Wednesday

Oh, attachment! What a curse! (I say that with a smile.)

Maybe you get attached to things? I don't especially. I can flip, let go, move away at a moment's notice. I'll get rid of things others would find difficult to let go of. Start fresh, begin again -- these are not terribly hard for me. (Though I admit it, I get bouts of nostalgia later, for all that once was...)

But living things -- family, friends, animals... flowers! If the bond is strong, letting go is impossible.


It's another cold day -- now just twenty degrees below normal, but still, no one likes March to be below normal!

I'm out semi early to feed the animals. Sweet kittens have learnt from mom that coming out to create a visual reminder to The Person Living Inside The Yellow House pays off.







Okay okay okay, I'm coming!

Stop Sign still demands first dibs, but I know she holds them off just so long and then she does her morning prowl while the little ones dig in.

She is in the barn when I feed the cheepers.











She is in the old orchard as I leave food for Whiskers (the Writer's Shed, used by Whiskers as a hiding spot, abuts the old orchard), watching.






Whiskers arrives early today. He eats all the dry food. I come out and put in wet food. He hides, of course, then comes out again to finish that. And then he comes back one more time.






You still need more? You are one hungry cat. Okay okay okay, I'm coming.

In the meantime, Stop Sign has let her babes snuggle next to her on the blanket. I suppose tough love does not mean pushing them away on a cold day.






So you could say all's right with the animal world here, at the farmette. Except --  the impending cheeper release looms large. Even if we get the ostensibly calm rooster, letting them all out now is a guarantee that they'll just make their way to the garage and hang out there for the better part of the day. The snow and ice are impossible for them. They may like their freedom, but they do not like white stuff on the ground.

Ed says we can't predict how the cats will react. Except for Stop Sign, none of them have never seen a cheeper on the loose. I retort that I darn well can guess how the kitties will react: they'll run like crazy. Even Stop Sign side-steps the chickens. No one will want to share the garage with them.

Too, how do we manage to feed four cats when the cheepers are so hell bent on eating cat food (which inevitably has lots of chicken parts in it)? This was always a problem, even with just Stop Sign eating here.

We contemplate building feeding stations for the cats that are inaccessible to the cheepers. It would be a project! Tell me how one might design something that invites giant Whiskers but keeps out curious cheepers?

So who comes first? The cheepers, who may have squatters rights and are pretty fun to watch, if somewhat annoying with their pooping habits and scratching up my yard tendencies? Or the cats -- fickle felines that could be gone tomorrow if the winds blow in another direction and spring fever pushes them out into the wild again?

I don't want to prefer one over the other. Why can't they all just get along?? (And leave my garden alone while they're at it??)

You can tell what we talk about at breakfast time...






I do take a break from animal worries. I have a lunch date with a friend with whom I have not shared a meal in decades! That's a delightful set of hours! (The restaurant we go to has morphed into something completely new since I was last here in 2005, just days before I first met Ed...)







And immediately after, I pick up Snowdrop...






(Hug goodbye from a school friend...)






We drive to the farmette, where she tells me a story, straight from the book she "wrote" and illustrated in school...






But of course, there's not much time for play. I have to use a lot of convincing to let her know that dance class won't wait, that we will be late if we don't leave right now.






There isn't a doubt that this little girl loves Storybook Ballet. But at this age, being punctual is not a priority for her.  (Today's tale, Frozen, is a hot number for most girls (boys?)  in her school and Snowdrop is no exception -- she adores these Disney classic tales... Or, in this case, the Hans Christian Andersen classic tale, since Frozen is a remake of The Snow Queen -- that's for those of you who have not been around a little girl (boy?) in the last five years.)







I pull into the farmette driveway when the sun has disappeared for the day. As I roll into my parking space, my headlights pick up the eyes of Whiskers. It's rare for her to be here now. As I get out of the car, Whiskers disappears of course. I check her bowl, add some dried food bits and retreat.

Oh, the cat's back! So are we getting to be hang out home for this guy too?






In the meantime, the kitties watch mom scamper to the barn... Again -- it's unusual to see them be brave and up and about at this hour.






And a rabbit watches at the sidelines. (Oh no! A rabbit? Please don't get all worked up over a rabbit!)






Ed and I are no closer to a good solution, but on this we both agree: we don't want to give over all our waking hours to cheeper worry or cat surveillance. Perhaps in the end, we'll do nothing much. Sometimes attachment means that you have to let go a little of all that pulls you toward a someone, or some animal, or some flower in the garden.

Tuesday

Ed and I are like two pseudo country people who have no stomach for country facts of life. No sooner have we allowed ourselves to relax about kitten safety, then we are back to worrying what to do with our chicken flock.

It's another bright, cold day. Lovely to the naked eye...





... though I'm sure predators are lurking in wait for the great release date of our girls.

We continue to have no good solutions for the cheepers because honestly, there are no good solutions. (Ed even sent an email to Vital Farms -- a producer of free range eggs, boasting pictures of happy chickens in fields of green grasses and wild flowers and asked -- how do you keep hawks away from your "happy chickens?" He got a long response, but there was no new information: fencing, dogs, roosters, eye balloons, people, bla bla bla. The usual.)

One option still on the table is to get a rooster. A friendly rooster. Personally, I don't believe such an animal exists, but Ed promises to give him up to an ax (we know someone with an ax!) if he should turn mean toward humans.

But a small part of us wonders if it's worth it. There are no guarantees. The woman who lives not too far away and is selling one of her roosters tells us -- "I just don't even let the kids name the chickens. I assume some will be lost to predators in the course of the year. They're chickens. End of story. Last summer, I lost a whole flock in two days to an aggressive weasel."

A weasel?? We never even considered a weasel. We watch youtubes of a weasel killing a rabbit ten times his size. It's brutal!

So maybe we're not cut out for this? But, we have these five girls who are antsy to get out. We continue to brood about our brood.

Hey, but the cats are doing well!






(Stop Sign patrols her territory...)






(Breakfast: calm, contemplative...)







In the afternoon, Snowdrop comes here after school and as always, she is the perfect distraction.

(Still prefers to skip the jacket on walk from car to farmhouse. After all, we got all the way up to 15F, or  -10C today.)






Games: "Rosie goes to school..."






... and "bus stop." I know, it's a puzzler if you've not played it before. Usually we confine ourselves to the kitchen, which is The Original Bus Stop in our game, but Ed has a friend over to talk shop and so Snowdrop and I move our operations upstairs.






... and then downstairs to the sun room, where Snowdrop draws countless pictures of cows eating grass. It gets pretty creative here, in the afternoons.






Time for me to take her home... (Along with the cheddar bunnies. She wasn't done with her snack.)






I haven't had a chat with my older daughter without interruptions for a very long time and so we catch up tonight. And after, I go home and cook up a huge pot of soup.


So did you hear back from the woman with the rooster?
Yes, she sent photos.

We study the pictures. Nice looking guy. But what if there's a meanie behind those regal feathers? I swore I would never go the rooster route again. Yet, what if he really is a sweetie through and through?

Monday

One more early morning walk to feed the animals, in temperatures that make no sense for a March day. Even a Wisconsin March day. (We were at -9F, or -23C when I woke up.) Ed had put up the heater for the cheepers (one last time) and so I am confident that this sudden blast of cold air is not hurting them greatly.






The cats? Well, they're back to sleeping at the farmette, so at least temporarily, we've chased the night predators away. Jacket and Dance overnighted in the garage. Stop Sign? Well, maybe. Or in the barn. She is fond of the barn, possibly because many mice pass through there. So much discarded chicken feed to fill up on if you're a tiny rodent that can squeeze through almost any small space! Wire mesh? No problem! I'm sure when the cheepers sleep, the mice do play in the downstairs part of the coop.






I should finally put the cat questions and worries to rest, but of course, these cats are unpredictable and I am always surprised by how little we know about their needs, their attachments, and their journeys into adulthood and beyond.

Today, not for the first time but perhaps more consistently and without hesitation, Stop Sign asserted herself before her kids. If in the past she'd let them snuggle next to her on the blanket, today she pushed them to the side. Indeed, she made sure they stood back while she ate. Only when she had her small fill, did she step aside and let them take their turn.


 


And though Stop Sign still keeps an eye on them and I'm sure has concerns about their safety, you can tell that she wants them to be independent. And she wants them to know that in this particular space, she comes first. If they want territorial rights -- go look elsewhere, because this place is her domain.

Stop Sign is such a quiet, gentle cat that it always surprises me when she grunts and slaps one of the young ones lightly on the head. But, this is what cat mommies do: they nudge their young ones (right about at 10 weeks) to brave it alone.

Tough love.

Me, I like the more gentle human love that burns strong and never falters, even after our kids have long formed their own familial households. I have to think that if food was scarce, we would worry first about feeding the next generation before we feed ourselves. Indeed, we seem to be programmed to always worry about those that come after us. A good thing, too, or we'd probably behave even more recklessly on this complicated and beautiful planet than we already do.

Today is a day when I have plenty of hours with that next generation. Sparrow is here in the morning!





,
And Snowdrop is here in the afternoon.






Whoa, hold on there! Back to the morning for a little bit. I surely haven't forgotten about breakfast! With the two guys.






And of course, there are the hours of play. Sparrow is approaching 9 months, so he is both stronger and more interested in manipulating his environment. He can still be left on the couch for about ten seconds, without the worry that he'll take off and torpedo himself into some awkward space or position.




I wasn't quite sure at what age I first handed Snowdrop a crayon. (I see now on Ocean that she was exactly ten months old when she attended an art class.) Should I try to see if we have a budding artist in Sparrow?

If enthusiasm counts for something, then the answer is yes. Still, for today, he allowed me to take the lead.






But he was impressed with the possibilities!






And here's another promising toy (for future play): Sparrow seems completely smitten with the toddler legos. It's really too early to have him build stuff. For now, he seems thrilled to be allowed a few minutes with Snowdrop's old play sets.






Thrilled.






And now just a few photos from the afternoon. Snowdrop was raring to set up a pretend game -- one that evolved as the afternoon progressed. (Here she is explaining to Ed the basic set up.)






(Here, she and I are building sand castles on a bus stop. The book is not a book at all, it's a sand castle.)






And toward the end of her time here, we are all on a bus and things have turned rather dramatic. You could say that she and Ed get carried away with the story line.






And the evening came and the little girl went home.


Looking back now, I have no terrible recollections of the cold. All day long, we have had plenty of sunshine outside and though the temperature set all time records, we were made warm by the brightness of the day. Still, the plants men and women in our state will tell you this -- we are going to have a late growing season. It's inevitable. We have too much ice and the frozen ground has yet to see the warming effects of a spring sun.

But we cant complain. It's now just a matter of days. We're in the embrace of March. The snowman may still be standing...





... but the days are longer, and Stop Sign caught a mouse for dinner, and I'm sure the daffodils are getting restless, waiting as impatiently as we are for that wet, mushy soil to lift us up and push us into the start of spring.

Sunday

It's that polar vortex, doing its weather dance again, causing the temperature to plummet, as if running away from the horror of it!

But we don't mind. We know it's the last one. We are confident of that. I dig out my warmest sweater one final time and start thinking about moving all that "warmest stuff" to the back of the closet, in anticipation of spring.

Besides, it's a sunny day. A lovely day!






Just not one for spending much time outside. Unless you're a cat.






You can tell that I have all three here today. This wasn't the case from the getgo, but eventually they trickled in, in their now usual order -- Stop Sign... (looking for me in the barn this morning as I feed the cheepers)


 



... then Dance... (coming in across porch side snowbanks)


 



(joining her mommy in the garage)






... and eventually Jacket. Possibly from yet a different place, though who knows. Animal prints are everywhere. I can no longer opine about who slept where and for what reason.

So here I am in March and I can't believe my luck: we are days away from Spring!

Breakfast, in the sunny front room.






After my trip (short as it was), after any trip, there is a period of catch up. It's shocking how quickly you can fall behind in routine tasks.

And in the evening, the young family, the Madison young family is here for dinner. Let me put up that most impossible photo -- but one I try for every week, as if it could be done! -- that of all of us at the dinner table. I am holding people up, so I must be quick. The kids are stuffing food in -- never an easy thing to put in a photo. Ed is uncooperative. The young parents are so patient with me that I feel inordinately guilty for trampling over the normality of the event with my camera. For all those reasons, it's always the quickest of quick shots. And in its imperfection, I find the perfection of our time at the table. The joy is in the wonderful wackiness of the family meal.






(pre-dinner fun)






(dessert of cookies and fruits)






(Before during and after: stories)






After dinner, there is always at least a little time for play.











And then the young family goes home and as I tidy up, I think about the wonderfulness of this whole last week, even as one could say that the animal issues and the weather issues drove me a tad nuts.

Cold night tonight. I mean, really cold. Super duper cold -- words I would use with my grandkids. And who cares! It's the end of a season. After this week -- we're onto bigger and better things!