Monday

Three things -- I say to a groggy Ed, as I come back to the bedroom after letting the cheepers out.
I don't know if Isie boy liked the leftover fish I gave him. He's meowing outside, which means either that he wants more, or he hated it and wants something else.

What else? -- he's waking up now.
I pulled some weeds on the path to your shed and got tangled in that damn prickly plant and now I have a thousand seeds in my hair and each one has to be individually removed.

And?
You know that label on the can of paint I used on the walls yesterday? You know how we didn't understand why I had scribbled over it "upstairs trim?" Well that's because it's glossy and we used it on the baseboards. The touch ups that I just did on the walls all over the farmhouse? It looks like someone spit on the walls.

So I guess the painting project isn't quite finished. There is a P.S. to it -- cover up the cover ups.

On the upside (and the day is one with endless upsides), the purple asters are dazzling, the gaura ("whirling butterflies")  is still going strong...











... and breakfast in the front room is splendid.






And it's Monday and so Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse, this time for an unusually long visit, as her parents have an evening event to attend. She arrives just as I'm about to dump my fruit and kefir on the oatmeal. We're tickled to have her company for breakfast (she herself has just woken up and has yet to be bathed, clothed and fed)!



what'you guys doin'?




I want what she's having!




the berry's fine, but I think I like my stuff better than kefir... (it's an acquired taste, little one!)



She is such a patient little girl. Finally -- we are done, she is bathed, fed and dressed and ready for play.






Oh, there are the usual favorite toys, but our time together here always includes dancing...






... and Ed play. It still surprises me no end how quick he is to want to poke her, hurl her, laugh with her...






... and she just laps it up.






I tell her, too, that we must give bread to the chickens. You need a sweater, little Scottish lassie. It's cool outside. (In fact, only the sweater is from Scotland.)






Here we are -- favorite scene, favorite routines, favorite cheepers...






And now is the time for quiet play. Indoors. Looking at favorite books, including the unwieldy Richard Scarry tome.











The farmhouse hours go by so quickly. More play, more music, more food (oh-oh, does she need a haircut?)!

We take a walk, she and I, while Ed goes over to help the young couple with a house issue. It's different here, on the rural roads, isn't it, Snowdrop?






Different, but equally lovely. She lets me know that she is happy.






Ed comes home at the same time that we return from our walk.
Hi to you!
Hi to you too!





Our evening is again full of play, full of music. She helps me toss the salad and the three of us munch on raw carrots (she lack a set of top teeth to make this a very successful enterprise). She assists in piecing together an extension to her play floor and she uses every item of furniture to hoist herself up on her two feet.

Snowdrop is nine months old today. Remarkable. Was it just a few months ago that I was wondering when she'd be able to hold up her head?

Sunday

Though each day unfolds in a delightful fashion and brings with it not a small number of lovely events, there are always one or two moments that have a special magic to them. Today, one such fleeting minute happened before I was even fully awake.

Ed had been up late and so I offered to let the cheepers out. The day was gray. For once, I didn't bother looping the camera around my neck. There would be no pretty strips of sunlight out on the fields. The flowers are less and less photogenic. I toddled over to the coop and thought to myself how much easier it was to do this in the summer, when the morning air was warm and inviting.

As I was returning to the farmhouse, I looked over my shoulder and noticed a very young deer hovering to the edge of the great flower bed. I'm still enough dazzled by a deer's movement (if not by its destructive habits) that I love to photograph these guys when they show up. Should I get my camera now? She'll be gone for sure when I come back. Deer scamper off at the slightest noise of movement.

But when I come back she isn't gone.

Butter has meandered over in that direction and the two of them spy each other and assess the situation.






The deer comes closer.






Butter, who stiffens every time she hears a strange noise, displays great indifference to this intruder.

The deer's friend peers from behind the barn. I gather this is not their first visit here. Is it safe -- she seems to be asking. Butter glances at both of them, then moves on.






Ah, but now they also have Scotch to contend with.






And of course me. Still, they proceed to their grazing spot...






And even when I come up on them from the rear, they let me get close (which simply means that they're still young and stupid, or that they find that what the human hand plants for them is worth the risk).





Knowing that I will only regret making them feel welcome and safe here, I take a few quick steps in their direction and sure enough, they scamper off.


You'll understand that, except for breakfast (in the front room today!)...





... the daylight hours had few other memorable moments: House cleaning. Hrmph. And it gets worse: I had to go to the mall to return a clothing item. The mall on a Sunday -- hrmph!!

Too, I stopped by Auto Zone so that the kind worker there would do a code reading as to why my engine light is on.  After, I report my findings to Ed. Maybe we fixed the problem, maybe we didn't.

And finally, I had to finish sealing the patio door and painting both the damaged wall inside and the yellow siding outside. Ah, but now the patio door project is finally completed! Yay!

And there are still more challenges to the day. House issues, car issues -- they suck at our energy levels even as we try hard to not let them fill our waking thoughts.

But here's the upside to all this foolishness: if you've fretted about this or that, isn't it grand to let it just go? If you know you have the young family coming over for dinner, shouldn't cooking the meal now take precedence? Yes it should. And the young family comes and Snowdrop plays...






And when we sit down for our Sunday dinner, everything vanishes except the meal itself.





 And Snowdrop eats her kale and spinach cracker and you just want to smile and smile.

Saturday

You could say that this was an ambitious day, despite the fact that we spent the first hours luxuriating in a reclining position, deep in conversation about the morality of war and globalization (we do not disagree on either) and not getting onto breakfast until close to the noon hour.






I caught up on indoor chores and had little interest in working outside. I am not yet used to the chilly winds. I give you just one farmette photo:






But in the mid-afternoon, I pick up my daughter and Snowdrop...


 
where are we going?!


... and we drive to a place where I took my daughters when they were just a bit older than this sweet child. It has been one of our favorite autumnal hiking destinations -- Indian Lake. Time to immerse the little one in the magic of a nature walk.



it's really windy, dear girl: you need a jacket


It's a splendid hike!






A first for the little one, but surely to be repeated again and again.












It's wonderful to see Snowdrop appreciate the forest, the bouncy step, the brisk air...






The leaves are just in the very first stage of autumnal color.






But already Snowdrop knows how to bliss out in the magic of the season in this very beautiful place.












At the farmette, the light is already fading when I return. Each day, the cheepers retreat a few minutes earlier. I heat up left over chili and think back to walks I've taken with my own girls when they were so very young.

are you glad it's Friday?

Early morning, pretty landscape. That's almost a given here, at the farmette.






Sunshine in the cooler season puts us in the sun room for breakfast -- another habitual act.






And here's another commonplace occurrence: when I shop for groceries (always on Fridays), the clerk will ask me (as he did today) -- so, are you having a good end of the week?
Today, upon hearing this, I was too nit-picky in my answer. I wanted to side step the question so I said -- is that like a "how are you," where you're just supposed to say "fine thank you" and provide no detail?

In fact, I wasn't sure if I was having a grand old end of the week. My morning, breakfast notwithstanding, had gotten off to a rocky start (coordinating stuff with Ed was tricky) and I have, in my non-Snowdrop hours, too many things to think through and no clarity of thought going into the weekend. But the clerk was just being polite and I should have said "yes, thank you" because of course, in the scheme of things, my petty issues are just that -- petty and my days are otherwise sublime.

Therefore, when at the next store (Trader Joe's) I was asked by that clerk -- do you have any plans for the rest of the day? -- I took an honest but more positive approach:
I'm baby sitting my granddaughter, I admitted with a smile.
Well that's nice of you -- he answered.
I love my granddaughter, I said.
Lucky you, said another customer.
And I emphatically agreed, even though I wasn't sure which part she regarded as lucky.


Snowdrop is delighted to see me, possibly because I bring over one of her favorites -- a little bunny rabbit with a blue head (she had left it at the farmhouse), or maybe because she is just a "delighted in the world" kind of baby.






But wait a minute -- am I using the right words here? Is she still a baby? Here she is, playing with her rhythm stick:






Ed had asked -- at what age do they become a toddler? I mindlessly answered -- oh, around one.

But Snowdrop is just a few days short of being nine months old. Is she really not a toddler yet?






Even when she deliberately rolls around on the floor, looking at me and chortling away at the silliness of it all, I no longer see her as an infant.






In the afternoon, Snowdrop has that what now, grandma look.






I can't disappoint her. We go outside to smell the autumn air.

There is a strong, gusty wind on this sunny October day, the kind that gives a rosy glow to cheeks and noses.When she protests a jacket, I tell her that in Poland, she would not get away with being outside at her age without a cap.






We walk and sign songs and I think -- actually, I do feel it's Friday and I'm glad it's this day, in the same way that I am glad when it's another day. There are always so many surprises in each one!

Thursday at the farmette

Oh, Snowdrop! You do wake up earlier here than at your own home. But you carry your enthusiasm for the day no matter where you are!






Well, okay. Farm people wake up early. Ed and I wake up early. Join the party!






But breakfast first! You've eaten your main grub, but you can certainly munch on a kale/apple/spinach cracker while we eat. Happy? Yes, I can see you are.






It's cool outside, but we must go out anyway. There is something special in sitting in un-mowed grass. Birds, Snowdrop -- you're listening to the songs of birds.






The farmhouse feels so warm and cozy afterwards. The sun comes into your play space -- so pretty!  But I can see that you can't stay put for long. You're definitely in an exploring mood. Stand up and get going. But first, a moment of rapture: those circles on the chair! Wow!






Nap, eat, play -- it's always a little different here at the farmhouse, but your routines don't vary greatly. And that's a good thing, I think.


Late afternoon. Hey, little one, it's time to head home. Good bye grandpa Ed! (Ed, she likes being held upright. Why do I bother saying these things: the two of them always figure out on their own how to chill together.)







I have a few more minutes with you, little girl... Should we walk your home neighborhood? It's windy!





But you don't mind, do you? You've always been remarkably brave in the cold.


And now it's time for me to leave you to your parents. I hope I hand you over in good spirits -- a little calmer, wiser, older. Yes, no doubt -- you're all that, Snowdrop!

a special Wednesday

I suppose every day is special -- to borrow Ed's philosophy for a minute. But some days are ordinary and wonderful and some are unique and wonderful and today surely belongs to the latter camp.

Breakfast is in the sun room.





Our bowls are full of pears, grapes and plums that had just been trucked over from a grocery store (that's some 7 miles away, but they deliver!).
Testing, we're just testing how it works.
You know you're never going to convince me that online grocery shopping is the way to go.
Just testing...
I have to see the full display, consider the freshness, read the labels...
Not bad: you must admit, the fruits aren't bad.
And smell the fruits and compare the ingredients on all the whole grain chips...
The peach could use a few days...
Well that's okay, most peaches could use a few days... and the delivery person was awfully nice. But too much plastic! Everything was in a plastic sack. We have ten bags just from this one small order.
You can make special requests: skip the plastic.
I need to see which berry is plumpest, which banana is least damaged...
Just testing.


And then I go to Snowdrop's home. Here's a difference to the day: I will be with her at her house and in the evening I'll be taking her to her weekly music class. And after -- home to the farmhouse, with Snowdrop in tow. She'll be with us until late tomorrow as her mommy and daddy are off and away (to an award event honoring my daughter's professional accomplishments, so that's cool in its own right).

And so we begin our morning of play. Ah, she remembers that standing up is the wave of the future for her!






Stand up, sit down, stand up, sit down. Okay Snowdrop, let's try something else. How about music sticks to get you ready for music class?






Good effort, sweet one! 





No, not an exercise bar, but hey -- good stretching!


And then, here's another novel twist to the day: after her lunch, we walk over to the expo center: it is the week of the World Dairy Expo -- a really big deal for the state of Wisconsin and for the dairy industry. Why not introduce Snowdrop to the animal that makes us proud -- the cow?

And here are my post factum thoughts on this expedition: the world of a little one is so small! Oh, you may travel and take her places -- she's been to Chicago several times. You may immerse her in social events -- she has been to more than one baseball game and is a regular at evening get togethers. She has, besides me, any number of adoring caretakers -- grandpas, grammies, aunts, uncles, to say nothing of the nursery at her church and the occasional baby sitter when I'm not around. She takes it all in stride. She is a happy, outgoing little girl.

But her world is small. Zoos, cheepers, cats - yes, animals all, but there is nothing, nothing like plunging her into a megaspace of cow stalls, with all the noise, machinery, smells, boisterous voices, megaphones, and of course moooooos coming on strong from all directions.

(It doesn't help that on our walk over (the expo center is a short distance from where Snowdrop lives), we had to pause at a train intersection while a large and loud train rumbled by. Snowdrop shook with fear.)

And here we are, at the expo center.

Whoa! All those cows!






I take her out of the stroller and carry her past stall after stall. I talk about the cows and the milk and the cheese and the udder and the cows and the milk and cheese and the farmers who make it all possible for us. She listens, looks, and clings to my arm.






We go into the arena too, and watch the selection of the top jersey.






 ...while the small crowd cheers on. Or rests. I suppose it's a grueling set of days for the dairy people.






Toward the end, Snowdrop isn't complaining. She is just somewhat aghast.






It just doesn't fit into anything she'd seen so far.





(On the upside, I think she is ready for a visit to the Royal Highland Show in Edinburgh. Someday.)


And of course, there's nothing like the joy of returning home after an especially exciting set of hours. When I ask her at home "what does the cow say," she just laughs and laughs!






At the music class she is her usual radiant self (possibly more than one grandma has said this of her grandchild). She is learning not only songs and rhythm, but also restraint and she is not too young to understand that there is a time for exuberance and a time for quiet. Tonight, she shows that she can do both very very well.

It's just an hour short of her bedtime when we get home to the farmhouse. Ed has picked up take-out Japanese for dinner, but still, it takes me a bit of time to tidy up and set out the food. All evening long, Snowdrop is at her best. She follows me around but settles in to amuse herself whenever I need time to wash dishes or eat my own dinner.



pots: I'll just examine grandma's pots...


Tomorrow she may act like a 2 month old, but tonight she is no longer a baby -- she gives us a glimpse of herself as a child.