It's funny how the day is a holiday (not for all, but for many) and yet it feels to me so ultra normal as compared to the last dozen.
It's cold and so Ed and I stay mostly indoors. Even as the little chickens (who, at nearly three weeks are not so little anymore) use every feather and ounce of energy to see the world beyond their box.
What are you doing outside your quarters??
Once again we manipulate the sides of the box so they can't readily fly to the edge. We think it'll buy us 24 hours until they figure out this next hurdle.
Breakfast. How normal! In the sun room.
And then I settle into cooking. The meal isn't elaborate, yet it requires time. Today, I have that time.
Hey, at least dessert's easy! I serve a plateful of treats from Warsaw friends, with a few Parisian madelines thrown in for good measure.
(And I am near my computer, clicking to the album of Primrose photos, supplemented by others as the day progresses. She is already four days old today!)
In the afternoon, Ed and I try to motivate ourselves to plant the tomatoes. April first. We must! In eight weeks they should go in the ground. Today is the day to fill the cups with soil and push a tiny seed into each container.
But who wants to work outside when it's so cold out there? What's one more day, right?
We do half of what we need to do and then our fingers get cold. We retreat inside promising ourselves that tomorrow will be warmer (will it?).
In the early evening, the young family comes for Easter dinner.
Snowdrop is in her most playful form...
Full of stories and smiles.
And so we're back in our routines as if nothing has changed. Except that of course, in our minds and hearts, we now have the presence of Primrose. And so nothing is as it was before.
It's cold and so Ed and I stay mostly indoors. Even as the little chickens (who, at nearly three weeks are not so little anymore) use every feather and ounce of energy to see the world beyond their box.
What are you doing outside your quarters??
Once again we manipulate the sides of the box so they can't readily fly to the edge. We think it'll buy us 24 hours until they figure out this next hurdle.
Breakfast. How normal! In the sun room.
And then I settle into cooking. The meal isn't elaborate, yet it requires time. Today, I have that time.
Hey, at least dessert's easy! I serve a plateful of treats from Warsaw friends, with a few Parisian madelines thrown in for good measure.
(And I am near my computer, clicking to the album of Primrose photos, supplemented by others as the day progresses. She is already four days old today!)
In the afternoon, Ed and I try to motivate ourselves to plant the tomatoes. April first. We must! In eight weeks they should go in the ground. Today is the day to fill the cups with soil and push a tiny seed into each container.
But who wants to work outside when it's so cold out there? What's one more day, right?
We do half of what we need to do and then our fingers get cold. We retreat inside promising ourselves that tomorrow will be warmer (will it?).
In the early evening, the young family comes for Easter dinner.
Snowdrop is in her most playful form...
Full of stories and smiles.
And so we're back in our routines as if nothing has changed. Except that of course, in our minds and hearts, we now have the presence of Primrose. And so nothing is as it was before.
