Wednesday's storms

Given the terrible storms that have passed through this country in recent weeks, I can hardly complain about ours this morning. The most disturbing feature was the noise. It has been a long time since I've heard that kind of crashing thunder -- one that seems to rip through everything in its path only to explode in a terrible crescendo at the end.

It was a good reminder that not all days can be sunny and bright.

We ate breakfast in the front room, with all lights on.






Snowdrop seems rather unfazed by poor weather and after school, she steps out into the great gray outdoors (if there is a rail within reach, she's on her own!) with confidence and excitement.






I am less thrilled with taking a walk in the cold rain. She is disappointed at my decision, but happy to learn that we'd run out of cookies yet again and so cookie baking at the farmhouse is definitely a top priority.






(The best part, after licking the egg beaters and sneaking a dip into the brown sugar bag -- the raisins!)






(Yep, the raisins.)






(Killing time while the cookies bake.)






(A dancing spatula!)






(Finally!)






Toward evening, Snowdrop's mommy comes over to take the girl home. She lingers for a while as Snowdrop asks for a book reading...






Mommy stretches her back, Snowdrop scribbles.






I remember the rainy days of my childhood. Colored pencils were our go-to toy. We drew many many rainbows and sunsets, adding color to paper even as it was missing in the skies outside. Snowdrop likes her fat crayons, but she especially loves drawing with a pencil. "Lines!" -- she says proudly. Yes, Snowdrop, those are beautiful lines!






We have a frost advisory for the next two nights. The four cymbidium orchids, which spend the late spring, summer and early fall months outside will have to come in for a few days. But we're far from a solid frost yet. The annuals will keep on going through at least the end of the month. It's been a very warm Autumn!

Tuesday

We have fallen into our winter morning routines. You can tell without my mentioning it if it's a sunny morning or not by where we eat breakfast. Front room today (aka the old farmhouse porch, now used mainly as Snowdrop's play area). Cloudy!





But it is a misleading beginning. By late morning the sun is out and indeed, it feels ridiculously warm outside. Is this really the middle of October?

As I step out to drive over to Snowdrop's school, I listen for a while to Ed and his friend try to pry the rusted parts off of the old truck. I like the sound of two men (it could be women, but around here it will always be two men) shouting directions, working cooperatively toward the higher goal of breathing life again into something that at least visually belongs in a junk pile.  It's reassuring to know that what seems impossible to one, suddenly is not so impossible when someone lends a hand. By the time I leave, they have nearly all of the offending parts removed. (The fix is the next challenge. There is always a next challenge.)






It's so pretty outside! I bring the stroller with me so that the little girl and I can take a spin around the neighborhood. Today was picture day at school and so she looks extra fine for it. No matter how many photos I will take of Snowdrop, nothing will match the specialness of a very first school picture day.

She pushes the stroller...






... but not for long. This really is her tired time.

Still, she is happy to stop by the coffee shop and waits patiently (well, reasonably patiently) for her piece of cookie.






We sit outside of course and she is in the sweetest of moods. Her weekend bug seems so far away!






We're right next to the playground and so I let her have a few minutes on the swing -- which she loves, proving that she has many genes from people who are not me.






She tries to keep her hair out of her eyes and mouth, but it is too windy. I hand over my own hair tie. She is happy to keep it on this time.

But when she starts climbing on anything that is climbable, I tell her it's time to go home.






We're at her house this afternoon and she is content to scoot around with her penguin until I insist that it really is time to rest.






In the evening, there is a bit of extra fun, as both Snowdrop and her mom come over to the farmhouse for supper.

(Predinner play)





(Appetite -- back on track)






(Close of the day laughter)





Ah, but that everyone's day would end with a big wide grin, a snuggle, a hug...

Monday in photos

Yesterday, Ed and I did a detour to Farm and Fleet and though I promised myself I would buy not a single tulip bulb (I lost more than half in spring to animals), in the end, I could not resist. Now, when to plant them?

I start this morning. By the end of the day I have 12 in the ground and about 100 various other bulbs still in the mudroom, waiting.

Also yesterday, I said to Ed that if I could only figure out how to fit the red wagon into my small Mazda, I would take it with me to Snowdrop's school and she and I would then go to the Arboretum for a spin up the grassy knoll. He and I practiced getting it in and out and when I finally could do it by myself in under five minutes, I breathed a sigh of satisfaction and planned my Monday outing with her.

It was not the greatest idea I've ever had. Pushing her nap to reap that beautiful afternoon sunshine may seem theoretically grand, but the little one is tired after school and she could not make up her mind if riding or walking were the way to go. In the end, she enjoyed a quick "picnic," but then was ready to curl up in the wagon as I wheeled her back to the car.

Of course, kids are a funny lot: one minute they're tired, the next minute they're not. By the time we came home, she was happy to go out into the garden, happy to feed the cheepers, thrilled to watch Ed fix his truck and not at all ready for a nap.

Go figure.

So of course, after her nap, we return to watching ah-ah fix the truck. Exasperated with rusted fasteners, Ed says -- "I'll get back to this later." Snowdrop says -- "ah ah pull wagon!" And then "ah ah read toot toot!"

It is, in the end, a very beautiful day. What you just read is amply illustrated below. I hope you had a chance to exhale all the news and news commentary out of your system -- just enough to enjoy a moment outside, no matter what the weather. And if it was as gorgeous where you are as it was here, I do really hope you have a chance to take it all in and smile at the beauty of all that grows and thrives around us.


(Breakfast. Sun room.)






(Don't you want to feed us some bread? Later!)






(This rose is almost the last to give it up for the year.)






(The new front bed is doing well. Thinking ahead to Spring, I  add a few bulbs.)






(Snowdrop in the wagon at the Arobertum.)






(The trees are just starting to turn.)






(A picnic?)






(Sharing.)






(A girl and her cow.)






(Where the wild birds roam.)






(Do you want to lie down and rest? Yes.)






(At the farmette, revived.)






(After nap: even more revived.)






(Wants so much to understand what grandpa Ed is fixing on his truck...)






(Begs him to take her for a wagon ride. He never says no.)






(Inside again, asking him to "read Toot toot!" Yeah, he does a great imitation of a train horn.)






The clouds move in and out, touching the moon, receding, returning, receding. Lovely and serene.

Sunday, Sunday

In the darkness of the night, as I waited for Snowdrop's next call for help, I thought -- this is like Snowdrop's first night in Paris (she had the hardest time sleeping then, more so than at any other time in her life), except without the Eiffel Tower outside our windows.

Still, the little girl slept late and more importantly, woke up looking like her old self again.

A quick snack, a bath and then a breakfast of waffles -- something I hadn't made since my own girls were young.

She is slightly surprised that we are eating in the sun room. It seems a game. Our usual "you sit there and you sit there and I sit here."






But despite her still tentative appetite, she has no objection to the waffles.






As I get Snowdrop ready to go home, Ed attempts to get the truck out so that we can haul kayaks to a nearby river. Snowdrop discovers her wagon and between that and Ed's machinations with the truck, the little girl is just entranced.






The truck is a lost cause for now. I take Snowdrop home where she is so happy to see her mommy again and then I return to Ed and the problem of the day's adventure. No truck, no kayaks. Well that's fine! Let's do a good hike!

He searches for interesting trail segments, I search for Henny's eggs. She has been hiding them again.

Success! Ed finds a trail, I find the eggs. (Henny, why would you lay in the dirt bucket tucked away in the garage??)







We hike the Ice Age Trail segment just at the outskirts of Janesville (some 35 miles to the south of us). The trail runs along the Rock River and the views are tremendous!






The limestone cliffs rise to the east, the sun dapples between the trees that are still full of leaves.










But the colors are of this season.






We end up in a lovely park, one that I imagine Snowdrop would love to some day visit. (Ed and I try out some of the potential fun moments.)





And then we hurry home because it is Sunday and of course this is the day Snowdrop and her family (just mom today) are here for dinner.

Can you tell that the little one is feeling so much better?






She's happy, so we're happy. Ed -- well, he's happy but also hungry.






By the way, Snowdrop insists that we drag in a grown up chair for her for dinner. She's just recovering so we are more amenable to ridiculous requests. Of course, she enjoys spinning around in it until we turn stern and remind her that this is dinnertime.





Such a Sunday! Capped by an evening of debate viewing. Some would think this is a depressing way to end an evening. Not me. My granddaughter's on the mend, my daughters are well, Ed and I hiked under a brilliant sky. There isn't much out there that could bring me down tonight, sleep deprivation notwithstanding.