Saturday

There have been no "normal" Saturdays this month at all. Each one brought with it its own bursts of joy and mountains of challenges, but none came remotely close to normal. So this last one (and it's the fifth, because the calendar gave us that many) is the exception! It is (more or less) normal.

(this morning: the hens go off for a little private conversation)

 

 

I am up earlier than usual, because I want to run over to the nearest bakery with the good breakfast bread product (Madison Sourdough, which does have really good pain au chocolat and croissants). Yes, I want some pains for this morning, and I also want croissants for tomorrow. Did you know that January 30th (tomorrow) is National Croissant Day? Look it up if you don't believe me! Since the croissant is a French product, one has to wonder why it's the National rather than International day of the flaky piece of pastry, but no matter, I'm celebrating. (Day-old croissants will be just fine: stick them in an oven for a minute and they come out as if baked that day.)

There was a time when I regularly baked croissants (at L'Etoile, for the Saturday market), but those times have long passed. Nor do I bake them at home. Once I found bakeries that produced reliably good batches, I no longer bothered fussing with 100 layers of pastry. Happily, Madison now has many acceptable croissant bakeries, and a few outstanding ones.

With croissant and baguette smells filling the car, I picked up Snowdrop and brought her to the farmhouse. (Sparrow had a date with a babysitter from the past who missed him and wanted to play with him.) The girl traveled without her jacket, so there was no question of outdoor play.

I mean, it really feels prickly cold out there, even with jacket. Possibly the low temps and the absence of sunshine has something to do with it.

Breakfast, the three of us, all eating the same thing. Three photos, too.

The girl was in a playful mood and our usual hours of reading were replaced by games, building projects (a Lego set that will probably require a month or maybe even two months of work at the rate we're going), and of course, the never ending stories she fits in to just about every visit here.

After lunch, I drove her (cowgirl boots and all)  down to her music lesson...

 

 

 

... and came back so very lazily to the farmhouse. There I (lazily) asked Ed if we should maybe go skiing and then we both ignored that idea, even though we both claimed it was a good one.

Nothing unusual, right? I told you -- our first normal weekend day since the beginning of the New Year.