Tuesday

Yes! It's Tuesday -- "Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse" day! (Isie boy remains in the sheep shed, sleeping on the scattered clothing there that is so characteristic of the place. Machine parts, bits and pieces of things, piles of papers that surely show the color of time and spilled beverages -- all so perfect for the man who dislikes taking the time to create order just for order's sake.)

First, though, there is the routine. I volunteer to open the coop.






It's a bristling day and the cheepers aren't happy about the chill that greets them when they step outside.






I want to say -- you haven't seen the worst yet, my dears! We have one horrible Arctic blast coming up tomorrow! After that -- we're sliding toward spring, I know it! Just hang in there!






At the farmhouse, spring is easier to imagine. Daffodils are now in every grocery store -- they're shockingly inexpensive and strikingly beautiful. Especially as viewed against Ed's blue shirt.






While the sun stays out, our brave Butter ventures forward...






...but then retreats. She reminds me of the hopeful child who so much wants the outdoors to be the friendly welcoming place it once was! And it will be! So soon, it will be!



The young people stop by to drop off Snowdrop. My daughter's friend has one final minute with her...






She tenderly gives him a last wave and then retreats to her morning sleepy state, gathering energy for an afternoon of play with grandma.

 
Awake? Wonderful! It's tummy time!






If you were to ask me -- is Snowdrop a happy baby? Well, if her expression is any indication...







I'd say yes! She does put on a serious face occasionally, studying whatever is before her...






But before too long, if I smile at her, her eyes will twinkle, her mouth will widen and she show'll off her most radiant, spirited soul!






All that play calls for another rest. Little Snowdrop always looks so terribly small when Ed holds her in his big hands!






Play, dance, rest, eat -- the afternoon flies. The visit ends. Outside, clouds come and go. Occasionally, one cloud will gently throw down a sprinkling of snow -- not unlike the powdered sugar you might sprinklr over a cake through a sieve. It really is a pretty world in this small corner of the Midwest and that's reason enough to smile. And smile some more.

Monday

It seems that half of America is celebrating the Presidents today, while another half is not. Half would call it a work day (for example Snowdrop's dad) while half would not (for example visiting California friend). I'm in favor of holidays. I wish this would be a holiday for all.


We are up early. I have foods to put out and a frittata to bake (cauliflower and bacon this time) for a rather early brunch for my daughter's visiting friends -- one of them has a flight to catch. Let's hope she makes it alright. Traveling to the east coast is no easy matter this winter. Here's the friend, having a nice hug and snuggle with Snowdrop.






Foods are ready, guests are hungry.






Snowdrop had arrived in a wonderful mood...






... but there is enough of a buzz in the air that she quickly lets us know that things are a tad stressful for her sensibilities.






No matter. Her grandma is happy to hold and sooth the littlest one for a good hour or two. Snowdrop relaxes.







And she plays "Simon says" with her mousie friend...






Oh, Snowdrop!






The guests leave. Just a wee bit of cake is left...






Afternoon. Ed and I go to the movies. The American Sniper. That's one tough movie to watch, for so many reasons.

At home, we eat take-out Thai food and talk about inconsequential things. Being in the farmhouse calms the soul and restores the spirit. I take out plant catalogs and study them very carefully in anticipation of spring.

Sunday

When you live in Wisconsin, February 15 is a day that brings some relief: you've crossed the summit and are now scooting down toward March. And you are three weeks away from daylight savings time, imagine that!

For us, it was one of the coldest days of this winter, but hey, now we can look forward! Things can only improve. And the furnace is still chuggin' along, the cars are starting, and the cheepers survived the worst of the worst, and they're growing back their feathers and soon they'll be digging for worms in the garden and I'll get really annoyed at them for the damage they'll be doing to my young flowers. Yay! Spring is within sight! (Today, they're still keeping to the shelter of the barn.)







And breakfast? Well, the usual, except that Ed surprised me with a request for eggs straight off the skillet, with a bagel and a beer. If you drink only one beer every month or so, why would you have it in the morning? Ah, the mysteries of the Edwardian taste buds!

 




During this leisurely meal, I outline my plans for a garden expansion for this spring. Our big effort was, of course, last year, in preparation for my daughter's wedding, but I have ideas on more improvements and though by the end of last summer, I was tired of tending to all the gazillion plants and veggies and shrubs and trees we have planted, predictably, my enthusiasm for creating finer landscapes has returned.


As for Snowdrop -- well, my daughter didn't really need my help today as she has two wonderful friends visiting this weekend (one from the east coast and one from the west coast, so you can say that people have come from far and wide to meet and greet the tiny one!). Still, my girl sensed that I would miss a moment with Snowdrop and so she invited me to stop by and visit and I did and it was jovial and delightful -- as it always is when all the people in the room are half your age (or thereabouts).

So I do leave you with a couple of Snowdrops here today, including one with my daughter's west coast friend.






Little Snowdrop gave us the best of herself...






...I'm sure they'll forgive her if/when she later falls apart and retreats to her young six-week old self. (Personally, I think she is adorable even when she gives in to a long hard wail, with the true pathos of a tired little one.)


Evening. I bake a cake for a brunch tomorrow for the young people. The Ligurian cake. The one with lemon and raspberries and olive oil.





Ah, but that's tomorrow's story.

love

Without question, just as numerous films and stories in literature tell us -- love is everywhere and the good days are ones when you can recognize its ever brilliant face.

Why bother then with that pinky pink heart speckled holiday, St. Valentine's?

Well because! It's February, darn it. Please, give me a reason, any reason, to make this day, this cold cold cold day feel bright, snuggly warm and special!

Yes, I know that love is an everyday feast. You don't need cupid cards and chocolates and roses to spell out L-O-V-E. And yet, I am reminded of that wonderful love scene - the one from the movie Love Actually, the montage of people greeting their loved ones at the airport with hugs and kisses and I think -- you could do a montage like that of all the people going with their beloveds to a restaurant on Valentine's Day just because that act, too, expresses love. A hug at an airport, a dinner on this red heart day -- it's all symbolic, but then, so many of our sweetest acts toward each other are symbolic and it surely is magnificent that we do them shamelessly, happily, to express the more noble emotions often buried within us.

Ed, however, is not a person who will look for opportunities to express feeling. You have to nudge him a little. In past years, we would do goofy things like go to the card store and pick out a Valentine's Day card together. One card, from the scant rejects that no one had purchased by the day itself. Do you like this one? -- He'd ask. Only if it expresses your feelings -- I'd retort. He'd sigh, put it back and search for another. Nothing seemed to say "I'm am a guy who has lived six decades plus some odd years without having to express anything, but here I am, wanting you to be happy so yeah, I suppose I have some feelings and they're positive  and you know what they are so do I really have to say more?"

This year, he volunteered again to go for "that card" shopping with me, but I felt I could give him a pass, since when he woke up, the first words out of his mouth were "Happy Valentine's Day." Which made me smile.



(a very cold Valentine's Day)


We ate our usual breakfast in the front room -- now made all the more magnificent by the suddenly blooming orchid (I keep the huge orchids in the sun room where it's darn chilly right now, so I am guessing they like those bracing temps).










Ed asked if I'd like to go to the movies, but the films I want to see are on the depressing end of the continuum, so to this, too, I said no thank you.

And so, like the cheepers who refused to leave their coop for more than a minute, we stayed home. We watched a double feature: A Room with a View (well, only half of it -- there's only so much that I can torture Ed) and Silver Linings Playbook (which we'd seen already on some other "it's about time we went on a date!" moment), and Ed popped corn, and the winds howled, and the temps kept falling, but inside, the daffodils and tulips bloomed and the rooms felt toasty warm.

Our grocery store had been selling lobster tails for $8 again and I bought two and made a meal of lobster, potato and corn. (You needed the potato to fill you up, as the lobster tails were only 4 oz. each.) And the Spanish bubbly, Cava.






And if all this isn't enough sweetness, the young parents brought Snowdrop over to the farmhouse so that they could join the legions of restaurant eating lovers and have a little celebration of their own. Love is everywhere indeed!

And so I'll end this love tinted post with a few Snowdrop pics. That lovely little one can set a smile on the most serious of faces.



(big Ed, back in action)





(hey, I'm soooo big too!)





(on pink elephant sheets)


Happy Valentine's Day, with love!

trifecta

If you guessed that today would include a photo of Ed, of a cheeper, and of little Snowdrop (in that order), you would be correct. My days (perhaps most people's days) are that predictable: the partner, the pet, the precious.

It is the kind of day that otherwise runs of its own accord. There isn't the sunshine to cast a new light on an old landscape. The air is frightfully cold and indeed, we're going to hit new lows for this year tomorrow. You can't convince me to go out. (Except for groceries and to visit Snowdrop. Warm seat,  smooth ride, beautiful music. Lily delivers!)

And so I leave you with my predictably awesome threesome, in their predictable order:

Ed at breakfast...






Butter -- the only hen brave enough to come out and greet me this morning...






And Snowdrop, whom I come across enthusiastically playing "open mouth" with her mom....






And who delights me as she naps with her tiger on her zebra belly!






...but mostly, she delights me with her vivacious, ever wonderful, sometimes dramatic, sometimes mellow face!



"listen, grandma, have I got a deal for you!"





"you want me to lift my head? I can lift my head"


All Fridays should be this predictable. And this wonderful.

Thursday

And so it begins: I wake up and my second thoughts run to the car: is it doing okay in this cold weather?!

(My first thoughts run to Isie boy, who is either not feeling well or traumatized by the occasional visits of Snowdrop. He has developed habits that are enough of a pain that even Ed agreed he needs to be seen by a vet to rule out medical problems. And if not medical, then what do we do -- take him to a cat shrink?)

I dash out to brush (gently!) a light dusting of snow off of Lili's windows.






Oh, you're wondering why "Lili?" It's just the kind of name that pops into my head. My moped, after all, is Rosie. Then, too, I had a lovely great aunt by the name of Lillian. And I have a cherished blog reader, someone whom I've never met, but who has been with me from the get go and she's Lili. And, when I was a young girl, I would love the bunches of lilies of the valley sold by older women on street corners of Warsaw. And you know my love of day lilies at the farmette. Should I go on?

Of course, I'm fussy about Lili's care. I lay the floor mats just so, I read up on her traits and disposition. It's true, she is no spring chicken. Her rust spots mimic my achy joints. Ah, but she can deliver a mighty smooth ride and I actually look forward to heading out in her warm interior today.

But not right away. Routines are what they are. Pleasant...






...and predictable.






It is a brilliant day...






And my visit today with Snowdrop is brilliant as well. She does a magnificent job of strengthening her neck muscles and identifying her fist as something that is hers.











... down to the very last finger.












The day does not end with my visit with little Snowdrop. I have my evening meeting with students at the Law School. I'm thinking -- it's likely that this is will be the last time I'll speak before a group of them. I'm on such a different path now!





I drive home at night, sinking into in Lili's comfy seat. I think how all my life I have been very indifferent to cars. New, old -- it hardly mattered. It irked me that in this great land of so much choice, I did not have the choice of rail or good outlier public transportation. I was stuck with relying on a car. Then along comes Lili and I am floored by her charm. You can't hold onto a grudge all your life.

It is a cold cold night. We glide smoothly past fields and forests and pull into the driveway of the farmette. There is a half moon, half hidden behind a cloud. Good night, Lili. Good night half moon.

Wednesday

On the upside, we visited a horse farm.






And, Butter ran all the way to the farmhouse to greet us when we came home.






And earlier, breakfast was lovely, if a bit hurried. (No, don't pour out the smoothie! I like to drink it straight out of the blender! with the good, firm handle! Unlike me, Ed likes a different breakfast each morning.)






And I had a wonderful afternoon with Snowdrop.






Let's talk about the petty frustrations that inserted themselves into this gray-ish day. It started in the same old way: before even getting out of bed, I hoist my laptop on top of my belly and I scan the car ads for the day.

And there is one for just under $5000. A Pontiac Vibe, which means nothing to you, I'm sure, but it's a joint venture with Toyota and this particular 05 model, though dangerously old for my current tastes, gets good ratings and has no visible flaws.

I call the owner.

He calls back.

We chat.

No, nothing wrong. Leaks? No. Rust? No. I run through the list of things that have turned me off. Rain moisture inside? No. I might have added "child vomit," because seriously, one ad had this disclaimer -- my kid threw up in the car last summer, but we washed the carpet and the smell is gone, though we can't be sure for the summer season! Now that's honesty for you!

Alright. It's in Brooklyn. For a Madisonian, that can be a 40 minute drive, but for us it's actually just shy of 25 minutes, along pleasant country roads. And the roads lead us straight to the horse farm, where the owner works, hence the horse photo. (At the end of our excursion, Ed magnanimously tells me -- I got to pet that horse. That was fun!)

The Vibe isn't spanking clean, that's for sure. I put on my pretend rose colored glasses. The owners hustle a crying child inside. She's sick -- her mom explains. I notice her car seat is still in the car. I should have asked about vomit.

As I sit behind the wheel and notice that the seats are as dirty as those in our truck and that's saying something, the owner leans over to explain -- the engine light is on, but I have a rather long story as to why.

And he launches into how they took it in when the light popped on and this was fixed and it popped on anyway and that was adjusted and it still kept popping and finally they decided that it must be okay, just a light malfunction...

I cut him off, saying -- the car doesn't feel right. Too big. So long as we're all lying our tails off, why not jump in with my own? What I should have said is this: if someone calls you and asks in great detail about every known issue, that is the time to mention flashing engine lights, rather than have the person drive to the horse farm because honestly, not everyone is going to be grateful that they had a chance to pat a horse when they come here to look at your dirty, awful and now it appears malfunctioning car. But, his child was sick and so I let it go.


At home, I step up the effort. By the end of the afternoon, I have two other solid offers outstanding and two very serious inquiries. And you know what? The carwheeling-dealing process kinda grows on you! Ed tells me -- you're becoming a real American.


The sun is close to the horizon. I'm packing up to go home. Bye, little one. I leave Snowdrop playing "stick out tongue" with her mom. They take turns.






My phone pings. One of the car sellers has written back. I respond.  Can I look before it's dark? -- I ask. He is in Fitchburg. We live in Fitchburg.

Ten minutes later, Ed crawls under the car. I stare at the incredible dashboard of this 07 Mazda3. I've never seen anything like it! The owner has turned on the heat on the seats. Oooooh! Lights are on. Because, they go on. I look up to catch the last wisps of sky in the sunroof. Lovely!

Consumer Reports loved this car, but is it fun to drive? It's a manual shift. It moves from one gear to the next so smoothly that I feel butter has been thrown into the stick!

And it comes with snow wheels! (Not that we need them this year...)

Yes, there are tiny rust spots. Eventually they will make mincemeat of the body. I don't care. Not now, not this year.





I write the check for $6000, surreptitiously checking my balance to see if there is enough to cover it. Phew! Just barely.

I drive home in something that resembles a cloud.

Name. The car needs a name. I try this, I try that. It'll come. Not today though.