We're slowly warming up again. So typical: kids are about to face school and the air gets hot. It's that parched heat the makes plants brittle and turns grass a lovely shade of yellow. I'm pretty laid back about the outside gardens. Maybe in some parts of this country gardeners rev up and plan out their spring flower beds right now, but I can't think about that. I'll pull weeds when I have more time. Right now I glance at what's blooming, smile a little encouragement and move on.
Breakfast on the porch. Of course.
Ed has plunged into a project and I'm happy about it: he's pulling out rotten boards and fixing up the front entrance in preparation for (finally!) fixing the face of the farmhouse. The stairs have crumbled, the concrete patio is no more and in general, it all looks like something you'd find in a haunted house. It seems that this will finally be the year where we attend to it.
I pick up the little girl for her Friday at the farmhouse. Again, I push for the outdoors and she resists. A brief bike ride...
("Can we go inside now??")
A quick run up the path...
And we scoot indoors.
After a great big reading catch up, we turn to art.
Smooth today. Snowdrop explains to me that her picture (of super pigs) does not match what her imagination put in her brain, but for now, she seems reconciled to that discrepancy.
(Adding a gray cloud to my own doodle...)
Next, we play. Or rather, she plays. I stay in the background and try to tidy up old Lego arrangements. I'll never figure out what you're supposed to do with the million microscopically tiny pieces that come with these sets. Since Snowdrop has always preferred working with the domestic Lego scenes, we have a million cupcake tops, flower petals, paint brushes and who knows what else.
The girl herself moves between different places in the play room where she has invented stories and relationships between, well, anything. My small collection of European birds? She has been playing delicately with them for years.
The afternoon passes quickly. I try not to think how empty the farmhouse will be once the kids stop coming. Best to think about how grand it has been to have had them here this summer.
Evening. A supper of hot chili on a hot day (we have all those tomatoes!). Quiet time. Thoughtful time. Popcorn time.
Breakfast on the porch. Of course.
Ed has plunged into a project and I'm happy about it: he's pulling out rotten boards and fixing up the front entrance in preparation for (finally!) fixing the face of the farmhouse. The stairs have crumbled, the concrete patio is no more and in general, it all looks like something you'd find in a haunted house. It seems that this will finally be the year where we attend to it.
I pick up the little girl for her Friday at the farmhouse. Again, I push for the outdoors and she resists. A brief bike ride...
("Can we go inside now??")
A quick run up the path...
And we scoot indoors.
After a great big reading catch up, we turn to art.
Smooth today. Snowdrop explains to me that her picture (of super pigs) does not match what her imagination put in her brain, but for now, she seems reconciled to that discrepancy.
(Adding a gray cloud to my own doodle...)
Next, we play. Or rather, she plays. I stay in the background and try to tidy up old Lego arrangements. I'll never figure out what you're supposed to do with the million microscopically tiny pieces that come with these sets. Since Snowdrop has always preferred working with the domestic Lego scenes, we have a million cupcake tops, flower petals, paint brushes and who knows what else.
The girl herself moves between different places in the play room where she has invented stories and relationships between, well, anything. My small collection of European birds? She has been playing delicately with them for years.
The afternoon passes quickly. I try not to think how empty the farmhouse will be once the kids stop coming. Best to think about how grand it has been to have had them here this summer.
Evening. A supper of hot chili on a hot day (we have all those tomatoes!). Quiet time. Thoughtful time. Popcorn time.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.