Looking at the long term forecast, I see that after today, many, many days will pass before we move above freezing again. Many! Not until the second half of February. If then.
And so even though this day is just barely acceptable (temps just above freezing), Ed and I must set out for a walk.
But breakfast comes first.
And after, we review the new table postings on Craigslist.
Of course, there is nothing I like. It must be woodsy. It must be warm in tones, light in shade. It must have leaves to seat a crowd!
I ask Ed if he minds the constancy of the table search. It surely will take weeks and weeks before we're likely to find just the right one.
I like seeing the various design ideas. Who would have thought that there are this many ways of constructing a platform on which to eat!
Shortly after that, we walk.
I'm not ambitious. It's not really pleasant and I haven't a lot of time. When Ed suggests a stroll by Lake Waubesa, I readily agree.
The lake is just a couple of miles up the road and there is a quiet road along its shores where several dozen homes have sprung up. We like to do more leisurely walks there and offer our own critical comments on each of the homes. They're not mansions, but they are all different. Surprisingly, we usually agree on which are lovely and which are horrors.
But as we start our stroll, we get distracted by a parking lot filled with ice fishing huts.
We peer inside each one. To me, what stands out is that not one of them is neat or even mildly appealing. If there are blankets or pillows -- they're about as ratty as they come. I know they're just shacks. Barely more than four walls with maybe a warm heating unit or a bench. But if it were me, I would care about the visuals inside.... (Ha! this is why fisherpeople go out in the middle of the lake in the thick of winter -- to get away from the likes of me!)
It's a work day and so few are out fishing now. But, you can always find a single hut on the lake, with someone waiting inside for a fish to bite...
As Ed and I walk south along the road, the houses end and the wetlands begin.
What's this? A boardwalk? We do not know of any park here (and we surely have looked at many maps of the wetlands). Is it private?
It is. Leading to big gates denying entry. (Oops! We had come in from the lake... We hadn't known -- I practice my excuse in case dogs and armed men come charging.)
There is no one in sight. No home either. Just the huge, electric gates, a driveway and the boardwalk.
The mysteries of the shoreline!
And now I hurry to pick up Snowdrop.
She is a happy, excited girl today.
But just as she settles into playing school with us, taking out the guitar and singing more loudly than ever...
... and just as she does her first yoga pose for me, the kid in the class (for she is of course the teacher)...
... I look at my schedule and notice that the very important class that Snowdrop is registered for starts not in two hours (as I had thought), but in half and hour!
Hurry, Gags!
And this is a class that Snowdrop has been talking about enthusiastically for a good long time: her first ballet class. "Story book ballet" -- taking a story and building the lesson around it. It's for 3 and 4 year olds and she is signed up to begin today. (For those of you who think that this girl is doing a lot of girlie things, fear not! She is also registered for spring soccer and t-ball.)
Is she excited about dance class? Oh yes she is!
At the school, the adults can watch from behind a one way mirror.
Snowdrop looks so small! This is the girl who is always the tallest in her age group. Clearly these girls are older than her.
Still, she holds her own!
And tries her darndest!
And at the end, when they all dress up to enact a story and (just on this first day) parents and grandmas are invited in to watch, she lights up at the sight of mommy and daddy there!
It is a memorable first lesson, that's for sure!
Ed plays volley ball tonight. It's quiet in the farmhouse. Outside, the air is bitter cold again. Inside, I'm full of warm smiles.
And so even though this day is just barely acceptable (temps just above freezing), Ed and I must set out for a walk.
But breakfast comes first.
And after, we review the new table postings on Craigslist.
Of course, there is nothing I like. It must be woodsy. It must be warm in tones, light in shade. It must have leaves to seat a crowd!
I ask Ed if he minds the constancy of the table search. It surely will take weeks and weeks before we're likely to find just the right one.
I like seeing the various design ideas. Who would have thought that there are this many ways of constructing a platform on which to eat!
Shortly after that, we walk.
I'm not ambitious. It's not really pleasant and I haven't a lot of time. When Ed suggests a stroll by Lake Waubesa, I readily agree.
The lake is just a couple of miles up the road and there is a quiet road along its shores where several dozen homes have sprung up. We like to do more leisurely walks there and offer our own critical comments on each of the homes. They're not mansions, but they are all different. Surprisingly, we usually agree on which are lovely and which are horrors.
But as we start our stroll, we get distracted by a parking lot filled with ice fishing huts.
We peer inside each one. To me, what stands out is that not one of them is neat or even mildly appealing. If there are blankets or pillows -- they're about as ratty as they come. I know they're just shacks. Barely more than four walls with maybe a warm heating unit or a bench. But if it were me, I would care about the visuals inside.... (Ha! this is why fisherpeople go out in the middle of the lake in the thick of winter -- to get away from the likes of me!)
It's a work day and so few are out fishing now. But, you can always find a single hut on the lake, with someone waiting inside for a fish to bite...
As Ed and I walk south along the road, the houses end and the wetlands begin.
What's this? A boardwalk? We do not know of any park here (and we surely have looked at many maps of the wetlands). Is it private?
It is. Leading to big gates denying entry. (Oops! We had come in from the lake... We hadn't known -- I practice my excuse in case dogs and armed men come charging.)
There is no one in sight. No home either. Just the huge, electric gates, a driveway and the boardwalk.
The mysteries of the shoreline!
And now I hurry to pick up Snowdrop.
She is a happy, excited girl today.
But just as she settles into playing school with us, taking out the guitar and singing more loudly than ever...
... and just as she does her first yoga pose for me, the kid in the class (for she is of course the teacher)...
... I look at my schedule and notice that the very important class that Snowdrop is registered for starts not in two hours (as I had thought), but in half and hour!
Hurry, Gags!
And this is a class that Snowdrop has been talking about enthusiastically for a good long time: her first ballet class. "Story book ballet" -- taking a story and building the lesson around it. It's for 3 and 4 year olds and she is signed up to begin today. (For those of you who think that this girl is doing a lot of girlie things, fear not! She is also registered for spring soccer and t-ball.)
Is she excited about dance class? Oh yes she is!
At the school, the adults can watch from behind a one way mirror.
Snowdrop looks so small! This is the girl who is always the tallest in her age group. Clearly these girls are older than her.
Still, she holds her own!
And tries her darndest!
And at the end, when they all dress up to enact a story and (just on this first day) parents and grandmas are invited in to watch, she lights up at the sight of mommy and daddy there!
It is a memorable first lesson, that's for sure!
Ed plays volley ball tonight. It's quiet in the farmhouse. Outside, the air is bitter cold again. Inside, I'm full of warm smiles.
