If you are the type of person who easily gets despondent when dreary weather sets in, you'd be in trouble today. Another inch of wet snow fell overnight, but Madison temps are rising above freezing today and anything more that comes down from those gloomy gray clouds is bound to be super wet and unpleasant.
I have a list of early morning phone calls and I'm tempted to get to them before feeding the animals, but the cats are at the porch door begging and so I relent.
As I set about filling the cat bowls with food in the sheep shed, my phone begins its relentless ringing. (I left messages up and down organizational chains and now come the call backs.) I am amused that this noise -- of my cell phone playing Vivaldi's Spring (which has been my ringtone for years and years) -- terrifies five of the six shed cats. They abandon their food and scramble to escape. It's quite the sight to see the whole bunch of them push to get out an opening that can just accommodate one cat. Only Dance looks up with indifference. I would say that she is, by now, only a little feral. The others are still one foot in a human space and one foot out the door.
Breakfast. Ed and I review the weekend ahead. I'll be coming back from Chicago late Saturday and on Sunday we are planning on moving my mom's stuff out of her apartment. I am apprehensive. Ed assures me that he will take all heavy pieces of furniture apart so that we are able to carry them. I don't quite believe him. The young family has offered assistance, but I will have none of it. I may be insanely busy, but they are all super insanely busy. If we can, Ed and I will do it ourselves. If not, we'll worry about it next week.
One last look at the farmette lands, in their winter rest mode...
And I'm off to spend 24 hours with Primrose and her parents.
Chicago's weather is even less cooperative. The city's snowy surfaces are melting. It's foggy and I'm expecting a barrage of rain. It's a mess out there!
I hoist my duffel bag over my shoulder, zip up my jacket and take out my umbrella, just in case. Primrose and I can take a little rain, right?
(pause for "lunch" at a coffee shop...)
I pick the little one up at school... (just starting in on post-nap afternoon snack)
... and we walk home. Salty slushy puddles are impossible to step over. But we manage to just barely beat the rain.
Home at last. I throw down all the damp stuff and turn my attention to the little girl. She is just about 22 months old now -- a happy, spunky, curious toddler who sometimes still seems close to the toddler of yesterday, but more often, she acts as if she is awfully close to little girlhood.
So many new words! So many playful gestures! (It's interesting to me that none of my grandchildren belong to the broody quiet genre. They all clamber to be heard and Primrose has a vocabulary that allows her to get to the heart of what she wants.)
It's a spirited and splendid afternoon!
In the evening, my daughter and I go out to dinner. We're celebrating her birthday! Our meal is at the wonderful Daisies Restaurant.
On a wet wintry day, can you think of something better than a plateful of extraordinary pasta?
It's a beautiful evening. You can't let the weather get to you. Nearly always, it's what's inside that counts. Especially now, especially when you're with people whose smiles and laughter warm your heart and soul.
I have a list of early morning phone calls and I'm tempted to get to them before feeding the animals, but the cats are at the porch door begging and so I relent.
As I set about filling the cat bowls with food in the sheep shed, my phone begins its relentless ringing. (I left messages up and down organizational chains and now come the call backs.) I am amused that this noise -- of my cell phone playing Vivaldi's Spring (which has been my ringtone for years and years) -- terrifies five of the six shed cats. They abandon their food and scramble to escape. It's quite the sight to see the whole bunch of them push to get out an opening that can just accommodate one cat. Only Dance looks up with indifference. I would say that she is, by now, only a little feral. The others are still one foot in a human space and one foot out the door.
Breakfast. Ed and I review the weekend ahead. I'll be coming back from Chicago late Saturday and on Sunday we are planning on moving my mom's stuff out of her apartment. I am apprehensive. Ed assures me that he will take all heavy pieces of furniture apart so that we are able to carry them. I don't quite believe him. The young family has offered assistance, but I will have none of it. I may be insanely busy, but they are all super insanely busy. If we can, Ed and I will do it ourselves. If not, we'll worry about it next week.
One last look at the farmette lands, in their winter rest mode...
And I'm off to spend 24 hours with Primrose and her parents.
Chicago's weather is even less cooperative. The city's snowy surfaces are melting. It's foggy and I'm expecting a barrage of rain. It's a mess out there!
I hoist my duffel bag over my shoulder, zip up my jacket and take out my umbrella, just in case. Primrose and I can take a little rain, right?
(pause for "lunch" at a coffee shop...)
I pick the little one up at school... (just starting in on post-nap afternoon snack)
... and we walk home. Salty slushy puddles are impossible to step over. But we manage to just barely beat the rain.
Home at last. I throw down all the damp stuff and turn my attention to the little girl. She is just about 22 months old now -- a happy, spunky, curious toddler who sometimes still seems close to the toddler of yesterday, but more often, she acts as if she is awfully close to little girlhood.
So many new words! So many playful gestures! (It's interesting to me that none of my grandchildren belong to the broody quiet genre. They all clamber to be heard and Primrose has a vocabulary that allows her to get to the heart of what she wants.)
It's a spirited and splendid afternoon!
In the evening, my daughter and I go out to dinner. We're celebrating her birthday! Our meal is at the wonderful Daisies Restaurant.
On a wet wintry day, can you think of something better than a plateful of extraordinary pasta?
It's a beautiful evening. You can't let the weather get to you. Nearly always, it's what's inside that counts. Especially now, especially when you're with people whose smiles and laughter warm your heart and soul.
