quiet Wednesday

I love days that are packed with all that you could possibly squeeze in. But honestly, interspersed among those, I love days that are quiet. No flood pf photos. No ambitious projects. No stunning weather report (just a very good one!), no great food to parade before you.

Just quiet.

Breakfast...






Appreciating what remains in bloom in the garden and this includes my beloved annuals, such as the honey-fragrant alyssum, which the cheepers love to munch on in early spring, but ignore now that there's so much else to turn to.






Eventually, I'm at Snowdrop's home, where, too, we keep it down to a quiet repetition of things she knows and loves (no real cheepers to admire today -- just pictures of them in story books).






Is it a serious day? No, not exactly that. Just calm.






(I have to smile when she admires the mirror image of herself, if only for a second: it's much more fun to pick up the piece of fabric and chomp on it.)






Two more photos -- of our walk around the little lake. I want to highlight the loveliness of the shoreline...






... and of course, there's the smiley girl herself.






The evening is quiet too, though I am stuck on the phone arguing with airlines about travel configurations, but it's okay. The thing about quiet days is that they make you perfectly ready to manage less quiet negotiations.

first day of Fall

My younger girl got married on the first day of summer and my older girl got married on the first day of fall. Ah, so that's today, no? Indeed, Snowdrop's mom and dad are celebrating an anniversary.

I haven't a lot of free minutes today and as a result, for those who prefer photos to words -- you're in luck! Not much time for text. But I promise, you'll get a fine feel for my day, or anyone's day -- that is anyone lucky enough to wake up to golden sunshine, with cheepers clamoring to get out and get going. Lucky enough to have an Ed patiently letting me take that photo. And lucky enough to have Snowdrop in her life -- a Snowdrop who is utterly exuberant today. No dainty smiles and sheepish grins: she is all about laughter!

Here we go:

Fall sunrise:






Scotch early in the morning:






Sheep shed grapes:






The first day of fall, but not the last rose of the year and probably not the last day lily either:






My breakfast photo hero:







And now at Snowdrop's home. Here she is after her bath, waiting patiently for her breakfast:






Now here come the guffaws:


















With an occasional needed reassurance that it really is okay to laugh that much:






Oh, here's a more serious moment (possibly because this was restricted play: can't chomp on those matryoshka dolls):






Continued joviality during walk around the little lake:






Toward evening, I bring Snowdrop to the farmhouse while her parents go out for a celebratory meal. It's a beautiful day and we spend a bit of it outside. With cheepers nearby...






... Snowdrop could spend a very long time studying a blade of grass.






And I could spend forever studying her:






Especially as the sun goes down and the colors turn golden:






Inside again, the usual:






And then she discovers a toy I had purchased for her for the newborn years. I want to tell her -- you were just a baby then!






Her parents show up. A happy reunion:






First day of fall indeed. May it portend a season of sun dappled days and love filled moments!

Monday

What would a grand farmhouse day have, for a little girl Snowdrop's age? It's not hard to figure this out:

It would have a rested grandma -- one who ate a hearty breakfast (with grandpa Ed), to keep those energies flowing...






Grandma would have checked the garden before the girl's arrival...






... and done some spot weeding, so she'd have more time for the little one when she arrived.






It would be a sunny day, but not to warm. The kind of day that makes you just want to sit in the grass, underneath the crab apple and take in breaths of fresh air! Oh, and it would be cool if grandma had some bread for the chickens so they wouldn't be shy about coming near.






There would be plenty of time for play inside too...






Time for a close inspection of favorite toys...






And grandma should be in a dancing mood...






And grandpa should be in a warm and huggy mood...






And when grandma marvels how the little one is dressed in the colors of the kitchen flowers, and the little one clasps a sprig of flowers and topples the whole thing over, creating puddles the size of an ocean, everyone should laugh and laugh, because it really is quite funny!






Other things? Oh, cooking of course. A little girl Snowdrop's age would be fascinated by the roasting and then mashing of coriander seeds. Even slicing onions is a curiosity -- especially to a wee one who seems to love all kitchen activity.

Of course, grandma can't neglect feeding the girl herself. For today, let's put away thoughts of spinach and peas and go back to fruits: how about peaches and mango?






The day spins by so fast!

In the late afternoon, Snowdrop and I go back to her home. It's such a perfect day for a walk around the little lake. Well, we go half way round the lake, then turn around and come back. So it's the same distance, but we stick to the shade of the neighborhood.

Oh! Welcome back, ms. serious face!







Oh, well, never mind.






(I catch us in the shop window... grandma, granddaughter...)






And then it's evening and I'm home, making a complicated but delicious farro and roasted cauliflower salad. With that ground coriander. And onion. And golden raisins soaked in carrot juice. Oh, and lemon. And rind. And mint and parsley. And pistachio nuts. And garlic. Rare is the dish that passes through here that doesn't have garlic in it.





 A fried cheeper egg on top and you've got yourself supper!


We put away the cheepers together. Ed says -- here, let me gather them. I'll show you how it's done. And he gathers them and Scotch flies out of his reach and I laugh and laugh. (She then walks haughtily by herself into the coop.)

a farmhouse Sunday?

Only the evening hours today remind me that this, indeed, is Sunday!

I wake up too early. (Don't you think that 4 a.m. is too early?) I toss and think (not unpleasant thoughts) about travel. Eventually, I note that the sun is up and so I nudge Ed, waking him up, to tell him that he needn't get up (thanks for letting me know...) because here I am, ready to feed Isie boy (who, thankfully, sleeps in the sheep shed these days) and to let the cheepers out.






It's a beautiful (but cool again!) morning, but I'm still not ready to give up on the extra hour or so of sleep --  that delicious morning sleep that is so elusive when you're young (no time!) and so impossible when you're old (who can sleep in the mornings at my age?).

And remarkably, that sleep does come and as a result, we're not up until 9:30, by which time it really is too late to do a farmhouse cleaning, right? Right?! A wipe down of the bathroom and I'm done!

Ed asks -- what are your plans for today?
I say -- I need to pick up a baguette from downtown. Maybe I'll bike over... (I'm appreciative of the fact that he fixed my bike, but the riding season is winding down. If not today, then when?) You want to come with me?
And then Ed gives such an unusual response that I sit up in bed in shock -- okay, and why don't we eat breakfast downtown? You know, one of those brunch things?

We're off!



Nina, be careful! (he never says this, but the idea of me shooting from a speeding position seems deserving of a cautionary reprimand)


It's so glorious to be riding again! It's just an hour's ride each way, but the sky is deeply blue, the field colors are sublime and the sun is out and the cool breeze just helps us along (at least going there; it works against us coming back).






When we get to Willie Street -- home of a bakery with good baguettes -- we see that this is the day for their annual Willie Street fair, which is a a carnival like event, with music, a parade, costumes, stilts...
















... with the usual very alternative Willie Street vendors selling their stuff.


The bakery is cooking breakfast and we are so lucky, because a table outside opens up just as we pull in and so here we are, munching on croissants and eggs and baguettes and it feels as if we are traveling together because honestly, Ed and I NEVER go out to breakfast otherwise!

A folk band plays some lovely songs about lavender and people gather in a very low key way and it is really just a perfect morning moment.






We meander up the street a bit after and we watch something that is very "Midwest" I should think -- a pumpkin weighing contest. The all time record goes to last year's pumpkin -- 1800 pounds! Honestly!

We watch as some of this year's entries get weighed. This pretty thing comes in at "only" 721.






We bike back, baguette in backpack,  completely satisfied.






And now it's evening and the young family is here for dinner...



(can I help mix the salad?)


So it is Sunday after all.






A very very great Sunday!



(I was at a Milwaukee baseball game, grandma!)


I think we would all agree.






The night comes, Ed and I go out to put away the cheepers. They're back to to normal patterns -- resting on the fence, waiting for us to lock them up in the coop.






We walk back to the farmhouse... the moon shines brightly...