Thursday

We're all trying to make the best of it. We brag: coldest February on record! Still negative temps, despite the sun! It's so cold that your nose will fall off if you stay out too long! Maybe even your ears and hands! We complain: no relief in sight! They say it wont get near normal (and you know how cold that is in the Upper Midwest!) until March! I don't even know what puddles look like! The roads are all white -- snow and/or salt, take your pick!

And so on.

But honestly, that brilliant sunshine boosts the spirit every time.






Even for my poor hens and rooster -- the day is made better because of it.






Breakfast? In the front room.






The sun remains strong, the skies are so very blue that for a brief moment, you forget about the brutal reality. As we reach what must be the day's high (3F, aka -16C), the cheepers step cautiously outside and then huddle together facing the light, as if sun bathing at an Alpine winter resort.






I smile at them: we're gonna make it! The worst is behind us!


I turn my attention to Lily, my silver new old car. Ed and I have been analyzing its shutdown and I now know a great deal about battery cells, alternators, spark plugs, fobs, etc etc. (It was, by the way, a new battery and so hardly the culprit here.) I suppose it's useful stuff. You never know when I will be called upon to fix my own car.

Recharged overnight, Lily is ready to go. I'll pay close attention to her various lights and signals. Maybe she'll do well with some pampering and oversight. I love her enough to give her many second chances.

My drive for today isn't far -- only to little Snowdrop's home for an afternoon visit.






She has so many great moments, so many stretches, smiles, babbles...






...that all thoughts of a long cold winter slip away.

I drive home, Lily's engine purrs...  Maybe it was me -- some switch left in the wrong position, some small oversight...  As we make our way along country roads, a song from my Snowdrop playlist keeps running through my head.

You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine...

Wednesday

It really is an insult. Like a cold slap in the face. You think you're nearing spring? Take that!

Simply put: it's bitter cold. We've been told it's not *just* an Arctic blast, it's a Siberian-Arctic blast.

I think maybe I should have put off trimming Ed's beard. It's like stripping a chicken of its feathers just when the temperatures plummet to their lowest of lows and the wind picks up to make the suffering that much greater.






It's my day to file taxes. I mean, why not just soak in the misery of it all!


Looking out, I see the cheepers are at the barn entrance. Why?! It's  not even 5F outside. It's as if they can't believe their misfortune!





I go to give them extra food treats, knowing that tomorrow, when the winds really pick up, they probably wont come out at all. They hate the cold, they despise a strong wind.


So, a terrible day? No, not at all! For one thing, there is an afternoon with Snowdrop before me!

Whoa, not so fast. Lily, my new old car, possibly disturbed by her new digs refuses to start. Her battery is as dead as I've ever seen on a car. So dead is it, that even cables wont jump-start it.

Et tu, Brute?

Never mind, we'll figure it out tomorrow. For now, I borrow Ed's car.

Snowdrop herself has had a full morning and she uses the afternoon to run through all her possible emotions: serious, anxious, silly, sublime, energetic, and finally exhausted. I leave you with an image of the serious...


 



...and the sublime.






I drive home just as the sun is setting. The wind has pushed all but a few clouds out of the way. I pause to admire the pink and purple sky.






Beautiful, but cold. I park the car next to Lily and the truck. The rusty Ford pickup hasn't been moved at all this winter and when I glance at it now, I notice a shadow underneath its rusted body.





Yes, this is the night to hide and huddle.

I make my way to the farmhouse and get started on supper. It's definitely the night for hot chili. And maybe a dram of Scotch from the Isle of Islay.

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.