Well, the bugs are everywhere. The farmette is still tolerable (those garlic and peppermint mists do have an impact), but we're getting our small share too. It's just a reminder that summer has its tricky sides. Or, to put it more broadly -- every season brings with it its own challenges.
Of course, Autumnal Exquinox is this Saturday. We should be moving on to "crisp" and "brilliant" and "colorful." We're not doing that. We are a little stuck in the inbetween: the worst of summer stays on and the glory of Fall hasn't quite arrived.
In the early morning, I step outside to a hoard of hungry girls. Okay, okay, okay! Calm down! I'll get you your grub!
They're never satisfied though. When Stop Sign comes calling for his cat chow, they insist on sharing. Audacious chickens! A cat can swipe your silly noses in a flash!
But he doesn't do that. The truth is, he's a little intimidated by them.
In the garden, I find the occasional day lily. I want to tell them -- you don't have to perform now. Get some rest and come back full of blooming energy next summer!
Breakfast. We're supposed to have a bubble of very warm air, but curiously, it doesn't come until late afternoon and it leaves soon after, in the late evening. The morning is cool. We eat indoors.
Afterwards, we have some work to do at my Mom's place. She has been amazingly independent, especially the week I was away, but she is stuck on some things that we can help move along and so we do that today.
And of course, in the afternoon, there is Snowdrop.
She hasn't had a solid period of play at the farmhouse in a while and so she gets right to it. I watch, adding mostly irrelevant comments to her story. I'm impressed with her dexterity! How can a three year old's hand have the patience to arrange these tiny Lego bits and pieces?
Very quickly she ropes Ed into her games. Here, she tells him she is running a machine shop. She has "constructed" three machines that will make "so many things!"
She can keep going for a long time like this, adding props, adjusting her story.
Toward evening, her parents and Sparrow come to pick her up. Oh, it's been a while since I've seen the little guy! Snowdrop, too, is always very happy to have him near her. Can I hold him standing up? -- she asks. I don't think so, little one. Not yet.
He is a smiling, laughing child. But at 3.5 months, well, he's just working on sitting up!
(Hey, I'm no slouch!)
Then someone suggests that we just pick up a pizza and make a farmhouse supper of it.
You mean we can have a pizza party? At the farmhouse? Tonight? Snowdrop is overjoyed.
We linger (with Sparrow) on the porch. It's suddenly very very warm outside. As if summer decided it wasn't ready to hightail it out of here yet. Snowdrop follows Ed inside and we can hear her dealing with her troublesome babies. She comes back to the porch then and tells us to please talk in whispers as we're keeping her kids up.
Ed goes out to put the cheepers away. Can I come? Can I come??
Of course.
The two of them set out toward the barn.
So why does she love this nighttime routine? What does she do when you put each of the hens in the coop?
Oh, she just likes to watch. Sometimes she'll pet them a little. Or play with the flashlight. On the walk back, she'll take a raspberry leaf and put it over the light to make it green. Or she'll ask to pick a purple aster.
Farmette stuff. Lovely evening serenade to the end of summer.
Of course, Autumnal Exquinox is this Saturday. We should be moving on to "crisp" and "brilliant" and "colorful." We're not doing that. We are a little stuck in the inbetween: the worst of summer stays on and the glory of Fall hasn't quite arrived.
In the early morning, I step outside to a hoard of hungry girls. Okay, okay, okay! Calm down! I'll get you your grub!
They're never satisfied though. When Stop Sign comes calling for his cat chow, they insist on sharing. Audacious chickens! A cat can swipe your silly noses in a flash!
But he doesn't do that. The truth is, he's a little intimidated by them.
In the garden, I find the occasional day lily. I want to tell them -- you don't have to perform now. Get some rest and come back full of blooming energy next summer!
Breakfast. We're supposed to have a bubble of very warm air, but curiously, it doesn't come until late afternoon and it leaves soon after, in the late evening. The morning is cool. We eat indoors.
Afterwards, we have some work to do at my Mom's place. She has been amazingly independent, especially the week I was away, but she is stuck on some things that we can help move along and so we do that today.
And of course, in the afternoon, there is Snowdrop.
She hasn't had a solid period of play at the farmhouse in a while and so she gets right to it. I watch, adding mostly irrelevant comments to her story. I'm impressed with her dexterity! How can a three year old's hand have the patience to arrange these tiny Lego bits and pieces?
Very quickly she ropes Ed into her games. Here, she tells him she is running a machine shop. She has "constructed" three machines that will make "so many things!"
She can keep going for a long time like this, adding props, adjusting her story.
Toward evening, her parents and Sparrow come to pick her up. Oh, it's been a while since I've seen the little guy! Snowdrop, too, is always very happy to have him near her. Can I hold him standing up? -- she asks. I don't think so, little one. Not yet.
He is a smiling, laughing child. But at 3.5 months, well, he's just working on sitting up!
(Hey, I'm no slouch!)
Then someone suggests that we just pick up a pizza and make a farmhouse supper of it.
You mean we can have a pizza party? At the farmhouse? Tonight? Snowdrop is overjoyed.
We linger (with Sparrow) on the porch. It's suddenly very very warm outside. As if summer decided it wasn't ready to hightail it out of here yet. Snowdrop follows Ed inside and we can hear her dealing with her troublesome babies. She comes back to the porch then and tells us to please talk in whispers as we're keeping her kids up.
Ed goes out to put the cheepers away. Can I come? Can I come??
Of course.
The two of them set out toward the barn.
So why does she love this nighttime routine? What does she do when you put each of the hens in the coop?
Oh, she just likes to watch. Sometimes she'll pet them a little. Or play with the flashlight. On the walk back, she'll take a raspberry leaf and put it over the light to make it green. Or she'll ask to pick a purple aster.
Farmette stuff. Lovely evening serenade to the end of summer.
