When my grandkids -- Snowdrop, Sparrow, or Primrose -- sleep over at the farmhouse, I'm sure the excitement is in the evening here: the making of the pizza, the later bedtime, perhaps the movie and popcorn. For me, though, the sweetest part is the morning (assuming everyone sleeps until at least 7 and these days, that's almost always the case for all three).
Maybe it's because I remember so well my own mornings at my grandparents' village house in Poland. My bed was always in a room by the kitchen and the sounds from her morning kitchen, as she stoked the fire in the oven and brought in the day's produce for cleaning and cooking, or, better yet, rolled out the dough for baking poppyseed cake or cabbage and mushroom dumplings, all of it against the backdrop of light rays of sunshine poking through the curtains of my east facing windows -- heaven.
I can't say that I replicate any of it here, in the farmhouse. At least at these young ages, the kids, Snowdrop included, all want to come downstairs and be part of the kitchen activity the minute a grownup gives them permission to do so. Nonetheless, it is for me the best part of a sleepover.
Sure enough, today Snowdrop woke up bouncy and full of smiles. In the kitchen, she supervised my preparations, assisting in making decisions -- this fruit for that person, these spoons, those bowls, no, not that mug -- use the other one!
In many ways, preparing a breakfast is more of a timing challenge than even a dinner for a crowd. For an evening meal, the food is pretty much the same for everyone. For breakfast, I let everyone pick and choose. I stay with my oatmeal with kefir and fruit. Ed typically stays with his fruit. Snowdrop today asked for Cheerios and toast with cherry jam. And fruit of course -- she is on a peaches and strawberries kick. Her mom loves farmette eggs and so I scrambled some up, along with bacon for anyone who wants it. And toast. She's a tea drinker. I'm a frothy milky coffee person.
All this must come out at the same time and if we are to eat outside, you can't put out anything that might tempt a cat or a little girl. (The cat will steal the bacon, I'm sure. The little girl snitches fruit from her bowl.)
Alright! Ready!
(Looking out from the porch...)
Breakfast must be leisurely. It's a given in my book. Years of a morning rush have taught me that if you can slow down early in the day, do so. It's miraculously calming.
(Snowdrop brings a jump rope outside to practice high speed jumping while the grownups are lingering...)
Eventually there's nothing left on the plates or in the cups to linger over and so we retreat to our usual morning activities. Today, Snowdrop helps me feed the cats...
(You have to run back from the shed to get to the little kitties waiting under the car...)
...and then we settle in to read a new chapter book.
And soon after, the two return home and I return to my garden work. Sunday is a day when my flower beds get a big boost so that I can, these days, go easy (or easier!) during the week.
Here are today's garden canvases:
(Froggies, where will you go once the lilies are done for the year?)
(Calamintha is such a draw for honeybees!)
Toward evening, the whole young family is here for dinner.
(Sparrow, with cheese and cracker.)
(Snowdrop and mom, going after the same.)
It's our usual foods -- pasta, seafood, corn, salads. Indoors. A storm rolls through and causes me to hastily bring the whole meal back into the kitchen.
After, Sparrow and I go on a little adventure. He's so eager to get back to the barn!
(And back again...)
A Sunday with a good morning and good evening and a whole lot of calm in between. I could not ask for more. Well, a Primrose family visit would ice my cake splendidly. But in these challenging times, one cannot turn greedy. Instead, the greater our ability to remain patient, the sooner we'll be where we most want to be: with our families, our friends, out and about, without great thought or worry.
The storms passed, the night is clear, the stars are out for those of us who can't quite get to sleep at the end of the day. Look at us, they seem to call out. There's so much more to this universe than your earthly petty problems!
Well yes, sure. But this is our life and we are all waiting until it returns to where it was 149 days ago. Give us a break, stars. We're mortal.
twinkle twinkle twinkle shrug.
Ah well. Never try having a conversation with a million stars. You're outnumbered.
Maybe it's because I remember so well my own mornings at my grandparents' village house in Poland. My bed was always in a room by the kitchen and the sounds from her morning kitchen, as she stoked the fire in the oven and brought in the day's produce for cleaning and cooking, or, better yet, rolled out the dough for baking poppyseed cake or cabbage and mushroom dumplings, all of it against the backdrop of light rays of sunshine poking through the curtains of my east facing windows -- heaven.
I can't say that I replicate any of it here, in the farmhouse. At least at these young ages, the kids, Snowdrop included, all want to come downstairs and be part of the kitchen activity the minute a grownup gives them permission to do so. Nonetheless, it is for me the best part of a sleepover.
Sure enough, today Snowdrop woke up bouncy and full of smiles. In the kitchen, she supervised my preparations, assisting in making decisions -- this fruit for that person, these spoons, those bowls, no, not that mug -- use the other one!
In many ways, preparing a breakfast is more of a timing challenge than even a dinner for a crowd. For an evening meal, the food is pretty much the same for everyone. For breakfast, I let everyone pick and choose. I stay with my oatmeal with kefir and fruit. Ed typically stays with his fruit. Snowdrop today asked for Cheerios and toast with cherry jam. And fruit of course -- she is on a peaches and strawberries kick. Her mom loves farmette eggs and so I scrambled some up, along with bacon for anyone who wants it. And toast. She's a tea drinker. I'm a frothy milky coffee person.
All this must come out at the same time and if we are to eat outside, you can't put out anything that might tempt a cat or a little girl. (The cat will steal the bacon, I'm sure. The little girl snitches fruit from her bowl.)
Alright! Ready!
(Looking out from the porch...)
Breakfast must be leisurely. It's a given in my book. Years of a morning rush have taught me that if you can slow down early in the day, do so. It's miraculously calming.
(Snowdrop brings a jump rope outside to practice high speed jumping while the grownups are lingering...)
Eventually there's nothing left on the plates or in the cups to linger over and so we retreat to our usual morning activities. Today, Snowdrop helps me feed the cats...
(You have to run back from the shed to get to the little kitties waiting under the car...)
...and then we settle in to read a new chapter book.
And soon after, the two return home and I return to my garden work. Sunday is a day when my flower beds get a big boost so that I can, these days, go easy (or easier!) during the week.
Here are today's garden canvases:
(Froggies, where will you go once the lilies are done for the year?)
(Calamintha is such a draw for honeybees!)
Toward evening, the whole young family is here for dinner.
(Sparrow, with cheese and cracker.)
(Snowdrop and mom, going after the same.)
It's our usual foods -- pasta, seafood, corn, salads. Indoors. A storm rolls through and causes me to hastily bring the whole meal back into the kitchen.
After, Sparrow and I go on a little adventure. He's so eager to get back to the barn!
(And back again...)
A Sunday with a good morning and good evening and a whole lot of calm in between. I could not ask for more. Well, a Primrose family visit would ice my cake splendidly. But in these challenging times, one cannot turn greedy. Instead, the greater our ability to remain patient, the sooner we'll be where we most want to be: with our families, our friends, out and about, without great thought or worry.
The storms passed, the night is clear, the stars are out for those of us who can't quite get to sleep at the end of the day. Look at us, they seem to call out. There's so much more to this universe than your earthly petty problems!
Well yes, sure. But this is our life and we are all waiting until it returns to where it was 149 days ago. Give us a break, stars. We're mortal.
twinkle twinkle twinkle shrug.
Ah well. Never try having a conversation with a million stars. You're outnumbered.
