pink and red and blue all over

Last year, it snowed on Valentine's Day. I have pictures of a blanketed farmette. Winter seemed stubbornly entrenched.

Today could not be more different. Sunshine and a relative warmth. You wake up thinking spring thoughts.

Happy Valentine's Day indeed!

Breakfast bathed in sunlight!






And a morning spent outside. We survey our newly chipped field out back, still a bit clueless as to what should become of it.





How about planting blueberries? Snowdrop said she'd like to grow more blueberries.
What, a whole field of blueberries? So that we're swamped with them for a few weeks? That is if we even succeed in keeping the soil right and the deer at bay...
How about a few blueberries, a few flowers and then some white pines?

It goes on like this. It will go on like this. We cannot come up with a perfect plan.

And so we concentrate on the front yard today. We dump some chips to expand the road-facing flower bed. And then I do some pruning, grumbling the whole while that our trees need serious pruning -- something that I bring up each year, even as Ed dismisses it as totally unnecessary.


At around noon, I pick up a happy Snowdrop.






I know what she would love most right now and I'm quite willing to indulge her -- it's Valentine's Day, no? Stroller time!

We go for a longer walk -- all the way to the more distant coffee shop -- a place she and I hadn't been to since the warmer days of fall.

She needs no reminder about where to find the high chair.






("Can I have a banana?")






Today (well, every day...) I would give you the world, little one!

When I tell her there's a small gift waiting for her at the farmhouse, she is excited. ("I am excited" is definitely in her vocabulary!)

It's not much, really. A few books and a few stuffies that depict the characters from those books (we're on a Piggie and Gerald the Elephant roll and, too, "digesting" the pigeon books by the same author). But Snowdrop has always appreciated each gift handed to her, big or small, and she spends a lovely afternoon introducing her new pals to her world of toys.






("I want to dance with piggie!")






("One more dance!")






There is a tiny bit of a downside to the day: nearly half of Snowdrop's class is out with a virus and toward evening, the little one succumbs to it. Oh, she is sweet as can be, but most of the remaining time at the farmhouse is spent in lap formation.







Sunset. I can't really see it from the farmhouse -- too many trees stand in the way. But if I look out on the fields to the east, the red glow is there.






A fitting color combination. Happy Valentine's Day. With love.

Monday

If you're told that February 13th is going to sunny and quite warm (mid 40F or 6-ish C), you set your hopes for that day. Walk outside! Work outside! Play outside!

I suppose, looking back now, the day had all three elements. But they didn't come in the way I had expected them to.

Breakfast -- the ever predictable and today, very sunny morning meal.






I push for a walk then. I think we haven't spent much time outdoors this winter. No snow, lots of ice and now squishy mud -- it's all rather uninviting. Since we were told we could dig into the wood chips that are being dumped in the back of our property line, we head out on foot to find a path to get to them with Ed's truck.

Walking through the farmed fields, we realize that the mud, along with layers of ice make this a poor place to drive through with a truck. But as we get to the now mountains of chips, the workman (whom we met yesterday) pauses and asks if we would like them dumped directly within the farmette lands.






I respond with a resounding and enthusiastic yes!

And this is how we wind up with the first big mountain of chips on our land.






(While the venerable farmhouse looks on, amused.)





Now what?

We try to drive the truck through our property so that we can load it up with chips -- to be distributed at the ever expanding flower bed at the front of the farmette.

The truck gets stuck.

Again and again.

The wood chip piles (there is more than one) are high. We should at least throw down the chips more evenly on the ground, no? Out come the pitchforks. We set to work. It's such slow going!

The driver comes back with another load and looks at us with disbelief.
You're going to do that by hand?
He shakes his head. Let my drive up with the track skid steer and spread them out for you.

And of course, that is just lovely. He'll do the work in a few minutes for which we would have needed at least a week.

Still, what are we going to do with a field full of chips out back? Sure, they'll drown out the weeds. The first year. Maybe. But can we sow buckwheat or rye grass on top of chips? Can we sow anything on top of chips? Or should we haul some (all? no....!)  back to the front?

What the heck did I get us into?

But, it's nearly noon now and so we can't fret. I need to pick up Snowdrop and Ed has an afternoon meeting. We'll come back to this problem later.


Snowdrop is delighted that I have the stroller out for her after school.






She is happy to roll along and explain her surroundings to me. She is also happy to pause at the coffee shop.






And she is happy to be returning to the farmette, and to be invited to ride the red wagon as soon as I take her out of the car.
Snowdrop, we're going out back! You can play in wood chips! A machine is spreading them out for us as we speak!

She is not happy to be going out back for a face to face encounter with big, mean, loud track skid steer that has fangs large enough to snap up more than just wood chips.






Still, I have to persevere. Ed's not back yet -- I need to touch base with the construction guy. I pick her up and we approach the monster machine at the same time that the farmer who farms the fields immediately to our north comes up to join us. He's puzzled about the game plan for this land for this season. Can he farm it? What part? For how long? Of course, we're curious as to the details too, but we already know that the construction crew just do the work. The plans are not for them to lay forth. And so we spend a pleasant if unproductive ten minutes with Snowdrop clinging to me, staring with trepidation and an occasional whimper at mean truck, while the super helpful construction person engages me in a pleasant conversation about accents, explaining that mine doesn't like I'm Wisconsin-born, and, too, with the truck farmer proudly telling us that his Hmong daughter speaks like a true Wisconsinite even as he himself clearly does not.

It is a fascinating set of minutes, even as I'm sure Snowdrop would beg to differ.


Inside, I tell the little one that I have some new books for her. She runs over to her shelf and pulls out one that is in fact not new, but nor have I read it to her before. I note this because it is a fascinating choice, considering the weather outside.






Snowdrop is in command of her space once more and she very quickly asks for the yoga mat again.











I understand her need for meditation. She has been through a lot.


Of course, when the weather is so very pleasant, everyone wants to profit from it. I know that Snowdrop had already spent a good number of hours outdoors with her classmates. It's not surprising that she wants inside time. And so I forgo luring her out again. We spend a quiet set of hours playing in the farmhouse. You can enjoy the sun from here, too, after all!






Inside play... Drawing, for example. Oh how Snowdrop loves to draw!






And when we join in this with her -- heaven.






We're not returning to winter weather tomorrow. But I will not guess as to what the day might bring. Life is very unpredictable. Most often (though not always), that's a good thing.

with an eye toward spring

No, I'm not rushing the seasons. Yes I know we're not even in the middle of February. Sure there will be cold days before winter officially ends. Heck, there was a frost in May last year.

Still, it surely feels wonderful to wake up to a sunny day and to watch the temperatures hover near the 40F (just over 4C) mark!

So I wont call today's farmhouse cleaning a Sunday ritual, I'll call it spring cleaning!

A late, sunny breakfast.






And then I ask Ed -- do you want to do some spring yard work?

No, I don't mean the real clean up stuff that happens when the ground thaws. But there are late winter things we can do. Pruning for example.





And yes, that's Ed feeling perfectly comfortable in shorts. (I do not understand his internal temperature regulation, truly I don't.)

I have to say, the wind is rather gusty, so it actually feels a tad on the chilly side. I'm in a puffy jacket and I regret not wearing a warm cap. So we don't work too hard or too long. A few limbs out front, a glance at the flower bed there, some talk of how to expand it and then we're done.

But rather than retreating inside, I propose a walk down to where the new development work has begun. We're still perplexed as to why the trees are being chopped down. We've studied the plans for the new neighborhood and the trees grow in what is designated as a nature area. We make our way through very muddy terrain.

They're piling wood chips from the felled trees just at our property line. We have no idea what they propose to do with them.






Oh, a deer is heading our way. She, too, is wondering what happened to the line of trees that gave her shelter as she made her way to our yard.






("Where are the trees?")






She saunters off.






Since it's Sunday, there is, of course, no work activity in the fields. A few odd pieces of equipment have been left behind, but mostly the area is empty. Until we spot a red truck coming this way.

I run to meet up with the driver. We're hungry for an update!

He doesn't know much beyond what we already are seeing. He is on the construction crew and today his kids are along for the ride so that they can see the work that dad has been doing this week.






But he does tell us that he thinks that we can cart off a load of chips if we're hurting for some.

We are always in need of wood chips! Always. The challenge will be to get anything through the mud right now.

We return to the farmhouse. I have a dinner to prepare, Ed has some odd jobs to do. The sky is still cloudless, the air so very reminiscent of an early, super early spring day.





You can't complain when you're handed this prize in February. You just can't.


Evening. The young family is here for dinner. Snowdrop immediately hits her tea party table. Of course she does! It's been... four days!






But she can't be away from the epicenter of fun: the kitchen. And she loves tonight's foods! Asparagus! A treat right up there with cookies, croissants and raisins!






Lovely dinner...






(Sharing dessert raisins with ahah.)






Lovely night, lovely thoughts of spring.

Saturday

Every day offers its surprises.

Take the weather: we have above freezing temps in the week before us. In February? Unusual. (And very much appreciated!)

(But the sun stays hidden. Breakfast is in the front room.)





The unpredictability of life! It's always so apparent to me! You think you have it all figured out? You know what's coming? Really??


In the late morning, I go over to Snowdrop's home. I'm to pick up the little girl and her mom so that we can drive downtown to the performing arts center.  We'll be going to listen to Klezmer music for children (you don't know it? Jewish music with Eastern European origins. It's like hearing something from Poland, only different! Of course, the forced movement of Jewish populations in the last century transformed this music. Think Klezmer with Mexican influence in Texas, or Klezmer with jazz influence in New York.)

I arrive at Snowdrop's home. She is ready.
Mommy, where are you? Come down mommy!







Coat on, little girl!






At the performing arts center, Snowdrop is again fascinated by the skylight.






And the music thrills her!






She wears herself out with her enthusiasm!






Applause applause! Yeah!






I return the girl and her mommy home.


Afternoon at the farmhouse. Ed and I try to Get Things Done! But somehow it's not all falling together. It's as if you had the simplest leggo structure to put together and you were absolutely sure that a crucial piece was missing. And your partner in the building project firmly believed that you had the wrong sketch before you.
It's not the piece, it's the plan!
You don't see it, but it's the piece! There's nothing wrong with the plan!


Somewhere down the line Ed suggests that we go to Candina's chocolate shop -- a pleasant country drive to a chocolatier that we both love.
I'll buy you a box of chocolates, gorgeous.

I know, of course, what he's up to. First of all, he wants to get us off the "leggo plan versus missing piece" discussion. Too, he doesn't really want to get sucked into the whole Valentine's Day game and he's doing the preemptive move: get her chocolates now.

I'm agreeable. Not because I am desperate for chocolates, but because I think it's cool that every now and then Ed wants to be the good guy in the game of relational shenanigans, even as he presents a stern front of indifference to it all.

We enter the chocolate shop. Ed sits down as I put in my special chocolate request to the clerk. He happens to be positioned right by a rack of Valentine's Day cards.
If you've got nothing to do, you might pick out a card for me...
You want a card?
Only if you want to get me a card.
So you want a card, right?
Not if you're not into it.
Okay, I'll get you a card. Which one?
Oh for goodness sake: you decide!
But which one do you want???
Pick one that best expresses your feelings!

That's just such a funny statement on my part. "Best expresses your feelings..." Does Ed really probe into his feelings to examine them carefully enough to see which card best expresses what's there?






But I offer no help. I pick the chocolates, he picks the card. Here's the winning combo:






But I tell him he's not done.
Whaaat? I got the card!
It's blank inside. You need to write something. 
Do you have a pencil?
A pencil?
So that if I get it wrong and you don't like it, we can erase and start all over.
I'll like it if it expresses your feelings...
How about something like "you're difficult but I adore you anyway?"
I give him a hard look.

In the end, he does write, and with a pen, and it's sweet as can be. I'll let that stay between him and me.






I must mention that earlier, before the chocolates and the card, Ed and I went to the garden expo. Yes, that! And it was fine. We spoke to one set of experts about red aphids invading my mock sunflowers and the beetles invading our grapes and cherries and then on a less troubled note, we went back to the Minnesota couple who come here to sell their lily bulbs. We'd bought some bulbs last year and they were wonderful. Today, in a nod to our imminent (well sort of) planting season, we buy some more.

But I have no photos of that. Instead, I'll leave you with a picture of something that another vendor brought down all the way from Seattle. Vases. Lovely ones that show off each stem of a flower (or vegetable or fruit and herb!) combination.  We did not buy any because they were pricey and because we felt that they were not fitting with the more traditional style of the farmhouse. But my oh my, do I admire these presentations! I love bringing flowers (and then some!) into the house. Perhaps in these months of rampant words and acts of violence and cruelty, we need flowers more than ever to help elevate our spirits.

Beauty, goodness, kindness. Flowers, fruits and vegetables. Grown with hard work, presented with exquisite artistic flair. The kind you have to welcome from far and wide.

Friday

It is the most regular of regular Fridays! Like clockwork! (And a happy clock it is.)

See that bit of sunlight? It's enough to put a smile on a face! (See that smile on his face?)





Grocery shopping -- on schedule! And rising temperatures, so that by the time I'm to pick up Snowdrop, it's above freezing. Stroller time!

I want to go see the snowmen -- she tells me. (We had passed by three hefty guys the last time we walked home from school.)
Um, sorry little one. They toppled over. Snowmen melt when it gets warmer. (And we wonder where she had picked up that sweet "um" before starting in on a sentence!)

We play at her home today.

Drawing. On the blackboard this time.






Faces, rainbows and who knows what else...






(Sunshine on the stairs! Sunshine, sunshine everywhere!)






(Pretend washing is nearly as much fun as the real thing.)






Dusk. My daughter is home now and we spend some time looking over their family album. We munch on nuts and sip our drinks and revel in the sweet quiet of this Snow Moon evening.






So perfectly regular and so perfectly wonderful.