a Saturday where the rules are broken

We knew there would be some snow. But when a winter storm is predicted for the night, you never can tell what you'll find when you wake up. Would it fizzle to nothing? Would we see a snow cover at all? It's actually rare to have substantial snow here before Thanksgiving.

Ah, but this time is different. There are no rules, after all, where storms are concerned. We wake up to beautiful snow.






The crab apple trees sport a lovely layer of white stuff.






The pinwheels don't give up, despite the drifting banks of snow.






My wreath, purchased yesterday and not even properly placed yet, is already covered with it.






I stumble out to my car. Snow-covered. I use a broom to do away with most of the heavy stuff. It's not yet the sunrise hour, but it shouldn't matter -- no one will be watching the sun popping the horizon here today. If the roads are navigable, I want to go out and see this wintry landscape of ours! I'm one of those who will always be thrilled by the first big snowfall.






It'll always look beautiful to me.






I drive toward our Lake Waubesa -- always such a pretty spot...






Though of course, the water hasn't frozen yet. We've barely had a couple of nights with below freezing temperatures!






At the farmette, we've been slackers in terms of winterizing the cheepers' living quarters and so even before breakfast, we pick up the coop (with the hens inside -- no one wanted to step out into the white ground!) and move it into the barn, surrounding it on three sides with straw bales. The cheepers seem relieved. We restock their food supply and clear a path for them, though to our knowledge, they never leave the coop today.


As I walk back to the farmhouse to fix breakfast, I pause to admire the now quite different view.






It's beautifully warm inside, but I've been running around as if it were autumn out there. Hot shower first!

And now for a good breakfast.






And then it strikes me that Snowdrop should have a sled and she should have it soon, because if our last Wisconsin winter were to be any marker of our snowfalls, we may not have many weeks where she can enjoy it.

 I study toddler sleds on Amazon. Ed is shaking his head. Why buy new, when some good soul wants to get rid of the old? We turn to Craigs list and sure enough a dad wants to offload the sled his son never grew to love. One time I took him out in it and it flipped and he never would go in it again!

It's perfect. Just Snowdrop's size (the sled is for a toddler, but she is a very big girl). Snowdrop's mommy suggests the two of us take her out in it in the late afternoon and I'm thrilled to tag along!

But first, Ed and I have a ski date. Oh, how I love these quick spins on the trails just up the road from us!






This time, it's as if fall and winter were put in a blender and after a few robust turns, out came this day. The wind is brisk and the temperatures remain below freezing, but it's thrilling to be out on skis again.






The skies are blue now, but not for long: the sun is sinking and the shadows grow long.





Oh, but it's so good to be skiing again!

And then I hastily drop Ed off at the farmhouse and drive over to Snowdrop's home. Her mommy has purchased some warm shoes for the girl. She tries them on. Perfect fit!






On goes the snowsuit. Typically she is not thrilled to be dressed for the cold outdoors, but she is patient this time. Maybe she knows that a first snowfall is special?






We take two sleds -- her mom has an adult toboggan and of course, I have this child's sled. We put her in it and her mom pulls her along (I pull the toboggan). The light is so beautiful now!






Snowdrop's mom is enthusiastic about the outing and this makes all the difference to the little girl. She even occasionally cracks a smile!






We're at the top of the small hill. The views are tremendous! (Though it looks like you could go straight into the lake from here. Rest assured -- you cannot.)






Her mom tests the run herself first. Good. Nice and slow. I pick up the girl from her sweet wee sled...






... and put her in the lap of her mom. Down they go. And one more time!





I can't say they flew with Olympic speed. And an attempt to show Snowdrop how to do a snow angel is less successful. Still, without a doubt it was a beautiful outing. For all of us.

I drive home so deeply satisfied.

Pausing to admire the last of a sunset...






... and of course the moon, rising so beautifully just to the east of us.

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.