last Friday of October

If your child goes to school in Madison, Wisconsin, she or he will be home from school the last Friday of October. Teachers convene, have workshops, and I have to think -- take a deep breath after the charged first months of the new school year.

Snowdrop's school follows this practice and so today, the little girl's farmette time is a little different: a little earlier, a little longer, a little more playful.

It means, though, that I have to put on the motor to get Friday stuff done on time. Breakfast, for example, is lovely, but I'm not sure Ed is fully awake for it.






The day is gray, but on the upside, it offers us just a few more of those precious degrees of warmth.






Enough to feel better about being outside. (Or, maybe I'm finally getting my winter feathers!) When Snowdrop appears, I offer her outdoor play and she pounces! Here we are, cleaning up the red wagon.






Spotless and ready for her babies. She wants to take them to the wood chip pile.






(You just have to admire that last day lily. Autumn? Nearly November? Pshaw...)






And now the princess of wood chip-landia has made her ascent!
(You sure you don't want to roll up your sleeves? No, gaga, no thank you!)






She is the drop of color in an increasingly barren landscape.






There is so much that grabs her fancy! Today, she explores her secret house underneath the pines...






Spotting Ed, who continues his work on the felled tree, she coaxes him inside. He can't possibly crawl in, but they manage to wiggle their way between the branches.






How to coax her back indoors... oh, I have tricks up my sleeve! Today I become the total grandmother: we're going to be baking pumpkin spice cupcakes. With pink frosting. I hadn't baked with Snowdrop for a while and so I am in for many surprises. She can easily be given responsibilities now.






In goes a cheeper egg!






Scoop the batter into the tins...





And wait.

Time for the toothpick test!





Clean!

Soon enough, ready to eat.






I don't have to spell out what we do with the rest of the afternoon. Oh, there are the books, yes of course. There are, too, the stories. Imaginative play, sometimes with me taking part (grandma, can you play Anna Hibiscus? I'll be the parrot). But oftentimes, she asks to be left alone (I am in my office and will be bringing home lots of money). And sometimes, she just needs help with a wardrobe adjustment....





... and the story unfolds and I sit back once more.


The evening is quiet. There is a trace of cinnamon in the air. The last Friday of October ends, as so many of our days end -- on a calm note. Reflective, with a smile.

Thursday

I know that 50F (10C) feels much warmer when it shows up in April than when it is the high on an October day. You're not ready for it now. You haven't grown that thick layer of feathers or whatever it is that your body needs to protect itself from the cold. This is that interim period, before winter, before snow (or dreams of snow), before the first of many Arctic blasts, when you think nothing sounds better than becoming a full fledged couch potato. Mmmm, lovely!

Stepping outside to snap a picture of the pretty crab apple is a huge undertaking.





Tidying the garden? Forget it!

We have already had a nice sit this morning, of course. At breakfast time.




And then I sit some more -- ostensibly to write, but honestly, the sitting at the kitchen table part is equally attractive.


In the afternoon, though, I am, thank God, forced to move: it's time to pick up Snowdrop.

Gulp! The girl wants to stay outside. She follows Ed. No, I don't want a jacket!  Clearly she has grown those winter feathers already.

He has collected milkweed seedpods from the many milkweed plants that grow by the picnic table. He wants to spread the seeds in the land behind the barn. She is so happy to help!







Let them fly, Snowdrop.


















Inside, she wants to play... hair salon! She asks that I "paint" her hair, then bedeck it with ribbons.






It's ahah's turn!






Look at yourself in the (pretend) mirror, ahah!






I get a lucky turn then: she moves into a game of hospital. I am the sick one. Lie down on this couch and cover yourself with the blanket, Gaga. And snuggle with your stuffie.

I can do that! It's couch time again as she goes off to launch her own story.






Evening. Ed asks -- you want some popcorn? Ahhhh, couch time once more.

Wednesday

Outside, on the farmhouse porch, strings of colorful lights dangle, suspended, out of place. At least one string is broken and Ed spent many hours yesterday trying to fix it. Inside, the big microwave once again stopped heating. Ed took it apart, found nothing amiss, put it back together and now it's working, but we're keeping it in the sun room so that Ed can have access to all those wires when it stops heating again. On the kitchen table, a plastic shelf that houses cans of Klairbrun (with our beloved lemon fizzy water) has chipped once more. Ed will try making a metal hinge for it to keep the cans in place. A mouse rests in a trap on the step waiting to be transported to the fields far far away. A little TV sits in a box, waiting to be put on the kitchen wall, while the other is removed, to be used in a video networking experiment Ed is involved with at Tormach (the machine making company that has had his oversight since its inception a decade ago).

In other words, the house is a mess. Or at least my sensibilities are agitated from the lack of order around me.

Well, never mind. There is always a lovely breakfast...






And outside, the sun continues to throw a golden spotlight on most everything around us...






And here's one person who is unruffled by the chaos -- Snowdrop, who comes for a brief play after school, in mismatched shoes ("it's okay to be different!")






She is wearing a dress that's size 4-6. Because plain old size 4 is getting to be on the small side. I suggest we roll up the sleeves. No, gaga! She is a bird! She is koko in the Anna Hibiscus book, she is flying!






Snowdrop, it's time for ballet!
We hurry.
There are traffic issues.
We are fifteen minutes late. Oh, the stresses of getting the child on time to the place where she needs to be!






Today, it's the story of Pegasus. The horse with wings...






And after class, we meet up with baby Sparrow and mommy.






On our way out, the little girl is told she can have a balloon. A balloon! It takes so little to make her so very happy.






Sparrow transfixed by the balloon,  Snowdrop, recounting a tale, gaga enjoying it all.





I have a dinner with former work friends and so it is quite late (according to my older person's clock) before I return home. The cheepers are asleep. The full moon is splendid! Stop Sign is, I hope in a warm place, resting, waiting for the babies in her belly to come out. Ed? Munching on popcorn on the couch, happy and calm. Ready to watch something? -- he asks. I settle in next to him and we attack the bowl of popcorn.

Tuesday

We are at a seasonal turning point. Up until now, you could make excuses: fall is so pretty, fall is so colorful, fall is so photogenic! Those maple tree leaves, those pumpkins, and the cranes! Asters, mums -- all so beautiful, especially on a sunny day, and by the way, fall offers many sunny days. Yay fall!

But at some point, the color fades. The winds blow off the leaves, the last phlox puts out its last sweet little flower, the frost comes, the branches grow bare. In Wisconsin, this happens toward the end of October. In other words, now.

It's a slow transition, but to me -- an obvious one. Right now, I still admire what's left of the garden, but you have to have a cup half full mindset to call it really pretty.






Our big maples are still full of leaves, but the birches are bare and the crab apples are on their way to shedding all that lovely gold.

Nonetheless, it's a pretty day. Sunny, cool, energizing!

Breakfast, of course...






And then I run out to do some errands for my Mom. This puts me right by the Capitol -- a splendid sight on a blue sky day!





I find an hour, too, to work on those lotus seed pots. Ed and I are making quite the pile.  Bonfire material!

Ah, but here's someone who is happy with the coming of winter! I pick up Snowdrop at school and find her...

...sooooo ready for snow!






In the alternative, we take a walk to the park.






A bit nippy there, by the lake!






We make out way back to the farmette.

(Her interest in raking never lasts long.)






Too many books to read, too many stories to tell!






The last few days of pretty fall. After that comes the "interesting" half of the season.

Monday

The trapping season has begun. As I do my morning chores, I add to the list checking the basement mice traps (which we load with peanut butter). Today we have our first catch. Ed releases is later a few miles from here. At this point, I am less committed to trap and release methods. It's mice, for Pete's sake! But Ed wont intentionally kill a living thing unless it's a mosquito. So I load up the trap again and I expect to catch at least a dozen more before winter sets in. The presence of Stop Signs has decreased the mice population at the farmette a little bit, but they will always be part of the landscape here and they will always find a way to get into the warm basement. And so the season begins: I trap, Ed releases.

It really is a gorgeous day! We wont have another like this until spring, I'm sure. Sunny, reasonably warm, fragrant with fall leaves and spent garden plants. I should start gathering dropped lotus tree seed pods or else we'll have hundreds of sprouted lotus trees come spring -- a nuisance in the flower beds -- but I put it off. Monday is grandkid day. Sparrow arrives early -- before breakfast. Before Ed is awake in fact. We kill time...






(he's a thumbs up kind of guy...)






And eventually, hungry for my coffee, I call up "Ed, are you awake?" Which of course invites the response "now I am."

(that's one big thumb, grandpa Ed!)






I leave animal care to Ed. Can I emphasize again how gorgeous this day is?






My lunch? Definitely outside. In good company.





In the afternoon, we pick up Snowdrop. I worry that the little guy is a bit undernapped, but somehow it doesn't matter. Not today. Not on this beautiful, happy day.

(Rolly polly games)











And remember how I fretted about the vacuumed princess crown (see yesterday's post)? Snowdrop noticed it wasn't there, picked up a tiny ribbon and stuck it on top of the princess head instead.






Eventually the girl wants to play outside. Of course! It's the perfect day for it! What would you like to do?
Play tennis! (Frisbee and tennis are interchangeable sports in her lexicon.)
I have to feed Sparrow. You two play. 

Snowdrop does beautiful frisbee tosses. Catching is a bit harder. (The cheepers are convinced we're throwing food bits.)






("Am I going to see the rest of that bottle??")






The parents come after work to take their brood home. Not before Snowdrop ropes them into a game of bubbles.






(The three younger chickens are still children at heart. "Can we play too??")






What every child could use: food in the belly, a warm shelter, good health, a good education, and happy parents.