the week ends with Friday

There surely were twists and turns to the week, but here we are, on Friday, still trudging on, and the sun rises, and the season moves forward, and it feels mighty lucky to be part of it all right now.

Ed is in deep sleep at the time the cheepers should be let out, so I hustle on outside leaving him to dream on...






But being up at dawn has its rewards.






Breakfast is in the sun room.






The angle is different, because I want to include the ever faithful Christmas cactus -- a gift from Ed in our first year together, when he still thought he had to occasionally bring me a flower. The funny thing is that it always blooms ahead of schedule, as if to remind me that things needn't be right on target to be beautiful.






I have an afternoon with Snowdrop and it's especially wonderful because it's the end of a tougher week, but, too, my time with the little girl is quickly going to undergo some transformations. She is a busy girl this weekend and I'll not see her until next week. And not for long then either. Her first Thanksgiving will be in Chicago and so I'll have to make do with taking a moment to be thankful with her on Tuesday.

All this to say that the days with Snowdrop no longer feel like routine. They are unique and grand. Each one stands alone in its wonderfulness.

And so, after my weekly grocery shopping (where I briefly felt the surge of nostalgia for the decades when the full Thanksgiving meal was on my shoulders), I am with Snowdrop.











The granddaughter of all granddaughters, except if I ever have another granddaughter!












With her full palate of smiles, climbs, hoists, "ats" and playful twists and turns.






In the late late afternoon, her mommy and I very much want to take her out for a walk. And we do. The temps are now in their thirties and the wind doesn't make that feel all that good. Does the little girl love it? Well, let's just say she is wonderfully stoic about it.






The night comes early.


 


I leave just as the first snow flakes start to fall. It really is cold outside. But, forgive the cliche, so warm inside.

bounce back on Thursday

Of course, you almost never appreciate feeling well (or almost well) as much as you do immediately after feeling lousy. The sun doesn't shine outside, it positively glitters!

We eat breakfast in the sun room.





Let me explain that expression of his: it's an air kiss, which I sometimes get in these morning photos, though more common is an attempt to foil my photo taking with gestures that he knows just wont do! You cannot say that Ed is not a tease.

Second point: that jacket. Purchased at Farm & Fleet, of course. It serves as an all season indoor sweater and apparently it's sufficiently versatile to make do for a cool summer eve and for the dead of winter -- for cross country skiing, for example. Last week, Ed realized that a wash was in order and the thing shrunk (to say nothing of the rip that I see on the elbow). I suggested a replacement was in order. He showed me instead how he intends to stretch it out again. He is a stellar example of a person who does not believe in consumerism.

But, no time for Ed related musings. I'm off early to be with Snowdrop and since I really do feel much better (albeit a tad worn down), I agreed to a full day with the girl (as had been originally scheduled for today).

Let's start with a few giggles as the girl wakes up. Me, I'm laughing at her p.js. She's laughing because I'm rolling her around on the floor.






Well, maybe not only because of that. She just woke up in a delightful mood.






It's art class day and today's project involves trees. Snowdrop's artistic spirit hasn't quite yet been ignited by the class, but she learns so much and does things she just would never do at home and so there is no question in my mind that the class is hugely worthwhile.

A tree, Snowdrop! We're working on a tree. The green paint can be the grass!






Leaves of fall, little one!






And it's interesting for me as well. The first day had a few stand-in grandmas in attendance, but these days there are only mommies, nannies and me. And so I listen to this younger generation of parents chatting and I am just so intrigued by how different styles of parenting can be!

For example, I grew up in a pretty traditional, European type care-giving environment (the first three years of my life I lived with my grandparents in the Polish countryside and thereafter, I was in an all-day nursery school in Warsaw until I was ready for school). There was a code of conduct. I didn't like milk soup, but it was standard breakfast fare and if I didn't eat it in nursery school (and I often didn't eat it -- I really disliked it!), I would have to wait for the next meal to fill up on something else. Pretty traditional ways of dealing with a child's whims and inclinations, I dare say still practiced in many places on the other side of the ocean.

I was amazed in art class how quite a few parents/sitters proceed with their charges by giving choice. The kid always gets to decide: "do you want to put on an art smock? No? Okay, no art smock today." I am so surprised. The toddler has no clue as to the consequences of this. No art smock means mommy/sitter will have to navigate a very messed up kid all the way home. Perhaps these children are precocious and can keep their car seats/strollers clean and may even be savvy enough to scrub their own clothes at the age of two once they get home, but I doubt it.

And it continues. "Time to go home! Do you know what you would like for lunch?" Seriously? This is so strange to me! And I have to wonder, did this absence of choice in my life -- did it make me more repressed, less expressive, more constrained, less innovative, more within the box, less adventurous? Of course, having decided to leave my home country and move to America at age 18, and there earn my own keep as an au pair, I always thought I was plenty adventurous, but imagine! Had I more choice in my early years, perhaps I wouldn't have stopped at New York! Maybe I would have sailed on to Bali!

I think that it's good for me to see other ways and methods of working with children. It reinforces my belief that there are as many styles as there are parents in this world and maybe you can learn something by watching another do things in a unique and interesting fashion. Even though I can tell you right now that it would take a bit of convincing to get me to believe that a toddler should decide what he or she should eat for lunch.


At home, a second bath is definitely in order (when will I learn to skip the morning one on art class day!). After that, we practice stuff. Standing, walking, that kind of thing...






Snowdrop hasn't taken her first independent (without support) steps yet, but we do agree that she has said her first word that is not just an utterance, but represents a cognitive realization that what she says has meaning.  Here's a hint of what it is:





Her past babbling of mama and dada and nana we think may have been rather random, but her "at" (for "cat") we think is quite deliberate.


In the late afternoon, she and I pick up grandpa Ed at the farmette and head out again to our Thursday indoor farmers market. Past fields of gold...






Yes, she loves Farmer John's cheese samples. I take a photo of her munching away, in front of our local Greek guy whose family makes olive oil back in the old country. We go through a lot of his oil (called Paeleon) and fussy as I am about olive oils, I do truly recommend his. (And I feel quite a bit of compassion for Greek people these days, especially since so many have themselves shown not a small amount of compassion toward those in more desperate circumstances.)






The little one also admires the potatoes. She was very tempted to try one right then and there (she's not part Polish for nothing), but I told her she'd have to wait for me to cook it. Wait for Sunday dinner, Snowdrop!






At the farmhouse, she is, as always, happy to come back to her familiar world of toys -- ones she doesn't see on a daily basis, but remembers with delight each time we are here.

She always pays a respectful visit to my collection of vinyl.






And grandpa Ed is a toy of sorts... (Grandpa, that jacket has to go!)






... and there's the newcomer -- the pinwheel.






Snowdrop has had such a full day -- and so have I. I offer her comfy blankies and stuffies to rest with until her parents come, but she will have none of that. Her place of greatest relaxation is uniquely her own -- the ever familiar, bouncy jumparoo. Put in front of NPR's Around the Farm Table (a show about the small farms of our state) -- heaven!





Whenever you have an unusually large set of Snowdrop photos (i.e. on days when I spend most of my waking hours with her), you can assume, correctly, that it was indeed a wonderful day.

Wednesday pass

We passed on a lovely breakfast. We passed on a quiet morning of work at the farmhouse. And on a walk through the dampened fields and grasses. Instead, every routine was done methodically, without enthusiasm.

Why?

Well, some bug or tainted food or something crept into my evening yesterday and the challenge was to get through the next day, spend a modest amount of time with Snowdrop helping the young couple and then shuffle back to the farmhouse, drink a tenth cup of chamomile tea and retreat to the comfort of a bed with a very fluffy quilt on it -- the kind that shuts out the noise of whatever pesky issue is disturbing your sense of well being.

And so I take a pass on writing a longer post. And on taking many photos. Just a trio, of the playful, cheerful one.
















Now, where is that quilt and my cup of tea?

wet Tuesday

Rain. Today, tomorrow, wet as can be. Not unlovely, I suppose. After all, rain makes what colors remain more pronounced.






Still, it's not outdoor weather. (The mice know this too well. We've trapped so many this year! We continue to release them. At the store, where we looked for new bait and release traps, the clerk was scornful: each one you let out will produce ten more, he admonished us. And he's not terribly off there. But the little critters are not quite as repugnant as mosquitoes, which we squish gladly and without trepidation. We just wish the mice would look for winter homes somewhere outside the farmhouse.)

Breakfast.






And then I'm off to be with Snowdrop.

She is, as always, radiant and chipper as can be when she gets up. She eats her breakfast enthusiastically and plays in her tub with energy and squeals of happiness. But then she gets serious. There are mornings like this -- where she is so intense in her explorations that her smiles are quick and elusive.






Of course, this is quite fine. You don't have to grin your way through the day to be satisfied with what you accomplish.






Navigating life's obstacles requires some serious thought.






But when she realizes that her favorite penguin is in her crib (she is, as of yesterday, permitted to sleep with a stuffed animal), she seems so crestfallen...






...that I decide it's time to bring out the giggles. And that's not hard at all. Just get her rollin' on the floor...











Our play is all indoors, of course...






And when she gets tired, she let's me do the fancy footwork while she settles in for many spirited dances (I bounce her around) in the living room. At which point I tell her it's time for a nap. I want to say -- grandma needs a rest, but that sounds too old, so i just tell her that I need a cup of chamomile tea which, I suppose, sounds equally old.



In the evening, at the farmhouse, Ed and I talk about getting a new (or old, if Ed had his way) couch. He is convinced he is allergic to the one we have and you may as well save your vocal chords rather than try to convince Ed that this is not likely. Four years ago, I caved to his fast held belief that my condo investment was a poor choice and that I should move to the farmhouse instead. Surely caving to his belief that my couch choice sucks is a small deal by comparison.

Of course, having agreed to look for an alternative is just the first step. I'm guessing it will take us two years to come across a couch that is cheap and acceptable to him and to me. But tonight we did that first (fruitless) search.

Wet days make you focus on what's taking place inside. Sometimes, that's a good thing.

new week

It really does feel like we've turned a corner. Adjusted the course. Steadied the pace. Possibly it's because it really appears that we're finally heading toward winter. It's not that the weather is freezing -- no, not yet. That will come with the weekend. But, the trees are in their winter undress and the landscape looks dusty gray.

Not that you can't get color, though today your best bet was to look for it at the moment of sunrise.






Ed and I had a working breakfast at the farmhouse. This is unusual and not something I especially like, but we've had some paper work to get through (a funny term -- "paper work" -- as if we do anything on paper these days!) and neither of us wanted an interruption.






And then Snowdrop came (because it's Monday!) and a huge spark of color burst in through the doors of the farmhouse. Here you have the last photo of her funny ragamuffin countenance (meaning the "before" shot):






After, I sat her down in her high chair and, upon the request of her mom, gave Snowdrop her first haircut. Mind you, the girl didn't exactly sit still for it and my plans for a fancy layered trim were somewhat foiled by her vivaciousness, but still, I think we came out okay in the end!






And so a new era begins for Snowdrop: she is now a girl with a bob and bangs.






The reward for her cheeriness during the whole session? We get to go out and feed the cheepers stale bread and, too, some cookies that no one here likes.






The girl surely had a good weekend. She's all smiles today!






This next one reserved for Ed.












In the late afternoon, I take her back to her home, where she spends an exciting set of minutes playing with animal magnets on the refrigerator door.






It's hard for me to motivate myself to take her out for a walk. But I'm not a Polish grandma for nothing. Fresh air, Snowdrop!

It's so late when we do go out, that the sun has long set. Across the street, the holiday lights are in full swing. She's puzzled. She's pleased. She's puzzled.






She is amazed.

Yep: the seasons have changed on us over the weekend. Just like that.

Sunday

Morning. Our farmette visitor is no longer staying here. We're back to old routines. I get up to release the cheepers.

And I notice this one solitary flower, still holding its own, still giving that radiant color that we would normally associate with summer.

It is one of those treasured moments. Something that shouldn't be here. That should have given up long ago. And yet it's here. Feeble, but beautiful nonetheless.



 


I'm back, giving my morning report to a still drowsy Ed. He listens, then says -- we should do some volunteer work for the Ice Age Trail today. We hike it a lot. We haven't contributed much to its maintenance this year.
I hesitate. I give my time (happily I should note) to Snowdrop and to us, here at the farmhouse. Can't we be selfish and use the one free afternoon to do something decadent? Like maybe take a leisurely walk, or visit a winery? (Ed had clipped an article about a couple who made their own wine and a visit there sounded sort of interesting.)
Doing stuff for your family isn't exactly volunteering. I think we should work on the trail.

He is right, of course. We've hiked. We need to do our bit.

And so after the usual cleaning and the lovely breakfast...






...we set out to find the volunteers who are working on a segment of the trail that we have trampled over more than once.






The work is of the standard sort: pull out or hack down invasive plants, which in this case basically means doing away with the honeysuckle bushes that take over the forest floor.






We don't knock ourselves out. Just two hours of heaving, hacking, pulling. And then we are done and I am so happy to have put in those hours, because they felt so productive, so wonderfully laborious!






And the skies are blue and the day is warm, how good is that!






And in the evening, the young family drives straight from Minneapolis to the farmhouse and I have a wonderful reunion with Snowdrop...






(Who, after a five hour car ride, is happy to be free to roam and give penguin a great big hug...)






Me, I have  a chance to listen to all the stories of their wonderful visit with my younger daughter and her husband.






And the little girl -- she just seems to get satisfaction from being a the table and stuffing pasta and eggplant in her sweet little mouth.






We are an enormously lucky bunch!