No doubt about it. Our attention is on tomorrow. Is the new thermometer working? Are you sure? We need to have the bigger box ready for when they grow a little. It says here one square foot per chick. But do they mean for a bigger chicken too? Why are these instructions so vague??
It's cold again. No crocuses in our yard, no real signs of the next season.
Too, Ed has an early work meeting and so we have to eat what for us is a super early breakfast.
We look out and watch the groundhog make his way to his summer home right by my day lilies.
He's taking stock. Moving in his tchotchkes.
Welcome spring!
And then I write. I would have made stupendous progress were it not for another long phone protest call with my insurance company. Toward the end, I did ask -- all this is going to go away in two weeks when I step into my Medicare shoes, right? Right?? There was a lot of hemming and hawing on the agent's part. Poor thing: she didn't write the rules on the way we do health care in this land. Uff!
In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. Sweet little one is ready to go, but I notice a mitten is missing. I suggest a search of the playground.
We never find it, but we have a wonderful few minutes (despite the cold) outside. The school playground is at least sheltered from the wind and for the short while we were there, it feels almost acceptable.
At the farmhouse, Snowdrop is just that much calmer than in the past high excitement days. She moves from storytelling...
(Always the storytelling...)
... to games, letters, and even a little bit of building -- a rare pick for her.
(Ahah joins in for a bit...)
Snowdrop, too, has chicks on her mind. When, grandma, when are they coming?
Hmmm. Maybe tomorrow.
Ed says -- I can't remember being this excited! I glance at him sharply. I mean, except about you of course!
They're just chicks and I have such mixed feelings about adding more claws to my garden and yet, we are planning to be up before dawn tomorrow to drive out and.... take a look. Yeah, just take a look at what the chicks are like.
It's cold again. No crocuses in our yard, no real signs of the next season.
Too, Ed has an early work meeting and so we have to eat what for us is a super early breakfast.
We look out and watch the groundhog make his way to his summer home right by my day lilies.
He's taking stock. Moving in his tchotchkes.
Welcome spring!
And then I write. I would have made stupendous progress were it not for another long phone protest call with my insurance company. Toward the end, I did ask -- all this is going to go away in two weeks when I step into my Medicare shoes, right? Right?? There was a lot of hemming and hawing on the agent's part. Poor thing: she didn't write the rules on the way we do health care in this land. Uff!
In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. Sweet little one is ready to go, but I notice a mitten is missing. I suggest a search of the playground.
We never find it, but we have a wonderful few minutes (despite the cold) outside. The school playground is at least sheltered from the wind and for the short while we were there, it feels almost acceptable.
At the farmhouse, Snowdrop is just that much calmer than in the past high excitement days. She moves from storytelling...
(Always the storytelling...)
... to games, letters, and even a little bit of building -- a rare pick for her.
(Ahah joins in for a bit...)
Snowdrop, too, has chicks on her mind. When, grandma, when are they coming?
Hmmm. Maybe tomorrow.
Ed says -- I can't remember being this excited! I glance at him sharply. I mean, except about you of course!
They're just chicks and I have such mixed feelings about adding more claws to my garden and yet, we are planning to be up before dawn tomorrow to drive out and.... take a look. Yeah, just take a look at what the chicks are like.
