Saturday

And now the weekend is upon us and even though it isn't entirely the same as other summer weekends (it's not every Saturday that I wake up with Snowdrop and my daughter in the farmhouse), it surely feels familiar.

The little girl is up at a very respectable 8:30 and as always, is delighted to be greeted in the crib.

Okay, okay, time to get up. And hey, I'm smart about her eating habits: she is one messy baby when it comes to high chair foods and so I take her out of her pajamas and sit her right down with a bib and diaper, nothing more. Banana and squash quickly appear on all possible surfaces.

And then it's bath time, and more feedings -- all those wonderful things you do in the morning with a baby that's just happy to be out facing the day with you.

Eventually we all come together on the porch for the adult breakfast. Well, let's just say that it's the adults now that do the eating.











And then I get Snowdrop ready for her big outing: grandma, mommy and baby will be taking a walk by the lake, all the way to the farmers market.






Snowdrop is in grand spirits (you may not be able to tell this just looking at the photos...).






She has that magical playfulness about her, even though the walk is long and very warm.












The market itself is like my garden: it peaks with abundance right about now. I see the first ears of local corn, the sour cherries from Door County, all forms of root and leafy vegetables. Heaven.


Time to return. The sky is cloudless, the air is still. I get back to my car and head home.

This is when I catch up on my contemplative time. In the garden, yes that...






And in the farmhouse too. It's been such a good day -- from its earliest minutes to the time when the sun once again leaves marks of gold on the flower fields.

thank goodness it's this day

 When do you decompress, let go, muse, breathe?

Lately, I haven't big chunks of time to use for a soul detox, but I do have wee breaks and intervals and I use them for this, oh, do I use them!

You'll have guessed that a walk through the gardens is good for the heart and mind.






As a commenter noted yesterday, there is a conversation that takes place between the flowers and their gardener and though it is a quiet conversation, it's full of meaning.






For me, of course, breakfast always puts me on a good path. Take your spa day, your massage, your retreat into the Himalayas! I'll stay with my meal on the porch (or sun room in winter) anytime.






After that, well, there's a lot of stuff that needs to be accomplished on a Friday. Ed, of course, goes to his work meetings. Me -- I take care of prosaic stuff. Haircut. I'm back on a four month hair care schedule. Indulgent, I know. Ed did a good job with the scissors, but the young woman at her own small Bang salon does it better.

And there is grocery shopping.

And after -- Snowdrop play.






Today, we mess with the camera. She really quite enjoys this, for a few minutes anyway. The best part -- looking together at the resulting photo.






And now comes another set of meditative minutes: a walk with Snowdrop. I do understand her expression, her retreat behind some secret door.





I feel the same way.


In the evening, I take her to the farmette...






I feed her. Is there a grandma out there who does not enjoy feeding her grandchild the freshest of fresh fruits and veggies? And today the little girl is on board! Bananas and squash!






Evening. Ed comes home from the office, my daughter comes over as well. She and Snowdrop will be spending the night with us -- call it a farmhouse retreat of sorts (Snowdrop's daddy is away at a conference).

Snowdrop naps (so considerate of her!) while the three of us eat dinner...






But then she joins us for our porch moment.






Here I have to tell you about this crazy love I had for a movie when I was a young ten year old (title: Summer Magic). You'd think I'd be too old for fantasies about making do with very little when your life crashes -- a parent dies, income disappears, there's just you and the frightening world out there (this is the general theme of this Disney movie with Haley Mills). But no! I loved it. And of course, I sang all the songs to my girls as they were growing up and  now here I am, feeling very much like this evening fits well into that vision of cricket sounds and rocking chairs -- all a part of that improbable movie fantasy. 

There is a special song that I am quite fond of --  about sitting on the porch of an old farmhouse. And watching the fireflies.






We have a huge number of fireflies outside.





I sang this song to my daughters for many many years as they struggled to fall asleep.

All I want to do
When the day is through
Is linger here on the front porch
With you
From the wicker swing
While the night birds sing
We'll watch the fireflies sparkin'
Do some sparkin' too
How the hours fly
As the moon drifts by...

Yeah.

onto Thursday

We're establishing new rhythms. They start early. Our usual breakfast around 9 has shifted: today it is around 7:30, as Ed has meetings to attend.






It's the last meal with our house guests. They pack up and leave shortly after. You might nod sympathetically and say -- good to have your house back, what with all the tumult. I suppose. Establishing new rhythms requires a time of a meditative quiet. At the same time, I look around and notice that the lawn is mowed. The chicken coop is cleaned, the dishes are washed, Snowdrop's jumparoo is assembled. Our house guests saw us through a tough week, using a huge amount of tact and elbow grease. On top of it all, Ed had sympathetic listeners. I had an enthusiastic pal to help me uncork and sample an Islay whisky.  These guys helped move us from square one to square two. We were so very fortunate to have them here.






Afternoon? Snowdrop time!

I must proudly report that the girl received her first certificate of accomplishment today: she completed her swimming course! I don't know that much was required of her -- showing up was plenty sufficient -- but still, the certificate hangs on the young family's refrigerator door: a congratulatory note attesting to her "swimming" progress.

Snowdrop wakes from her nap just as I arrive...






She and I play, though if you watched her, you could hardly call it play. She is intense and she works hard at perfecting her finger grasp. Too, she rolls so adeptly and without regard to any obstacles that I have to carefully steer her away from potential collisions with furniture.

A few hours of this and she needs a pause. The three of us (her mommy joins us) take a walk around the lake and yes, do note that this is her downtime. Her expression tells us as much. (The "tatoo" on her arm is her swimming badge of honor.)






And now I'm home. I spend an evening hour deadheading day lilies. You don't have to do that: eventually the spent flowers fall off of their own accord. But there is something deeply satisfying in tidying a yard in full bloom. You're not the designer, the developer, the digger and planter anymore. You're the gentle hand that adds a touch of appreciation to what's before you. Nothing more, nothing less.

a quiet Wednesday

Today is the day to put up a simple post -- reflective, but with few words. Just a handful of photos to carry us along.

Farmette flowers...



(looking out from the porch)


Breakfast with our farmhouse guests...






The midsection of the day is then handed over to a memorial service for Ed's friend and business partner, Greg.


I then go to look after Snowdrop...






And this includes a walk for us. Around the small lake...











And in the evening, my daughter and I go with the little one to the Capitol Square for a lovely evening concert.






That's all for today. I'll be back tomorrow.

if it's Tuesday

Well, some things stay the same.

Pre-breakfast flower viewing...






Breakfast (with house guests) on the porch...






A walk through very sunny gardens with Ed, with random weed pulling...



(toward the sheep shed)





(toward the garage)





(toward the farmhouse)



And now the patterns change. I go to watch Snowdrop swim with her mommy...





And then we hastily confirm to each other the details of the day.
I'll take her to the farmhouse, bathe her, feed her, play a little while, then bring her to your house.
Right. I have an hour or so at 2:30 to take a walk with both of you...
Yep, and then I'll play with her, feed her at 5 and put her down for her second nap.
...And I'll be home by 7 and I'll take it from there...
Perfect. I asked my house guests to get started chopping vegetables, so I can finish up dinner at the farmhouse when I get home.

A mother of another child listens in. Such wonderful coordination! -- she murmurs...
I smile. That's only part of the story, of course. The other coordination happens at the farmhouse these days, as we push through a new set of scheduling imperatives:
To Ed, I'll have said -- I'll be back with Snowdrop at 11:30. Your friends will meet her then...
And I'll be taking them to work with me right after; they'll wait there until I'm done with meetings...
I picked up groceries on my way home last night so everything is set for dinner prep. I'll be home by 7...


And so yes, because it's Tuesday, it must be farmette time for the little one...



(the famous Ed "I'm holding a baby!" face)





(a sweet hug)





(a playful tug at the beard)


Bathe, nap, eat, play... Wait, let's pause on the eating part. I bring her down from her nap -- we're both so pristine clean, white and fresh...





But it's time for me to encourage Snowdrop to branch out in the eating department. Out come the solids. Mushy solids. I believe this is a mixture of pears, carrots, blueberries and maybe beets (I was not the one who mixed these up! Some baby expert came up with this stellar combination!).

I sit her down in her high chair. And we begin.



(Whoa, hold on little girl! You need a bib!)





(No grandma, I don't know how half of it wound up on my arm...)





(Maybe I should take things into my own hands...)





(Oh, you mean I'm supposed to eat this stuff? How do I do that?)


Next time I'll save the (once) white jumper for after a feeding. Or, stay away from blueberries.

So, properly wiped and washed (with only a faint blueberry ring around the neckline and a slightly more pronounced fruit splash on my dress), we play.











But the shift in our daily patterns is significant. Ed takes off for his various work meetings and I pack the wee one in the car and take her back home where we walk, eat, play, nap, play play play...






...Until the magic hour of 7, when I hurry back to the farmhouse and finish off dinner preparations just as the sun leaves faint traces of gold on the western flower beds.