here she is, working with a toy that you may think is rather conventional: you dress the kid. Yawn! Girlie stuff. But in fact, two months ago, she couldn't have done it. Too, the options are a bit funky, with unconventional garb and accoutrements.
I was late for everything thereafter because I could not get Snowdrop away from this new exploration of the creative and unusual.
It seems to me that at Snowdrop's age, allowing her to grow confident in manipulating her world is possibly the most important skill that I can support. And I know, too, that her creativity knows no bounds. Throw in her verbal strengths and she is a person you'll easily be able to hire for your next geeky invention project! (I'm only the grandma... but this is what I see.)
We're leaving the farmhouse. I'm about to drive her home. She begs to put on farmhouse clothes that I keep as a backup, especially for outdoor play. She is bubbling with excitement: mommy will be so surprised to see me like this! She will open the door and she will be so surprised!
We drive a bit and I note how gorgeous the post-sunset sky is. The plumes of cloud left by airplanes only add to the beauty of the evening. I stop the car and direct her attention to it.
She asks -- Is that a rocket? Did a rocket go by?
And then, as we resume our journey -- please, grandma, can you tell me the penguin story now?
They're gone?
They're gone.
We'll never know what brings them here and what drives them away. Are they somewhere in the fields to the north of us?
We don't know.
Do you notice the wisps of blue in the sky this morning? Within a few hours, the clouds disperse. We're in for a lovely day -- perhaps the last of the days when we climb above freezing.
(Breakfast)
It's a perfect day for Ed and I to play disc golf, under skies that turn a beautiful cornflower blue.
Playing disc golf... we do it on the sly, creating our own goal points, as the real ones have been removed. (The course is closed for the winter.) Why would a park close for winter? Why wouldn't you encourage people to come out and play, especially on the occasional warm day?
Soon after, I head out to pick up Snowdrop.
The girl isn't napping today. This means that I have to proceed cautiously: she may be up for a lot, or she may be more fragile.
But those cornflower blue skies help: I tell her that we can go out to her school playground for a while. She rallies.
And she stays upbeat...
... all the rest of the day.
I don't intend Ocean to be a record of her life, and yet it feels incomplete not to mention two strong, and I mean really strong currents in my time with Snowdrop these days: first of all, she loves (and I mean really loves) when (in the car, because I refuse to take it outside the car) I tell her a (made up on the spot) story about this penguin family, which in some ways resembles her family, but in many ways has anxiety producing adventures that Snowdrop would not immediately think of as her own. (For example: a baby seal wonders to the penguin household on a stormy day ... what now???).
Secondly, she, herself, has become the consummate story teller.
Snowdrop knows how to hold her audience. She uses anything and everything in her knowledge base to enrich her stories, and when she is on a roll, you are spellbound! If she ever becomes a standup comic, do remember -- it started at age two.
I'll add just a few small details of our play together today. Here she is, working with a toy that you may think is rather conventional: you dress the kid. Yawn! Girlie stuff. But in fact, two months ago, she couldn't have done it. Too, the options are a bit funky, with unconventional garb and accoutrements.
I was late for everything thereafter because I could not get Snowdrop away from this new exploration of the creative and unusual.
It seems to me that at Snowdrop's age, allowing her to grow confident in manipulating her world is possibly the most important skill that I can support. And I know, too, that her creativity knows no bounds. Throw in her verbal strengths and she is a person you'll easily be able to hire for your next geeky invention project! (I'm only the grandma... but this is what I see.)
We're leaving the farmhouse. I'm about to drive her home. She begs to put on farmhouse clothes that I keep as a backup, especially for outdoor play. She is bubbling with excitement: mommy will be so surprised to see me like this! She will open the door and she will be so surprised!
We drive a bit and I note how gorgeous the post-sunset sky is. The plumes of cloud left by airplanes only add to the beauty of the evening. I stop the car and direct her attention to it.
She asks -- Is that a rocket? Did a rocket go by?
And then, as we resume our journey -- please, grandma, can you tell me the penguin story now?
