Tuesday before Thanksgiving

The Tuesday before the holiday: cold but spirited!






It is my Thanksgiving shopping day and so shortly after breakfast...






... I am off to the store. It's always an emotional experience for me -- this wealth of foods, doused with memories of days when I would bring my girls with me to the store and they'd wander the aisles while I inspected every last bean, apple and potato (so many to choose from!) because I wanted the best for their holiday table.

Today I ran into a friend at the beginning of my shopping trip and, having the same path before us, we kept running into each other, pausing to chat each time, so that the whole trip was wonderfully long and filled with chuckles (my friend has a terrific sense of humor) as the cart filled with produce, then spices, cheese, broth, bread and butter and I'm thinking -- if this isn't a rich morning, then I don't know what is.

(Oranges too pretty to hide in the fridge...)






In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop.

She is in a bubble of glee because this morning she finally attempted, successfully, to write her own name -- all six letters, carefully shaped, perfectly legible. To her, this is a turning point. The books she now writes still have plenty of characters that are made up, but they can all be signed by her full name -- Snowdrop.

Learning is not a race. Each child learns something every single day. But to Snowdrop, perhaps more than any toy she possesses, words are important. They fill her free play time here at the farmhouse and so this step is as important as riding a bike would be to a child hell bent on moving forward on wheels.

Predictably, she spends a while today on her "books."






Well, on books in general.






An interruption: ahah's here, ahah's here! You'd think royalty had just made an appearance...






Back to book projects...











I'm to take Snowdrop home today. As we walk to the car, I'm thinking -- no one could accuse this girl of being low energy!






(The drive reveals a spectacular sunset. Believe me, it was even more beautiful than this, but one has to snap the camera at a safe moment, not necessarily at the optimal moment.)






(At Snowdrop's home, the ever inquisitive Sparrow...)






Have a serene Tuesday eve, little ones!

Tomorrow, the cooking begins.

Monday

In the cold early morning, a bundle of warmth arrives at the farmhouse. Hi, grandma!






Having just come off of a weekend of family and especially of family around a table, eating, it's hard to get back on track with Thanksgiving preparations. But Monday is a day of reprieve for me, in that I am too busy with grandkids to think much about anything else.

Here's that bundle -- the youngest of the bunch: Sparrow is 5.5 months and he is one happy little boy.






It's extraordinarily rare for Ed and I to not join forces for breakfast, but today we completely passed each other by: I'd forgotten he had a scheduled morning call and in any event, he slept far too long and so I decided not to wait to eat my morning meal. The little guy keeps me company.






And just as I finish, Ed comes in from his call and now I have two guys at the table again.






One last photo from the morning batch -- of Sparrow, showing off how completely cool he is about sitting most anywhere.






And now we come to the afternoon batch of pics. Here's Snowdrop, at the farmette after school. She talks big about being tired, about wanting quiet time, but as she leaves the car, she resists the impulse to go straight inside (despite the freezing temperatures) and makes her way to the cheepers who are keeping to the bushes so that the biting wind would not reach them. Snowdrop wants to pet one, but with our brood, you have to know who is the least chicken about being touched. (Hands down, Tomato. I point her to the brown girl hovering in the background and finally, she has a cheeper petting success!)






At the farmhouse, she instantly discovers that I've added pink post-its to the dwindling stack in her "office." It's like feeding cheese to mice or nuts to a squirrel: Snowdrop is instantly at the table, writing away.






(Oh, that Snowdrop smile!)






Wanting quiet time, eh?






Such a full day. A grand day. A great leap into the Thanksgiving week!

family Sunday

A stunning day! Cold, yes, very cold. But let's focus on the beauty of this morning: golden sunshine on the tiny apples against a backdrop of light snow. Sublime!






Both young families come to the farmhouse for brunch. Let's focus first on the girl who is the guest of honor, Primrose, if only because she is the one who comes here only now and then (as opposed to, say, every day!).






(And while we're focusing on Primrose, the other little girl -- Snowdrop -- steals a slice of baguette and touches the apple cake,  announcing to all that she is super hungry.)






My family is growing. I now have two cast iron pans so that I can make two (mushroom and spinach) frittatas.






Ready to eat!






Oh happy girl! Happy us, too!






Hey, Primrose can handle a high chair now!






We have a bit of a split then. Dad leaves with Primrose, mom lingers a few hours more. Not that she is without babies to hold!






Or little girls who adore her to pieces...






In the end, she leaves too and we are again a group of six. I cook dinner, just like most every Sunday. The lights twinkle, the kitchen smells are so good, so comforting.






(An after dinner treat: Snowdrop is with her most favorite ice cream sandwich, Sparrow, wishing he was old enough to try one...)






The weekend comes to an end. Dishes are drying on the rack, leftovers are tucked into tupperware containers for tomorrow's lunches and dinners. Ed and I are on the couch once more, reflecting. He talks about how people have a hard time appreciating the remarkable things in life that are before them: an orange on the table on a cold November day. Warm water coming out of your faucet. Entertainment at the flick of a remote switch, a clean dish, a bowl of spaghetti. So easy to take these for granted! So easy!  On this week of Thanksgiving, I'm drawn to thinking about all of them: the million and one gadgets, devices, that many talented people worked hard to perfect so that your life and my life could be made easier. The cars that bring my beloved young family here, the food stuffs we love to share, the little hands that reach for baguettes, rolly polly balls, and the moments of utter peace on the couch.

Heaven.

mini Thanksgiving weekend

My younger daughter and her family are heading out to Minneapolis for Thanksgiving and so we wont be seeing them this coming Thursday. But what's in a date? Today they're coming up to Madison and stopping here for the night. Call it then a mini Thanksgiving, or a pre-Thanksgiving for us all! (We'll do the real deal in a smaller configuration.)

And look at what we have outside!





It's not deep, but nor is it a fleeting event. We continue to have temperatures that are well below normal.

Breakfast in the front room. No sun today, but we brighten up the place with flowers.






(And I brightened up the pic's exposure a tad to show off how pretty the cheepers are against a cover of white stuff. Not that they like it! Here, Java is leading the two young girls to the garage. I don't think they'd ever touched snow before!)





I spend the morning housecleaning and baking. The place is filled now with the smell of apples and cinnamon.





And then I hurry to meet the younger family at my mom's place.

(Primrose and her great grandmother)


 



From there, it's a hop and a skip to my older girl's home. Welcome, little Primrose! Your cousins, aunt and uncle are sure happy to have you here! (As for grandma? Oh, don't even ask!)






(The three cousins)






A band is formed. Everyone has an instrument to play!






And soon enough it is evening. We eat dinner at the ever informal ever tasty Longtable. Primrose is delighted by the lights, the TV screens, the noise and clamor of our family enjoying our night out together.






Sparrow is equally enthralled.






Happy, happy times around a table. All of us. Feeling grateful to the core.






Late. It's late now. Babies need to be fed (so many willing hands!)...






One last dance needs to be performed, to the tune of jingle bells...






One last story told, one last joke, one last song.


I come back to the farmhouse. The snow is cruncy beneath my feet. It adds an aura of stillness and calm.

Hello, farmhouse, hello you, inside.

Friday

We start the second half of November with gray skies, somewhat warmer temperatures, a closed Snowdrop school (conferences!), and a rushed morning.

Ed is off to his techie meetings and I am off to shop for the weekend and to pre-shop for Thanksgiving. So breakfast is rather hurried.






For me, food purchasing is a real dance now. I have a full family Thanksgiving-ish brunch this Sunday, so foods are needed for that. Too, there are the regular weekly items and finally, I want to stock up on some basics for the Thursday Thanksgiving meals (that's right, there are many meals on that day!). It'll make for a lighter shopping trip next week. I'd made my lists. I start in on them.

And immediately after, I go to pick up Snowdrop -- not at school, but at her house, where a sitter has been with her during the morning hours. I wave hello and good-bye to Sparrow and bring the girl back to the farmhouse. I ask her what she'd like to do today. She tells me she is really missing quiet time: "books, couch and quiet -- I would like that best." (Could it be that her little brother was less than quiet this morning?)

This, of course, sounds pretty heavenly to me and we settle in on the couch. I read all twelve chapters of a new book and nearly finish a second one, all in the course of the afternoon.






In between, she draws. "Let's pretend we're at a scientists' school" she tells me. I'm agreeable.






She moves to her "office space," creating scraps of art that then form the heart of her stories.






Watching her work here is... well, inspiring.






A story is launched and I listen, but only a little. I can tell when her stories are public and when they're more private. This one is more for her own benefit.






It is a longer set of hours than we usually have together, but I have fewer photos to show for it. Something about the quiet nature of the day made me move more slowly with the camera. I suppose I'm getting ready for the crazy busy days ahead. Today was the calm before the grand storm of family and food.