Thursday

Good morning! (From under the table.)






We're having that predicted weather bounce in Chicago: it's wet and some twenty degrees cooler today. Well, you can't be greedy. My granddaughter and I will spend the day in the warm colors of home.

(Primrose breakfast: oatmeal and blueberries and strawberries, just like her grandma!)






(time for a short play before morning nap)






(a cheery cherry smile...)






My breakfast. Yep, the usual!





Later, we get down to business. Reading is high on her agenda of things to do. I had decided to bring with me on each visit a bunch of books that the kids are or have been reading and loving over at the farmhouse. Call it the Farmhouse Library. I'll take them back when I return. Primrose falls in love with Maisy books

("Do you want to read this book, grandma? It's really good!")






("And it has a happy ending!")






Playtime these days also includes feeding the bear.






It also includes her getting into a play cart, with the clear indication that grandma must push her around and around and around.

Suddenly it's getting toasty warm in here. (I wonder why...) Sweaters come off.






And when Primrose has cycled through everything, taking each toy, each book, each article within reach out and tossing it to the side (with me catching it and putting it back), she starts from the beginning and we do it all again.

Nap time is welcome rest time. For the both of us.

She wakes up hungry. I "generously" give her a piece of bread. Dinner is comin' up. I don't want to mess with her appetite. 






Afternoon play is always more rambunctious. Primrose can't run at full speed, but she moves quickly and therefore so do I.






Perhaps the only time that I had an upset girl today was when she found my iPhone. I let her mess with it for a few minutes. (Amazing how she's got those motions down pat!)






But then I took it away.

She was not happy.

It was the perfect moment to say "pooh!" to the weather and head out. Notice how different our wraps are today...






As always, we are there in the evening to greet her mom as she steps off the commuter train. Primrose is so elated to see her!






("And then grandma took her phone right out of my hand and she wouldn't let me play with it anymore!")





Dinner. First hers then ours. I promise you, ours is a lot less messy!

Outside, the winds pick up. I see gale warning posted on Chicago weather sites. It's slated to be a gusty set of days. We wont mind. We're feeling plenty warm and happy despite the big chill. We are all from the Upper Midwest. We appreciate the somewhat protracted unfurling of this sublime season.

Wednesday

Thank you, Chicago weather gods, for changing your mind about this day! I really really appreciate the midday clearing skies. I'm thrilled that the storms were pushed off and away. I love the warm air, the feeling of full spring. All the more so since I am with Primrose today and going outside with her is always such a treat!

Of course, the morning begins with indoor routines. Parents are off to work...






Primrose needs her morning meals.







And there is a world inside for us to explore...






She is playful! Hiding to make me chortle, then laughing her head off at my guffaws.






And the timed release! We need to do that!






(I eat breakfast while she takes her morning nap.)






Afterwards, there's still time to test the John Deere tractor. She takes a serious approach to it. At first.






Then -- more peels of laughter.

Okay, little one: I think we can go out now!
But how to dress her? We're just at that borderline of cool and warm. Let's err on the side of keeping snug.






Oh, but Chicago is a week ahead with its spring presentation!






By the time we reach the playground, the sun is so warm that the jacket has to come off.

("Can I drive standing up?")





We are not the only ones enjoying a noon playtime outside. Nannies with babes and toddlers fill the place and Primrose is as interested in the antics of other kids as she is in testing the playground equipment.

Eventually, we head home for lunch, pausing just for this one photo...

(look what's blooming in Chicago! and no, she did not want to grin, pretty flowers notwithstanding!)






Lunch: by coincidence, everything in this photos is blue and yellow!






And so our play continues.

It's quite incredible to watch these three grandkids cycle through the stages of infancy, toddler-hood and little person-hood so closely together. You can't help but feel awed at the uniqueness of each child, even as we all search for those similarities to children we have ourselves raised. I suppose you could say that these young ones have foundational links to parents, to grandparents. Nature, nurture -- who can tell, but it's there. And yet it quickly morphs into something that is very distinctive. And beautiful.

("can we read this again?")






Parents come home...





Suppertime, bedtime. Routines practiced the world over. With heart, soul and gritty determination. Because, well, there's so much love for that little one! So much love...

Tuesday

For someone who is not very entrepreneurial (according to Ed, who is very entrepreneurial), I surely can be competitive. Unreasonably so and in strange situations. Who else feels she has to outperform everyone, beating the dickens out of a treadmill during a stress test?

I was due for such a test (at least, my docs and I think I was due; Ed thinks I would have better spent my time working in the garden) and I had one scheduled for early this morning. If you've had one, you know the whole bit -- don't eat much, don't drink coffee. Plug yourself in and go go go!

You want to keep at it?
Are you asking if I can? Of course I can! Raise that incline!
Okay, that's enough. We're going to stop now.
You don't have to!
How do you feel?
Great!

I have to sometimes wonder why I choose to push myself even when I don't have to. 

I mention all this not because the test revealed anything pernicious (so far as I know it did not), but to explain that it is nearly noon before we sit down to breakfast. And because it is that late, the air has warmed and we can eat on the porch.






The sun appears through a misty haze and it is really a lovely way to start, no excuse me -- to continue a day.

(Daffodil, unfurled.)






(Others will quickly follow.)





Afterwards, I need time to throw stuff into a suitcase. I'm going to Chicago this afternoon and I wont be back until Saturday. That's very many days away -- almost like a Europe trip. It requires careful thought in packing, especially since the weather is see-sawing violently this week between extremes.

In packing my backpack of essentials, I am terribly dismayed to find a small piece of chocolate and a sealed bag of nuts in my zippered pack. Leftovers from my March trip to Chicago. Unfortunately, a mouse found these way earlier. How did it get inside a closed up pack? It chewed a nice big hole in it, shredding the pack significantly and making a general unsanitary mess within. Ugh!

Ed, I have the perfect gift idea for you for my (upcoming) birthday!

Why am I going to Chicago so early in the week? Well, it appears that even a day care center closes for spring break. I get it. People need time off. Unfortunately, parental work doesn't halt. Primrose, my one year old granddaughter, will thus be playing with me during her spring recess. Lucky girl, eh?

But before catching the late afternoon bus to Chicago, I pick up a sleepy Snowdrop at school (which already had spring break, in March, when there was snow on the ground and spring seemed hopelessly far off).






She tries to fit in our usuals in the short amount of time we have together.






We read a whole book, she draws...

(Oh! Bring out the scissors! Bang trim needed!)





... and she is just settling into nice independent play when her father comes to pick her up.



I grab my stuff and make my way south. The usual way: car to bus, bus to L train, then finally a walk to my daughter's home.

I always said that seasons are less relevant for city life. I mean -- you button up in winter, you open up for summer (though air conditioning does put your right back into the land of sweaters and wraps). Your days are rarely set by the weather.

And maybe that's true to a point. But walking now along streets that in winter would have sent shivers down your spine, I have to say, I am very much feeling Chicago's spring. It's a lovely evening, even for doing nothing more than pushing a suitcase along a bumpy sidewalk.

I don't see Primrose today -- it's way past her bedtime when I arrive. This is my time with my daughter and her husband. Tomorrow they'll be second row stuff and my attention will shift to their daughter.

sunshine

After tumultuous, cold days, full of threat, wind and precipitation, today we wake up to the pot of gold: sunshine!

The garden is still suspicious. The flowers are were they were a week ago. But I am absolutely convinced that this guy will not be standing alone by the end of the day!






Speaking of guys, it is, of course, Monday. Sparrow is here!






(what a suck up!!)






Come on, Sparrow, let's face the camera (timed release) head on!






Breakfast: yesterday with Snowdrop, today with Sparrow.






(studying the book, in and out, up and down)






(loving music, in any shape or form; if you sing, he will sing along!)






(outdoor time? but of course!)






(too young for sandbox; happy to simply watch Happy!)






The sun keeps shining, the temperatures keep rising. By the time I pick up Snowdrop, I feel we've resumed the march toward warm spring days.

Do you want to go to the playground?
Yes!











Can I go in the water?
I think it's too cold...






(the cookie? hers. the iced tea? mine.)






There is book called Mary Poppins?? And you have it, grandma??






She goes home. I listen to BBC news on the subject of Notre Dame in Paris. No one will be surprised to hear that I am terribly saddened by this fluke of circumstance (if it was that): one day it's there, next day it's burning and Parisians watch, dumbfounded. Perhaps you could argue that Paris is flush with iconic structures. Eiffel Tower of course. Arc de Triomphe. Still, for this significantly Catholic and at the same time significantly not religious nation, Notre Dame stands alone: it is a cultural giant. It's architecture it's religion it's literature it's music it's eternity it's tourism it's personal it's beauty it's art.

Well, the icons burn but the soul survives. Feelings don't go up in flames at the strike of a match. A roof of a cathedral falls, but we are as we were before. And that's such a good thing.

Sunday

It was a late night for the little girl, late night for her mommy, late night for grandma. Only Ed seems to have slept as he always sleeps -- which is to say, without any predictability or schedule.

You can mess with bedtime easily enough, but it's harder to mess with wake up time. I am up as early as on any day. I have it in my head that I must feed the cats before the stampede takes place (meaning before the cheepers are set free).

Brrrr!! It is another very cold morning. I read that it is to be the final very cold morning, but knowing that does not make it any more pleasant to be outside. Indeed, spring appears to be suspended: nothing new is blooming. The same daffodils that came out early are hanging in there, but they are alone in their efforts.







The rest of the pack is stalled.






(This Helleborus is next in line to bloom. It really should have opened up the end of March. Here we are in mid-April and I bet you can barely see its purple flower head.)






Eventually, the sleeping bandits trickle downstairs. Snowdrop is at the head of the line. Note dark circles under the eyes!






Breakfast! Pancakes and bacon of course.






... with fruit to make pancake faces and maple syrup, just because.






There is a bit of drama after the morning meal. A pack of hawks settles on the barn roof. One of them begins to circle the farmland paths. I go out immediately. The cheepers are mindful of the threat. I can't see them anywhere. Except for Pepper, who seems either oblivious or confused. She walks slowly. Happy hovers. I do the arm waving thing and I make threatening noises. It always works -- the hawks all join together to hover, as in battle with me, but eventually they recede. It is a reminder that these huge birds will never really go away. But of course, everyone who allows their chickens to free range knows this. You can protect your flock, but only so much.

Our girls come out unscathed today, thanks to the sharp eyes of Snowdrop and her mom.  I'm hoping that this particular family of hawks has moved on.

In the evening, the young family returns, this time as a complete set!

(taller than mommy already??)




(before coming in, they sit down to have a serious conversation about stuff...)






(all's right with the world!)






I am repeating a pasta with seafood dish. It's just too popular with everyone to put aside for another time. Today, I add squid to the shrimp and scallops and Snowdrop proclaims that she looooves the little eight legged creatures. She fishes out every last one (in addition to the shrimp and scallop, which she also adores.)






I think Sparrow is not pleased that all he gets is a puree of peas, brown rice and spinach. But, he make the best of it. Puffy rice treats from his sister help.






(happy children)






Later, much later, the clouds begin to recede. The setting sun throws warm light on the tips of trees.





Sunshine tomorrow. And a return to spring. I'm sure of it.