Surely one of our calmer days, which definitely is tantamount to being a happy day, because right now, happiness and calm are indistinguishable.
There were many good moments. I know, for instance, that my friend who wasn't feeling well, doesn't have CoVid. I know, too, that my county, in my state, in my country is taking the pandemic seriously and steps are being taken to address the recent large spike in the number of infections. And the lilies -- they're blooming at long last! And Tomato, our younger hen that lays the smallest eggs, materialized this morning!
Let me go back to the last two small items of good news -- the flowers and the chickens, since they took up mental space in the earliest hours of the morning.
What can I say -- day lilies are, in my mind, summer's gift to our senses. I understand that some of them even have strong scents to tickle the nose in the most pleasurable way. I can't say that I've whiffed any potent amount of fragrance from them, but they look just lovely! So brace yourself: July on Ocean belongs in great measure to the lilies.
(froggie in lily, taking on red lily hues)
As for Tomato, well she's just a chicken, right? Still, it was slightly disconcerting to open the coop door this morning (it had jammed and the auto-open had failed) and count only five chickens stepping out. Clearly Ed had not counted properly last night when he closed the coop on them. Tomato had been locked out.
Who knows where she spent the night. This morning I looked high and low for her -- nothing. But, we've learned not to count the chickens until they hatch, or rather until the day ends and so we didn't especially fret, except about Ed's inattentiveness during his evening chores. And sure enough, eventually the girl showed up.
Breakfast, in the steam bath of a hot morning.
The kids come shortly after, but it is too hot and too buggy to stay out long. Still, for a brief while, we play with willow sticks. Snowdrop claims she is Little Bo-Peep.
Sparrow echoes her -- Bo Peep! Bo Peep! But honestly, he looks more like Little Boy Blue Come Blow Your Horn.
I toy with the idea of doing some raspberry picking, but it would not have been fun and it may have had the effect of having the kids develop a dislike for the great outdoors -- surely not my goal!
Indoors, the Bo-Peep game continues...
... interrupted (thank goodness) by a lovely little surprise -- their aunt and Primrose calling on FaceTime!
The two Madison cousins go cousin-wild! (One insists on taking charge of picture taking. A young photographer, a clunky camera, a moving target, as seen through a tiny smart phone. Photographic chaos! But such fun!)
We then fall into rather predictable routines. I have in mind all sorts of modules and summer school formats and schedules, but there's little point in foisting them on Snowdrop (let alone Sparrow) when she is so happy to have extensive reading sessions followed by long periods of imaginative play.
I do find Sparrow at one point with a paint brush attempting to add some yellow to his ongoing canvas...
... and Snowdrop always happily attacks a workbook for a few minutes at the end of our day together, but otherwise, I go with their cues and recently, there's been a lot of demand for unstructured play.
Of course, unstructured play doesn't preclude learning. Kids pick up stuff. On our drive back today Snowdrop tells me -- gaga, did you know that Feebee (that's my nickname for their youngest cousin, born to the sister of my son-in-law a mere few months ago) has 300 bones?
Wow. That's a lot! I guess the human body has a lot of bones...
No, gaga, not you and me. Just babies. The bones grow together as the baby grows. We have far fewer bones.
I Google it. She's right. We have a mere 200 or so. Who knew...
Kids pick up stuff like that. And words: they are indeed sponges for words. What grandma hasn't been tickled by her grandkids' unexpected choice of words? My little ones surely have made me smile! Today, because of a book we are reading, I explain to Snowdrop what the word metaphor meant. She is fascinated. Sparrow is a silly goose -- is that a metaphor? - she asks. Sparrow beams, as if he'd been paid the highest compliment.
In the afternoon, after the kids are home I sit back and marvel at the calmness all around me. -- this despite a storm that passes through. No drama today, no extravagant surprises, no burdensome added chores of scrubbing and sanitizing. Just calm.
With a predictable supper of a frittata (with CSA broccoli, potato and mushrooms).
And the sweet quiet of a summer evening at home.
(After a storm, there comes a rainbow... Or two...)
There were many good moments. I know, for instance, that my friend who wasn't feeling well, doesn't have CoVid. I know, too, that my county, in my state, in my country is taking the pandemic seriously and steps are being taken to address the recent large spike in the number of infections. And the lilies -- they're blooming at long last! And Tomato, our younger hen that lays the smallest eggs, materialized this morning!
Let me go back to the last two small items of good news -- the flowers and the chickens, since they took up mental space in the earliest hours of the morning.
What can I say -- day lilies are, in my mind, summer's gift to our senses. I understand that some of them even have strong scents to tickle the nose in the most pleasurable way. I can't say that I've whiffed any potent amount of fragrance from them, but they look just lovely! So brace yourself: July on Ocean belongs in great measure to the lilies.
(froggie in lily, taking on red lily hues)
As for Tomato, well she's just a chicken, right? Still, it was slightly disconcerting to open the coop door this morning (it had jammed and the auto-open had failed) and count only five chickens stepping out. Clearly Ed had not counted properly last night when he closed the coop on them. Tomato had been locked out.
Who knows where she spent the night. This morning I looked high and low for her -- nothing. But, we've learned not to count the chickens until they hatch, or rather until the day ends and so we didn't especially fret, except about Ed's inattentiveness during his evening chores. And sure enough, eventually the girl showed up.
Breakfast, in the steam bath of a hot morning.
The kids come shortly after, but it is too hot and too buggy to stay out long. Still, for a brief while, we play with willow sticks. Snowdrop claims she is Little Bo-Peep.
Sparrow echoes her -- Bo Peep! Bo Peep! But honestly, he looks more like Little Boy Blue Come Blow Your Horn.
I toy with the idea of doing some raspberry picking, but it would not have been fun and it may have had the effect of having the kids develop a dislike for the great outdoors -- surely not my goal!
Indoors, the Bo-Peep game continues...
... interrupted (thank goodness) by a lovely little surprise -- their aunt and Primrose calling on FaceTime!
The two Madison cousins go cousin-wild! (One insists on taking charge of picture taking. A young photographer, a clunky camera, a moving target, as seen through a tiny smart phone. Photographic chaos! But such fun!)
We then fall into rather predictable routines. I have in mind all sorts of modules and summer school formats and schedules, but there's little point in foisting them on Snowdrop (let alone Sparrow) when she is so happy to have extensive reading sessions followed by long periods of imaginative play.
I do find Sparrow at one point with a paint brush attempting to add some yellow to his ongoing canvas...
... and Snowdrop always happily attacks a workbook for a few minutes at the end of our day together, but otherwise, I go with their cues and recently, there's been a lot of demand for unstructured play.
Of course, unstructured play doesn't preclude learning. Kids pick up stuff. On our drive back today Snowdrop tells me -- gaga, did you know that Feebee (that's my nickname for their youngest cousin, born to the sister of my son-in-law a mere few months ago) has 300 bones?
Wow. That's a lot! I guess the human body has a lot of bones...
No, gaga, not you and me. Just babies. The bones grow together as the baby grows. We have far fewer bones.
I Google it. She's right. We have a mere 200 or so. Who knew...
Kids pick up stuff like that. And words: they are indeed sponges for words. What grandma hasn't been tickled by her grandkids' unexpected choice of words? My little ones surely have made me smile! Today, because of a book we are reading, I explain to Snowdrop what the word metaphor meant. She is fascinated. Sparrow is a silly goose -- is that a metaphor? - she asks. Sparrow beams, as if he'd been paid the highest compliment.
In the afternoon, after the kids are home I sit back and marvel at the calmness all around me. -- this despite a storm that passes through. No drama today, no extravagant surprises, no burdensome added chores of scrubbing and sanitizing. Just calm.
With a predictable supper of a frittata (with CSA broccoli, potato and mushrooms).
And the sweet quiet of a summer evening at home.
(After a storm, there comes a rainbow... Or two...)
