Sunday

Sunrise in Madison is at 7:04 right now (and sunset is a few minutes after 7 in the evening). We are entering my beloved half year of long days.

I'm up early today. Snowdrop is sleeping over and I have stuff to do before the little one stirs.

Cheeper care, chick care for one. Oh, but the walk to the barn is lovely just at dawn!






And good morning to you as well, little cheeps!





A few minutes later, the bedroom door opens and, bathed in the sun that is streaming into the landing, there appears a little person, full of radiant smiles.

A quick breakfast snack and she is ready to play.






Oh, but Snowdrop, we have things to do!

Is there a child on this planet that does not enjoy helping mix ingredients? Our first cooking project is her currently preferred breakfast here: pancakes with bacon and fruit.





But you must get dressed before we eat!
Can I have ribbons in my hair?
Of course.
Ed comments -- honestly, it must be genetic. She actually cares about what she wears and how she looks!

Yes she does.





While I finish up breakfast prep, Ed embarks on a wee project. Last night, he and I googled to see if young chicks need toys. I'd commented that they were chasing each other like wild children on a playground and that perhaps it would be good to give them distractions! Indeed! The chicken patrol has choice words on the Internet for people who do not provide some excitement in the cheep box! The mama hen would be constantly teaching, pushing, prodding her young babes! Why aren't you??

Someone suggested throwing in a toilet paper tube and some marbles. We haven't either on hand, and so Ed and Snowdrop make rolls out of colorful index cards. I don't have kid scissors, but she seems to manage to keep up with Mr. Do-It-Yourself just fine.






...while the baby cheeps huddle and consider the new addition to the box.






Snowdrop urges them to get rolling, but they are clearly processing things at their own chicken speed.





Hey, you two! Breakfast!






And it seems so appropriate, given books on the topic and chickens sporting that name that afterwards, we should make (pink, of course) cupcakes!






But first -- grandma, I'd like pig tails now.
Ed has a point.






Filling the cupcake forms...






And then she wants to make more chicken toys!






A bevy of towers!






Chicken care, chicken watching -- they do have thier limits. There are other things in life equally compelling (aren't there?)!






I take Snowdrop home  and in the early afternoon, Ed and I take advantage of the incredibly beautiful day (high of 55F, or 13C) and we take our discs to play disc golf. The sound of mating cranes is with us for a good part of the game.






The sun is warm, the skies are a brilliant blue...






And at the farmhouse, the cheeps wait. And eat and poop and sleep and drink water.






And... fly! Oh dear.






Evening. The young family comes for dinner. Snowdrop and I frost the cupcakes. Pink! (Made of beet juice.)






And now she wants to cut out toys for chicks again.
Ahah never says no.






Dinner...






Cupcakes...






And the day draws to a close. Not without emotion. Snowdrop is very expressive. (Overheard: when a disappointment strikes, the little girl announces -- I am a little miserable!) It's hard to stop the flow of good play. I get it. Still, the wheels move us forward. In a good way. In the best of ways.