Tuesday

No text today! There is but one focus -- to take heed! Seize the beautiful sun dappled hours! Get things done!

And I do. I leave but a trail of photos:

Our daffodils, in the morning light.






Breakfast in the sun room. (It's early and still on the cool side.)






The Flower Factory, my go-to local perennial nursery, opened its gates for business this week -- one week earlier than usual. I've been their loyal customer for decades now. Driving out to their place is a spring high point for me. And today is our day for it: Ed will read a book on a bench there, I'll walk, nod my head, learn, admire. (And yes, buy. After all, we've doubled the size of the front bed this year...)










Back at the farmette, we unload the treasured pots of purchased flowers.

I glance out at our beds right now. I can never get enough of the daffodils -- our season's first bigger field of blooms.






But I'm also happy to see the other spring beauties began their seasonal show.






The cheepers wait and watch: will she be digging worms for us? Will she get us some yummy stale bread?






Time to get Snowdrop.
We're going on an adventure, gaga?






At the park, she wont get off the swing. Too slow! More high, gaga!






At the farmhouse, always a rush to be with her characters first.






At the sheep shed: I tell her that this is where ahah works. Today Snowdrop informs me: I work here too, gaga.






Why I love dandelions: it is the one flower you can tell your grandchild: pick as many as you want!






After nap polka dance. Ahah supplies the music, she supplies the smiles and the running commentary.






Nurturing instincts kick in...






And in between all that there are the hours spent weeding, digging, scheming, imagining.

A grand day. Totally grand.

Monday

There is a book that I read to Snowdrop where everything, as far as the eye can see, is brown. I swear, the author must have spent a March in Wisconsin. Then on the very last page, a little boy steps out and the world is green.

I have this image in my head that things turn here right around the date of my birthday (April 21st). This is when I always remember the buds on trees popping with new life. The brown begins to co-mingle with a gentle green.

But this year, there isn't a question but that the world has turned green already, without waiting for my birth date!

And it's warm enough for breakfast on the porch, and that's just so wonderful!






And the daffodils are nearly at their peak -- against the backdrop of a thicket of green!






Snowdrop was out of school for spring break last week, but today she is back in full swing.

Has it only been a week? Everything about the world seems transformed!






A week ago, after school, we walked the neighborhood in search of blooming flowers and found the occasional crocus and bluebell -- little else.

Consider today's walk!
















I cannot believe the changes!


At the farmhouse, Snowdrop wants a little quiet time. That is, if you can call playing baseball with Ed quiet time.






There -- this is her sedative, her respite, her chill time: serving tea at her little table. I can almost feel her exhale.







After her nap, there's more indoor play. I'll include just one set of photos, where she cooks soup for her new chickens.






Wait. That looks threatening! Does the chicken understand that she is one step away from the soup pot?







Late in the afternoon, we go outside. The real chickens join us. Or, join her: they're convinced that she holds the key to chicken heaven.






I pick up my shovel and continue to weed the strawberry field. This is a big project for me as I've let the weeds take a firm hold in the last couple of years. Snowdrop understands I need help. She is more than willing to assist!






And she is, in fact, a terrific digger.






We work side by side until her dad comes to take her home.

The wind has picked up some, but the sun is still out. I glance at the daffodils. Golden and ivory. Perfection.

Easter Sunday

If you had to write a heart warming picture book about a perfect Easter Sunday, you'd choose this day as your model. It's the coupling of perfect weather with an unusually late Easter date. The result is a magnificent display of nature magic!

We have Snowdrop as our morning house guest, but the little girl sleeps in late and as I putz around the kitchen, I wonder if the promise of good weather will truly come to pass. It's cloudy in the early hours and I'm glad that Ed's second face off with the sputtering furnace (yesterday) was successful, because we need the heat.

Snowdrop is in a gentle and sweet mood and we do our usual routines. Her first breakfast, still in pj's...






... a bath, and then the preparation of the big breakfast: pancakes (by her choice)!
Is it time to flip, gaga?

I didn't think we would be up for a breakfast outside, but the skies began to clear and with that  glorious sunshine, I decide it is warm enough.

A little Easter bunny hopped over to the table to be with you! 
It's purple? She's not certain. I'll have to introduce her to the concept of magenta.







She is instantly attached to it. And to the pancakes. As is Ed.
Me, I'm just loving this brief April fling outdoors...











Hmmm. All that maple syrup... Maybe a bib is a good idea, Snowdrop.






After breakfast, I take her home.
Bunny has to come home with me.
Shouldn't bunny stay at the farmhouse?
No, bunny is going home to mommy and daddy.
Fair enough. (I can snatch "purple wurple" floppy ears back later.)






And then I return to the farmette and I set to work: digging, planting lily bulbs, mulching, weeding -- the usual, sure, but all against the backdrop of a blue sky. Look! The old cherry is blossoming!






What a gorgeous day. No, really: you cannot improve upon it.






Sublime!






And in the evening, the young family comes over for Easter dinner. I do a rather traditional menu: chicken marinated in buttermilk, garlic and cayenne, mashed potatoes, asparagus, corn. And for dessert -- home made raspberry ice cream and little fiancier cakes.

But first, I direct Snowdrop to the Easter bunny's farmhouse evening gift for her: she has her own chicken. No, it's not real. Thank God.






Dinner. Once again, we almost didn't eat outside. It's in the mid sixties F (about 18C) -- so borderline for a meal outdoors.

But, oh, am I glad we went with the gut! It was a beautiful evening!






Just beautiful. (Snowdrop, reacquainting herself with ice cream.)






Yep. A thumbs up.






Little financier cake as well.







I do so hope your day was as beautiful! Full of flowers. And love.

Saturday

I did not want to be frustrated. Now today! It's a warm and beautiful day and I have plenty of time to get some things on the ground at the farmette. I have little reason to feel impatient. I love the tranquility that accompanies gardening. Today is all about tranquility! Exasperation -- I do not need you or want you in this day!

And yet I am being taunted. Ed, who has so little time right now (work, inventions, and the taxes that are causing him to fume as only an American could fume on this is tax weekend) -- so little time! -- offers nonetheless to help me a little in the yard this afternoon.

I'm grateful.

Until I learn that actually, the furnace is malfunctioning again and any free time has to be spent on trying to understand what the hell is happening with that huge monster of a machine downstairs.

Frustrating.

But, but, how can you fume when the flowers are exploding everywhere??







Well, just look at that face of a person who has to fix a furnace and do his taxes!






I leave him to his misery and go over to Snowdrop's. Today is the first day of our outdoor farmer's market! Snowdrop, her mom and I set out for the walk downtown. It's warm, breezy and lovely! (Our walk is in large part along the lake.)





Once there, we start our market with the usual pause for a bakery treat at L'Etoile/Graze. I have a special regard for this place as it is where I worked for several years, preparing just such baked goods for market customers. I have to say, I think back then (it was some ten years ago), we had better control over how many baked goods we prepared and how many sales clerks were needed to move things along. Today, the wait is long and baked goods begin disappearing halfway into the market morning.

Frustrating.

Snowdrop and I take a stroll while her mommy waits in line. I had to smile at how befuddled the little girl is, what with the wind, the lack of long sleeves -- a whole new way of facing the world!











Snowdrop's daddy shows up for a little while and the little girl is happy to see him, but, too, she is lost in her croissant situation and so I am not going to be able to give you a photo without that piece of bakery plastered to her face.






Still, well into our walk around the Square where the market is held each week (and my oh my, is it a crowded square, as I swear, half of Chicago comes up for our weekly event), my frustrations fade. There's just something grand about having this warm day show up in mid April! I mean, it's just too beautiful!

But at the farmette, my replacement piece of technology comes in the mail and I am again set spinning as once more I cannot get the new device to interact with my iPhone. Finally, I call someone in some very distant country who is probably paid pennies for attending to customer calls and in the course of talking to him, I figure out what it is that I am doing incorrectly (yes, it's my fault, though honestly, the manufacturer should have seen this one coming!) and now I am set straight yet another frustration melts away.


I work all afternoon in the yard and it is just one beautiful period of planting for me. Yes, there are always tricky points and challenging situations, but I'm used to maneuvering among these. The afternoon is calm. And more importantly, all the annuals I purchased the other day are planted in the thirteen tubs I have waiting for them.






In the evening, Snowdrop comes over for pizza and a sleepover. I know: I am without imagination. Each time she is here for a sleepover, we bake and eat pizza. What can I say -- she likes it, I like it.

But without doubt, her favorite part is when we go outside after the meal. It's dusk. The birds are explosive in their evening music. Nothing needs to be done, no dirt needs to be upturned. It's just us and those birds and the newly planted flowers...






And bubbles, because Snowdrop insists on bubbles.











These evening walks up and down the farmette land on warm spring or summer evenings have value that cannot be easily described. Tonight, the sky is dramatic and beautiful. The air is scented and warm.  The daffodils -- well, a month ago, I would not have believed that so much beauty is within our reach.





Perhaps you need life's trivial frustrations to get you thinking about the things that are running smoothly in your life. I get that: the punch before the bliss.  Well, by nightfall I'm full of bliss. All that's missing is the full moon (four days ago) and a promise, an absolute promise of more of the same.