dizzying day

I am sure that there aren't many on this planet, who appreciate today's glorious sunshine as much as we do here in south central Wisconsin! Yesterday's snowstorm was the final slap in a season that has been nothing but unkind to us. Whereas I read that it was 81F (27C) in Paris and 70F (21C) in Warsaw, we were stuck at the freezing point all day long. And the snow and ice fell hard, pounding relentlessly at the roads, at our gardens, at anyone who dared venture out.

Ah, but this morning, this still and peaceful morning, there isn't a cloud in the sky. I come out just at sunrise and though it is still just below freezing, I know that this scene of winter loveliness will not last long.






It is enchanting!






No matter where you look, there is a quilt of snow.






And it stays with us all morning long.






The farmette, in lacy loveliness.







Should we ski? The snow is heavy and wet and that lovely sunshine is sure to do its bit to make gliding a challenge. Nonetheless, it is deep enough! As deep as anything we've had this past season! Let's go, now, before breakfast, before it melts, let's get moving!

(Hey, where are you dashing off to??)






We head out to our local county park. Not surprisingly, we are not the only ones out with skis. Two other people are sporting that big grin that comes from having been handed a gift of a lovely skiing moment!

And it truly is a beautiful scene...






No, the turtles are not out, but the birdsong is strong, vibrant, as if we were in a meadow with buttercups and forget-me-nots rather than looking out on a field of snow.






At first, Ed complains that the snow is sticky. Glide, buddy, glide! The faster the better!

...With pauses to cast appreciative glances at the forest, so beautiful that it makes you smile at the magic of it all!






It does help to know that within a very short time, it will all be gone and we'll be on track with spring once more.

(Camera perched on tree branch...)






(One last one...)






At home now. Breakfast, hearty and delightful after the hour on skis.






By the time I pick up Snowdrop, the great melt has begun. In Madison, the south facing flowerbed at her school is almost without snow. And note that the girl herself is quite comfortable without a jacket.






We play for a short while at the farmhouse...






And then I take her home. We have a date to go to the park with her mommy.
I only need a sweater. Please, can you button all five buttons?







Time to go!
But I'm starving! (She displays perfect expression of inner anguish.)






Finally, the local playground, where, predictably, she is very happy.






We're joined by a sandhill crane. Who knew that cranes liked playgrounds?






Do cranes like stories? Here's someone who can tell you one.






So many games to play and things to do on a sunny April afternoon! And finally, the day is warm enough to do them.

bizarre blizzard

All day, the warnings came: heavy snow expected this afternoon. Look for at least half a foot accumulation.

We're almost unaffected by the strangeness of this weather. Hardened by weeks of cold, we shrug our shoulders and talk not of planting perennials, but of taking out skis tomorrow.

Never have I contemplated skiing here in April, let alone the second half of April.

Incredible!

(Hey, what's happening?)






Breakfast, luxuriously colorful.


 



Outside, Java flounders.






And it is just the beginning of the storm.

I have to rethink my afternoon with Snowdrop. Normally, she would come to the farmhouse after school and eventually I would take her to dance. Indeed, when I pick her up, she has her ballet shoes on. She is so ready for this.  But the weather is so awful, that everything is closing early (with the exception of schools -- our schools rarely close for reasons of snow). There will be no dance today.

Is she disappointed? For sure. But Snowdrop easily navigates changed paths and adjusted schedules.







I tell her that instead, I'll be driving her straight home. We'll play for a while there. (I see no reason to put her on the slippery rural roads that lead to the farmette. We may as well stick to city streets. After, I can slowly make my own way home.)

Of course, she can always do a dance or two at home. On tippy toes...






Leg up high...





A twist, a spin, a run, a grin.


The snow comes down hard. As I pull into the driveway at the farmette, I notice how pretty it is, in a Christmas card sort of way. Where was all this snow when we longed for it, say in January?






Lovely, but so out of place here, on April 18th.

A little red...






A little yellow...







And a lot of white. And no green in sight.

Unbelievable!

waiting

Snowdrop has a book titled "Waiting." It's really a nonstory. It reads almost like a poem, meandering between scenes of ... waiting. I'm somewhat surprised that  the little girl likes it so much. Toys, on a windowsill, waiting.

I thought of that book countless times today.

It was a day of waiting. Suspended between weather systems, there is nothing to be done outside. Snow the last two days, a tiny warm up today, more snow tomorrow. Then, too, it is a day where Snowdrop has afternoon engagements and so I am not spending my usual afternoon with her. Ed laughs that I am at loose ends. Perhaps.

After breakfast...





I search the internet for a well regarded inexpensive double stroller. Ed helps by looking through used options. Nothing is good. And it doesn't really matter: there is no hurry, I can wait.

Since I have a free day, I take care of something that I absolutely have to do this week -- renew my expiring driver's license. We know how this works: you go to the DMV much as you go to the SSI: pick a number and wait. Seemingly forever.

But I'm surprised: I fill out a form online, I schedule my arrival, I show up and have that photo snapped, vision tested and boom! Five minutes later I'm out of there!

Good. If I'm to wait, twiddle thumbs, meditatively stare at the beautiful sky, with wisps of sun touching the ribbons of melting snow, it's more satisfying to do it at the farmette.





I think we should walk. This from Ed, who perhaps thinks I've spent too much time today looking at ribbons of melting snow and double strollers online.
Too muddy!
How about along the lakefront road? By Lake Waubesa?

It's a great place to meander on a cool but sunny April afternoon. The birds are loud, the ducks are plentiful.






And the sandhill cranes complain about the spring that will not come.

(Sandhill courtship...)






(Duck courtship...)






At the farmette, the cat came back. Is it that cat? Is it someone's pet? A feral? We can't tell. But he was hungry and we fed him, trying very hard to chase Peach and Java away while he sampled chicken meat!











Tomorrow there'll be more snow. Then we'll wait again -- but maybe, after that, we need wait no more.

Monday

The snows tapered off this morning. Now comes the interminable wait for it all to melt. That wont happen today -- we're hovering right around freezing.

A friend in Poland send me photos of tulips and violets blooming their heads off right now. Typically our growing season parallels Poland's growing season. But what color do I have in my garden today? I suppose I can offer this sweet cardinal, who looks like a splotch of red paint carelessly sprayed onto a winter canvas.






I wont keep comparing, but still, it feels so unfair. Last year on this day, the daffodils were in full bloom. Hundreds of them. The cherry blossoms were profuse. We ate breakfast and dinner on the porch. How could this year be so completely crazy?

Of course, there will always be color at the breakfast table.






And a warm space to play for Snowdrop when she comes here after school.

The little girl gets a bit of a reward today from me -- oil pastels to experiment with (non-toxic!). She had done a remarkable piece of art in school and I thought it was a good moment to bring out colors that she can mix. So that today she sees that blue and yellow make green and more importantly, red and white make pink!






The afternoon also calls for warm foods. She's on it!






And I am too. The young family will be with us for "Sunday" dinner and so I have much to prepare. As I move to the kitchen, Snowdrop picks up my camera. It's not an SLR, but nor is it a light point and shoot. It's clunky for her little hands. I'm sort of taken aback. Careful! Careful, Snowdrop! It's so fragile! Here's how I look at that moment -- as seen in Snowdrop's first picture of .... me.






Evening. Mom hasn't seen daughter for a whole day! Lap time is in order.
















The meal...






And now it's dark and all is quiet and perhaps if I just retreat upstairs and go to sleep soon it will be morning and there will be sunshine and maybe a daffodil in the front yard?

Not likely. But soon! I mean, at some point, spring will come.

an April Sunday

Some weather events just stick in your memory: I'm not likely to forget the tornado that swept across  the farmette the week of my daughter's wedding here. And I'm not going to forget the "spring" weather that we're having right now, on this April 15th.

They're calling it a cyclone. I always thought those were tropical storms, but I think the term has a greater meteorological meaning. Suffice it to say that for us, it is a strong, weird, in fact bizarre and enduring storm system that is bringing sleet, ice and snow over much of our state today. This on top of an already very delayed spring. Indeed, I am quite sure that weather wise, this has been the most uninspired, cold spring of my memory. (Granted -- no tornadoes. For this we are grateful.)

Does that set the stage for you?

So once again we focus on the indoors. We have Snowdrop over-nighting here! That is one joyful event! Just a couple of weeks have passed since she last slept over, but I see that this girl is growing by leaps and bounds (perhaps as all three year olds do). Today, she wakes up too early. Still, she is a bit excited and so she gets up, comes to our room, peers in. Ed and I are "sleeping." She doesn't disturb us, but rather, retreats to her room, turns on the light and plays in bed for a while. Half an hour later, she comes in again. We're still "sleeping." Out she goes, quietly, back to bed. and this time she dozes off until she hears me trotting off downstairs.

Are we near that age when they actually like staying in bed as much as we like them to stay in bed (on weekends)? Maybe not, but I see glimmers of it!

I'll post a short string of "morning at the farmhouse" photos. Let's start with the not-so-great outdoors:





And the very unhappy cheepers. (Where's Henny? The darn girl is brooding -- meaning she wont get off her perch on real or imagined eggs. She wants babies!)






Then there are the little ones in the sun room, wondering why one day there is sunshine, and then for days and days, there is none.






And now Snowdrop is awake and ready to come down!






Happy to be out of a high chair. New lesson needed on how not to use new seating situation to make grandma sweat.






Outside, it only gets worse.





Inside, Snowdrop asks for pancakes and maple syrup. I get things ready. But she wants me to join in her play.
I can't, Snowdrop. I'm flipping bacon.
But I'm as lonely as can be!
(You surely are expressive, little girl!) Go find something to do by yourself.

She does.






Finally, the big breakfast.

She is so into maple syrup that it seems the right time to explain where it comes from.
She takes it in. And where does honey come from?
So many lessons in one meal...





And now it's time for her to go home.

But oh, the ice! The snow! Is there anyone who likes this now?!

Yes there is.






One last time with the mitts, the farmhouse boots, the pinkest of pink scarves. One last time with the shovel.






Job well done, Snowdrop! Now let's hope for sunshine this week!






The roads are so bad on my drive to Snowdrop's home that we all agree to put off the usual Sunday dinner to another time. And so in the evening, I cook for just Ed and me.

Oh, but we have guests! Seven of them actually.






I have to smile. It's a scene out of a Christmas card. Surely not from a mid-April glance outside.





Well, we have power (it had its flickering moments, but it held on!). We have food on the table. And somewhere in the distant future -- we will have spring. I hope.

Saturday

Well, just write this weekend off as one where the great outdoors does not beckon. To be sure, I'm feeling grateful that the storms that are raging across the Midwest dump ONLY freezing rain and snow on us. The winds are strong, but so far, no trees are downed at the farmette and the power is on. Weather bulletins and warnings keep appearing in my Inbox. Warnings of dangerous conditions. We are safe. We are warm inside our solid little farmhouse.

Too, it's not as if winter is just arriving for the long haul. In the garden, the green stuff is trying to do its spring thing...






This was to be the day of the first outdoor farmers market. I can't imagine anyone showed up for it.

My entire outdoor time was a morning sprint to the barn to feed the chickens. That's it.






Breakfast -- among flowers!






And then I hide in the cushions of the old love seat and read the 11th mystery novel (in a series of 13 and if the weather continues thus, I'll zip right through to the end), sipping hot tea and trying hard not to look outside.

Ed spends some quality time with the farmhouse babies.





Outside, inches upon inches of ice and snow begin to fall in what is called an "unusual weather event."

In the evening, Snowdrop comes to us for a sleepover.

No, she doesn't ever just come in. She bounds in, all ready for an evening of FUN!






Well, she's easy to please. Good food comes with Sunday dinners. On Saturday, it's pizza time! With a side platter of broccoli, which has become sort of a game here, though honestly, she enjoys both the game and the broccoli itself.






I have for her a tiny addition to her Playmobil family -- a pregnant mommy. There is also a wee baby and a stroller. You could give Snowdrop jewels and fancy cars. They would not please her half as much as a pregnant mommy and a stroller with a baby.





There, all put together and ready for a walk.





As I write this, our farmhouse is being pounded with sleet, snow and ice. It's a mean world out there. All the more reason to focus on making it a kind and gentle place within. With the hope that the power wont go out and we'll stay snuggly warm all night long.