a very different Saturday

My, but it's cold outside. With a frost advisory for tonight, even though I swore to Ed we were done with that.

Ah well. Last one this spring, for sure!

A breakfast in the beautiful (to me) sun room.






Now, about the rest of the day. It requires an explanation.

When I travel, once I've booked my plane, train and hotel room, I put aside preparations until just a few hours before I take off. What's there to fuss about? My suitcase is lightly packed and I work on my to do list once I've landed, settled in and had a glass of wine and maybe a conversation with the inn keepers, wherever I may be.

But I have a trip before me that's different. The idea for it came to me last August and it is the single most easy and at once most complicated trip I have ever planned in my life. I will have spent many more hours working through the details of it than there will be hours at our destination -- which for me will be exclusively Paris. Nine nights in Paris.

What's the fuss? Well, when I was passing through that grand city last summer, I thought how wonderful it would be to be there at least one more time with my family -- my girls, their husbands, my granddaughter. All at the same time.

Ah, but to coordinate something that can gather us like this, given everyone's work and life commitments, given the uncertainty back in August as to what May 2016 will be like, given the various contingencies and given Snowdrop, who was barely half a year old when I got this idea into my head. How will she be so many months into the future?

I persevered. I coordinated. I watched airfares like a hawk. I patiently talked to airlines about seats. Many times. Indeed, I sat down with the airline reps face to face during a winter trip to Paris and asked how it was that I can't book seats in advance, given that Snowdrop would love to sit with her family? (A child her age does not get a seat assignment and so one reason to purchase tickets early is that you get priority in the bulkhead decisions; bulkhead gives us the possibility of a bassinet, if only she didn't look like she is three years old, what with her height and overall girlishness!)

And my kids had to make arrangements. Work schedules. House sitters. All of it. Damn, this seemed complicated.

I persevered. I used miles, I used dollars, I searched for apartments, I adjusted dates, I rented high chairs, I booked a baby-sitter (conveniently referred to as une baby-sitter in French) for the evenings were all of us would be in Paris together (some are arriving later, some are coming then leaving for a bit -- only Snowdrop and I will be the Paris constants, without interruption), and a cab with a baby seat, and restaurants -- oh, don't get me started on the search for places where finally I can eat with my family again! I personally inspected several eateries, rejecting, scratching off one list, trying something else. My daughter helped. We have a plan!

It's been only five years since my younger girl and I traveled across the ocean together, but it's been ten years since I had both girls with me there. How much has changed for them in that time!

And finally, the date is here: we leave tomorrow. At least some of us do. Here's one girl whom I dropped in on today (of course, her dialogue is only imagined by me...):

Hi grandma! Hi hi hi hi hi! The house is in chaos but I'm having fun! Hi hi hi hi hi!






She was a tad confused about the clothes, the books, the diapers strewn everywhere, but she is a girl who goes with the flow.

What's this? A hat? I like it! Fancy!
Actually, it's from Target. But it packs well.






In case it's sunny. Of course, it's not supposed to be sunny. Still... you never know...






That's your carry-on, Snowdrop. With all your important in flight toys, foods and clothes!
I like the way the handle goes up and down!






We break up the sorting, deciding, stacking with a walk. Oh, but it's windy today! Coldest May 14th on record! (That's a guess. Probably a correct one.)






Me, I'm dizzy with plans, with notes, with ideas! At the farmette again, I scribble things down, I iron Snowdrop's clothes (why not!), I clean the farmhouse. And I watch the minutes pass and I think -- wow. We made it to May 14th. That means we'll make it to May 15th too.


Be patient with my posting. I always say that travel will inevitably disrupt the even flow of Ocean writing. Never more so than now, with a lively little girl and a few sundry others to keep me hopping all through the grand hours of travel together.

A last appreciative look at the front of the farmhouse. And the lilac. And Butter, knowing only the boundaries of the farmette.
Don't forget to give them daily bread, Ed....



 


The reminders begin. Don't forget, don't forget.
I wont.
Okay.

Friday

An ordinary day, with elements of the unusual. Couldn't you say that about most days? And so maybe this Friday was just as you would expect it to be?

Here's an unusual element: Ed is up to do the morning work with the cheepers. And of course, because I am so programmed to wake myself then, so driven to get things done early in the morning, I cannot luxuriate in the novel wonderfulness of this permission to sleep in. I'm up two minutes after him.

And it's fortuitous that I should get going early, because we have guests for -- (the usual!)  -- breakfast.





We all are inclined to linger, even as each of us is pressed for time.  Our guests are driving back to Chicago, Ed has his Friday tech meetings and I have Snowdrop.

One quick glance at the garden...





...and I'm off.

Except I needn't have hurried. Here's an unusual element: ten o'clock in the morning and Snowdrop is still sleeping! Fighting a bug? Recovering from yesterday's outings? You can never tell...


At last, it's time for her breakfast.

Cool astronaut p.j.'s, Snowdrop!
Do you have strawberries for me, grandma?






After her bath, she discovers a toy that is not necessarily easy to propel. You pull it at a certain angle and the "kangaroo" flaps its paws.

How do I get it to flap???






She finally figures it out and she does a lovely dance step trying to run forward and look back at her kangaroo.






We go for a walk then. Not too long. It's cold outside. She's in a sweater and a jacket. Oh, spring can be so fickle here!

Back home, I watch her try on three occupational hats. Here she is, thinking about rockets again...






And here, she is building towers with periodic element blocks, indicating perhaps that she is not hostile to science. Or construction work.






And here, she is happily proclaiming her chef stardom status from up high.






My time with Snowdrop though isn't long. In the afternoon, I have a haircut, grocery shopping, and finally -- a check of the garden after all the rains we've had. There are plants to support, weeds to remove -- the usual.

What's blooming in the yard? Well, let's give a final appreciative nod to the late flowering narcissus varieties.






And of course, to the queen of early spring: the lilac.






I'm paying attention to the buds that are ready for the next stage...






And always, always, I am grateful to the melange of colors provided by the potted annuals.






Tomorrow they say may be even cooler! No matter. I'm confident we're past the frost danger. Spring waffles and swings and sways. And despite the fluctuations, each day reveals layers of surprising beauty. And that's no surprise for this time of the year, is it...

Thursday

At dawn, the skies had just that touch of mist to them -- enough to create a delicate pattern in the sky, but not enough to hide the fields, the distant hills, the gently blue sky.






And sure enough, by the time I let the cheepers out and clean the coop, all wisps of mist are but a memory. Here's the farmhouse in the bold colors of full blown spring.






If you look toward the barn, you'll still see some apple blossom petals on the path, but most likely, your attention will be drawn to the lushness of the largest of my flower fields.






It's warm enough to eat breakfast on the porch.






The cheepers get a treat now as well -- bread bits mixed with tasty blossoms. Happy girls indeed!






The rest of the daylight hours I devote to Snowdrop.

Here she is just after her bath, watching a toy roll away and articulating what has become her favorite phrase of late -- oh-oh! As in -- now look what I've done! Always with a twinkle in her eye.






I suggest a hair clip and this triggers another favorite -- the pulling off of the hair clip.






(The way to get it to stay on is to slip it in when she is distracted. I'll try again later.)

The sun is out now. Want to go for a walk, Snowdrop?
Really? Now? Let's go let's go let's go let's go!






It's so warm that when we pause at the coffee shop, we find a delightful spot outside. No sweater needed! She, of course, studies the activity on the street...






... and at the other tables...






Looking this way and that, missing nothing.






Oh, isn't this grand, grandma?






Time to head home. We take in the used dishes and the high chair and I tell her to find the stroller...





Such a glorious day to be outdoors!

And so I am thrilled that our out of town visitors suggest that we meet them for a walk in the afternoon in the Arboretum. The vast expanse of grass, beautifully framed by lilacs and blooming trees takes the breath away and gives a Snowdrop the freedom to explore. Forgive the photo run. It's as much of the Arboretum as it is of grandmotherly pride.
















This way, grandma!






Magic!






One of the best play moments for her? Dandelion puffs!






For you, grandpa Ed! Dandelion shreds!











From here it's but a short drive to the farmette. And because it's Snowdrop's last visit here for a couple of weeks (more on that later), I let her have her romp with her friends...






And leave for myself an image of her under the willow branches.





Such a beautiful day!  Of lilacs and little hands clutching dandelions. Of running, indoors and outdoors. Of filling your lungs with the scent of May. Oh, how I love having nature right there, at my doorstep! I know Snowdrop loves it too. She tells me this again and again, in a thousand ways.

Wednesday

I am awake and up before the light takes over the night sky. What time is it? Four thirty? Close to five? I work on a few emails and I watch as the darkness yields to a dense fog outside. Eventually I go outside to let the cheepers out. The fog has crept into the farmette too and the world feels wet and clammy, but not unpleasant.






The farmers' fields to the east and north of us are lost in the thick air and there is a calmness to the landscape that I quite like.






I look at the flower beds -- they're doing well! They loved their day of gentle rain!

What's blooming? Well, I can appreciate the peonies that are close to popping their buds.






But honestly, the lilac continues to take center stage. Here it is again, still sagging, still beautiful.






...equally beautiful when brought into the house. (Breakfast is in the kitchen. The book is a new one that I just acquired for Snowdrop.)






My morning today is, in fact, with Snowdrop and I arrive just when she has finished breakfast. I love to surprise her with fruit toward the end of a meal and I happen to have some strawberries in my bag... Here you go, little one.






After her bath, she is still drying out...






But very very quickly she pushes for an outing. She brings her shoes. She brings my shoes. I work on teaching her the word "later."

She settles in for a period of play in the kitchen, with child-sized kitchen utensils.






They fascinate her no end and she spends a productive half hour putting them into the wire basket and taking them out again.






And throwing them on the floor.
Now, what have I done here?


 



And arranging them on her chair.






I love her creative approach to play! It is like that of an older child, except more secretive, because I cannot really tell what's on her mind -- I can only guess.


And eventually I say -- you're dry! Let's go! 
Really, grandma? Really?? Here are your shoes again...
Actually, those are your daddy's shoes, but thank you anyway!






My daughter, who has been working upstairs, takes a pause and joins us for the walk and this of course delights Snowdrop! So much so that she wants to stand in the stroller, facing us, enjoying the camaraderie. Let's strap you in, little girl.







We go 'round the lesser lake and we stop at the cafe, where Snowdrop shows off to her mom that she knows darn well where the high chair is.






And she knows that we put it back after our turn with it.






Meanwhile, back at the farmette, Ed is spending quality time with the cheepers (who have grown to be quite affectionate with him).






This is our day. Nothing unusual. So very sublime.