Oh that sunshine! I like to look out at your radiant presence, even when I do spend the day sequestered inside, typing away!
The cheepers know the bitter cold is a passing thing. I glance up and see Java -- she seems terribly assured, given that she is walking on snow on a chilly March morning.
Where are your buddies, Java?
(If she could talk she would tell me: laying eggs. Yes, we're back in the egg production business again. Except for big Java. Freeloader.)
Breakfast, in the sun room.
I pick up Snowdrop at the usual time, but today I find her outside with a handful of other non nappers. She seems energetic, proudly sporting a baseball cap from her daddy, collecting bits of "nature" as per teacher's suggestion.
But she is tired. I can tell. She's fragile as we pull up to the farmhouse. She doesn't like where I park the car. It's different, it makes her feel even more off-kilter. I say to her that I, as the driver, have to make the parking decisions. I carry her in and, clinging to me, she tells me, with big tears in her eyes, "I don't want to be a mommy now!"
Too much responsibility? Too many weighty decisions to make (such as where to park the car)? I reassure her -- sweet one, you're still a little girl!
She calms down. She snuggles into my shoulders and clarifies -- I don't want to be a mommy or a little girl. I want to be a big girl!
Inside, we read, she revives, narrates her tales...
... with all the gestures and emphases that they deserve...
...But I sense the need for a slower pace. We retreat to books and even a viewing of Peg and Cat (another good PBS kid video, for the uninitiated).
Only toward evening does she settle comfortably into her world of play again.
Sometimes, when Snowdrop and I romp and play and Ed joins us and she is so very happy to have our silly attention, I think -- her world is very lovely indeed. But I'm going through this process of growing up for the third time now -- there was my own, there were my kids, and now I have this grandgirl (to be followed by other grandkids) and by now it doesn't take much to have me remember that it really isn't always easy being a kid.
In the evening Ed and I test the temperature under a heat lamp that he has dug up from his storehouse of bits and rejects. Were we to get chicks next week, we'd have to create a spot for them where it's reliably 90F (32C).
It works! -- he tells me.
We are going to have to make a decision on this baby chick project. But not today. One step at a time -- that's always the best way to move forward.
The cheepers know the bitter cold is a passing thing. I glance up and see Java -- she seems terribly assured, given that she is walking on snow on a chilly March morning.
Where are your buddies, Java?
(If she could talk she would tell me: laying eggs. Yes, we're back in the egg production business again. Except for big Java. Freeloader.)
Breakfast, in the sun room.
I pick up Snowdrop at the usual time, but today I find her outside with a handful of other non nappers. She seems energetic, proudly sporting a baseball cap from her daddy, collecting bits of "nature" as per teacher's suggestion.
But she is tired. I can tell. She's fragile as we pull up to the farmhouse. She doesn't like where I park the car. It's different, it makes her feel even more off-kilter. I say to her that I, as the driver, have to make the parking decisions. I carry her in and, clinging to me, she tells me, with big tears in her eyes, "I don't want to be a mommy now!"
Too much responsibility? Too many weighty decisions to make (such as where to park the car)? I reassure her -- sweet one, you're still a little girl!
She calms down. She snuggles into my shoulders and clarifies -- I don't want to be a mommy or a little girl. I want to be a big girl!
Inside, we read, she revives, narrates her tales...
... with all the gestures and emphases that they deserve...
...But I sense the need for a slower pace. We retreat to books and even a viewing of Peg and Cat (another good PBS kid video, for the uninitiated).
Only toward evening does she settle comfortably into her world of play again.
Sometimes, when Snowdrop and I romp and play and Ed joins us and she is so very happy to have our silly attention, I think -- her world is very lovely indeed. But I'm going through this process of growing up for the third time now -- there was my own, there were my kids, and now I have this grandgirl (to be followed by other grandkids) and by now it doesn't take much to have me remember that it really isn't always easy being a kid.
In the evening Ed and I test the temperature under a heat lamp that he has dug up from his storehouse of bits and rejects. Were we to get chicks next week, we'd have to create a spot for them where it's reliably 90F (32C).
It works! -- he tells me.
We are going to have to make a decision on this baby chick project. But not today. One step at a time -- that's always the best way to move forward.
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