still cloudy

Many discouraging moments can be brushed away with the simple statement: it could be so much worse! So please do not take seriously my grumbling about gray skies. Not only could it be worse, but, too, the predicted rains have flirted with us, often holding off during the hours I am with Snowdrop. The girl loves our time outside and the weather gods have been kind in allowing us long moments of outdoor play.

Still, I wake up to gray skies.

There is a tantalizing moment of partly blue up there... Here, take a look at the streaks of sunshine! So rare these days!







One more photo -- early morning, of our beloved farmhouse...






That's it. The clouds take over.

We eat breakfast in the unsunny sunroom.






Later in the day, I pick up Snowdrop. We have a surprise for her: mommy is with us!

The girl is one big happy grin.




We start our neighborhood walk, admiring the colors, the tall trees...





But then the rain comes down and it comes down hard. No matter! It's a perfect time to play pretend games inside the car!





... and then to come home and yes, you guessed it -- read books.






And do giant puzzles of dancing girls...






And to imitate those dancing girls...





Once again, Snowdrop's smile is our own.

broken record

That's right. Weather-wise, each new day feels like a rerun of the previous one. Sort of like a record that got stuck on one of those nicks, giving us the same sad melody again and again and again. Our resolve to be out and about every single day -- prancing dancing working biking -- grows feeble. Eat a good breakfast, read a good book. That describes my morning!





(It's not a total loss: I return to youtube yoga, so that I don't morph into a complete wet noodle today.)

I study the weather maps ever so carefully: two more days of gray. Just two more!

(Looking out toward the barn from the porch: this is what "wet" looks like.)






But then comes my afternoon with Snowdrop.

The girl is not flustered by gray skies. I tell her "it may rain," and she is indifferent to the news.






At the park playground, her imagination runs wild. Her stories leave me gaping, or laughing, or both.





It's tough to pull her away from the park, but an intensifying drizzle forces our hand.

It's Thursday -- our local (Fitchburg) farmers market  takes place on this day and Snowdrop is delighted when I tell her that we'll be stopping there to pick up both cheese and the tomatoes.

My last farmers market was, of course, in Sorede. It's tempting to compare the two, but I resist doing so. In size, they are similar, in all other ways they are not. Neither is better. Merely different, nothing more.

There is, at our local market, a really sweet vendor who has contributed greatly to our tomato stock pile for the winter. She is wonderfully cool about letting Snowdrop climb onto her truck to pick out our bags of tomatoes and Snowdrop is always in seventh heaven when she is up there among bins of vegetables.






(Today, she insists that I also cart home some broccoli.)






There is a (fiberglass) cow just outside the market and Snowdrop is so very eager to grab a ride. I wipe off the wet rain and she climbs on.






At the farmhouse, she continues to produce that characteristic everlasting grin of hers. A bowl of fruit and a good book? Smile. I show her the new quilt for her big girl bed. Smile. A cookie with milk? Well of course -- smile.






My guitar? Outright laughter.





It's always the case that when those around you laugh, you laugh with them.

Evening. I reheat chili for supper. Rain out there? Maybe. But the smile lingers.

not every day can be sunny and warm, continued

We are far from a bleak, cold weather landscape. In fact, October is a pretty month in the Midwest. What we lack in flowers, we get back in foliage. Within a week or two, all the golds and ruby reds will be at their peak.

But on a cloudy and cool day, you can't help but give at least a passing thought to spring. Just five months away!

Between a gift from a friend traveling to Holland, the online catalogue of colorblends.com, and our trip yesterday to the bigbox store, I am in possession of 250 tulip bulbs and a supplemental batch of 50 daffodils (we already have a large quantity of narcissus bulbs in the ground). I am a little uneasy  about tulips, since we appear to have groundhogs who chomps away at these guys with a robust appetite, but I have the idea this year that I will overwhelm them with quantity. I mean, how many tulips can one groundhog family eat? If I plant 250, maybe half will be left behind?

Putting the bulbs in the ground has to happen in the next couple of weeks. But I wait for sunshine. October yard work is joyous on a sunny day and nothing but a chore on a gray day like today.

Breakfast -- again in the sunless sunroom.






A quick check on our two happy hens in front of a mostly flower-less garden...






... and finally a glance at the truck farmers' fields to the east of us. We haven't had a night frost, so their flowers for the markets are still coming in strong.







In the afternoon, I am, of course, with Snowdrop.






I'm convinced our play outdoors will be short. Who wants to linger in this blustery weather?

She does.






Too, we have our long play in the car afterwards...






All this means that there is little time for my planned project of baking cookies. Strawberry jam thumb prints.

But I forge ahead with it anyway: bake today, eat tomorrow.

Snowdrop! Come bake cookies with me!
I'm busy playing with the babies, grandma!







There was a time that I could decide for her what her play should be. No more. She has her own big girl agendas.

And so I embark on baking alone. Well, to a point. She cannot contain her curiosity and when I ask her to finish up with dabbing the jam onto each cookie, she is my best helper again!






Licking the spoon is, as always, the best reward.






I study the weather maps for the days ahead. Hmmm. Still cloudy. I'm okay with that, so long as we're promised lots of brilliant and sunny days in the winter season. Is it a deal?

not every day can be sunny and warm

We are not done with splendid Fall weather yet, but today there definitely is a pause: the day feels gray and cold, even though the trees are not yet bare and the temperatures are mild compared with what's ahead.

We eat breakfast in the sunless sunroom.





As the morning progresses, the skies become even more gray. It's the type of weather where you do not want to leave the house. Cozy is good!

Still, after days of hiking in Sorede, I'm wired to keep moving. I suggest a short hike.
The Ice Age train? -- Ed asks.
Too far! You see, in Sorede, you can just step outside and get moving. No time involved in getting to your hike!
Right, and only twenty hours of flights, trains and automobiles to get there from here to begin your hike.

Fine, let's focus on the beauty of our own landscape. And it is beautiful.






We settle for a walk that is really close by -- some five minutes from the farmette.





It puts us momentarily in the middle of a frisbee golf course. Do you know what that is? Instead of hitting golf balls, you throw a frisbee.

Maybe we should pick up a couple of frisbees and give it a try?
I'm too old to learn a new sport!

He ignores my protest and we drive over to the big box store to pick up some plastic disks. Let's get the brightest ones for when we shoot them into the prairie. Easier to find. I pick pink, he grabs an orange one. But learning to play is a project for another day. For now, we drive home. Yes, it's starting to look like winter browns are taking hold. But the cranes are still here! We speculate how long it takes them to fly to Florida.






At the farmette, we're far from all brown yet. Look what's blooming still! A day lily...






The surprising iris!





Fall is a tricky season: it hovers between summer and winter, never committing to either.


Afternoon: it's time for me to pick up Snowdrop at school.

Oh, that dear girl! Sweater is wet, socks are off, Castelnou flowers are on her head! Kids are sleeping, she is not.






Many hugs later, we're off for our neighborhood walk!






It's supposed to rain. I tell her we can play in the park until the first drops come down and then we'll have to run like crazy for the car. She snuggles into a jacket. It's windy out there!






The playground is where she unwinds. On the swing, on the climbing structure, in the sand -- no matter. She releases and exhales here.






And the rains hang back. I am grateful for her sake.






After the playground comes another very important half hour where we play in the car. It is like a magic bubble for her: this is where she creates her best fantasies and tells her finest stories!







At the farmette again, she serves her babies, Ed and me tea. With macarons.






She delights at correcting Ed's pronunciation of "macarons." (He doesn't roll the "r" correctly.) When he comes close to getting it -- she tells him "good job!"






The farmette will never be without color so long as this little one comes here and hands us toy macarons. The rains come down hard. We hardly give them a second thought.

back again

Even if I've been away only nine or ten days, there is always an element of surprise when I return: things change.

First, farmette life:
The garden is fully autumnal.





Notice the two girls? Only two now. Scotch died when I was gone.

Scotch was the last of the original group of hens that came to us "on loan" more than four years ago. As Ed said -- she had a great life: she moved from being shy and put in her place by the other hens, to being leader of the pack, turning into quite the bad girl toward Java and Henny. But in the last months she mellowed.

I could see that she was fading. Before I left, she would spend long hours "sunbathing." I sang her lullabies. Java hovered protectively. Finally, age crept up on her and she just never woke up.

Ed talks of adding a hen, but it's not easy to do this just before winter. We're reviewing our options.


Other changes:

The grocery store re-did its bakery section.

I went shopping early. You know how it is on this leg of time adjustment: you get up before dawn for a few days. And so I shopped for food, going only on a shot of espresso with milk ("noisette")...






... so that I could have a full lovely breakfast with Ed later.






We walked in our local county park afterwards and here, too, autumn has taken hold.






(Oh! These cranes haven't left yet!)






It is a gorgeous day and Ed led me to the spot where, over the weekend, he'd found some turtles sunbathing on logs.






(The turtles and their pond.)







And finally (and by no means is this a small thing for me) there is Snowdrop.







Her vocabulary grew by leaps and bounds in these last days. It always shocks me when I see her after a small break.






You'll see she is without a sweater. It was cool, so I offered her one. No thanks, grandma.






(On the park beach...)






At the farmette, she is overjoyed with her special gift.





She doesn't have a toy baby bottle. She settles for welcoming the new baby with her very best ice cream cone.






One last picture: of Snowdrop's happy smile for the wreath from Castelnou.






Going away can be tough. But the coming back -- ah, the coming back! Sublime!