Saturday

Most any sane person would have spent the day entirely outdoors. How many more days will there be this year when the temperature climbs to 70 and the morning mist (lovely as it is)...






... lifts to reveal a cornflower blue sky?

I do put in some good outdoor time. After breakfast...






... and after a quick look at the flowers that truly make me smile (because, you know, it's September)...












... I pop over to Snowdrop's home, where I find her freshly bathed...


 



... and ready for our outing (and in the meantime, sneaking in one more fond caress of the queenly cat, who puts up with it, but only for one pat before scampering out of Snowdrop's reach)...






... and the three of us -- my daughter, Snowdrop and I -- set out for the farmers market downtown.

It's a great walk there and back and of course, there's also the big walk around the Square itself, considerably slowed today to a mere crawl because the weather is so fine and there are so many of us out there, pawing at the vegetables and fruits.

Snowdrop smiles at all who throw a smile her way and so it is one big smile fest...






... and she is rewarded by her mom with a cracker, which she takes about twenty minutes to nibble on. (Her mom tells me Snowdrop prefers a rosemary one, but this is almost as good.)






On the way home, she starts to doze off a little, which would have been ruinous for her "morning" nap, so to keep her awake, I take her out of the stroller and carry her home -- something that keeps her grinning endlessly (and keeps my arm muscles in good shape).


But in the afternoon, I stay inside the farmhouse. No excuses. I have to prime and then stain the porch doors. It's a tedious job and one fraught with dangers of the spill-streak type but what is curious to me is that in the end, the wood is a shade or two darker than that on the existing frames, even though I had stained those as well when I first moved in here now 4.5 years ago. Same wood, same stain, different result.

Ah well, you'd not notice it unless I point it out to you and in any case, aside from the final rub tomorrow (well, and the painting of the walls around it), the task is done and I am very happy about it, even as my outdoor time was less than I would have wished on such a beautiful day.





And it really was a beautiful day.

Friday

I don't walk on Fridays, I run. Inevitably, my posts are shorter, my stories less thought out, my photos less studied.

Oh, there's the beautiful opening to the day. Well, beautiful for me...






... I suppose for Isie boy as well (he is allowed only on the porch and only if accompanied by an adult).





But after that, I'm on the run. This is by choice and so I am not complaining. It is wonderful to make your lists smaller and your future days, therefore, more carefree.

One errand that I have for today is picking up my replacement lenses for my glasses. The glasses are still under warranty and so it is a blissfully cost free transaction, but I note as I take off my glasses to have them refitted with new lenses, that I am quite useless without eye-wear. That's a recent thing. I could, up until a handful of years ago, see quite well in the distance. But now, I wouldn't trust myself to drive a car without glasses and I certainly can't read anything unless I'm looking through a thick corrective lens.

But I have never had a second pair of glasses! Too expensive (I need bifocals, which automatically triples the cost), too unnecessary. It would be like an insurance policy that you hate to get because you know you wont need it.

Until you do.

I travel so much -- how is it that I don't worry about losing/breaking/misplacing something that links me to the rest of the world?

And so I'm rethinking my game plan. And immediately comes the dilemma: should my second pair be the cheapest available, because after all, chances are I wont ever need it, or, so long as I'm getting it, mightn't I want to make a fashion statement? Imagine! A second funky pair that I could cart out for that special evening out (not that I have many special evenings out, but I have one today and so my mind strays in that direction)!

This is how capitalism thrives, of course. From bare bones, you quickly move to something more special, costing, of course, just a wee bit more. Machines churn, production rises, the stock market improves.


In the afternoon I am with Snowdrop.

You'll see more photos here (and fewer words) because from a grandma's perspective, she is just irresistibly clever and radiant and awesome (sorry if you've heard these same words from other grandmas).

Here, she finally, finally catches up with one of the household cats. And she is thrilled. And the cat is patient.






Another playful moment -- where she is saying "okay grandma, go ahead and take your picture, but don't you think I may be needing a haircut soon?"






We play with musical instruments. The little Mozartina is especially grand with the tambourine.






And then, in the evening, the three girls -- Snowdrop, her mom, me -- go out for a celebratory drink. A month of the new work schedule, the end of the week, the coming of Fall -- pick your reason for a celebration. We go downtown on the early side, just before the official start of happy hour, just in case the little one has a restless moment.

But Snowdrop is excited. She is convinced that the waitress is there to smile at her and she reciprocates.






Oh, Snowdrop!






Of course, the excitement of life eventually exhausts her. But in a good way.






I come home at dusk. There is dinner to fix, cheepers to hide -- the usual stuff. The good stuff. 

Fall is off to a grand beginning.

Thursday

They say this is one of the warmest Septembers on record here, in Wisconsin. If you're one of those who likes crisp Fall air, one of those who likes the annual ritual of taking out the corduroys and fall sweaters, then you'd be impatient with this string of warm days.

For me, it's like summer only better. The mornings are cool (though unfortunately too cool for the porch), the sunrise is at a decent hour (so the cheepers aren't restless to get out at an ungodly time) and the early hour is quite pretty, in misty sort of way...






The garden is long past its peak blooming period, but we're not short on color!






And though we do eat breakfast inside...






... as the day progresses, I shed my sweater and take in the warmth of this beautiful season.

I'm with Snowdrop quite early today -- there to watch her wake up, there to give her a morning bath, there to feed her breakfast.



a delightfully original way to suck a thumb: she indicates her hunger here...



On my lap now, after her meal, with that satiated look of contentment... I should note that the girl really loves selfies and timed release photos:






We play upstairs...



chillin'





if you're happy and you know it...


... and downstairs...



mirrors are so interesting! they don't reflect just you...





if you're happy and you know it then your face will really show it...



And then, after her nap, grandpa Ed, who seems to have been missing us over at the farmhouse, comes over and when I look at her next to him, I think -- wow, she seems small...






... and the three of us go out for a lovely walk around the little lake.






Yes, these are the last days of summer-like delights.






Back at Snowdrop's home, we wait for her parents to return. I am amazed (but not really) at how different guy play is with little ones. And how much the little ones love it. Here's Snowdrop, chillin' on Ed's lap...






And here she is, delighted to see her parents come home.






The evening is a bit unusual in that Ed and I have a guest, a Tormach colleague of Ed's, but we're all rather casual and laid back about it and I have a chance to ask about various places to explore in England as the visitor hails from there.

The evening, of course, comes early and especially early for the two hens, whom we put away before 7 now and it's a lovely ritual, as they now doze calmly on the fence by the coop and swooping them up together is an act of protection and an opportunity for an affectionate pat on the back.





A summery fall day. You couldn't ask for a better one.

quiet Wednesday

I love days that are packed with all that you could possibly squeeze in. But honestly, interspersed among those, I love days that are quiet. No flood pf photos. No ambitious projects. No stunning weather report (just a very good one!), no great food to parade before you.

Just quiet.

Breakfast...






Appreciating what remains in bloom in the garden and this includes my beloved annuals, such as the honey-fragrant alyssum, which the cheepers love to munch on in early spring, but ignore now that there's so much else to turn to.






Eventually, I'm at Snowdrop's home, where, too, we keep it down to a quiet repetition of things she knows and loves (no real cheepers to admire today -- just pictures of them in story books).






Is it a serious day? No, not exactly that. Just calm.






(I have to smile when she admires the mirror image of herself, if only for a second: it's much more fun to pick up the piece of fabric and chomp on it.)






Two more photos -- of our walk around the little lake. I want to highlight the loveliness of the shoreline...






... and of course, there's the smiley girl herself.






The evening is quiet too, though I am stuck on the phone arguing with airlines about travel configurations, but it's okay. The thing about quiet days is that they make you perfectly ready to manage less quiet negotiations.

first day of Fall

My younger girl got married on the first day of summer and my older girl got married on the first day of fall. Ah, so that's today, no? Indeed, Snowdrop's mom and dad are celebrating an anniversary.

I haven't a lot of free minutes today and as a result, for those who prefer photos to words -- you're in luck! Not much time for text. But I promise, you'll get a fine feel for my day, or anyone's day -- that is anyone lucky enough to wake up to golden sunshine, with cheepers clamoring to get out and get going. Lucky enough to have an Ed patiently letting me take that photo. And lucky enough to have Snowdrop in her life -- a Snowdrop who is utterly exuberant today. No dainty smiles and sheepish grins: she is all about laughter!

Here we go:

Fall sunrise:






Scotch early in the morning:






Sheep shed grapes:






The first day of fall, but not the last rose of the year and probably not the last day lily either:






My breakfast photo hero:







And now at Snowdrop's home. Here she is after her bath, waiting patiently for her breakfast:






Now here come the guffaws:


















With an occasional needed reassurance that it really is okay to laugh that much:






Oh, here's a more serious moment (possibly because this was restricted play: can't chomp on those matryoshka dolls):






Continued joviality during walk around the little lake:






Toward evening, I bring Snowdrop to the farmhouse while her parents go out for a celebratory meal. It's a beautiful day and we spend a bit of it outside. With cheepers nearby...






... Snowdrop could spend a very long time studying a blade of grass.






And I could spend forever studying her:






Especially as the sun goes down and the colors turn golden:






Inside again, the usual:






And then she discovers a toy I had purchased for her for the newborn years. I want to tell her -- you were just a baby then!






Her parents show up. A happy reunion:






First day of fall indeed. May it portend a season of sun dappled days and love filled moments!