Hard to believe that it did not rain at the farmette last night or this morning. It rained to the north of us. Indeed, there were floods from an overabundance of rainfall. It rained in my daughter's place, just fifteen minutes away. But here, the landscape is parched and dry. Though not without flowers.
An incredibly long run for this day lily! And I see two more buds, so not done yet!
Then there are the rebloomers. Their first burst is toward the end of June, and now they're back, against all odds.
Hi Unfriendly! I know you're just shy, but still, you're awfully fearful for being so well cared for all your life.
Phlox and false sunflower...
Breakfast.
It's Friday, the day that I pick up just Snowdrop. As we chat about the weather, I mention to her that I've not been able to get corn from our local farmers, but that I can pick some up from Eugster's Farm -- the place where you can also visit some farm animals and where kids are especially welcome. Would she like to go there now?
Yes! Can Ats come too? (Snowdrop feels he needs a nickname. Ed tells her -- but ahah is already a nickname. No matter. She likes Ats. Fits with Gogs.)
It's a big deal outing for us, the isolated stay-at-homes, but. there is a threat of rain and it's early in the day and the end of summer. How many people are out looking for a goat petting experience?
Not many. Still, we put on masks. I don't have a child sized one for Snowdrop, but we make do. (And when it becomes clear that there's plenty of distance so that masks aren't totally necessary, Snowdrop wants to stick with it anyway.
Highlights? Let me put in a vote for the pigs. The little girl has been drawing pigs all summer. I'm going to like pigs.
And I liked the ducks. Waddle waddle...
But hands down, the favorites are the baby goats. You can look at them, touch them, feed them (with sterilized bottles, provided at the site). At first, Snowdrop is shy. They can pull on that bottle pretty fiercely! Eventually she relaxes.
Feeding the older sheep is another matter. She leaves that to me.
And Ed.
A final pet...
A final photo.
By the time we return to the farmhouse, it's the lunch hour. This is the little girl's last day alone with me and you can bet your sweet booties that I'm going to give her whatever food she wants. I give her the beloved peaches and strawberries to stave off a hunger attack and ask her about the main course.
Pizza! -- she says enthusiastically.
I didn't see it coming. None in the freezer. But wait: I just whipped up some pizza crusts this morning. I can do a homemade pie!
(Trying to ascertain if the half with mushrooms -- for Ed and me -- is bigger than the plain half)
She wants to do art then. Ah, this is tough. Likely our last art session. Over the years, watching her do pictures has been almost as good as listening to her tell stories. Possibly because her art work always does also come with a story. But lately, when it's just the two of us, she wants to add ornaments and details to my sketch. And I never do a good sketch, partly because I don't want to and partly because I'm not especially talented. Today, she wants to do the clothes for my "family of five." Okay.
All good until she decides a detail of her clothing addition just wont do. She crosses out the whole picture and looks at me to gauge my reaction. I smile and fold up her work and put it away. No admonition about wasting paper today. She grins, relieved.
I grin back. That's what you do when a child looks you in the eye and asks for support. You grin back.
On the ride home, we talk about the virus, the vaccine, science. Snowdrop grows excited. People are counting on science?? These years, when she doesn't want to be a dancer or an artist when she grows up, she wants to be a woman of science. That the world awaits, placing the greatest hope and confidence in good science thrills her.
Evening. Scramble eggs, steam some corn, cut up lettuce leaves. And try to keep that grin going.
An incredibly long run for this day lily! And I see two more buds, so not done yet!
Then there are the rebloomers. Their first burst is toward the end of June, and now they're back, against all odds.
Hi Unfriendly! I know you're just shy, but still, you're awfully fearful for being so well cared for all your life.
Phlox and false sunflower...
Breakfast.
It's Friday, the day that I pick up just Snowdrop. As we chat about the weather, I mention to her that I've not been able to get corn from our local farmers, but that I can pick some up from Eugster's Farm -- the place where you can also visit some farm animals and where kids are especially welcome. Would she like to go there now?
Yes! Can Ats come too? (Snowdrop feels he needs a nickname. Ed tells her -- but ahah is already a nickname. No matter. She likes Ats. Fits with Gogs.)
It's a big deal outing for us, the isolated stay-at-homes, but. there is a threat of rain and it's early in the day and the end of summer. How many people are out looking for a goat petting experience?
Not many. Still, we put on masks. I don't have a child sized one for Snowdrop, but we make do. (And when it becomes clear that there's plenty of distance so that masks aren't totally necessary, Snowdrop wants to stick with it anyway.
Highlights? Let me put in a vote for the pigs. The little girl has been drawing pigs all summer. I'm going to like pigs.
And I liked the ducks. Waddle waddle...
But hands down, the favorites are the baby goats. You can look at them, touch them, feed them (with sterilized bottles, provided at the site). At first, Snowdrop is shy. They can pull on that bottle pretty fiercely! Eventually she relaxes.
Feeding the older sheep is another matter. She leaves that to me.
And Ed.
A final pet...
A final photo.
By the time we return to the farmhouse, it's the lunch hour. This is the little girl's last day alone with me and you can bet your sweet booties that I'm going to give her whatever food she wants. I give her the beloved peaches and strawberries to stave off a hunger attack and ask her about the main course.
Pizza! -- she says enthusiastically.
I didn't see it coming. None in the freezer. But wait: I just whipped up some pizza crusts this morning. I can do a homemade pie!
(Trying to ascertain if the half with mushrooms -- for Ed and me -- is bigger than the plain half)
She wants to do art then. Ah, this is tough. Likely our last art session. Over the years, watching her do pictures has been almost as good as listening to her tell stories. Possibly because her art work always does also come with a story. But lately, when it's just the two of us, she wants to add ornaments and details to my sketch. And I never do a good sketch, partly because I don't want to and partly because I'm not especially talented. Today, she wants to do the clothes for my "family of five." Okay.
All good until she decides a detail of her clothing addition just wont do. She crosses out the whole picture and looks at me to gauge my reaction. I smile and fold up her work and put it away. No admonition about wasting paper today. She grins, relieved.
I grin back. That's what you do when a child looks you in the eye and asks for support. You grin back.
On the ride home, we talk about the virus, the vaccine, science. Snowdrop grows excited. People are counting on science?? These years, when she doesn't want to be a dancer or an artist when she grows up, she wants to be a woman of science. That the world awaits, placing the greatest hope and confidence in good science thrills her.
Evening. Scramble eggs, steam some corn, cut up lettuce leaves. And try to keep that grin going.
