brilliant

I would call this day one of January's best. Beautiful sunshine and a warmup that takes us into mid thirties -- a rare treat indeed!

True, there is too little snow. Whereas last year we were skiing daily beginning in early December, this year, we have yet to wax the old boards.

I had a day packed with appointments and errands and so I was too rushed to fully take in all that the weather delivered, but I had my moment with my face to the sun and that was plenty wonderful. I was prompted to do so shortly after breakfast (which we ate in the sun room because if not today, then when?).





I had a checkup with a doctor -- a very good doctor, who is about a decade younger than me.  He poked here and there and then stood back and said -- for a woman your age, it is as it should be.

For a woman my age! I suppose it is what you say to a retired old chump: maybe you're stiff and achey but hey, for a person your age, you're held together quite well! Like a Fed Ex package that's delivered after an especially brutal journey!

That's when I decided I needed a small outdoor detour. Nothing restores the spirit and refreshes the soul as well as a walk through a park and Owen Woods is one of Madison's best. 













In the late afternoon I was again with little Snowdrop, but when I asked her for one of her more charming expressions for a photo, she gave me this:






Still, toward the end of our time together she was enraptured once again -- today, by a dazzling firefly.






And so the day just whizzed by. I didn't visit with the cheepers, I barely had time to unpack groceries and Ed had to wait quite a while for supper. I'm sure I've left unanswered emails and, too, there are telltale piles of papers that need my attention, but honestly, it was such a beautiful day that all else fades and seems terribly inconsequential by evening's end.

Wednesday

Part I 


If I get up to let the cheepers out, will you put together the crib today?
Uh-huh...

Well, he wasn't really awake, but it was enough of a verbal affirmation that I could roll it out later in the event I couldn't otherwise twist his arm to do the (rather big) job of assembling a sleeping place for Snowdrop.

Ed isn't being difficult. He knows I don't need a crib at the farmhouse right at this minute. But the look of chaos in the mudroom  -- large boxes leaning every which way -- is enough to make me recoil. I'm the one who will always push for change if the current state of affairs appears uncertain or dicombobulated.

I did a quick dash to the barn to open up the coop. If you pretend in your head that you're not cold, most of the time you can convince yourself of this, so long as you're not out for more than a few minutes. I pushed that limit!

Morning photo:






Breakfast photo:






Part II

Though for the young parents, life is not yet anywhere near normal, I have to say that my days are closer to the routines I had prior to the birth of little Snowdrop. Oh, sure, I still make my way to their house to help, but I come back before dark and I pick up my computer and I go back to stories I was working on before all this wonderful madness came to pass. Most noticeably, as compared to last week, I can now sleep at night again.

A word about today's visit with Snowdrop. She is dressed up for her grandma's arrival, that's for sure!






(Goldie the cat wants to know: is this new changing pad for me? What?! It's for the baby?! For sure?)






And there is a big change in Snowdrop's behavior as well -- she is now clearly starting to focus her gaze and so you could say that she can follow a picture book in ways that are totally rewarding for the person (me) who is turning the pages and reading the words. Well, not necessarily reading: had I been reciting the Declaration of Independence, she would not have known the difference.






Yes, little Snowdrop needs help navigating the suddenly very complicated (and colorful!) world around her and it is so very rewarding to be there for at least part of the day to help guide her through the chaos. But at the end of the day, I retreat to the farmhouse, make sure the cheepers have had a good day, type out a few sentences on my laptop and stir things in pots for our supper.

And Ed puts the finishing touches on the crib.

It has been a very good set of days for little Snowdrop. For all of us.

Tuesday

I am on chicken duty this morning and I make the mistake of running out to the barn in just a sweater. Brrrr!






The cheepers know better as they remain huddled in their coop.






Still, I can tell it's going to be a fine day -- a beautiful blue skied wonder of a day. In January, you've got to look past the cold.

At breakfast...





... I give a light prod to Ed.
Can you put together the piece of furniture we have in the Amazon boxes in the mud room? There's another one coming and we're running out of room.
Another one? What else have you purchased? He asks this having winced at the idea of a brand new changing table. Can't you change a baby on a regular table?
Not when we're eating on it. Besides, she may roll off.
So what else is coming?
A crib.
Why don't you use the box from the changing table for a crib?

That one doesn't even deserve an answer. I smile beguilingly instead.

In the late afternoon, I spend time with little Snowdrop. Oh, she is changing so fast! Perhaps to anyone on the sidelines, she is just a baby waking up from a nap...






But for me, she is, with each hour, more alert, aware, willing to engage.






I am convinced that to spend just a few hours with her is to love her...






Am I biased? Of course not!

Evening. It's very quiet here, at the farmhouse. Is little Snowdrop asleep in her own home? Are you? I hope so...

quiet time

You can sense it at the farmette: the period of settling in. Winter is solidly in place. The days start late, the air is clean, crisp, the snow is covering all that we like to have covered now. Deer tracks criss cross the flower beds, the cheepers stay close to their roost.



 


We used to eat breakfast in the sun room on days like this, but this year, we've closed the door and kept the chill of that room away from the rest of the house. The sun still reaches us through the glass panes of the door...






...but our morning meal tends to be in the kitchen.






Over at my daughter's place, little Snowdrop is beginning her second week of life. She, too, is developing recognizable habits and preferences. Some, like this one...






...make life easy for the parents.

Others -- well, they make life interesting, in the way that babies always make life interesting.

Virgil, the cat, watches...






Little Snowdrop stretches...






...then looks around (a bit apprehensively)...






...then naps some more.






There are times when she is much less serene. But today she showed off her rhythms and habits  and at least some of them fit right into this time of winter quiet.

Sunday

There will be a dab of sunshine and there will be a warm up today. Those good at reading the skies at sunrise would tell you so and they would be right.






Ed and I are up before the rest of our terrific house guests. And we eat an early breakfast, because we are such creatures of this habit -- or at least I am and Ed sweetly goes along.






But the larger breakfast is really a brunch, brought over by one couple to the home of Snowdrop. How many people will have eaten the same foods on this Sunday -- bagels and cream cheese and lox and scrambled eggs? Countless. But how many will have had a little Snowdrop to entertain them?


 


Ah, that's a rare treat indeed!






My girls' dad is here as well, along with his partner and so we are a larger group and little Snowdrop decides to basically chill this one out. This is just fine with everyone.






(The mom chills as well.)






Then the last precious minutes with little Snowdrop's aunt and uncle...






 ...and the young couple take off for Minneapolis -- a five hour drive from here, but one which they will repeat later this month.


I duck out for a while after that. There are the cheepers to welcome out into the warmer world (or at least the warmer barn...)


 


And, too, Ed and I want to test our skis for the first time this year -- nothing big, just a spin around the park up the road...






...but it is not to be. The snow seemed heavy on the roof when I shoveled it off, but it had blown and drifted through the park and so there are bare spots. Too many of them for a decent ski. And so we stroll. To the lake and back again.






In the late afternoon, I return to little Snowdrop's home. You'd have to have a hard heart not to be lulled into the warmth of a scene like this. (The book: Guess How Much I Love You.)






Evening. Little Snowdrop dozes. It's been one heck of a week for her. Still, she is one who is forward looking. She knows which end is up.






Her mom looks in on her. You'll see your aunt and uncle soon! And in the spring, we'll go to the market and we'll stop at Farmer John's cheese stand and...

family times

Those of you who have stayed with Ocean for a while now, know that there comes a time when family events crowd out the usual Ocean fare. Weddings, the birth of a child, a special holiday or weekend gathering -- to me, they belong in all their fullness here, because I am completely under their spell and if I gave them only a small space, then everything else would appear dishonest. How can I write about the every day if I'm to underplay these remarkable life events?

And yet, I know that I am just a shadow player in many of them. In June, it wasn't my wedding that so completely roped me in, it was my daughter's. The birth of little Snowdrop? Obviously that is something that belongs just to her and secondly to her parents. I am several steps removed and even though she will one day grow up and understand that she has a writing grandma (with all the benefits and burdens this bestows), I know she will never have to worry that I am telling stories that belong only to her. Yes, we overlap some, but mostly, her life is her own.

But I do love thinking and writing about being a grandma (and a mom to my girls, and something or other to Ed) and so I come back to these topics again and again, even if some of them receive more delicate treatment while others allow me to be more blunt. I know most of you know this, but I do occasionally feel compelled to repeat it -- especially as I flood Ocean with emotions about the birth of little Snowdrop.


Let me go back to what is so obviously a beautiful family weekend. My younger girl and her husband are with us at the farmhouse and more than once I have thanked the water pump for giving up the ship a solid week before they came and before the frost and snow took hold of farmette land.

And so there are four of us for breakfast today, though I surely think that my breakfast photo should focus on the guy who otherwise stays to the side at times of great family fusses, but who tracks and follows with a smile most every emotion that passes through this way. Hi Ed.






After, I spend time with my kids and little Snowdrop. Or, more accurately, I stick around for just a while, to say hi and to hug and hold...






... and to watch the bonds grow strong...












...but then I retreat to the farmhouse. Snowdrop has other family members passing through today as well and I think it would be most hoggish of me to be ever present. The grandma that never goes away.


It's warmer today (if you can call a high of 16F warm), but the skies are clouded over and this, of course, is the trade off in a Wisconsin winter: sun, or warmth ? Rarely both.

The cheepers don't even contemplate leaving the coop.

The snow cover is deep enough now to think about heading out into the forest, with a camera, with skis too,  and we will do that, but not this weekend. These days have been set aside for little Snowdrop and indeed, in the evening, I go back to her home to do what? Well, hug and hold and watch the bonds grow stronger...



the dance




ordering take out food



Oh! Caught in a group hug in the kitchen, in support of the sleep deprived ever wonderful young mom.






May it be a good night for her... for all of us, you included!

week's end

We reach a high of 3F and the winds remain strong. The country roads are so slick that this morning, at the last second I opt not to take a curve in the road. I go straight to avoid spinning out of control. Ufff!

And still, it is a brilliant day! The sun comes up to a clear blue sky...






... and the fresh snow adds the gentleness that was so missing in our farmette landscape.

We eat breakfast in the front room. [To the commenter who asked -- why is Ed so happy, well it's simple really: he's happy because I'm especially happy. The excitement is contagious, even if the whole baby project is something that he can not fully grasp.]





Looking outside, I note how the snow had piled up rather high on the porch glass roof. Last year, after we put the glass panels in, we kept them immaculately clean -- brushing off every leaf and snowflake so that we would be able to take in all the light they suddenly offered. This year? We shrug and say -- looks good anyway, why bother.

But today I do bother. Maybe it's that we're about to have weekend guests again. Or maybe I worried that too much snow would crack the glass (Ed laughed at that one). Or maybe it's just that being around a very young life is so energizing that you find yourself doing things like shoveling heavy snow off a rooftop and not thinking twice about it. Here's my view from the top:






Otherwise, it is a blur of a day. The aunt and uncle from Minneapolis (my youngest one and her husband) drove half the night to get here in good stead and so my grandma time was limited to a very early morning hour...






After, little Snowdrop was delivered to her aunt's arms -- even before the young couple had time to shed their coats and scarves.






It was a beautiful meeting of two youngest ones! Sitting back, watching, listening to the chatter, I felt about as lucky as one could possibly feel in life.






Errands, more errands, even more errands. And finally, back at the farmette, I tried to take great care with the cheepers, who ventured out into the barn against all odds, then huddled in the thin strip of sunlight.






And then we spent an evening with Snowdrop and the parents, aunt, uncle. Ed came as well. Here are some of the men in Snowdrop's life:



uncle




dad





Ed


We ate Laotian take-out and there was always a pair of hands to hold little Snowdrop.






As we were leaving, Ed made sure that the baby scale was put to good use.





For some reason, Goldie the cat did not protest.

The last of the cold nights tonight. I can't say that I noticed.