lingering...

It's as if summer does not want to leave just yet. We have a glorious day today -- a repeat of yesterday's beauty. A heavenly day of sunshine and gusts of refreshing breezes! All against the backdrop of goldenrod, goldencone and dainty purple asters.

I have an appointment early this morning and it's a good one because it gives me some answers to questions I've had for many months now. I come back in time for a sweet breakfast on the porch. It's warm enough this morning!






Of course, we have to go out. We just have to! A rerun of grand weather calls for a rerun of bike rides and disc golf games. I leave my camera at home once again, but I do take out my phone for just one quick photo after a particularly good round on the disc golf course!






I pick up a bouncy girl at school! Once again she has produced a picture she'd been working on of a penguin house and this time I snap her with it, in front of all those purple asters.






And as the breeze tussles her hair, I have to ask -- isn't this a fine day to go fly a kite?

She is all for it! I ask Ed to help us. My history of kite flying hasn't always produced tangible results.






We go to a playground with wide spaces for kites. We give it a go.






It isn't easy. Snowdrop runs with it, mostly in good directions. She surely got the lift!






... up up, aiming for those "highest heights."






And when the running wears her out, she puts her energies to the playground. Want to join me, ahah?

He never says no.





At the farmette again, Ed offers her a bite of the only two pears that the ancient pear tree produced this year. I am surprised that she likes it. Here she is, begging me to help her pick the second one. It's not ripe, Snowdrop. No, it wont get ripe today...






Inside, she settles into story telling. As always, she mixes up her medium. Things make it into her dollhouse that surely were not intended for it (birthday cards??). Snowdrop, you have a terrific imagination.






Play with me, gaga.
I am right here, listening to you.
No, I mean sit down right here, pick up some of the characters and make up stories about them!

I smile at that. Snowdrop doesn't hog the spotlight. She likes nothing better than a partner in crime. Right there on the floor beside her.


Evening. Ed plays with cats, I fix supper and look in on my grandgirl in Chicago. Doors and windows wide open. What a day! What a beautiful day!

first day of fall

What a gorgeous day! Could it be more beautiful? I don't think so. Simply stunning. You can't ignore it. That inner voice shouts "go out! go out!"

And we do,  but not right away. Fall mornings here are cool. And this first day of fall is no different. Breakfast in the kitchen.






This corner of the porch always gives me a seasonal bit of beauty: lilacs in the spring, lilies in the summer. Today, there's that last burst of lilies, lots of golden coneflowers, and of course, the purple aster sprigs.






The cats love the warm sunshine!

(Little Gray is nursing, Dark Blue Tulip is snuggling...)






(Dark Blue Tulip wants a turn! Yo-Yo -- the newly named little guy -- comes in as well. Dance is a true milk machine. But she also teaches calm and sharing to all the cats here. She's a fantastic matriarch!)






Purple and gold: it defines the Big Bed now...






(the occasional reblooming lily)






(Dark Blue Tulip and Tomato: cats and cheepers get along very well...)






(Happy wonders if he could ever climb the lilac in the way that the cats do...)






Ed asks if I'm up for biking to the disc golf course for several throws of the old frisbees. You cannot say no: it's an outdoor day. A soak in all that wonderful sunshine day. A retired person's dream day.

(Quick lunch afterwards...)





And in the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop.

I suggest a walk to the coffee shop and playground.

Oh, yes! Definitely!

At the coffee shop, she asks about something that's been bothering her since our reading of the third Beverly Cleary Ramona book. Remember, this is a series from the 1950s and in this particular book, Ramona has a first grade teacher who is prissy and staid, even by the standards of that era. The teacher has a favorite little come back for students who complain about the behavior of a classmate. "No one likes a tattle-tale!" -- she repeats again and again.

It strikes me that this was a big thing in the decade when we were blind to the problem of bullies, of sexually inappropriate touching, even of stranger dangers.

And so we spend a good while sorting through what Ramona's teacher may not have wanted to hear and what definitely calls for teacher notification. Now if I can only find a good explanation for why bologna sandwiches have gone out of favor in school lunches and why most moms these days do not stay home and bake chocolate chip cookies while their kids are at school...

We walk to the playground energized by the brilliance of the day!






We spend time on the structure, and of course, she swings with wild abandon...






But today, she also wants to go to the beach. And into the water...


(time to tie up those skirts...)






(no, Snowdrop, you cannot go swimming!)






She gets wet. Of course she does! And who cares -- it's the first day of Fall!






Eventually I figure out a way to get her home, wet clothes and all.

We read more of Ramona, we play.

And in the late evening, Ed and I sit at the picnic table and watch the cats do their own evening dance. Cats, like people, know when the going is good, when the weather is golden. Perhaps they suspect that the cold season is just around the corner. Play now, play hard! And they do... Yes they do...

Sunday

And now there are nine (cats in the garage)!

Such rains fell on farmette lands all night long! Heavy enough to make puddles in the driveway and to knock down a tree limb from one of the ancient maples. And it continued into the early morning, so that when I received a text -- "we're on our way!" -- I couldn't help thinking that there was a lot of drama to the scene before us!

The message came from my friends, who were picking up two of the littlest kitties. Lucky guys! (Both friends and kitties.) Well, lucky once everyone makes the adjustment!

We had established a feeding routine in the morning that would have made the transfer a cinch, but the rains messed with the normal. I ran to the garage, turned on the lights and tried to keep all felines on course. Luckily, the little guys are not at all skittish and they pounced on the food and I whisked the two away before anyone noticed.

We were rewarded later with beautiful photos of the little guys being cuddled in their new home. Everyone there seemed content!

As for the tribe remaining here -- I'm sure Dance, the mom, notices the absence of the two. But what does she make of it? Does she think the rains washed part of her litter away? Might she wonder if they are hiding? Who can tell.






Breakfast, on the porch, with the patter of rain on the glass roof.





It's otherwise a quiet day, here at the farmhouse. Well, except for the noise I made when I wasn't looking where I was heading and crashed into a table that happens to be on wheels, sending everything and everyone careening in a wild and crazy spin before tumbling to the floor. I spent the remaining hours of the day nursing whatever sores and bruises I sustained, remembering the old adage: use frozen peas, not steak and resist the impulse to rub! Easy enough: we have no steak and frozen corn is as good as a sack full of frozen peas any day.

No family dinner today: remember? Sunday was yesterday. Tonight the young couple is celebrating seven years of marriage. Stay happy and strong, you two! Never hold back that joyful laugh!

I shift my elevated wounded knee. Ed, can you feed the cats tonight? All nine of them? 

(note chicken feather on little guy... the cheepers spent a good many hours with the cats during the heaviest rains today)



 


Turns out it's 9.5 cats. Stop Sign returned -- a little bruised, a little angry, but trusting us to feed her once again.

Saturday

It could be Saturday, it could be Sunday. We have elements of both.

The pace is slower. Yes, the day starts early -- it always does, on account of the animal feeding and, too, because I like mornings and I'm used to getting up with the light, especially when the light comes to us so late! (Sunrise today: about 6:45, though honestly, when the day is this cloudy, it's hard to talk about a sunrise.) But there is no hurry.






Tomorrow, two of the little ones are going to their new home and so I watch them one last time as they climb, tumble and scamper about.

(this one, who will be leaving, is the smallest of them all, but she is also the friendliest...)






(this one, whom we have taken to calling Gray Cloud, is staying...)






Because the day threatens rain, I do not meet up with my granddaughter and her mommy for a protracted farmers market walk. Instead, I take my scooter out very early and do some essential market shopping on my own (corn, peaches, pimento peppers, flowers, cheese)...

(it's the grandmas who arrange the bouquets; they're small women and they tend to hide in the mass of flowers before them...)











(Door County fruits, still going strong!)






(scooter basket is full!)






After picking up breakfast treats, I scoot right back to the farmette. Breakfast on the porch.






And now there's a flip to the day: we have a Sunday-ish family dinner.






You don't often have a chance to see Sparrow, so I'll end with a photo of the little guy playing blocks with Snowdrop. Sort of.






Despite the drippy weather, it's a beautiful evening. The kids are happy, the grown-ups -- full of plans for the year ahead. And the fresh corn, picked this morning -- you know what I think of that! Farmette life at its best!

Friday

I do love young people. They have convictions. They want to see a better world than the one to which they are born. They look for strength in numbers, because alone, they often feel small. They look beyond their back yard. They march.

My own morning though is more like that of a retired person: I go out... (foggy!)


 



(front bed flowers...)






(autumn reblooms...)






I feed cats. Call me the cat lady who fell into this role inadvertently.  And I pull some weeds. And for breakfast, Ed and I go to Finca Cafe. With our computers. Because we love this leisurely way to share space and a morning meal.






Just after the noon hour, I do something else that no young person would bother with: I go to thumb therapy. Yes, really. If you have thumbs like mine, you'll appreciate small tips and maneuvers to make those fat little fingers work more efficiently. My thumb person herself is young and cheerful and she laughs at all my jokes as if they're really funny and in addition, she gives my hand a soak in hot wax, which is truly original and somewhat Halloweenish. (It comes out caked in ghostly white wax.) A half hour well spent, for any number of reasons.

Snowdrop is here in the afternoon.






We read and continue with the trip to Snowland game.






Later, as I drive her home, I ask her about the bad kids in her class (so described by her). I ask for examples of bad behavior. I'm surprised that the examples she gives me are of verbal misdeeds. In the Ramona books we're reading, the little girl is naughty in physical ways (pulling hair, destroying another child's art project). She says plenty of no-no stuff, too, but I can tell Snowdrop is fascinated by the behavioral outbursts, ones that seem very edgy to someone like Snowdrop, who has a better control over her own impulses. (I'd say that as a child, I was probably half way between Ramona and Snowdrop.)



These days, my daughter and I try to set aside a few minutes to sit down together at the very end of a very busy week. No kids, just the two of us. Tonight, my Chicagoan girl happens to call at this time. I sit back and listen to the back and forth for a while and think -- listening to your grownup kids talk to each other is just grand. I suppose it's not unlike when your kids first play together and you sit back and think -- well, now, this is just so fine!





Well, now, this is just so very fine.

Thursday

A little rain, a little thunder. Enough to keep us indoors this morning. Attending: to paper work. To others. To future plans and today's necessities.

After breakfast of course.






A morning, washed away by useless (for us) weather. But, I filed all necessary documents for my share of the jackpot in the Equifax Credit Monitoring Breach Settlement: if all goes well, I will get some fraction of $125!  The morning was not a total wash!


In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop, who would very much like to show you how heavy her backpack is.






In an unusual twist to our routines, I take her straight to the Fitchburg Farmers Market. It's a special one: kids are the focus of it. There are wagon rides, crafts, treats. For Snowdrop, there is the double fun of being allowed to climb onto Farmer Natalie's truck to pick a huge number of tomatoes for our freezer. It's all great fun for her! As Natalie said to me -- Snowdrop is just like her grandma -- all smiles and happiness! I consider it the greatest compliment to be viewed in the same league as this:

(a ride)





(tomatoes!)





(cheese curds!)










(making a spider..)






(another ride!)






And toward evening, there is Storybook Ballet.





The day ends quietly. Meditatively. Autumnally.