It is the last day of school for Snowdrop. (Sparrow and Sandpiper still have a day in class tomorrow, at least theoretically.) This is a milestone for her, sure, because the end of the school year is always important to a kid: they proudly profess themselves to be officially at the next grade level (so, she is officially a third grader after today) and they are thrilled that the weeks of vacation lie ahead. (For the littlest ones, the change to a summer program is small: they all, including Juniper, remain in the same schools, with the same hours, though classes are reconfigured and there is more outdoor time.) So, for these bigger kids, no matter how you slice it, it's a big deal to be done with school for the year.
For me, there is a whole other dimension to it -- it's my last day of picking up just the oldest one, Snowdrop, and bringing her to the farmhouse after school. I've been doing this since she was one. Eight years of after-school care at the farmhouse. [There was a time when Sparrow came too, alone, before he started school, and briefly with Snowdrop, but then there was Covid and no one went anywhere, and by the time Covid lockdowns ended, Snowdrop was at a different school and the boys were both at home and in that chaos, the pattern of Snowdrop at the farmhouse resumed.]
Grandkids teach you a lot, because as a grandparent, you are no longer in a survival mode time-wise (you are instead in a survival mode health-wise!) and so you have more time to think and to listen carefully to all that is taking place around you. Snowdrop is three years older than the next grandchild (Primrose in Chicago) and so she is in a place where no other grandkid can be -- she is the one who explains to me how to be a grandparent at each new age level. So for example, right now, I am learning how to grandparent an 8 year old -- where I can be of most help, where I need to lay low, etc.
People who know nothing about these things or who don't stop to think things through jump to the conclusion that Snowdrop is my favorite. I no longer bother responding to this because it is absurd and born of the assumption that somehow you order your kids or grandkids on some continuum of affection. It doesn't work that way. If you are a caring, empathetic grandparent, then you have separate relationship with each child and these are not stable -- they change over time. Some may have a lot of private time and some may have almost none and this usually depends on the birth order of the grandchildren. I dont think Sandpiper has ever been just dropped off at the farmhouse by himself. Nor has Juniper. All the others have had, on the other hand, lots of private time with me and the oldest -- Snowdrop and Primrose -- have had the most. So here's one lesson from being a grandparent to many little guys: unlike when you are a parent and you need to be focused on all of them all the time, grandparents will inevitably float in and out of the kids' lives as their needs and your strengths ebb and flow.
Next year, I will see Snowdrop after school, but we will adjust to a new dynamic since her middle brother will join us. So today brings an end of that era where I am there, picking up just her, bringing her to the farmhouse where she has just me and Ed, quite guys that we are, in the background, or on the couch with her while she eats, reads, plays. (Today she told me -- I like that you guys are so quiet! She hit that one right!)
All that happens in the afternoon.
In the morning, I do my walk...
We eat breakfast.
And we take a walk in the local park. The prairie looks fabulous. You'd never know there was a drought!
Okay, pick up time! Here she comes. Her teacher is nearby. I bring them together for a photo. (The class had "camp week" -- tents, sleeping bags and all. In the classroom. I see by her t-shirt that this was called "Training Camp for 3rd grade!")
There needs to be some acknowledgement of this last day and so I take her to our local ice cream joint. I tell Snowdrop she can have anything she wants. A waffle cup, dipped in chocolate, with sprinkles, with chocolate ice cream, also with sprinkles!
The ice cream shop has a play area and this is truly nostalgic because we have played ice cream shop outdoors, after school, ever since Snowdrop could say the word "ice cream." So, photo together, as I ask for my usual imagined (by her) cone: blueberry mash!
And then we go to the farmhouse. For the usual.
Except that today, she is more snuggly. In need of many hugs.
Transitions can be dicey.
In the evening, Ed waters the new trees. I'm done with watering for a while, hoping that Sunday will bring the much needed rain. Well, I do douse the tubs regularly. They are my pockets of color before summer blooms open up.
Oh! And guess what! The fraises des bois are ripening!
Yep, we're moving into summer. And that's a very sweet thing!
(Look what's taken to reseeding itself in the old asparagus bed! Lovely Sweet William!)
(When is the best time to photograph a white Campanula? In the evening.)
(Speaking of sweet -- another early bloomer, this one on the new trellis Ed made for the eastern wall of the farmhouse.)
with love...
