Thursday - 90th

A thousand faces of Primrose -- this should be the title of today's post. Primrose. Granddaughter of mine. The girl I want to see in real time, real life, with real hugs, tears, giggles, songs. The girl that I can only see when her Chicago family can take the time to come here, and only if they can isolate beforehand. So many uncertainties going forward! But these days I never look ahead to some points in the future. There is this week and this day. And today, Primrose flashed her grin, held onto me, sneaked a peak into my cupboards, picked flowers, dug sand, splashed water, wolfed down broccoli and mango, sang songs, drew pictures and did a thousand beautiful things and it was magnificent.

The young Chicagoans are on their last day of a 10 day stay in Madison. Primrose spent yesterday and today with me at the farmhouse while her parents fit in a much needed escape.


After yesterday's rains, we wake up to your perfect sunny day. Thick humid air? Gone. Cool breezes and deep blue skies? Here once more.

I needn't have worried about the night: Primrose slept a deep farmhouse sleep and she woke up at exactly the right time with the most cheerful enthusiasm for the day ahead.






And so you get a thousand images of little Primrose. How can I do anything but snap one more picture, so that I can insert into my bank of stored memories, to relish during those longer weeks when she is just too far away...






Breakfast. "This strawberry is so big!"






Hey, we haven't done our usual timed release photo! Sweet radish girl, here we go!






Outside. We need to, we want to go outside. Thankfully the bugs aren't bad at all. She spots the sandbox. She wants the sandbox.






Oh, life! Aren't you just so beautiful?!






We explore. The barn. The cheeper coop. I show her where the hens lay eggs. Peach is there, but I push her aside for a second and boom! There is her egg and there is also a green one. Henny's laying again! Primrose, see the green egg?
Can I hold it?
You have to be ever so careful. Hold it lightly. Don't squeeze.
I'm not squeezing.






And now it's warming up just enough for me to consider pouring water into the wading pool. After her cousins' mega pool, this one is very tame. But still offering great splashing fun!






My older daughter and her two kids come for lunch. Primrose is a hugely affectionate child and Snowdrop, too, has missed running into a room with an excited hug for her best friend. It is no surprise then that a greeting between the two girls would look like this:






I want a cousin photo!






And now we eat lunch. (Aunt and little one)






And once again, we go outside. I suggest we follow all the paths I mowed yesterday. And we do! Primrose loves taking the lead!






Sparrow is content keeping to a steady gait next to mommy.






Wild daisies!










In these last minutes with all the kids, I have this great need for one more photo. Should we try for a group one? It used to be predictable: sit the kids down, give a tickle or say something silly. The perfect photo emerges. Now, it is anything but predictable. And still, a most perfect photo emerges.







The Madison family leaves. I am in my last minutes with Primrose. It's her nap time and she will be napping on the car ride home. Her home. So I do what I would do before any nap of hers -- read books. Favorites.

Parents are driving up the farmette driveway. One last hug, one last photo...





... and I send the little girl up the path to her waiting mommy and daddy. With some farmette rhubarb. If only I'd remembered to cut down some peony blooms to take back to Chicago!


Quiet house. And for the first time in many days, a dinner for only two. Leftovers.

It all came suddenly and it was intense and now we're back to our previous patterns, only not really. Predictability went out the door months ago. So we invent something new.

At its base, there is love. Always. Love.