It was a dramatic sunrise.
That's the benefit of being up with the cheepers -- you will see the dramatic sunrises.
We're expecting heavy storms today and of course, I'm both grateful and apprehensive. Like, how heavy is "heavy?" And when?
I pause to admire the flowers that are now showing their lovely faces. In the world of day lilies, the yellow ones are often the first to emerge, but of course, to me they're not just yellow. Take a look at these three -- tinges of apricot, one ruffled, another -- with a creamy sweetness to it.
Okay, there is in fact more to life than day lilies. And more to a garden.
(Looking toward the farmhouse...)
And more to a day.
Breakfast on the porch.
And then I am off to pick up Snowdrop for her farmette vacation. Presumably without interruptions this time.
Still in her pj's, she wiggles out of my grasp, so that she can say hi to the cheepers. And the garden.
I skip the morning bath and change her into what I would call gym clothes. There is a tumbling program in one of the little kid gyms nearby and I swear there's a session for her age group today.
Ready for gym, little one?
Can I take bunny rabbit?
Maybe not.
Well, she may be ready for gym and I may be ready for her to be at gym, but the gym isn't ready for us. Wrong schedule, wrong time. We'll try again another day. But in the meantime, we are right next to Paul's cafe. We can stock up on Ed's favorite pickles and get a treat for ourselves (a bite of a cheese danish, which she only mildly likes).
And we're close to the library -- a perfect distraction for this morning. Apparently many others agree. We come across a roomful of moms and their babes/toddlers/kids. Parents need that break where their kids go crazy while the adults sit in a circle and talk. Snowdrop, however, is a little taken aback by the noise and chaos. She moves away from the racket, all the while aware of the movement of little ones (they always intrigue her).
She finds a quiet corner for a moment with a book...
But then takes my hand and leads me to the center of the chaos. She definitely wants to observe from up close.
It strikes me how quiet her world is at home or at the farmette. At the library today, things are not quiet.
Okay, sweet child, time to get back to the farmhouse for that postponed bath. And a romp with grandpa Ed.
And some real quiet time, staring mightily at a picture of a pond in a Paris park.
When does the world begin to make sense to a little one? By 17.5 months, is there logic between one act and the next? One day and the next? I tell her today is Wednesday. When does that label begin to matter?
In the afternoon, we have a big event: a dump truck arrives with more wood chips to offload. Snowdrop loves big trucks and she is fascinated by the entire process, though... at a distance.
(Chickens, on the other hand, are her best friends forever.)
She wants to stay outside and this time, I let her roam free. I don't watch her like a hawk. I watch her like a grandma who wants to give her the confidence to explore.
(What are you doing, grandpa Ed?)
(Picking you up like a football, Snowdrop!)
(Me, I notice the flowers. Here's a day lily that's not just... yellow toned!)
I wait for that predicted rumble of storms, but it never comes. Still, I think it's a fine day to make rhubarb cake with Snowdrop.
And of course, I make the bean enchilada dinner that I know she loves from home. (Yes, confirmed. She eats like a little pony. And yes, there's plenty of room for cake. With whipped cream. Because it's a special week.)
You want your grandchild to have a great time during a visit. But even more, you want her to grow in confidence and self assurance. Today it's grandma's, tomorrow college, after all.
But today it's grandma's. And that's a very fine thing indeed.
That's the benefit of being up with the cheepers -- you will see the dramatic sunrises.
We're expecting heavy storms today and of course, I'm both grateful and apprehensive. Like, how heavy is "heavy?" And when?
I pause to admire the flowers that are now showing their lovely faces. In the world of day lilies, the yellow ones are often the first to emerge, but of course, to me they're not just yellow. Take a look at these three -- tinges of apricot, one ruffled, another -- with a creamy sweetness to it.
Okay, there is in fact more to life than day lilies. And more to a garden.
(Looking toward the farmhouse...)
And more to a day.
Breakfast on the porch.
And then I am off to pick up Snowdrop for her farmette vacation. Presumably without interruptions this time.
Still in her pj's, she wiggles out of my grasp, so that she can say hi to the cheepers. And the garden.
I skip the morning bath and change her into what I would call gym clothes. There is a tumbling program in one of the little kid gyms nearby and I swear there's a session for her age group today.
Ready for gym, little one?
Can I take bunny rabbit?
Maybe not.
Well, she may be ready for gym and I may be ready for her to be at gym, but the gym isn't ready for us. Wrong schedule, wrong time. We'll try again another day. But in the meantime, we are right next to Paul's cafe. We can stock up on Ed's favorite pickles and get a treat for ourselves (a bite of a cheese danish, which she only mildly likes).
And we're close to the library -- a perfect distraction for this morning. Apparently many others agree. We come across a roomful of moms and their babes/toddlers/kids. Parents need that break where their kids go crazy while the adults sit in a circle and talk. Snowdrop, however, is a little taken aback by the noise and chaos. She moves away from the racket, all the while aware of the movement of little ones (they always intrigue her).
She finds a quiet corner for a moment with a book...
But then takes my hand and leads me to the center of the chaos. She definitely wants to observe from up close.
It strikes me how quiet her world is at home or at the farmette. At the library today, things are not quiet.
Okay, sweet child, time to get back to the farmhouse for that postponed bath. And a romp with grandpa Ed.
And some real quiet time, staring mightily at a picture of a pond in a Paris park.
When does the world begin to make sense to a little one? By 17.5 months, is there logic between one act and the next? One day and the next? I tell her today is Wednesday. When does that label begin to matter?
In the afternoon, we have a big event: a dump truck arrives with more wood chips to offload. Snowdrop loves big trucks and she is fascinated by the entire process, though... at a distance.
(Chickens, on the other hand, are her best friends forever.)
She wants to stay outside and this time, I let her roam free. I don't watch her like a hawk. I watch her like a grandma who wants to give her the confidence to explore.
(What are you doing, grandpa Ed?)
(Picking you up like a football, Snowdrop!)
(Me, I notice the flowers. Here's a day lily that's not just... yellow toned!)
I wait for that predicted rumble of storms, but it never comes. Still, I think it's a fine day to make rhubarb cake with Snowdrop.
And of course, I make the bean enchilada dinner that I know she loves from home. (Yes, confirmed. She eats like a little pony. And yes, there's plenty of room for cake. With whipped cream. Because it's a special week.)
You want your grandchild to have a great time during a visit. But even more, you want her to grow in confidence and self assurance. Today it's grandma's, tomorrow college, after all.
But today it's grandma's. And that's a very fine thing indeed.
