Monday

One more early morning walk to feed the animals, in temperatures that make no sense for a March day. Even a Wisconsin March day. (We were at -9F, or -23C when I woke up.) Ed had put up the heater for the cheepers (one last time) and so I am confident that this sudden blast of cold air is not hurting them greatly.






The cats? Well, they're back to sleeping at the farmette, so at least temporarily, we've chased the night predators away. Jacket and Dance overnighted in the garage. Stop Sign? Well, maybe. Or in the barn. She is fond of the barn, possibly because many mice pass through there. So much discarded chicken feed to fill up on if you're a tiny rodent that can squeeze through almost any small space! Wire mesh? No problem! I'm sure when the cheepers sleep, the mice do play in the downstairs part of the coop.






I should finally put the cat questions and worries to rest, but of course, these cats are unpredictable and I am always surprised by how little we know about their needs, their attachments, and their journeys into adulthood and beyond.

Today, not for the first time but perhaps more consistently and without hesitation, Stop Sign asserted herself before her kids. If in the past she'd let them snuggle next to her on the blanket, today she pushed them to the side. Indeed, she made sure they stood back while she ate. Only when she had her small fill, did she step aside and let them take their turn.


 


And though Stop Sign still keeps an eye on them and I'm sure has concerns about their safety, you can tell that she wants them to be independent. And she wants them to know that in this particular space, she comes first. If they want territorial rights -- go look elsewhere, because this place is her domain.

Stop Sign is such a quiet, gentle cat that it always surprises me when she grunts and slaps one of the young ones lightly on the head. But, this is what cat mommies do: they nudge their young ones (right about at 10 weeks) to brave it alone.

Tough love.

Me, I like the more gentle human love that burns strong and never falters, even after our kids have long formed their own familial households. I have to think that if food was scarce, we would worry first about feeding the next generation before we feed ourselves. Indeed, we seem to be programmed to always worry about those that come after us. A good thing, too, or we'd probably behave even more recklessly on this complicated and beautiful planet than we already do.

Today is a day when I have plenty of hours with that next generation. Sparrow is here in the morning!





,
And Snowdrop is here in the afternoon.






Whoa, hold on there! Back to the morning for a little bit. I surely haven't forgotten about breakfast! With the two guys.






And of course, there are the hours of play. Sparrow is approaching 9 months, so he is both stronger and more interested in manipulating his environment. He can still be left on the couch for about ten seconds, without the worry that he'll take off and torpedo himself into some awkward space or position.




I wasn't quite sure at what age I first handed Snowdrop a crayon. (I see now on Ocean that she was exactly ten months old when she attended an art class.) Should I try to see if we have a budding artist in Sparrow?

If enthusiasm counts for something, then the answer is yes. Still, for today, he allowed me to take the lead.






But he was impressed with the possibilities!






And here's another promising toy (for future play): Sparrow seems completely smitten with the toddler legos. It's really too early to have him build stuff. For now, he seems thrilled to be allowed a few minutes with Snowdrop's old play sets.






Thrilled.






And now just a few photos from the afternoon. Snowdrop was raring to set up a pretend game -- one that evolved as the afternoon progressed. (Here she is explaining to Ed the basic set up.)






(Here, she and I are building sand castles on a bus stop. The book is not a book at all, it's a sand castle.)






And toward the end of her time here, we are all on a bus and things have turned rather dramatic. You could say that she and Ed get carried away with the story line.






And the evening came and the little girl went home.


Looking back now, I have no terrible recollections of the cold. All day long, we have had plenty of sunshine outside and though the temperature set all time records, we were made warm by the brightness of the day. Still, the plants men and women in our state will tell you this -- we are going to have a late growing season. It's inevitable. We have too much ice and the frozen ground has yet to see the warming effects of a spring sun.

But we cant complain. It's now just a matter of days. We're in the embrace of March. The snowman may still be standing...





... but the days are longer, and Stop Sign caught a mouse for dinner, and I'm sure the daffodils are getting restless, waiting as impatiently as we are for that wet, mushy soil to lift us up and push us into the start of spring.