the tiny details of Saturday

If the weekend is a time for me to take stock, then I fulfilled my weekend obligations well today. In reviewing what's what, I was, in fact, filled again and again with feelings of enormous gratitude. To start with, all younger family members are feeling well (it had been tricky earlier in the month). And the skies -- they are as beautiful as they always are in the Midwest, even and perhaps especially in the less beloved colder months.



(a wintry sunrise)




(beautiful clouds)




(the stunning fields to the north, dusted with frost)


Then, too, the golden tones were still evident around the farmhouse and it looked so very lovely to me in those early morning hours. (I also couldn't help but take note of the very visible and very awesome patio door.)






Oh, and the cheepers are doing very well!



(these are Scotch colors!)


Before breakfast, I did some farmhouse cleaning, testing my new theory that splitting this over the two days of the weekend will make it less odious. [Ed commented that I ought to learn to develop, nay, worship my inner mess. I told him I already confronted my inner mess every time I stepped into his sheep shed in the morning to feed Isie boy.]

Breakfast was lovely.





After, I did some solid writing and when I could write no more, I did the "running around town" kind of chores -- return this, repair heels of city boots (for future travels), and finally -- purchase warm knock-around shoes. I have only shoes from days of work and they are too fine and too awkward to put on for farmette winter work or even Snowdrop strolls. Time to fill the void.

Here, I truly felt my one pang of guilt: I bought Birkies, which perhaps you know are a tad upwards of $100. That's a lot for me to spend on anything, let alone shoes. When you're retired and insist on traveling as much as I do, you can't go around buying things. It's all about choices.

The clerk tried to convince me that it would be a fine investment to also buy waterproofing spray. I pointed out that I would never bother spraying (especially since Birkies are a rather open shoe concept -- you don't wear them to keep the wet out). He offered to put on an initial coat for me. I gratefully accepted and only later realized that he was going to charge me for the cost of the spray ($12). I did not have it in me to say that it was a mistake, that I never intended to purchase the damn spray.

I mention this because after, Ed sprung for a new "welcome" mat for the farmhouse (without the "welcome" word on it) and I was so enormously grateful for that. Even though he doesn't travel, still, you wont find Ed buying new things if he can help it, but here we are -- proud owners of a new mat, one that cost me nothing at all!

So often our days are like that: generosity steps in just when it's needed, when it makes the path just that much smoother. Small details? Maybe. But days are made of small details. They are what make for grand days and poor days.

I've had a string of very grand days.

Because my sweet guy had work related meetings today, I was on my own for a walk and I kept it short -- in and out of Owen woods (close to all those chores I wrote of). The colors are all in the sky right now. Well, almost all in the sky.






A hawk swept down to the ground and I wondered if he had caught a mouse. We've caught four so far this season at the farmhouse (last year we set a new record at twenty over the winter months). I suppose I ought to have hostile feelings toward predators, given our cheeper vulnerabilities, but I don't really hold a lot of good feelings toward mice and so I hoped the hawk ate well today.






I didn't see Snowdrop at all. I almost offered to take her for a walk or to play with her for a bit while the young couple did whatever it is that they had to do, but I decided that a day of no Snowdrop makes the future days of many hours with Snowdrop more precious and valuable and so I held back, concentrating instead on the beauty around the farmette. And there was plenty of that. You get the rare frontal photo of the farmhouse today. Typically it is not anything we would want to brag about, but the front trees (mostly maples) are the last to shed their leaves and right now, near dusk, the vignette is absolutely stellar.





For supper, Ed has been suggesting that I take a break from a week of daily cooking ("want to go out for a seafood dinner? or better yet, get subways for home?" "No thank you!"). Honestly, it is a perfect day to make chili. The amount I make is good for three days' of eating, but more importantly, the flavors and scents of chili match perfectly the hues and colors of this November day.

A fine Saturday. Really a fine one!

Friday

We are seeing the last of the gold: crab apple, asparagus ferns, birch leaves -- they give us that final burst of pleasure, but no pleasure can continue without interruption and today's brisk wind is likely to speed up that final fall of brilliant leaves. The nakedness of winter is almost upon us.






(Even as some flowers refuse to give up! The delphinium has sprouted a new set of buds, the gaura just keeps on going...)






But I walk briskly past all of this as I let the cheepers out. Although still above average for the month, the temperature readings tell it like it is: we have turned our backs on the glorious warm and sunny days.

Still, breakfast is in the sun room. Just because.






After the usual Friday errands, I am with Snowdrop, who is delightfully rambunctious and right away challenges me to a chase, ending with a giggling fit when I "find" her, as always, on the bathroom mat.


 



She shows off her "no hands!" stand...






But wait, Snowdrop -- what happened to your other sock?
I don't know! -- she seems to be telling me.






In the late afternoon we go out for a walk and I am tempted to throw a blanket on her, but at the last minute settle for just a warm cap. Is she happy with the additional outerwear? No she is not. I remind her that she is a winter baby and even though she is less than a year old, this is the second winter (or almost winter) of her life.






In the evening, I bring Snowdrop to the farmhouse so that the young couple can have an adult evening. She is easily made happy here. Feeding the cheepers is such a joy! (Why is it that a young one can so easily get pleasure from such simple acts as breaking bread for chickens?) Too, when I put her down in her play area, discovering favorite toys that she hasn't seen since her last visit here sets her babbling with glee (she has certain vocalizations and babbles that she reserves only for happy times).

And then I bring out a new surprise -- a pinwheel. Does she like it? I think so.






Oh, Snowdrop!

Thursday is art class day

It's still warm out there. I feel I can deal with a very cold winter, because we've had such a long spell of autumnal bliss.

A slightly hurried breakfast...






A quick scattering of bread for the cheepers...






And then off to Snowdrop's home. In time to see her wake up.






After breakfast and a bath, we have a spirited round of play -- of the kind where she wanders off and then looks for me...






And on her own, she is increasingly practicing standing unsupported...





All that is fine, but what's most unusual about this day is that Snowdrop starts art class (for ages 0 - 3 years, which I think is pretty funny; btw, Snowdrop is exactly 10 months on this day).

The class falls on a morning hour and sure enough, every single child is accompanied by a (female) nanny or a grandma. We may lay claim to an egalitarian attitude of shared responsibilities at home and at work, but the wee ones, with rare exception, are being tended to by women.

Snowdrop has never held a crayon, but as one of the younger class members, she quickly darts a glance at the other children in the room...






... and reassures herself that it can't be all that bad.






I was proud of her at the art table, because she managed to sit on her own (unlike others in her age group) and with gentle redirecting, also managed to keep most of the collage items out of her mouth.






Of course, she loved the teacher and the other kids and so even in her tired last minutes, she was a happy camper. (The art creation was more grandma than her, but she definitely participated!)






As we drove home, I thought about how this little girl has already had swim classes, is on her second series of music classes, and now has started art class. For her, the thrill is in being with others her age, for her parents (and for me), the joy is in seeing her try new things. As I reenter this world of little guys (it's been a while since they've been in my everyday), I think about the various ways in which we prod and steer them and the ways in which they grow confident and strong. The world over, so many ways of essentially doing the same thing -- helping our young ones get a foothold and find a good place in this complicated world of ours.

Wednesday

It does appear like we're setting records with these glorious days of sunshine and warmth.

The morning wasn't cloud free. But if you have a crab as we do -- beautifully golden in these last colorful days of autumn, it hardly matters.






Breakfast, in the front room, has its own sunshine -- a bouquet of yellow flowers and Ed's rare morning smile.






Then I lost myself in my Great Writing Project and when I next looked up, the sun had taken hold and you wouldn't think of packing even a sweater to go outside.

I went to Snowdrop's home and played with her for a while (noting that the few photos I managed to take all had something in common...).



standing





shaking





...and rolling


And after lunch, which, these days is a joyous (even for today's peas, spinach and pears) and surprisingly neat affair...





... there was no question but that we would be going outside.

She is much better on the slide, but still unsure of anything else at the playground. They are not easy spaces for her to navigate and the free fall activities leave her feeling vulnerable. Still, she is happier today than she was yesterday and so we end our brief playground visit on a better note.

But the highest of high notes comes with leaf play. What child doesn't love to crunch and rustle and swoosh all the fallen flakes of gold?






Snowdrop is no exception here. What a beautiful afternoon! We had a gift of good weather and I had the gift of playing with leaves with my granddaughter. You can't top that.

Tuesday

Maybe it wont break any records, but surely this is one of the warmest, nicest November days ever.

I let the cheepers out just as the sun sets that golden tone onto the farmette.






The beloved farmhouse peaks out of a backdrop of sun dappled fall colors.






Breakfast is, of course, in the sun room.






As it's Tuesday, I rush off rather quickly to Snowdrop's home. I'm there just as she wakes up.





And so begins our day together. I don't need to describe the play routines. You've seen them before and in any case, toddlers the world over replicate these same developmental efforts -- standing, rambling, playing, swaying...


Of course, I have a grandma's perspective: this girl is uniquely grand and ready to take on the world...







But I do understand that first she has to pick up a few skills...






Including moving about on her two strong, but still toddler-ish legs.






In the afternoon, we go out for a walk. Of course we do -- it's 70F! But instead of merely walking her around the neighborhood, I take her to a playground that was just put into a nearby lakeside park. The equipment is for the younger set and I think this may be a good time to get Snowdrop interested in slides and swings.

 In fact, she is more interested in the other children there.





She loathed the idea of sliding down, at least on the first couple of tries (we came back again later and she fares better). And the swings? Well, in grandma's lap in the most gentle fashion (this wont do in the long run, Snowdrop, this grandma hates swings!).

For the rest of the walk, she kept glancing at me to see what else I had up my sleeve and she was delighted when the whole adventure was behind us and she could ramble around in her own home.





It's interesting how quickly kids develop a suspicious attitude toward new things. Snowdrop has never minded new people and she has become a terrific eater of new foods. I imagine once she understands the whole set up, she'll be clamoring up the slide with glee, like the bigger kids. If only the good weather holds long enough to get us there!

earlier than early

If I have an appointment to make, I try to do it in the predawn hours, so that it doesn't impact my schedule with Snowdrop. As a result, we were up so incredibly early today that I almost felt as if I were about to take a trip on one of those obnoxiously early flights.

We didn't eat breakfast until after my appointments and that felt a bit strange, too.






In all, an odd beginning to a gorgeously warm and sunny day.

And you know if it's Monday, this puts Snowdrop right at the farmhouse and that's truly wonderful as I've missed playing with her here.

Yes, she seems older! Every week propels her closer to a new stage of development and today, I let her show me what she has been up to when I was away.






There was a mutual adoration moment to observe as well...






And since the day just couldn't get any nicer, we went out for a bit so that Ed could eat his lunch, Scotch could eat her bread and Snowdrop could again display her utter love for all the living things here at the farmette.






Willow play, too, remains a favorite..






And though she isn't about to take steps just today, Snowdrop truly does look impressive  up on her two solid little feet (even as her face says -- I am not that confident yet!)






Very impressive. And happy.





As am I -- it's so good to be back!

I return Snowdrop to her home. I linger for a bit. It's lovely to see her side by side with her mom.






I come back to the farmhouse after the sun has set, but then, we fell back this weekend and the sun sets at a very early hour.