Monday before the storm

We read that today, Madison took the unprecedented move of salting every street in the city, including in all residential neighborhoods. The thick layer of ice everywhere is not otherwise navigable and we are expecting a snowstorm tonight -- one that will dump a layer of snow on top of the ice. It is not a good combination.

Here, at the farmette, there is little more we can do: I'm glad we toiled with the walkway, chipping away at the ice as it was coming down. The path to the door is mostly free of slippery spots. Everything else is one huge sheet of ice. We've never had anything quite like it. On the upside -- when you know it's icy, you walk with care. Deliberately, slowly. A controlled glide!

This morning, I walked with care to feed the cats.






(animal paw prints, and underneath the light dusting of snow -- ice)






And I walked with care to pick up Sparrow when he arrived for his farmhouse visit.

And then I stayed inside. We stayed inside. It's just below freezing and so nothing is melting. How this will all thaw out is a bit of a mystery to me. But most certainly, the next several weeks will be mostly inside weeks for us. Avoiding treks across ice fields and along icy driveways is surely a priority.

Sparrow joined us for breakfast. He ate, I ate, we ate.











As always, he is one cheerful guy!

Added bonus at play time: I can concentrate on his needs (Snowdrop is at school), which include a dig into some of Snowdrop's toy loot.






Another meal already? Exciting!





"Fun book, gaga!"






Good effort at standing/climbing/scrambling.






And eventually, Sparrow goes home and I bring Snowdrop to the farmhouse, warning her to be very very careful on the walk from car to house.
Gogs, my shoes are rubber! It's like having sticky stuff on them! Still, she is careful.






Apart from a half hour spent on reading a book, she is committed to letting out one, big, complicated story. Indeed, she starts her tale in the car. It's as if it had been percolating in her for a long long time and she couldn't wait to let it out.


















Eventually, she asks for paints. But the story doesn't stop there.






I had ordered a smock. It arrived in mid-painting. Gogs, it's got a castle on it! She puts it on and continues with her story.

She is clearly under the spell of the weekend movie. There are black twists to her painting. I pick up plots of smoke and fire and boats sailing on a blue, swirling sea with crashing waves.






Done with that painting.






But not with the story. Still time for dress-up. For pretend phone calls to mysterious persons.






And when her dad comes to pick her up, she makes me promise that I leave everything just as it is now, so that she can continue tomorrow.


It's snowing now. Big, quiet flakes. We pulled down the garage door some and checked on the water supplies for the animals. Tomorrow, we'll have to dig out. Right back down to the ice layer that stubbornly rests at the base of it all.

the hours of Sunday

Funny how the day shrugs off the hours -- flips them away, one by one, pfft! Gone! No day better illustrates this than a Sunday. The pileup of household chores is significant and since it is Sunday, you work through them systematically and slowly. And before you know it, it's evening.

It's easy to figure out exactly where the time goes: just keep a tally. I did today. And I bragged (or complained, depending on which tone of voice you think I used) about the results to Ed.

It took me one hour and ten minutes to take care of all the animals!
Seriously? Why so long?
Well, this week will have lots of temperamental weather. So I was more meticulous with everything.
Still, one hour?
One hour and ten minutes! Dont forget about the ten minutes!
What did you do?
First, the cats. That was the easy part. But they're so cute and so much less afraid of me! So I stood there and talked to them as they ate their breakfast...






... and watched, as they retreated to one of their favorite spots in the back of the garage.






The ground is super icy, so I tried to chip away a little of the ice bridge that has formed by the front door.
Successfully?
No.

Then, onto the barn.

The cheepers water bowl was completely frozen. Maybe it's not heating properly? Anyway, I had to take that inside and get the dirty ice out and start afresh. That took a while. I put in a full bowl of water and, oh, were they thirsty! I stood there forever watching them drink!
Seems you did a lot of standing and watching...
Not so! Then I took the (captured) mouse to the park. (We finally learned that if you load the trap up with lots of pungent cheeses and nut spreads, they will go inside. We've had a successful catch almost every day this last week.)

(drive to park: February without the sunshine can look pretty severe)






After that, of course, I had the completely disgusting job of cleaning the trap. After which I had to scrub any surface within a mile of where I cleaned the trap.

Ed's mildly impressed.
Why don't you rest a bit?

I cannot. I must proceed with house cleaning.

A break for a pink breakfast.






A check on the cats. Still cute! (How can you resist admiring the mama and her awesome twosome??)






Are we having snow flurries? Yes we are. Arrival of winter storm (the real stuff!) expected tomorrow eve.





An online French maintenance lesson.

Yoga. I went with the tougher one. It was too tough, but I plowed through it!

It is now 4 p.m. Nearly evening.

Later:

It is, of course, the evening with the young family at the farmhouse and so I fuss with supper. Because they're worth it.
 






Snowdrop had seen a movie this weekend ("Moana"). It was quite a leap for her: fire and fury are not exactly within the little one's comfort zone. But now, having barrelled through it, she feels the thrill of having that popular movie under her belt. She can talk of nothing else tonight!






Dinner. Beautiful meal always, but especially when you can gather a bit of family around you.






Afterwards, we all slow down. Finish up, put away, sit back. The hours of a Sunday evening are as sleepy as a child after a bedtime story.  No need to tally the hours anymore. Pop some corn, watch a movie, read a book. And of course, write. With eyes only half open.

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.