the world of cows

A sunrise on a mostly cloudy morning can be quite beautiful. If there is a break in the sky, you may find yourself, for one fleeting moment, with a burst of radiant color.





Initially it is a warm morning, but that quickly changes and I think we can now finally say goodbye to the warm and somewhat sultry air that's been with us for so long. Perhaps most of the bugs will go away as well. One can hope.

In any case, the dip in temps means that we're eating our breakfast inside once more. Until next spring.





It's Friday and so I grocery shop and I have my recurrent conversation with the meat people:
I would like the Italian chicken sausages for Tuesday. Will they keep until then?
We suggest you buy them Sunday or Monday. We'll have them then. We never run out.

I get this kind of an answer often: come back in a couple of days. Am I the only one who grocery shops only once a week?

But all this is trivial. I hurry as always. I do not want to be late for Snowdrop's school pick up.

And as luck would have it, the clouds begin to thin out. It's going to be a brisk and lovely day after all!

(Where to, grandma?)





Oh, I know where to! I've brought over the stroller: we're heading to a cow fair (aka World Dairy Expo), little one!


I'd taken her to the World Dairy Expo a year ago. She was then just nine months old and she was taken aback by the whole thing. (It's noisy, crowded, smelly and, well, there are all those cows!) What would she think this year?


(Whoa! Real cows are bigger than me!)






(Maybe we should go that way!)





She is again unsure about the huge holding pens where hundreds of cows wait.
Want to walk up between the stalls?
No!

But she has, too, a new level of confidence. And she is thrilled to climb any which way she can in the expo center's grand exhibition hall.

(Mommy and daddy took me here for hokey games! Where did the ice go?)






(I'm taking it all in, grandma!)






(Let's check out the International Lounge!)





She climbs every stairwell, navigates every inch of open space and in fact would be happy to do so for a long while, but it really is getting long past her nap time, so I point her toward the exit. Though I cannot resist a souvenir from this day -- a cow, of course.

(Do we have to go?)





One more pause to look at the parade of cows...






(I think I'm more fond of my own wee cow...)






At the farmhouse, she places her special new bovine pal in the high chair...






... then turns to the practicalities of life -- like tugging at the (now functioning) refrigerator door to see what goodies lie within.






A few strawberries. Perfect. She takes them (and cow) to her little table. I try to sneak in a pony tail. It stays up for about two minutes.






Cow gets the royal treatment today -- a special helping of pretend yogurt. (Snowdrop is not a milk drinker. We substitute it with yogurt, which she does love.)






I feel I've done my duty: I've gotten my wee granddaughter up close, really close to her home state's most important animal. We live in the "dairy state." An annual visit to the World Dairy Expo is sort of like a trip to the orange grove if you live in Florida or a lobster shack if you're from Maine.


After her nap, she feeds her bis. And her cow. Yeah!






A day of sunshine and gorgeous cows. What could be better?!

his thoughts, her thoughts, my thoughts

We finished moving food out of the warm refrigerator by midnight. Now came the puzzling question: what went wrong? The fridge was not especially expensive, but it was well rated by Consumer Reports. We bought it when I moved to the farmhouse some five years back.

These machines now have codes and flashing numbers and a whole plethora of bells and whistles to alert the repair person to what's malfunctioning. But it's not information that's readily available to the consumer.

Unless you're an Ed.

Not for him the normal response: call the repair person, get a diagnosis, pay for a fix, resume your normal life.

He searches the web all night until he finds the probably cause, removes the troubled circuit board (officially called a "jazz control board"), and makes a list of places in town that might stack a replacement for the defective part. 

Unfortunately, to buy the board locally (rather than having it shipped from who knows where), you have to pay a couple of dollars more.

Well so what??? If we don't fix the fridge today, then I can't grocery shop tomorrow and (for complicated reasons) I can't shop Saturday either so we'll wind up doing take out, or eating out, which will more than offset the savings of having the part shipped! -- That's my reasoning.

And Ed?

So you really really want me to buy the board today for 125 when I can get it possibly as soon as next week for 85?
Yes!
You really need the refrigerator that soon?
Yes!
You want me to go all the way to the next town to get that expensive part?
Yes!
Now?
Yes!

He mulls this over for a bit.

But first there's a work phone call for him and I throw my hands up and retire to the porch to eat my own breakfast. He joins me, skyping with his work buddies as we eat.






(View from the porch these days...)






(Like in Giverny last October, here, too, the blooms are more than 80% annuals.)






In the end, he does get the part, but he remains troubled by the added expense, even though in exchange for it, I tell him that we'll cancel our date night dinner out tonight and we'll scavenge around and see what's still fresh among the foods we salvaged from the dead refrigerator last night.


It's been an unusually warm early Fall. Yes, we ate breakfast on the porch. And when I pick up Snowdrop, she lets me know that she does not need a sweater.






Happy girl! She carries her lunch bag to the waiting stroller, delighted that I have in mind a brief walk now.






It doesn't take much to figure out that she wants to go to the playground.

I'm on top of the world here!






Indeed. This one small playground is perfect for her age: there's nothing on it that she doesn't like or can't do these days.






After, we pause ever so briefly at the coffee shop -- mostly so that I can get a take-out cup of the strong stuff (it was a very full night).

You're not forgetting the cookie, are you grandma?






On the walk home, I can't help but notice that the air feels like late summer, but the trees are telling us we're long past that season.






Oh no, grandma! There's a fallen branch blocking our path!
Walk around it, little one.






And at home she plays with her new plastic love -- a rocket launch pad.






Blast off! Again and again.






And she drives, or pretends to drive. Happy to take you on as a passenger...





And finally she begs to wear my shoes.
Too big!
Not too big...

Too big!!!!






Want to go out again, Snowdrop?
Oh yes!!!





Yeah, a happy girl. This is where my thoughts overlap so perfectly with hers and his: she's happy.

And that's such a beautiful thing.

Wednesday

Where do hours disappear? One minute I wake up and walk in the predawn light to the chicken coop, marveling at the stretch of day before me, next thing -- I'm watching the sun recede at a galloping pace to the west. How is it that a day can move forward so fast?

Officially, or at least in my calculus, the day begins at the breakfast table.






But I will have accomplished a lot by then. Routine stuff. And always, there will be at least a glance at the yard. No matter what the season. Honestly, every square foot of farmette dirt is known to me by now. I take note. I think about what must be done this month. Not today though. Not today.






Very quickly the noon hour rolls around and I am at Snowdrop's school. She must have climbed onto the bench by the window, because as I approach, I hear her chirpy voice -- gaga! Hi gaga!






She wants to go for a walk as soon as we leave school, but I tell her we have errands to do and despite her tiredness and her need for a nap, she willingly goes along: to Paul's coffee shop for a container of pickles...





Then to the library to pick up several things that are on hold. It's been months since we've been here together, but she remembers well where the children's computer is. And though I don't manipulate it for her and do not bring forth anything that she might actually like to see or do, she loves to work the mouse and see what effect it has on the screen.






At the farmette, she lingers. I know she wants to head out in the wagon, but I cannot give in to this now. Reluctantly, she goes inside.






Ah-ah is there and she coaxes him to sit on her bike.She herself wont do it yet. She pushes herself around on a trike at school every day, but the two wheeler gives her pause. Still, she loves the helmet!







And then it's nap time and after -- snack time and I see the telltale western sunlight dancing across her face as she feeds her "bis." Yes, the day is nearly over.






One quick stroll with the little one across the fields to our east and we're done.





Well, we're not really done. Snowdrop goes home of course. Ed and I settle in for our usual evening meal and our low key activities. When it's nearly midnight, he coaxes me into a dish of ice cream. He takes it out of the freezer. The ice cream is very soft. As Snowdrop would say -- oh-oh!

Indeed. The refrigerator is not working. We spend the next set of hours trying to figure out what's wrong. Nothing helps. There is a small fridge in the sheep shed and we carry the essentials there for the night. I wish I could say we do it by the light of the moon, but clouds have rolled in and it's a dark night. I'm thinking that tomorrow will be another such day where the hours run away from us all too quickly.

Tuesday in photos

A working breakfast. We discuss how it is that people engage in risky ventures.






The coming of fall at the farmette...






I pick up Snowdrop at school -- I ask her if she wants to go to the coffee shop. No , she says. This way! She points to the playground behind it. I smile.

She tries the last of the big slides. The one that twists and turns. Success!






I take the swing photo because it is a guarantee of a smile.






We then go to the coffee shop. She is so good at drinking from a big person glass!






At home, she plays with her toy cat. She feeds it blueberries. She understands that the real cats aren't ready to be her best pals. She makes do.






After her nap, she wants to be outside again. We walk over to the park just down the road.

We race each other on parallel slides.






At home again, we play ball. I don't quite know how to play football, but at this age I think I'm okay with just throwing the football and shouting "touchdown!" Snowdrop is delighted.






Because she is a well rounded child, she then switches to dress up. 





Go out! Shop!
Not today, Snowdrop. Not today.





But I love your choice of shopping attire!

Evening. At home. Cooking supper. Watching the vice presidential debate.