Thursday

And again, this is what below 0F (-18C) looks like:






Our two little wayward kittens, Calico and Cutie, spent the night on the porch, huddled in the lair with the (mildly) heated pad. This is just plain nuts in my view. They know there is a shed with a radiant heated floor. Been there, slept there. But they wont go back. They do not want to intrude on the space of the shed cats. (I have learned that "do not want to invade the space of another cat" is a guiding principle in much of feral cat behavior.) So they sleep on the porch.

(Dance, with her thick winter coat, doesn't mind escorting me to the sheep shed.)






Breakfast.






It would be tempting to spend another morning in the farmhouse, but I do have grocery shopping to take care of and once you're out, you may as well run other errands. This is winter thinking for you: pack as much into one outing as you can. Then stay indoors.

Of course, Thursdays can't really be indoor days. There are kids to pick up at school and cart back to the farmette...

(playing with her Polish magnet dolls)






(playing with Duplo legos)






And there's a little girl to take to dance class.






(exuberance, with pig tails)





Each time I open the door and feel the bracing air hit my face, I think -- it's likely the last Arctic air this year.

I am thankful that we don't live in an even colder climate.
 

Wednesday

Whoa! Talk about lazy! The cold got to me. I step out to feed the animals (reluctantly) and immediately after, I turn up the heat, and settle int to a day of indoor work. Of a limited nature. A vacuum, a laundry load and a breakfast prep. That's it. (At least I varied the breakfast location -- give me credit for that!)





I have this excuse: I wanted to find a place to which my two good friends and I could escape sometime in April. For a retreat. Somewhere that would not be too difficult to get to, given that one friend lives in the south east, the other in the south west, and I, of course, am in the upper Midwest. Somewhere not expensive. Somewhere not too cold (we're talking April). So.... where??

I searched and came up with nothing that meets all criteria stated above. (It's rare that a travel idea does not percolate somewhere in my brain, but today, I honestly came up empty. Am I getting old??)



It's a very cold day. The sunshine is there, to cheer us up I suppose, but we're in one of those northern blasts that you have to tolerate and not groan about too much, because hey, it's February and to be expected.






I hustle the kids into the farmhouse. No cheerful pictures outdoors. Only cheerful photos inside!

(Sparrow dropped a Lego character under the car. Oh dear!)






(Rescued! All's safe!)






Art time: super pig book production by Snowdrop...






A Jackson Pollock-like canvas by Sparrow.






And a wintry sunset. It will be even colder on this night. Can we make a deal? This will be the last dip below 0F (-18C) for the year. Okay?





Okay.

Tuesday

Another squashed-in-between-two-extremes day. Snowstorm yesterday, Arctic blast tomorrow, plenty of sunshine and moderate temps (just below freezing) today. I mean, you'd be a fool not to whisk out the skis, right?

But first, a mini breakfast.






And for me -- a lovely morning with my friend, at Finca. When she is in town, I'll drop pretty much everything to sit down with her over coffee.






And if I time it right, I can still dash over with Ed to the park for a run along the ungroomed trails. It's a little slow going in a layer of heavy snow, but it's beautiful!






Phew! Made it in time to throw down the skis and go out to get the kids. It's a little tight, and I notice that my list of Mom to-do-things is getting more additions and few subtractions, but still, you just have to squeeze in the great outdoors when the weather gods throw you a beautiful set of hours.






Oh, right, we're onto kids now. I don't bother asking if they want to play outside. Sparrow doesn't have preferences -- he wants to be wherever his sister is.












Snowdrop has had her outdoor time at school. She wants the books, the stories, the make believe, the snacks! He's just fine with that.





We cut it a little short today, because I have an evening date with my daughter for our weekly chat. It's the only set of minutes that she has free and I seize that chance to catch up. Just the two of us. Sort of. Sparrow comes in occasionally to steal a handful of nuts.

And then home to Ed, with take-out Taigu Noodles -- a new favorite that I grab from an eatery near the young family's home.

I know this is a short-cut post. Few thoughts, many chronological run-throughs: did this, did that. Ho hum. Oh, but what a stunning day! If winter were this beautiful all the time, I may not be so hungry for spring right about now.

Monday

Thoughts of blue skies and muddy paths with stirring root stock are pushed aside today as the snow falls -- from morning until night. Close to half a foot expected.

Ed asks if I'm up for skiing.

No I am not. I am not up at all, I'm down on the couch sipping tea and lighting candles and catching my breath after one set of busy days and before the next set of busy days.

We eat breakfast, but cheating a little: Ed brings his computer to it and explains to me the various ways you can get information about weather systems that are at play where you live. I listen, but it's what I would call frivolous information. I don't need the European model or the XYZ model to tell me what I already know: it's snowing outside.











(Miss Calico and Cutie are hanging out on the porch again. Who knows why.)





Winter is digging in her heels. Here to stay. Uff!



In the afternoon, I brave the rural roads and head out to pick up the kids. It's slow going, and slow returning, and slow trudging from car to house, but Snowdrop and Sparrow are used to snow and all that it brings with it, including the opportunity to stomp into drifts that are at least knee deep, indeed the deeper the better!











Oh, the beautiful, dry warmth of the farmhouse!











And the snow continues to fall and, truthfully, it is beautiful.










Soup tonight. Of course. I have all this kale, I have some onions, I have some cannellini beans...

Sunday

Two families: one in Madison, one in Chicago. Sometimes I think they are out of one pod: two peas, growing side by side. Other times, they're more like different flowers in the same garden. Their needs vary -- one thrives on sunshine, the other makes do with dappled shade, so long as there's plenty of water. Me, I'm the proximate gardener, making it up as I go along. Not unlike in the farmette flower fields.

The point is -- you can't assume you have it figured out. You have to have good eyes, a willing heart, and strong hands. Put them all to use all the time and maybe you'll be lucky: buds will appear. Young families will blossom like there's no tomorrow, right before your eyes.


My day is split: morning with the Chicago family. Afternoon in transit. Evening with the Madison family. So different, yet so much in the same garden. Maybe even in one pod. Can't ever be sure.


Primrose is up early today. There is time for our usual mini breakfast. Lots of fruits. Grandma believes fiercely in fruits and veggies.






There is also time for play. For drawing, dancing, prancing.





















On my last day with the little girl I am always tempted to keep the camera at the ready: last chance to grab and hold onto that gaze, that expression, that lovely gesture. But of course, a camera is just a thin prop. Reality is always so much richer than a photo. And Primrose is a chatterbox. You couldn't tell just by looking at a picture, can you?

We eat brunch at the Lonesome Rose again. There is something deeply reassuring in ending a visit with foods from there. As if this all will continue -- we will go our separate ways but don't worry! We'll come back and have those tacos, burritos and bowls again at the Lonesome Rose.






And we will pull grandma's suitcase to the L and say good bye.






I will see them soon. Well, pretty soon. Next month. We live in different cities, different states even, but the distances aren't great. 145 miles (235 km). In America, that's almost "next door." (Even as I wish it were 1.45 miles.) When I ask my daughters how many of their friends with families live close to their own parents, I get the expected answer: almost none. (At the same time, when I pick up the kids at school, I often run into another grandparent or two, so I know I am not unique.)





It's a sunny day. While still in the car, Primrose and I talked about sunshine and its forceful presence, much like Snowdrop and I talk about that very same sun that streams so beautifully into our spaces on cold winter days.

Cold yet beautiful days. No matter how focused I am on these two families, I can't help but notice the sun's intense loveliness. There's still plenty of snow, especially in Madison, but the dazzling light makes it so obvious that the days of a frozen ground, of frozen lakes and frozen rootstock are numbered.






It's still light when the Madison family comes to the farmhouse for dinner. That surely is a gift!

And here's one of the many many moments where the peas are all in one pod: Primrose, down in Chicago, wants to talk to her cousins up here in Madison and so we have some facetime and it is wonderful.











Dinner is the reliable spaghetti with homemade sauce. Admittedly, for the kids, it's all about the pasta and parmesan. Still, I sneak in veggies on the side. Roasted beets. Corn. Baby tomatoes. Snowdrop loves them all. Sparrow? He's slowly coming on board. Slowly.






(After dinner: gaga, can you play with me now? Not tonight little one. But tomorrow. For sure.)






Flowers in a garden. All of them. Middle of February and I have this gorgeous array of flowers in a garden.

a day with Primrose

From wake up until nightfall, the day belongs to Primrose. Oh, sure, there are her parents. And Chicago, and a delicious brunch, and a lovely evening of books and movies while mom and dad do the town, but really, my focus is on the little girl. I visit her often, but not nearly often enough, and when I do, I typically come in one day and leave the next. But this weekend is different: it's nearly all hers and I get to watch her move through the hours at her Primrose pace and admire all that's abloom in her young sweet soul.

A few photos, fewer words here, on Ocean. Fleeting images from a day well spent.






Brunch at the beautiful Tied House.











It has been observed that I tend to play less active games with the grandkids. When Snowdrop wants to be chased in a game of tag, I typically demur. And Sparrow -- he's no couch potato, but nor is he the kind of toddler who torpedoes through your space at lightening speed.  But I have no problem with the occasional tumble and roll on the floor. Proof offered:






I feel I got my share of stretches today.






It's a very windy, cold day. On our walk to the Tied House, Primrose seemed completely unfazed by this. With one parent from Minnesota and the other from Wisconsin, the girl has real cold weather grit running through her. But when the young family heads out for a walk to the grocery store in the late afternoon, I choose to stay home. It's the kind of day when a cup of hot blueberry hibiscus tea is especially delicious.

(play time, first with just Primrose!)






(then parents join in; play-doh sculpture is serious business!)






(quiet time)






And what about late evening pleasures? First, an irreverent little act on the part of grandma: parents gone? Let's raid the fridge! Jenny's ice cream! Mmmmm!





Once Primrose is asleep, I switch to a glass of wine, a piece of February chocolate (heart shaped!) and I search for a movie on the young family's Netflix account. A sweetly dozy combination! Perfectly wonderful.