Tuesday

I'll give you the closing line first: despite the obvious hurdles, it was a beautiful day -- maybe because it was so obvious that it could have turned sour at any turn. But it didn't turn sour. Not in the slightest.

Let me sit back and reflect on why.

To begin with the delineation of hiccups, it was cold. I knew that this was the day that would test our spring rhapsody, but still, you have to be disappointed when you wake up to temperatures that are more than twenty degrees below what we had yesterday, and that stay more than twenty degrees below what we had yesterday.

(A wet and disappointed daffodil...)






By now, Ed, too, has succumbed to the sniffles and he asked for the one medicine that he believes is necessary for a cold -- chicken noodle soup. I obliged. (The flower vase is filled with daffodils that I had to cut down because the cheepers had leveled them...)






Since Ed is more under the weather than I am, I volunteer to clean the coop and set things straight for the cheepers.

I am amused to run into this rather adorable cheeper conflict: Henny is roosting (as these days is her habit) on a bale of hay. Java decides she wants to lay an egg too. She climbs all over Henny and at one moment, I was sure she will suffocate the little brown girl, but no: they settle into an amicable moment, though Java wiggles enough to let Henny know that she does not have the most comfortable place on the hay, but is making do.






(Looking toward the farmhouse -- do you see how lovely it appears now that its framed in so much more than winter brown?)







Snowdrop was at her sniffly-sickest this morning -- not easy for her mommy who, herself is still working through whatever bug or virus is raging here right now. We debate whether the little girl is up for what she most craves right now -- a long stroller adventure. I mean, it's only 45F (7C) outside and though Snowdrop is not terribly sick, she is also not terribly well.

In the end, we decide it's a go, and never was a decision better made.

(Here she is, begging to go out...)





Snowdrop perks up immediately as we walk through her familiar neighborhood. She asks, rather meekly, if we can go to the playground.

I offer her the zoo in stead.

She cannot believe her luck! It's a longish hike. We rarely go. Really?? The zoo??

I know I brought her here once in the dead of winter (we drove over), but today, I see that she is older, wiser, and with a better grasp on the reality of viewing the animals who live here. I can tell her: no, the polar bears cannot hurt you through the thick glass -- and she sees that this is the case. She no longer runs away from their imposing presence.






We visit all her beloved animal friends and as we prepare to leave, she asks -- can we go on the merry-go-round?

I thought the answer is surely no. It's midweek. Not a summer midweek,  but an April midweek. Cold. Not many people in the park.

But perhaps because it is spring break for schools, the merry-go-round is indeed up and running!

Oh, does the girl love a good spin on a panda!






I mean, she really loves to pieces her carousel ride!






And when it comes to a close, she begs, begs, begs for a ride on the biggest animal -- the lion.





This is what joyous confidence looks like!


On our walk home, we pass an idle fire truck.  A fire fighter gets out and presents Snowdrop with a fire hat. The little one is 100% great with politeness, blurting out thank yous and any such words as may be required and yes, I am proud of her, and, too, grateful to the firefighter who thought to save a plastic hat for this random little girl who happened to be passing by.






At home again, it takes her a little bit to settle into her nap and play routines, but it seemed to me that by the time I leave in the evening, things are pretty much back to near normal.






And that makes me so very happy.

Monday

An article in this morning's paper caught my eye: the author put forth some suggestions on how to flip a typically negative person onto a road of positive thinking. It's not that the suggestions weren't obvious, but one small item made me smile: the author, herself a senior-ish person, described how each morning, her routines take her past a pack of toddlers on their way to some activity or other. She has taken to interacting with them -- throwing out a greeting, a smile, a high five, a word of encouragement. And this just puts her in such a good mood!

I understand that. You'll see today two sets of photos -- those of my early morning glimpses of spring at the farmette. In the second set, you'll see spring, but with Snowdrop in the thick of things. The hope is that you'll see our spring just a tiny bit through her eyes. And really, if the smile is already there for the first set of photos, it should grow ten fold for the second.

And I must add, that from an adult perspective, the day was beautiful but kind of drippy, too. That is, all the female members of our family here are dripping away with the sniffles -- enough so that it would threaten to dampen the spirit of so many of us. But now Snowdrop. She takes on the world despite these inconveniences. All you have to do is follow along and smile.

First then, the beautiful morning flowers, now finally showing off their pretty faces.






Cheepers! Leave them alone! Please do not knock down another daffodil. Please. (Ed, the defender of the cheepers, responds -- oh, there are plenty of flowers. Really. And the fallen ones will only grow back stronger next year!)






The buds on the trees are robust now. A couple of warm days and there you have it -- we are green. We've arrived!






Breakfast on the porch! (Ed, you look too serious in the photo!)






(Let me include another of just the flowers...)







And then I go and pick up Snowdrop for a lunch date with gaga at Madison Sourdough.







Afterwards, she wants adventure! Here's her "take on the world" pose.






I pull out the troller and we walk the neighborhood. Oh, the flowers!





Such beautiful spring flowers!


And then we are home, at the farmette. (I'd pulled back her hair with a ribbon... She discovered it as we got out of the car. So long, ribbon!)







I had purchased a watering can more to Snowdrop's size and she has been wanting very much to water "her strawberries." Today, we set out to do this. Her devotion to the task and commitment to soaking every plant made even serious faced Ed smile and smile! Three pics from this project:
















And when I really thought the berries had had enough for one day, to avert disappointment, I let Snowdrop water the daffodils. Why not?!






A run through the front yard among the blue flowers...






A peek at the tomato seedlings...






And one last run out back, before I have to rein her in and insist on a nap.





Storms came through this afternoon and the air is decidedly cooler now, in the evening. We don't mind. There's enough spring beauty out there for now. We'll take the time to let it sink in before we move on to the next thrilling stage of this most beautiful season.

Sunday

This afternoon, as Ed and I cleared the grapes, chipped the young orchard and dug out weeds in this year's tomato bed, I blurted out to him -- it's too hot!

And it was. I'm sure we toppled a record with an afternoon temp of 74F (upwards of 23C). And the air was fairly still and it felt, well, sultry!

It didn't start off that way. Indeed, as I got up and set the thermostat somewhat higher (we keep it cool at night, but fairly pleasant during the day), I was greatly dismayed that the mechanism was non responsive. In other words, the furnace was broken.

On the one hand, you want the furnace to malfunction on a warm day, on the other hand, you don't want it to malfunction in April in Wisconsin because as sure as there are buds on willow trees now, we will most definitely need furnace warmth in the course of this spring.






And so we did the usual division of labor, which is pathetically gendered, but very much in line with our own skill set: I clean the farmhouse, Ed fixes the furnace. A new circuit board and boom! We have heat again. Even as we do not need or want it on this day.

Breakfast is late and therefore an easy slide into the great outdoors. It's warm, it's lovely, it's on the porch!






After, as I noted already -- we worked the land. And I have to say, it isn't anyone's favorite sort of work. Digging out quack grass roots and other terribly invasive weeds is only fun for the first hour or so. But we were ambitious and went after the whole veggie patch, which took a long time and left me thinking -- wouldn't this have been easier if I wasn't dripping with sniffles?

Nah... So long as you're feeling congested and miserable (did I mention that I'm fighting sniffles?), you may as well do the most tedious outside chores.


It may feel sultry and perhaps too warm for early April, but it is true that the warm air does a little magic in our daffodil beds. I wouldn't say we're amassing yellow blooms just yet...






... but we're starting to see the cheerful yellow faces and they are an utter delight for me.






Cheepers, please go scratch somewhere else. Please. Not here!






In the evening, the young family comes for Sunday dinner. Snowdrop just cannot believe her luck: we're eating outside on the porch? -- she asks again and again.

Yes, we are.






Such joy to feel the full beauty of a warm spring day over a meal outside. Such total joy!






Snowdrop loves it all: the food, the company, the breeze that blows from one end of the porch to the other (and all I keep thinking is -- when did she flip from looking like a toddler to looking like a big girl?)...







After dinner, she's in. She's out. She runs this way, she goes that way. I fretted that the stairs Ed built that lead up from the porch to the kitchen would be too high and tough for her to navigate. I needn't have worried.







That moment when winter changes to spring comes quickly. And when the air is warm and the flowers do their thing, you just can't believe your luck!

(What are you eating, Snowdrop? Ahah gave me a cookie! Oh that ahah!)






We're two days shy of a full moon and I must admit -- there is a high cloud cover that makes it nearly impossible to see any moon at all, but no matter. The moon is there and the owls will start their hooting music and I cannot imagine a sweeter transition than the one we have now -- from winter, to full spring.

Saturday

How can you not love a day like this? The birdsong outside is pronounced, the sun fights off high clouds all day long, the air is warm. (By afternoon, we're at 70F, or 21C!) If yesterday was very very good, today is fantastic!

Breakfast!






And then, because it is Saturday, I drive over to Snowdrop's home to pick up the little girl and her mommy for an outing downtown to listen to music for young ones.

(They're ready and waiting as I drive up.)






Snowdrop is full of chatter and anticipation. The weekly music shows have exposed her to a great variety of songs and instruments and I cannot find enough words of praise for this (free) winter program for little ones.

Many of the photos today are from our outing. It was tremendously rewarding to snap pictures of this happy child...






Too, she is for the first time decked out for warmer weather and I know this isn't a big deal to those living in warmer climates, but for us, the day you put on your summer frock is special. (She was not the only one in the audience honoring the season in this way.)







The group this week performed music that in some way reached all age levels and we managed to sit at the very front, so that Snowdrop had a chance to bounce around with the others when invited to do so.






(Applause, applause!)







And after the show, I return to the farmette and even though I am on my next bout of the sniffles, I choose to ignore them and Ed and I work hard to clean up the farmette lands (while the cheepers laze and graze...)






... and, too, I work with extra enthusiasm to clean up the porch, so that by late afternoon, I can, for the first time this year, do this!






So this is it: in a few weeks, I'll take for granted these moments on the porch (no, never!). I wont fume at cheepers decimating my few young plants, because the rest of the flowers will rise and tower and their blooms will distract me from any small losses.

Night. Clouds roll in. I tell Ed to bring in the door mats (which we hosed down earlier in the day). We may get rain.

Spring thoughts. And a sigh of contentment for a day well spent.

Friday

Well now, the skies have opened up to spring! If yesterday was good, today is very very good! So sunny, that at breakfast, I commented that there's such a thing as too bright! (I didn't mean it. Not when "bright" has been so missing from our weather discourse.)






Fridays are not outdoor work days for us. Ed has his meetings and I have my weekly shopping, but this set schedule doesn't bother me: there is no pressure to accomplish great things at the farmette. I need only enjoy looking out and later, with Snowdrop, going for a walk along the sun drenched blocks of her neighborhood. All the way to the playground.


(She's grateful that I remembered a band for a pony tail: it keeps the hair out of her face on the swing.)






(Always distracted if she hears or sees a child somewhere down the block...)






I let her keep her jacket off, which I know would cause many to squirm as it's only in the mid 50sF (low teens C), but surely the sun gives us the requisite warmth! And the freedom she feels from climbing unencumbered by outerwear is fantastic!






You can only love a day this much if you've put up with months of a Wisconsin winter. We have and so we are entitled! Pure joy!






(A selfie of sorts.)






(At her home, still climbing, this time to take off her shoes. Tussled and windblown, but smiling.)






Friday evening. A recent habit is that my daughter and I pause for a while at the end of the week. To catch up. Exchange stories. Watch the little girl together. Good bye past week, past season. Hello beautiful weather. Hello quiet night. Hello nearly full moon, nearly warm weather, nearly perfect days of spring.