weekend at the farmhouse

It's the last day of Snowdrop's visit. For those who look for general nuggets of thises and thats on Ocean, rather than just grandma notes, move on! My day is full of my granddaughter. This post, therefore, belongs to her.

Snowdrop is just a farm girl at heart. Wake up with the roosters. Again two hours earlier than her usual at home.

Never mind, she's in a great mood!






(And yes, we finally lowered the crib today. Clearly she is moments away from climbing out.)


Eat your bananas, beets and blueberries, little one! The label says HappyBaby...






I ask you: does this look like a happy baby?






The words "by myself!" were invented with Snowdrop in mind.






The much needed bath.






She drinks her regular stuff, then she gives me that "now what?" look. (All the while practicing her vowels.)






An aside: the pillow reminds you of Oreo? Here's an update. He's with his 21 hens and they finally decided to let him join their clique. And back at the farmette, our girls couldn't be more docile and good -- no bickering, just pure hen love. Snowdrop, Ed and I are part of their brood. They follow us everywhere, clucking away in hen happiness.

Alright, time for the adult breakfast.






Well, adult plus.






Ed looks on.






We play. It's tough to do that when you're not even seven months and so, predictably, Snowdrop wears down. Of course she does! I take her outside to look at butterflies, flowers and crab apples. I'm not sure she picks out the ever fleeting Monarch on the milkweed.






And the crab apples are only worth a tired grab or two.






But I have no doubt that she takes in the flowers. And the hens.






A few more fairly quiet moments...



(by myself!)


And finally I put her down for a nap.

After -- she's ready for more jumping, moving and executing what, to me, looks like a nearly perfect downdog.





All this, of course, tires her. (Grandma is reaching for reserves of energy as well). We need a pause. Where to go on a hot and muggy August day?

Ed, do we need anything from the grocery store?
Can't think of anything.
Try.
Salsa. 
Which one?
Cheapest.
We're on it!

It's nicely cold in a grocery store (as opposed to, say, in a park) and the shopping trip offers educational opportunities as well. But the hot initial minutes in the car are discouraging. I pep her up with the usual generational tale: when I was your age, my family didn't have air conditioning. She is too young to come back with: when you were my age, your family didn't even have a car.

Salsa (and a bottle of Cava for dinner) in hand, we go back to the hot car and being the great sport that she is, Snowdrop, whose name isn't Snowdrop for nothing (she prefers the cold to the hot), hardly even articulates her displeasure.

At home, we track her mommy and daddy's flight on flightaware.com. Never do that! I am greatly distressed when I see the flight turning around and heading back to where it came from. And then it turns again. And again. Okay, I get it. Weather circles. Your mommy and daddy are going to be late for dinner, I tell the little one. She lets out a tiny groan. Possibly because she understands, more likely because she slept too little last night.

Evening. Snowdrop and I do some deadheading of spent lilies and watering of the flower tubs. It's beastly hot, but the girl is interested in the proceedings and boldly hangs on as I bend and twist and squat and straighten, maneuvering through the dense beds and aiming the hose just so.

The lilies are hanging on for another week of brilliant bloom. I swear Snowdrop appreciates their beauty.






As the gold tones set in again and the hot wind picks up, we finish our work outside and return to the cool farmhouse.





We wait for the parents. It amazes me how good Snowdrop is, especially on this evening, when she surely wants to catch up on sleep.


She "watches" a public tv show with Ed...






She jumps higher than ever on her jumparoo...






And when it seems like she has no more oomph in her, even as her parents are a ways away, I pick her up and do what I did with my youngest daughter again and again -- I cook with Snowdrop slung on my hip.





She is most certainly a future chef.

Tired that she is, every bit of the shrimp stir fry is fascinating to her.

Snowdrop, you are a kitchen super star (even if you haven't quite discovered the value of bananas, beets and blueberries yet)!

Finally the parents drive up, I hand her over.





But I'll not ever forget the week-end. She and I were best pals, even if I never could quite get her to wave a hello or good bye. Next time.

weekend at the farmhouse

She is up and eager to play two hours before her usual wake up time. My granddaughter appears to like an early start to the day when she comes for a farmhouse visit. She plays in her crib for a while, but at 8:30, she wants to join the party!






Who can blame her. It's a beautiful summer day here -- warm, dry, with a light breeze and a sprinkle of puffy clouds.

But we have our morning routines to attend to. So long as you're hungry -- and surely you must be hungry, Snowdrop! -- let's try that combination of bananas, beets and blueberries!






Well, at least I didn't give you a bath yet. 

She cheers up at the sight of grandpa Ed.






You know -- the guy with the beard.






Bath time, blueberry face! And then comes the real breakfast -- first hers, because you know, she's just a baby. And then ours. Out on the porch.



 (photo by Ed)


You could say Snowdrop participates in this one as well.



(photo by Ed)


Ed  looks on. When I'm not looking, he throws her a wide grin.






I have more chores. Do dishes, pick up laundry from the dryer in the basement... Hey, how do I do that with a baby that is becoming quite mobile and cannot be left alone? (She has a funny half crawl, but it does get her places, albeit with the speed and look of a caterpillar.)

I know! Carry her down on my hip and bring her back up in the basket!






She is only mildly amused.

Okay, okay, okay! You can have your beloved time in the jumparoo!






And before the morning nap -- a quiet moment with a book. I'd like to report that she is reading the story about a bunny to her very own bunny rabbit, but in truth, she is studying both, trying to figure out how each might make it into her mouth.






In the afternoon, we again have tasks before us. The first and perhaps the most important is the wrapping of oddly shaped presents.





It's my daughter's (and Snowdrop's mommy's) birthday today and though she is away for a wedding, we're surely thinking of her!

Happy Birthday, mommy! (this from Snowdrop.)


I do take the little babe out for an adventure toward the end of the afternoon and I suppose it is truly that: we hit the trails of our local Lake Farm County Park. The upside? Well, Ed and I work this park inside out, especially in the winter, as it's only five minutes from the farmette and it has excellent quick skiing -- when there's snow. It's time Snowdrop got to know this favorite local spot of ours.

The downside? Some walking trails are closed for reasons not known to me. And it's not exactly stroller territory. Lots of ruts and rocks to navigate. And there are bugs to chase away.

But, it's a lovely walk nonetheless. Snowdrop is curious -- from a populated mall to this? All these trees! So many!






We come to Lake Waubesa where these two are teaching their grandson to fish.






Snowdrop and I join them for a few minutes. The boy is learning to cast. The grandma is working her smart phone. The grandpa is concentrating on getting the boy comfortable with the reel. It's a lovely scene. Snowdrop is enraptured.


We return home to the farmette. We water the flower tubs, she and I, we play too -- in a quieter way, because the evening calls for that.


One last very late walk through the gardens. I can tell we've turned the corner. The peak -- July -- is behind us. You look now for gentler combinations of blooms.






The tones are warmest at this time of the day.





It is, in many ways, the garden's most sacred hour.


Snowdrop is too young to make use of the swing-back chairs on the porch, but I tell her they're there, waiting for her.






Okay, just one wee taste of a future porch moment...






And we go inside, where I bounce her on my stomach and sing songs that are repetitive and nonsensical and she laughs and laughs...







Oh, Snowdrop!

weekend at the farmhouse

For a long time now, this weekend has been reserved for Snowdrop. Not just the usual Snowdrop pop in, pop out, but for a full blown farmhouse visit, from early Friday until late Sunday.

And so I'm up very early. With only a quick glance at the flowers...






And quite an early breakfast on the porch...







I start my Snowdrop weekend at her place. Are you up, little girl?






Bath time!






And mush time! Mistake. I should have started with the messy mush.








(can I have some of my normal food now?)



Verdict: Sweet potato is not a favorite.  And Snowdrop is back to the sink for a total body wash.

And now, finally, real food, followed by play! Camera play often comes first when I'm with her -- so that I can log in a daily photo and not worry about it if nothing else presents itself.






Even though in the course of play, I'm often tempted to reach again for the camera.



(going for the prize: a favorite ball)


But not so much today. It's a rare and special week-end. And the sun is out and the breeze is wonderful! It is a time to free up the mindset and give my full attention to adventuring with the little one.


Except, I do have an errand to run. A store return... I could put it off til next week... Or, I could take Snowdrop with me to the mall! I don't take my camera along for this, but I cannot resist using my iPhone for the occasional documentation. After all, she'll someday want to see a pic of her first trip to the mall, no?

She is so puzzled by it all! Her expression says -- I thought I understood my environment, but this? How does it fit in? Eventually though, something begins to make sense. And the smile comes out. A mall? Sure, okay, it's a mall!






As long as we're here, maybe we could peek into the store Baby Gap. Look Snowdrop -- a play-suit with cheepers and barns on it!






Still, I'm saving my baby shopping for fall. She has enough for now. We put it back on the rack.


And then I think about a store I would very much like her to see -- one that I rarely go to these days (it's too far!), but one I realize is actually within a modest walk of the mall.

We go out and head for La Baguette.

At this very favorite bakery, I ask Madame Carine (the co-owner) at what age French children start in on their first baguette. She studies Snowdrop.
You know, young ones like the croutons, when they're teething. How old is she? 
Almost seven months.
She is tall! I forget this about Snowdrop -- yes, she is tall.

Of course, my all-American (with an eastern European twist) granddaughter has been chomping on a frozen bagel for a while now (did you know that bagels were introduced in this country by a Pole?). But today, I have her practice just a few chomps on a delicious, fragrant, still a touch warm, crusty baguette.











I think about taking a child to the bakery -- how in so many places, she would have been a regular by now. We here are not a bakery dependent country. But I am glad Snowdrop had this visit to one today. And that she had her first encounter with, in my opinion, the bread of all breads.


We walk back to the car, past rows of cars and parking lots -- surely an experience that she's likely to repeat again and again and again in her life. Cars, I muse out loud. We are surrounded by cars...

And then we drive to the farmette.

We must do chores, sweet one!

She and I water the plants indoors and the pots outdoors and she delights in sticking her hand in the cool hose. I remember introducing her to it months ago. That time she was cautious and uneasy. Today she is happily darting her hand in and out of the stream of water.

We feed (stale) bread to the chickens and we watch them eat, with the eagerness they reserve only for bakery treats.






Chores done, we retreat to the farmhouse, where the little girl bounces in her jumparoo in total glee! It's her most favorite right now and it reels her back into the world of the familiar. Yes, here she feels safe. Jumpa jumpa jumpa jumpa jumparoo, sing, Snowdrop, sing! Jumpa jumpa jumpa jumpa jumparoo!


Evening. Ed calls from "his" "office." He tells me -- there is a visitor to the company... I want to bring him home for dinner. I scramble and reconfigure the meal. Of course there's enough. We can always stand to eat less.

The visitor is delightful. Being a dad himself, he knows how to coax a wide grin out of a baby.
                                                                                                                                                                   


 


And as before, as all day long in fact, Snowdrop reaches for her very best manners.


And now I've done the dishes and the men have retreated to talk machining talk. The little girl and I  take a walk through the gardens. It's a brilliant night: dry, with a clear sky.

If the mall was a surprise to her, well now, so is the big willow tree. She has seen it before, of course, but today it's as if she takes in the detail for the first time. The swaying branches mesmerize her -- so easy to grab and hold onto now...






It's a fine night to be out on the farmette.










A very fine night indeed!