a Primrose day

Time in Chicago for me is 100% time with Primrose. Oh, maybe when she sleeps I'll turn my attention to the other members of her family but really -- they are known entities to me. Adults rarely change from month to month, whereas my one year old granddaughter -- she is a tidal wave of movement and transformation! Each time I am here, I discover new stuff about her.






(Primrose, if grandma loves oatmeal with fruit, it follows that you should love oatmeal with fruit too, no?)






When she naps, I eat my own version of more or less the same.





As she continues to sleep, I sit back and consider the past year: it's been huge for the young couple, but, too, for all of us. After all, another child joined the Madison family, my mom moved here from California, and Ed and I shifted somewhat in the way we do things: there is the realization that our small world is already quite full. Whereas in the past, I thought expansively about farmette life -- these days, I'm more content to keep things simple. As they are. No more growing of the flower beds. No huge projects. No new chickens. You could say we're growing, but internally. On the outside, we continue to downsize and declutter our lives.


Girl's up! Hey, little one, would you like to go for a walk?






It's a cool day in Chicago and so on our run to the store to do some errands for the young family, I'm back to bundling up. Aren't I a Polish grandmother after all?






("Is that everything, grandma?")






The store clerk gives her a flower...






("Do I play with it? Smell it? Eat it?")






Definitely time for lunch. Primrose is the only one I know who loves avocado as much as I do. I have a good chunk of one every night. She matches me, eating a whole half as well, in addition to her regular foods.






At this stage, sitting still for books is hard. But who's to say you can't stand and read?






("Grandma, don't you think chickens are overrated?")






She stacks, she makes cars run down a ramp, she bangs, tears, picks, throws, swings. But mostly, she is on the move.






And yet, she is zen like in her stillness when we go out in the stroller. So when grandma needs a break, we go for a walk, this time, to meet up with mom, who will be coming by train from that downtown area over there...






Home now. Primrose's home. Yes, the world feels perfect again. A mom's hand, a final walk to the bedroom...





Me, I take it easy once the girl goes down. The parents fuss, dinner appears, three cakes go in the oven. I listen, quietly enjoying the sounds of family life all around me.

Tomorrow, we celebrate!

j'ai deux amours...

When I toddle between the households of my two daughters, spending, say, a morning with one, here, in Madison, and the evening with the other, in Chicago, I find myself humming that tune about having two loves ("J'ai deux amours"). In the song, the singer is split in her affections between her own country and Paris. Ha! I get that as well, but right now, I'm just thinking how it's impossible for me to not miss the Chicago clan when I am here, or the Madison clan when I am in Chicago.

So perhaps you'll have guessed that I am on my way to Chicago. But might you guess why? Let's go back a full year: 365 days ago (meaning on this day last year), I was in Paris, waiting, waiting in a state of utmost anxiety for the news of the birth of my granddaughter. And finally, just as I sat down to a dinner, I got the news that she was out and about and doing well!

In other words, Primrose, claiming her Ocean name after the riotous bloom of primroses in the Luxembourg Gardens just at that very moment, was born a year ago today. I did not see her on the first day of her life, but I made it to Chicago in time to take a peek at her sleeping self briefly tonight. The sweet girl will be celebrating this weekend. But officially, she is one! Happiest of birthdays, little Primrose!

*     *     *

This morning, I am up early. First order of operations: admire all that's coming up!!






... and, too, admire the beautiful blue sky!






I pick up Snowdrop a little earlier than usual. I have this idea that we should have lunch at Madison Sourdough Bakery. You know, the place with the interesting murals by the parking lot.






She is just a little tired still (Gaga, people say that I am the kind of girl who likes to be carried...), nonetheless, we have a pleasant few minutes eating foods that are heavy on bread and not especially nourishing. I vow to make up for it when we get to the farmhouse!





Since Snowdrop was heavily into books this week, I introduced a couple of chapter series and today's triggered a whole play acting afterwards. Here we are, driving (not too fast, Gogs!) and looking for a missing dog...





Soon after, her father and brother come to pick her up. I do a final bag check before heading out to the bus that will take me to Chicago.

*     *     *  

It's remarkable to be pulling into Chicago while it's still light! Though living on the farmette makes me very keenly attuned to seasonal changes, coming to Chicago once a month is like hop scotching my way through the highlights and peculiarities of each new month. Today, I am just entering the best of the best: the days are longer, the yards are displaying first signs of new growth. Two visits ago, a warm scarf and a wool cap were barely enough to keep the chill away. Today, my jacket is light, open, the cap and mitts are left back home. I'm keeping an umbrella though, because it may well rain.





I come into my daughter's home, take a peak at the sleeping birthday girl, then settle in for a late supper with the young couple.


*     *     *

A great day is one that has a little of everyone in it. Place it all in the arms of spring and you have something uniquely magnificent! Happy day indeed!

spring work

Think how far we've come! Our thermometer stopped the climb at 58f (15c), but still, remember what we had here two weeks ago? A frozen landscape covered with snow. Today it feels as if we've stepped into another world.

(I can tell what time it is: the door to the coop opens at 8:10 and with that grand swing, the cheepers burst forward, instantly marching to where the action is -- around the garage and writers' shed.)





Ed, are you up? 
I am now... (the usual response)
Don't you need a beard trim?

(Breakfast: he's not nearly as grumpy as he looks!)






All morning, I work at clearing the garden. It's not grueling work -- cutting back spent flowers, pulling some garlic mustard invasives, removing debris from the flower beds. But it is never ending. I cannot do a perfect job -- I learned this a long time ago. I do as much as feels right for the day.

And then I pick up Snowdrop at her home, again taking a few minutes to visit with a guy who never sports a grumpy expression.






As Snowdrops gets out of the car and moves to visit with the cheepers, I am delighted to see that Happy the rooster does not see her as a threat. So far, this guy is all that the books say he should be.






(Can you tell the girl is feeling better?)






There is always lots of pretend play. But not only. Today, she designs a sequences for a necklace...






... and paints a picture of Moana on a beach...






... and as always, has her sweet playful times with the big guy.





Later, much later, there is a flash of lightening in the dark sky. And another. Rain comes down. Nothing huge. A spring shower. A refreshing, lovely spring shower.

here and there

On days that call for a lot of car travel, I feel in the way you do if you've spent too much time in front of the TV. Of course, there is the convenience of driving: when I am in Warsaw, dependent on my own two feet, supplemented by an occasional metro ride to get me from point A to B, I groan at how quickly the day is lost to doing the most basic errands. Just buying bread, fish, wine and produce (life's essentials) can require a run between stores not at all proximate to each other. You'll say -- it's good for you. I'll say -- yes, if you have the time. Here, in Madison, I can zip over, pick everything up from that list, and be back in a handful of minutes.

Still, a car is a car is a car: a trap in which you sit, starring at moving traffic. So tedious! So dull! And on such a pretty day no less!






At least I have my morning walk to care for the animals. Watching their antics is never dull!

(Cheepers, out to greet the day!)





(Two cats and six chickens, each a different bread, a different personality and they all get along. Amazing.)






But then come the errands, appointments, car chores -- the mind grows dull just at the recollection. And because there is so much of it, I do not get back until close to noon, which is when we finally sit down to breakfast.
I ask Ed -- I don't suppose at 43F (6C), it's warm enough to eat outside?
No it is not.
Darn!






In the afternoon, I go to pick up Snowdrop and this gives me a chance to greet the little guy...






The girl has been under the weather for the better part of the night and day and so I find her in a somewhat sorry state...






I pick her up, jammies and all, and bring her to the farmette.






After tons of restful reading, new books and old books, she asks for food.

She rallies. She is quickly on the road to recovery!






Stories unfold!






Yes, it's a beautiful spring day, here at the farmette. On balance, a really gorgeous day!

school break Monday

It's sort of/ kind of back to normal around here: spring is unfolding before us, animals go about their business, Ed and I check off small and large projects at the farmette.

(The kitties are mesmerized by the cheepers. The cheepers, on the other hand, are fairly indifferent to the cats.)






Breakfast: planning out our string of tasks for the day.






I have only one goal for the morning run of errands: pick up a larger table for the porch at Menards. The family is growing! We don't all fit around the old round one.  Ed's list is far longer: tire for the wheelbarrow, a pair of jeans that fits, socks from Farm and Fleet, cat food, usual donations to goodwill, and so on.

We do it all, with me tagging along, just so that I can finally get this much needed item for the porch. (We put it together, I find an old table cloth that fits. Yes!)






A few more tasks, a few more appointments and it's time to pick up Snowdrop. Not at school -- they're on Spring Break now, but from her home, to the farmette.






Games of old, games of pretend...






Hugging the tried and true, loving the new...





It's all there.

Evening.  A quiet one, with leftovers for supper -- how perfect is that?

Sunday at home

Even if it would snow again, even if frost covers our fields at night, even if we're still coasting through the iffy month of March, it no longer feels like winter. I step outside in the morning, feel the squishy mud of a ground that's no longer deeply frozen and smell the wonderful smells of fresh growth -- still mostly hidden from view, but the juices are flowing. You can feel it! And sometimes even see it.






Our day is very calm. I take care of the animals in the morning and that's really not a chore -- just a pleasant romp from one place to the next, watching the kitties venture out just a little...






... and the cheepers venture out somewhat more bravely.






Happy, the rooster is crowing now and we love his emerging voice! So far, we feel his temperament matches that of our girls. He's pretty mellow and he seems to fit in with the pack well. Pecking by anyone of anyone has mostly gone by the wayside.

Breakfast, lovely, because I had done the shopping and so everything was as we like it to be. (Well, as I like it to be. I'm sure Ed did not eat a single breakfast meal while I was away!)





We talk like real seniors! In going through our basement stuff (discarding most anything and everything that seems unnecessary), I came across an old cooler. Out it goes! -- I say. After all, when was the last time either of us wanted to drive great distances for a picnic? Still, a few hours later Ed asks -- do you want to pack a lunch and go out to our favorite Ice Age Trail segment when the weather warms up? We could take some bread and cheese...

He has sensed far longer than I have that our orbit of pleasures, with age, rests increasingly closer to home. And that making time to do something magnificent, something that we would have done when we were, say, in France, but have made little effort to do here (picnic with bread and cheese...) is important, especially when you've passed 65 and are by any measure a senior.


In the evening, the young family comes for dinner. They arrive straight from the airport, having spent a handful of days in D.C.  Snowdrop is at an age where a family trip somewhere far is nothing short of exhilarating. (She is so excited to come and tell me about it!)






(... and to tell Ed about her various museum trips)







Sparrow liked the excitement too, though I am told he missed his jumparoo! Too, he is at a squirmy age and I'm sure both parents are happy to be done with the travel portion of their mini vacation.

Dinner, of course, is lovely, just because all family dinners are lovely.






(oh how fast they grow!)











The routines of farmette life: I'm not the only one who loves them. Snowdrop is excited to help Ed put away the cheepers.... Here she is, running back and forth, wanting to tell me that they're resisting going to sleep tonight --  possibly because her lovely voice carries them right out of a dozy state straight into total wakefulness.






(Sparrow is amused. I should note that he is, these days, very much amused about any of life's perturbations and peculiarities.)





The evening ends in the way it so often does for me these days: my eyes close far too soon... You want to linger, even as your whole being tells you it's time to go to sleep.