family, redux

Up early. Caught the sunset from behind a few clouds...






Set the cheepers free. Not today, Scotch. No time for lingering, you bird of few feathers! I have family waiting...






After breakfast (in the front room, not too far from the new crib)...






... I zip over to my daughter's place. My younger girl and her husband are in town! Today, it's all about little Snowdrop again and so you will have the flood, here on Ocean, of family photos. It has to be. My day is filled with the presence of daughters and my granddaughter and so I keep my camera at my side, because my eye is so focused (it always has been so focused) on encapsulating life's most heart warming moments in this way. Here's a Crystal Gayle song for the occasion -- from the collection of music from my daughters' childhood:

And here's little Snowdrop, dressed in her most special cow play suit. With a pink ribbon for accent! I'm ready to change her diaper, but I have to share the downstairs pad with Goldie who thinks the changing pad was purchased with her in mind. Goldie spends the better part of the day in it.






And now my little girl is here -- the other little girl, the one who up until January 5 was the baby -- and little Snowdrop is in her arms, and the uncle's arms, and her arms, and so it continues.






So many hands to caress that very young life!











So many dances to dance, songs to sing...






The young couple must continue onwards and southwards, but they'll be back for another round on Monday for an extra special celebration. For now, I am with the new mom and her Snowdrop (dad is working)...






We play music that my daughter has pulled together from her long ago little girl memories. We sing. We dance. We smile quite a bit.






The afternoon fades. I return to the farmhouse feeling so privileged! Ed asks me -- so how was little Snowdrop? I search for the phrase that will describe the day. I tell him with the widest smile -- my younger girl told me I smell like a baby.






I cook chili for supper and think back to those moments of big and little girls around me all day today.

clutter

There are messes around me. In the barn, the cheepers are malting (that would be moulting!:) ). It would seem to me to be a bad idea to shed feathers in the dead of winter, but there are feathers everywhere. And of course, since they are now staying exclusively in the barn or coop, their own messes are much more contained and, therefore, evident. I see a huge spring cleaning there awaiting us.

Too, there are messes in the farmhouse. Every item purchased for Snowdrop's future visits came well packaged and so we have styrofoam and massive sheets of cardboard everywhere, waiting for some decision from higher up as to how best to dispose of them.

All this makes me uneasy. I like order. Ed will tell you that I can't live with disorder. I am restless until all the clutter is gone.

Much of this day is reminiscent of yesterday, only without the sunshine. Appointments, errands and Snowdrop care.

Normally, I'd jump from breakfast...





...to contemplating the beauty of the land around me, but honestly, after yesterday's brilliantly sun-drenched landscape, things appear rather somber today, so I'll take you straight to the cheepers, because I know some of you have missed them. Here they are in their rather scrappy mode:






And from there, I'll sail over to little Snowdrop who never ever disappoints!






She is dressed today for visitors that will come later, but of course, she radiates from within, even when she is sleeping. (Oh! She matches my own shirt!)






At the day's end, I leave her in the arms of her mom, give a hearty wave and head home.






At the farmette, the clouds clear and the sun sets in lovely pink tones over the layer of snow.






I note, with great satisfaction, that little Snowdrop's corner in the front room of the farmhouse is ready for her .





Yes, there is clutter in the mudroom, but there's order in the front room and pink light on the snow outside. Life is so balanced! And beautiful.

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...