to the point

Somehow the evening ran away from me. Something to do with a lost package, a complicated chili and a funky furnace -- all inconsequential and eventually resolved, but certainly standing in the way of a contemplative evening of writing.

So a quickie post!

First, early, oh so early, I venture out to rescue the cheepers yet again. You have to stop these daily expeditions to the garage. You haven't the stamina or winter smarts for them!






I herd them back to the barn.






Breakfast. We're waiting for the sunshine. It will come, but a tad later than expected.






We ski in our county park. Note that promise of blue skies (and do you see the Capitol on the horizon?)






Lovely, familiar landscape...





... with a touch of red.






And now I bring Snowdrop home to the farmhouse. Yep, no jacket. No mitts. No cap or scarf. That's our girl! (But just so you know, we're hitting a heat wave! We reach near freezing today!)






After a run at the usual: read, play, read, eat, read -- she wants to engage Ed in a game of school. Unfortunately, he is on the phone, sequestered in the sun room. She is loud. I think she must be making his conversation (which concerns getting a new part for our old-er furnace) difficult. So I break down and bribe her. I offer her the gift I'd been saving for tomorrow, Valentine's Day: a pack of glitter pens.






To say that she loves them is an understatement. (Though she does repeat -- I loooove the pink and the purple and the red... A rainbow of glitter colors.)






Eventually she passes a "school snack" to Ed...






... and he rejoins us for a spirited game of "grandpa climbs the ladder."






It's a beautiful day, it really is. Inside and out.

winter

We who choose to live in southern Wisconsin accept the fact of winter. It's one of our four seasons and most of us love something about each one. When I mention to those on the outside that I'm from Wisconsin, they offer sympathies for the utter cold they associate with the state. But that's not my worry! What I dislike is dreary cold, coupled with drab, dark and lifeless landscapes.

That is not what we had today.

I would say that this was pretty close to a perfect winter day. There's snow on the ground. A nice thick cover. It's cold, but not beastly cold. The winds are calm. The sun is out! Brilliant sunshine, blue skies -- I mean, we have the works! It's the winter that I love.

(The cheepers are more tentative about their enthusiasm. Oh, chickens!)






Breakfast, tickled pink with sunshine.






I'm back to writing during every free moment that I can find and so morning hours are spent on this task. But just before noon, Ed and I go out to ski. He has the idea that we can forge our way along and across the disc golf course.

We see that there actually is a snowshoe trail. We follow it.





It's a beautiful run! There are gentle hills and meandering powdery connections. There are trees, there are cut-throughs across patches of winter prairie.

And the sky remains a vivid blue. As the Olympics commentators call it -- bluebird blue!






Immediately after, I head out to pick up Snowdrop.

We go through the usual negotiations about how to get her from school to car, given that she comes with voluminous packaging: outdoor clothes, art work, lunchbox -- the usual paraphernalia. You in car first, then I return for your stuff? No, grandma. I will wait right here. Stuff first, me later.






On the car to farmhouse end, it's the opposite: me first, stuff later!






She brings a lot of laughter with her. A lot. And it's contagious.






We have plenty of quiet play as well. Drawing, for example. Yes, Snowdrop is a girl who just looooves pink.





After a good bit of story telling (no props... just couch cushions), she asks, out of the blue (bluebird blue!) -- grandma, can we go outside?
I demure. Clouds, the late hour, the falling temperatures...
It's a little cold now. Can you wait until tomorrow? It'll be warmer then.
No, can we go out today? We can build another snowman...
The snow is still not wet enough. It will be better tomorrow. Let's play outside tomorrow?
She wont give up: can't we go out now, please?
She wins.

We take out her little sled and head for the "secret tree house."






Oh, it's nice to see sled tracks in the snow again!






We don't attempt a second snowman, but we surely add powder to the existing lump!






Can you get olives for the eyes, grandma?

I do it, but I know they're fodder for the animals that routinely traverse the farmette at night.






And still she is not done. She plunges into the deepest drifts, for once shrugging off the prickly snow that makes its way into gloves, boots, scarves.

Happiness is the freedom to romp, roll and tumble...





... and to come in afterwards, lay your soaked mittens on the heating vent and ask to share in Ed's chocolate chip cookie.
Just one small piece, Snowdrop. One tiny little piece.

Sunday

It snowed again last night. I take out the shovel and get to work. Do I mind? Not at all.






The cheepers -- that's a different story. For some inexplicable reason, they forged through the deep, still unshoveled snow early in the morning to the safety of the garage. There they stayed until I told them they absolutely positively have to head back to the barn. Henny, typically skittish and fearful, is our most courageous hen when it comes to braving the deep drifts of snow.






The remaining two -- Java and Peach -- got stuck.






I tried to urge them forward, but they didn't seem to get the word "forward." In the end, I scooped them up (they would never allow this in better weather days) and carried them back to the barn.

Babies!







Breakfast. Not sunny outside, but cheerful inside.







I spend the morning attending to farmhouse chores, but our afternoon is spent outdoors. The sun is out, the temps are below freezing, but not ridiculously below freezing. We go back to do volunteer work on the Brooklyn Wildlife segment of the Ice Age Trail.  We aren't creating a new prairie this time, but we're over-seeding an existing prairie. Here's the stretch of land -- so beautiful today!  A half dozen of us walk the land sowing seeds.






The snow is deep -- up to my knees or worse. Of course it is! It's been snowing! Ed tucks my pants over the boots. Wise move. The pants will get icy wet, but the boots will stay dry.






We love this piece of land. It's 22 minutes by car from the farmette and I swear we could hike it blindfolded. But why do that when the views are always so gorgeous!






And now it is evening and the young family is at the farmhouse for dinner. Many might shake their heads at this habit I've had of offering predinner munchies before we sit down to the evening meal. Olives, maybe some beets, a slice of cheese.  The components have varied over the decades, but the snack has always been there. In the past, the kids would bring their homework to the kitchen table and nibble as I prepared the rest of the meal.

But it spoils the appetite! -- you'll say.

Maybe. So you have to keep an eye on things. More crackers? No, how about a few more olives instead? Okay! (This from Snowdrop who does love olives.)






And finally dinner.  Happy is the grandma who can put fresh and honest food before her family!






Snowdrop is in grand spirits today!






She and Ed are excused from the table as the rest of us linger...






Back for dessert. Cookies, a yogurt bar.
Can I have both?






Yeah, the more we get together, together, together, the more we get together the happier we'll be.

You are so right, Snowdrop!

a pause

The cold snap persists. We're happy with the snow, but less eager to sprint to the ski trails. We need a day's pause.

The chickens -- well, they don't know what to think and who to believe. They were fooled by sunshine this morning and they traipsed (oh so slowly) to the garage in search of company (and interesting food). Once there, they could not muster up the interest to head back. I had to coax. And coax. And coax.





Breakfast -- in the sun room, though the presence of sunlight is a little tentative today.






I had invited Snowdrop for a farmhouse visit over the midday hours today. The young family can use the time and I can only benefit from the little girl's voluminous grins.











(So much imagination in every minute of play!)





Since she is with me at noon, I suggest that she and I go out to lunch. Oh, nothing extraordinary, except that for me it really is special because she and I rarely eat lunch together. We go to a place I do associate with her -- the Madison Sourdough Bakery and Cafe, where I routinely pick up croissants for the girl and cookies for Ed.  It's a thirteen minute drive from the farmhouse, but I think of it as my neighborhood place. I know them, they know me. It's a comfort zone.

You'll recognize perhaps the walk from the parking lot to the Bakery entrance. Past these beautifully photogenic murals.

(Why is she not wearing a jacket? It's 15F (-10C) outside. Go ahead, ask her.
I'm not cold!)






Snowdrop is on a scrambled eggs kick and we start with that.






But she is unquestionably excited by the dessert: a macaron, dipped in chocolate for a special Valentine's Day treat.






On our way out I distract her long enough to slip on her jacket.
Snowdrop, you are not dressed for a side step into deep snow!






Her babe does flips...





Her grandma urges them to get in the car! (No cap, no gloves...)


The girl is back home now and I'm settling into a comfortable reclining position, book in hand, next to an Ed who is watching a documentary on his laptop about peasant revolts in the 14th century.

It's predictable, all of it, isn't it? You would think so, except that to me, it's all such a surprise. As if it could have gone that way and yet, here we are, moving forward, healthy, happy, hopeful.

snow

They said -- "snow." We got snow.  Another half foot fell overnight. The pretty face of winter is with us now.

(I know you can't tell from this farmette photo that it's deeper. Trust me -- it's deeper.)






A happy breakfast.





Snowdrop's school is closed today. Not because of the snow -- it was one of those planned inservice closings. I offered to play with Snowdrop while parents put in some work hours.

I'm at her house once again and perhaps predictably, she begins with offering (play) food for her babes and for gaga. I love this pose and her facial expression here, because it completely reminds me of the way my grandma would stand and survey the table, wanting to make sure there was plenty for all of us.






Play ice cream ends our meal.





And of course, the great outdoors beckons! It is cold, but on the upside, it's warmer than the really cold days we've had this season. We attack the snow on the deck!











Snowdrop loves most things about snow -- including its taste. I try to think if there's a reason to act alarmed as she stuffs fresh flakes into her mouth. Snowdrop, no, that's not a great idea! Yum! Oh, Snowdrop!






We slap together a snowman of sorts, but it's not easy. It's just too cold and the snow is powdery. Even a snowball is a challenge. Here's our attempt at a snow palace. Snowdrop and her baby are enjoying a royal rest inside!






A snack after snow play is important, delicious, satisfying, memorable. On this day it's pain au chocolat.
 





And then I leave to continue with the usual Friday duties: make sure that the car has gas, and that the fridge has food for the week.


Home. The sun is out, the skies are blue. Shall we ski?

(Note that our snowman just grows and grows!)






By the time we head out to our local county park, the shadows are beautifully long. We try the upper trails and find them to be completely untouched! We blaze pathways, spewing powder and filling our boots with snow...






... all the way to Ed's favorite tree. Selfie!





... then across the snow covered prairie to pick up the trail again.






It would be hard to imagine a more beautiful day!