it is, after all, still February

On days off -- and today is such a day for me: nothing is imperative, no schedule must be followed -- you notice the weather even more than on days when Things Must Be Accomplished. Because thermometer readings, wind velocity, and precipitation tallies will set the amount of time you'll want to spend outside.

In my morning animal feeding rounds, I am happy to take in the sunshine.







But sunshine alone is not enough to keep me outside for long. It's cold and the icy ground make walking difficult. When Ed asks over breakfast if we should go somewhere for a hike, I can't think of a place that would be free of thick ice.






The city, sure, but we don't really think of Madison as a great hiking venue. We look for nature's calm. The city -- we reserve that for different necessities and amusements, not for long walks.

And so we stay home.






We are not a restless pair (at least in the short term). A day at home is a sweet treat for me. I like the quiet. Still, I wish it were by choice, rather than by the dictates of a cold and icy winter day. Honestly, I do think that everyone is getting tired of February. Poor, short month: it's not short enough!

The cheepers are restless. How long does this lock-up have to continue?? -- they seem to ask. We're not getting any eggs from them. The good winter layer, Cupcake, is gone. (She was such a good layer that she even left us an egg after she had been already decapitated by the hawk. No, of course we didn't eat it!)

The cats -- well, I had a heart sinking moment with them today: I went out to feed them just a little later than usual and all three were gone. I ran up to report the calamity to a sleeping Ed. He shook his head: don't worry. They'll be back.
Back??? The little kittens wouldn't have gone anywhere! They rely on the food here! And everything in the garage is upside down! (Well, not everything, but a few things are indeed disheveled. I needed to stir up Ed's emotions -- he was being far too calm.) Someone must have gone after them!
The cars will be back. We don't really have predators that would want them. Their greatest enemy here is the car speeding on a rural road.
But they're gone!
I'm going back to sleep.

As I fix breakfast, I keep looking out at the empty feeding station in the garage. No movement. The cat food is freezing to a solid mass. I go out again. This time, I let out a good and loud shout: "STOP SIGN!!"

And lo, she emerges. With Jacket. From underneath one of the cars. The two trot over to the garage and wait for me to stop fussing with their food.






I return upstairs: two are back! But Dance, the littlest one is definitely missing.
Relax. She'll be back. Cats like to explore.
But it's so cold!

In the end, he is correct. A few minutes later, I see Dance running to the garage. All three, accounted for!






Were they adventuring, despite the deep freeze? Could it be that they are fed up with February as well? The restrictions this month has placed on all of us have been tediously harsh. Both Ed and I like winter, so long as we can find a way to enjoy its unique outdoor prettiness. Right now, it's a chore to navigate from one spot to the next.

And so here we are, in the farmhouse, ignoring the outdoors, loving the comfort of warmth, of good reading material. Of streaming yoga videos, of lentuils simmering on the stove, of all the wonderful things that you and I can find in our own quiet corners. And there's always the hope that the last weeks of winter will be radiantly beautiful and more hospitable to outdoor adventures.

frozen

It's not that all beautiful scenes have hidden elements of cruelty. Nevertheless, you can't help but think that today's winter sparkle is deceiving: it cajoles you, draws you out (all that sunshine, too!) and then boom! It shoots its arrow right through your heart. Broken ice-covered twigs, biting wind, frozen everything. Winter wonderland? Maybe, but I'm not about to go out and explore it. It's viciously cold.

Here are the usual vignettes from my (brief) morning farmette walk:






(Ice on branches... does the tree mind??)






(The kittens and their mama, grateful for the food and the sleeping bag over the buckets...)






Breakfast: we talk about the wonder of a working furnace and fruits on a plate...






Perhaps if I had had more hours today, I would have bundled up and headed out in search of that perfect winter scene. But it would have been a mistake: the paths and trails are thick with ice. Every surface, except for the well salted roads, is thick with ice.

Here's a compromise: roll down the window on the way to the grocery store and snap a quick pic of the field and forest across the road from us...






... And then again, on the way to pick up Snowdrop.






Remember Snowdrop? The girl who insists that she can manage moving from car to house without a jacket? True, she does walk briskly.






(The cats know to leave the bitter weather to us mortals. Here they are, all three, watching from safe and comfy positions.)






(Inside, we always start with a book and a snack. Lately, Snowdrop has been studying carefully the book she is otherwise afraid to have me read.)






In the end, she picks a book about an art festival.

It inspires her. I watch and listen as she paints. There is always a story with each painting.






(And a second one...)






Done!






In looking now at these paintings, in thinking back to when she sat there hitting the yellows and reds, creating orange trees, strawberry fields, it strikes me -- here's my color for the day!


Even later, I get a video call from my Chicago grandgirl. We talk about nothing in particular, but I can't take my eyes off her vibrant red dress and her sweet expressive face (her lightly furrowed brow is epic!).

Ah, the beauty of turning away from a winter wonderland and looking at all that striking burning color, right in your lap! Yellows, oranges, pinks, and finally -- red. Sort of like summer only without the mosquitoes.

does anyone like this?

I think there would be a consensus on this: today is the yukkiest day of the entire season. Honestly, it could not be worse outside: there is patchy snow -- looking not unlike the hide of a Holstein cow. Since we went through a thaw a few days back, followed by a freeze, the snow is not gentle or pretty: it's frozen icy patchy snow. The pathways/sidewalks/roads/driveways that were meticulously plowed, were subjected to a night of pounding ice and sleet. Since we are below freezing, everything is slick. And since the temperatures are only falling (a one day super deep freeze is coming tomorrow), there is no melting of that ice in sight. Oh, the roads and highways will be salted to the max (it's sooooo slick right now!) and so travel will eventually return to a winter normal, but Ed and I will not use salt on the farmette lands. And so, in moving from cars to farmhouse, from sheep shed to garage, we must navigate one stubborn layer of frozen ice, topped with more sleet and ice, because all day long we are under an ice/sleet,winter mix storm warning.

Have I made my case? It's mean weather!






(Some would argue that there is a prettiness to it all: ice and sleet and wintry stuffs on bare branches are not unattractive. But cast your eyes on the ground and take a few steps forward and you'll not say another kind word about this type of weather.)






Cats are hungry. Stop Sign digs in first. Jacket is getting more bold. Camera? Nina? Who cares. Move over, mom!






Our own breakfast is late.  We'd spent not a small amount of time trying to clear the cars and the walkway to the farmhouse. I would pound on the quickly forming ice, Ed would shovel it away. And then a new layer would form and we'd do it all over again.

Finally, a late morning pause...






I suppose it could have been worse. I was concerned about heading out for Snowdrop and even more concerned about taking her back here, beyond the well salted roads of Madison. But, the temperatures hovered just below freezing and so the salted roads were slushy and drivable.

Still, I must have told the little one a million times: walk slowly and carefully! You are navigating ice!






(I'd like to think she is impressed by how well we had chipped away at the ice leading up to the farmhouse!)






Once inside, we slide comfortably into our routine. First comes the snack and the introduction of any new books, or the rereading of favorites. Today I have a new one, but from a familiar series. The book has some tricky twists to it. To Snowdrop, it's too scary. She tells me to stop right there in the middle. I don't want to let her off the hook. It's not that scary! I continue. She runs away to hide in the sun room, closing the door for emphasis. I continue. My voice picks up a celebratory tone which carries beyond the closed door. She is curious and comes back for the final chapters. I'd say this is not an unusual way for us to get through a slightly scary text.

Satisfied and satiated, she is ready for play!






And we continue thus until evening draws near. We have a slightly different game plan for tonight: Snowdrop and I head out to pick up mom at work and then we make our way to the gym. The little girl has been taking gymnastics classes for several weeks now and today I have a chance to observe her at it. I am so impressed! Here, she can fly free and test her own reserves of strength and flexibility. She is a cautious girl by nature, but at the gym, she is unafraid.






There will always be kids who are bolder, pushier than she is...





But I think by now, she understands that success is relative: your finest moments come when you challenge yourself and emerge victorious. Somersaults? Other kids have been doing them at her age, I'm sure. But it took a gym class to have her try one. That she can do it now is its own sweet reward.

(A trampoline, on the other hand, has been a favorite since... dare I say it... since she tried one at the Tuileries Gardens a couple of years back.)






I drive home smiling. Horrible weather. Still, lots of reasons to smile.

landscape

When Ed was still trying to coax me into spending more time at the farmette, the hot spots here were differently configured. The farmhouse was (for a while at least) inhabited by a former friend. It was rundown and in need of work. The porch was poorly built and not usable. The color of the building itself was the color of uncooked pinto beans. Ed lived in the sheep shed. When he offered to build a writer's shed for me, I thought it should blend into the farmette green palate. Pale gray siding seemed so perfect! I didn't realize that for a big chunk of the year, the farmette land was not green at all. It was winter brown and charcoal gray.

The barn that leans on the red shed used to be red, but it has long shed its bright tones. It's mostly brown. The farmhouse is of course now yellow. I cannot stress enough how much I appreciate these two colors as I live here now year-round. They are my compass points: the southern yellow of the house, the ever bright and cheerful red of the shed. I wish the writer's shed had been painted a luminous yellow and teal -- anything to introduce another color boost to this winter landscape.


(Looking toward the barn and the eye popping red shed after a night of ice and more ice)






We did not give the cats a second feeding yesterday. Ed thinks we should be judicious in dishing out food for them (especially if they dont finish all that we give them; it invites predators to come eat the rest). Besides, there was an ice storm raging. No one wanted to go out once it hit. And so this morning, the three cats are hungrier than usual. That desire to get to the day's offerings leads the little kittens to overcome some of their "Nina-and-her-camera" fear.





But here, too, I want to be careful. We are not training them to be house cats. We're not even sure if we want three cats living permanently in the garage. So far, none of the farmette cats have been birders. Stop Sign has shown no interest in hunting things that fly. And she keeps a healthy distance from the cheepers.  Will her kittens coexist equally well with all that lives here on farmette lands?

We feed the cats. We watch them. We talk about our duty to neuter them and wish there was an easy way of doing it. And of course, in the long winter months, we are entertained by them!





During winter, you take one day at a time.


Breakfast.






Does it seem to you that winter brings with it a good deal of focus on feeding? And slightly less opportunity for movement? Oh, I chase kids and shovel snow. But these are add-ons. You know you're in trouble when there isn't a core activity that you return to all winter long. Cross country skiing used to be our thing. You know how that turned out: there hasn't been the snow for it. Consequently, we're not moving enough.

So today I resume yoga. I used to be heavily invested in going to a local yoga class. But, the grandkids came, time was short, I stopped. Now, in resuming the practice (using a youtube for it -- it's so much more efficient!) -- I do understand that in the four years I've been without it, I may have grown rusty. Stiffened up here and there. And of course, there's the silly knee, the crinkled back... Perhaps I shouldn't quite try to outcompete those half my age.  Perhaps I should look for a slower paced session.

I find a youtube under the title of "yoga for seniors or returning yogi."

At the end of it, I am gloating: too tame! I'm nimble still! I can do more! Next time, at the very least, I'm going for "yoga for the slightly aged and still competitive with the younger set."

That kind of bravado usually does not end well. And sure enough, as I leave to pick up Snowdrop at school, I calculate that I have just enough time to stop by the post office to mail a package. But to be on time,  I have to rush. I move quickly. Into my car. Zip, zoom. Out of my car. RUN up the ramp to the post office entrance. And there I trip on some broken piece of ramp (can you sue the federal government for inadequate facilities? No you cannot. I remember that from my teaching days) and fall hard on both my knees.

Nice work, senior yoga super star! (I'm hoping for swelling but no major damage; that would be the good outcome.)


And here's someone who has no trouble being nimble and sprite. She does it effortlessly.






Also effortless: her hunt for my stockpile of ginger snaps!






Today she resumes storybook ballet.






As always, her very favorite moment is when they put on the costumes and act out a story.











Or is it? Perhaps her very favorite moment is when she finishes class and comes out to find her mommy waiting for her...






I hobble outside and drive home. The ice storm is dumping every possible bit of slickness on our roads, our driveways. I know to be careful on those. I sometimes wish I knew to be careful in less obviously tricky situations. I mean, isn't it predictable? I survive rooftop scrambles and icy roads, but I trip and fall on my way in to the post office. I always said -- don't worry about the obvious. It's the stupid that will, in the end, drag you down.

typical

I would say that this day is as close to an average February day as they get. Frozen ground, a light cloud cover that eventually fades to give us that cornflower blue sky.

(Morning: still a tad cloudy, but with bright contours and a promise of better light)






You begin to imagine spring: what would it be like to have the crab apple in bloom, to see the willow fill out with its pale green leaves...






We aren't at the cusp of spring -- I'm not that easily deceived! -- but we are moving along at a good clip and that natural progression feels good. It's as it should be. A day of February calm.

(My morning animal feeding becomes more interesting as the kittens become increasingly used to the routines. They are beginning to understand who butters their bread.)






Breakfast. I call Ed down -- it's now or never! In a few minutes Sparrow will be here!

Ed -- are you done (with the photo) yet?






No... Let's try again.





Better.

Indeed, the little guy does come moments later. We've flipped the schedule somewhat and so this week, Tuesday is his farmhouse day. Is he happy about it?






He's Sparrow, isn't he?






Feeding: the smile lingers...






... at least until he finds himself confronted with carrots.






Sparrow is a quiet guy, but he has good control of his body. Still, wanting to go somewhere and getting there are, unfortunately, not the same thing!






In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop.

(Jacket on...)






(Jacket off...)






After our ritual reading time, we play.
She has an idea. She always has an idea: Gogs, we're taking a trip!






We'd just read a book where someone feels compelled to take a necessary journey, so I ask her -- Is it a necessary journey?
No, it's a fun and beautiful journey.
Okay then! Fasten your seat-belts! We will be flying over the ocean!
No, not over the ocean, over one hill and 16 pieces of grass.

And in a few minutes:
Holy smoke! We just landed in a beautiful place!






And in that beautiful place I lose her to a story which she spins now for herself. I retreat to sip a coffee with frothy milk while she tells her tale.





Later, I drive the little one home. And the icy mix comes down and we are in the middle of a winter storm once more. There will be another winter storm tomorrow. And the next day.

Perhaps there is no such thing as a typical February day. From calm to storm. From sunshine to ice. But just remember, after February comes March. And soon after, blossoms and willow leaves.