Tuesday, Thanksgiving week

Well, I need to get serious here! I have the lists, the menus, the tasks enumerated. A total of four meals to prepare, by far, of course, the biggest and boldest (in a modest sort of way) being Thanksgiving dinner.

So get moving, already!

And I do just that. Ed, who stayed up half the night working, sleeps in and I don't even bother suggesting he come down for breakfast. I want to get going! First stop is to be the beer and wine store and they open at 9. I plan on being there as the doors swing open.

Breakfast, therefore, is by myself. In the sun room. Even though there isn't a trace of sun outside. Still, I like the colors in this room now: the Christmas cactus, a gift from Ed from maybe ten years back, is reliably blooming for the wrong holiday (Thanksgiving)!






And then I shop.

I am an absolute idiot when it comes to craft beers and all my children and their spouses have preferences and I cannot keep any of them straight. You mean an IPA is not the same as an ale? Are all ales pilsners? Are sours typically fruit based? Belgian? Something else? This is the most difficult part of the shopping for me and I must admit to calling both daughters twice from the store to make sure I got it right.

For me -- oh, that's easy! Maybe a Sancerre rose, or a Chablis Grand Cru? From old vines? Mmmm, the possibilities! Even though once again, I'll be mostly on my own in the wine department. Honestly, you try to raise the kids right and they turn their sweet little noses on the beautiful wines of this world!

At the grocery store, it's getting crowded, but not so much that you can't push your cart through (that will be tomorrow). My list is beautifully organized (normally, I never shop from a list -- I exercise my memory by keeping it all in my head, but this time I cannot afford to miss something... like the turkey, which I've written in bold letters). And still it takes me 90 minutes to shop! (I allow myself a happy tear as I pick up a can of pumpkin puree: it's so holiday-ish!)

And so now I hurry because it all must be carted home and unpacked before I pick up Snowdrop.


I'm on time!






When Snowdrop and I arrive at the farmette, she remembers yesterday's fire and asks about it, but I tell her it's just not a good day for it. And in fact, she's happy to trudge inside. It's not great outdoor play weather.

At the farmhouse, she moves quickly to her Duplo blocks (the junior Lego stuff). The girl is all about making things tall these days (with a pause for a beloved baguette).






She'll build towers with anything. Indeed, after her Lego play, she drags out her baby blocks...






... and gets going on them as well.






Stay there!






No? That's okay: she'll try again. Until she gets it right.






In the afternoon, she switches her focus. This is her other love: dealing with the one infant character in the Duplo set. She is more focused on this one wee piece of plastic baby than on any other character in any of her play sets.






As for reading books -- her book choices are expanding every day and Ed has admonished me for not going to the library to fill her bookshelves from there. I tell him I love to own favorite books. But of course, he's right. You can own a story without owning the pages on which it appears.

He is also correct in that lately, I've been spending too much on books for Snowdrop. I think it's because I'm so shocked at how much less they cost now as compared to when my own girls were young. Back then, trips to the bookstore were such a special treat! And when I couldn't resist, when I purchased a stack for them, I'd sweat about it for a long time afterwards. These days, books are easy to find, easy to acquire with a click of the keyboard and for most of us, when purchased just every now and then, they don't break a budget.

Today, I gave her the book about a moose eating a cupcake. In a million ways it's beyond her, but here's an interesting thing about children: sometimes they just rise to something in the story line...






She must have had the two of us read the moose book to her a dozen times!


Evening now. Snowdrop is playing nicely by herself, but she also pays attention to what Ed and I are doing. She stands tentatively by the couch, understanding that Ed is lost in some computer search. She seems disappointed. I explain to her -- ahah is looking for a pair of shoes.

She lights up. This is stuff she can weigh in on! She climbs up onto the couch, studies the screen and makes her preferences known.





Did he go with her choice? I don't know. I'll guess yes, but only if it was the cheapest one of the available options.

Late, very late I roast pecans and then hazelnuts. I'm making progress!

Monday, Thanksgiving week

I tried to put myself in the mind set of "doing ahead" for the Thanksgiving meal.  Cake can be done two days in advance? I'll do it! Squash peeled day before? I'm on it!

But in the end, I'm not on it at all. Instead, I spend a good thirty minutes in the morning studying oven thermometers on Amazon, rejecting them all in the end and accomplishing in that time nothing.

Well, that's okay! It's only Monday!

A sunny and cold day. Perfect for a breakfast in the sun room.






I go out to inspect what needs to be done in the yard (not today, just in the near future) and then Ed joins me and we fall to work and clear the yard of the thousands of seed pots. We didn't intend to do that, we just fell into the rhythm of work. And it is a lovely (if cold) day for it.






But what to do with the piles and piles of seed pods? Our compost heaps -- all four of them -- are brimming with yard and kitchen waste. There isn't room for huge additions!

I have an idea: I'll pick up Snowdrop from school (so far so good!)...






... and we'll do a bonfire of seed pods at the farmette!

Ed's agreeable. There isn't much of a breeze. It's a safe day to burn the yard waste that just can't be mulched down.

I wonder how Snowdrop will react to a bonfire: to my knowledge, she has never seen one. Perhaps never even read about one.



We're home! Ed comes out and lights the pile of pods, mixed with dried leaves. Snowdrop's reaction? Just watch:





She wants none of it. At first. It's just too off the wall crazy, no? The snap and crackle of it -- so beautiful to my ears, filled with images of youthful campfires in Poland -- they just seem utterly strange.

But... ah-ah is there. And I'm smiling and admiring its beauty, and slowly, she takes another look.






Realizing that we raked stuff into the blaze, she insists on being part of the team. Here she is, asking Ed -- ah-ah, Snowdrop helps rake? Ah-ah needs help?






Sure, little girl. You sit here and keep an eye on things.
And she does. Fascinated.






For a long while.

Then, for a few more minutes, from another safe vantage point...






Yeah! She has mastered another new experience. She is a happy little girl!






The cheepers take note.

I think the fire discombobulates them somewhat because for no reason, they start a fight. (Henny is always a victim, but this time, so is Java.) Usually, I let them work it out, but today I am annoyed at their bullying tactics. I chase the culprits around a bit just to get them off their pedestal. Ed says I'm disrupting the ways of the hens. I roll my eyes.

The girls settle down in (temporary) harmony.






Snowdrop has a few minutes of quiet play indoors...





... and then she naps.


... Only to wake up to great energy and exuberance. Play in ah-ah and gaga's room!






Bring bagel to ah ah and gaga's room! Eat it! Have gaga take photo in the mirror there!






Of course, her exuberance is shared by all of us.






Now, tomorrow is crucial: I make progress on the Thanksgiving meal or we sink! I'm betting on progress. Always!

Sunday

I look outside at dawn: the sky is again so very beautiful! Should I wake Snowdrop for it? No, of course not. The colors will fade quickly and more importantly -- the girl needs her sleep. On the other hand, she's likely to rise soon enough. Should I nudge her?

I let her be.

I tiptoe downstairs and go outside to let the cheepers out. The sky may be less brilliantly orange and red now, but it is no less beautiful!






In fact, Snowdrop has a late (by farmhouse standards) wakeup: after 8.  And we have a leisurely beginning to the day. Ed is still asleep. Snowdrop and I leave him to his dozy state and go downstairs to push the day forward.

One morning task for me is to check the mousetraps. Boom! One is loaded.

When Ed does wake up, I tell him that his first task is to take the mouse (still in the trap) to the distant fields. I shop Snowdrop the little critter -- she's quite taken by it. Yes, cute -- I tell her. But it belongs in the fields, not in the farmhouse.

She watches as Ed takes the motorbike out to cart the little mouse several miles away from here.





It's weird how easily mice find their way back. In fact, Ed and I listened to a show on NPR where the news person was trying to ask all the right questions to determine how and why pigeons can always find their way home. I wonder if this is something mice and pigeons share: the ability to figure out where they are in space and time.  No one knows how they do it, but they indeed do it, again and again.

It's all very impressive.


We play then...






Ah-ah joins us, she is delighted...






And then Snowdrop gets breakfast number 2 and Ed gets breakfast number 1 -- pancakes. (I bring to the table my own beloved oatmeal, which I douse generously with fruit and honey.)   Snowdrop shows off her most perfect smile as she turns to Ed: Ah ah, I need more maple syrup! And then she turns to me: ga ga, I need more honey. And we go back and forth like this for a while, until she is certain that she has had her fill of everything.






On the floor again, playing...






She will build the tallest tower and never give up hope that the building will hold sturdy.






When the time comes for us to get moving, I tell her -- Snowdrop, we have to go now and pick up mommmy...
She listens, then turns to Ed and explains to him: Go to pick up mommy. She pauses, then explains: mommy fell down.

Outside, she gives a spirited run...






... then heads for the car.






In the afternoon, the air remains cold. The temperature probably did come back up from below freezing, but just barely. The cheepers' water dish remains icy and I have to refresh it from the kitchen's warm water tap. I throw some seeds. They come running!





Still, Ed and I want to go out for a walk. we've been itching to hike again on the familiar nearby stretch of the Ice Age Trail.

It's a lovely ride out into the country.


 


 and we're happy to have before us a walk in the forest.






But we're not prepared. I'd forgotten that the deer hunting season began yesterday. Within ten minutes, we come across four hunters, rifles ready. The last one reprimands us -- don't you known the hunting season is on? Wear blaze orange!

I wonder if they shoot at anything that moves (and does not wear blaze orange). We retreat, though nor immediately. There's a view to take in from here!






(More hunters. In blaze orange.)






After some thirty minutes, we turn back and drive home.






In the evening, the young family is here for dinner and Snowdrop is immensely joyful once more.  (Here she is showing off the moves that we think are part of her school yoga routines.)






How sweet it is to end the weekend this way!






All is calm. I'm not yet working the big Thanksgiving meal thorough my head. That will start... tomorrow! Definitely tomorrow!

Saturday

First words out of my mouth today have to be these: it's damn cold outside! Not even darn cold. Damn cold! The huge temperature drop, the fierce wind -- all of it conspired to be, well, November-ish.

I have enough to do indoors that I should not mind, but in fact I do mind, because there are suddenly outdoor chores piling up as well. The wind caused the lotus tree to drop those foot long seedpods en masse and so the flower beds are once again peppered with them. They should be cleared out. And there are fallen branches. And leaves -- we don't really rake, but jeez, some of those dry leaf piles are getting mighty large! We should move things around  some.

And yet, after breakfast...






... we do none of that. We settle down to computer work. Not even kind and gentle computer reading, but yukky "I've put this off for too long" kind of work. I do go outside for a little bit...





... but my hands freeze quickly and I retreat to the kitchen table for the rest of the afternoon.

The only excursion for us is a trip to Walmart and that just seals the fate of this day because you should never, if you can avoid it, go to Walmart on Saturday afternoon. The whole world is there, and the shopping carts are full, and fixing tires takes too long, and the shoes Ed wanted to get for himself dont have a tag so just skip it, let's stick with the bubbly water and chocolate bars which you cant get anywhere else and run!


Ah, but there is pleasure tonight, because Snowdrop is here for an overnight and of course, she is the one that makes you forget about the banal and mundane because nothing about her is banal and mundane.

(Arrival)






(Energetic!)






(The pizza peel as a bongo drum)






(I can't believe she ate the whole thing...)





Her bed time approaches. She asks for the "Eiffel Tower book"-- the one I put together about her trip to Paris last spring -- and we read it... more than once.

Sleep well, bonne nuit, little one! Tomorrow will be as full and beautiful as can be!

Friday

The sunrise is crazy beautiful!





I almost do not mind being up early for it.

But breakfast is rushed. It's Friday. Errand day. All packed into a very busy morning.






But I'm on time for Snowdrop pick up (though one less favorable traffic light and I'd be in trouble...)!






There is one word that perfectly describes this afternoon: windy!






I mean, really windy! Initially, the little one doesn't mind.






But when we venture out on the rural roads (her choice), the gusts are fierce. She doesn't protest when we turn around and head for the shelter of the farmhouse.

And yes, it's time to bake cookies again!






Equally important -- it is peaceful and warm inside. Perfect for teaching yourself how to make little people sit in Duplo chairs.






As she naps, I watch the weather turn: from summer warm to blustery cold.






So we stay inside afterwards. She colors (oh! is she contemplating a left hand drawing mode?)






She plays with her Duplo characters: chicken finds comfort at the top of the barn.






And she is oh so happy when ah ah comes back.  They play with the Duplo characters... I swear, Ed loses layers of crusty adulthood when he is with her.





The winds continue to howl. There'll be frost. There'll be winter. There'll be tough stories on the news. There'll be tough news from friends (we had our share of those this week).

And then there'll be days like this, when Snowdrop looks up with earnest eyes and asks nothing more than to help her place a character in a chair. And when you deliver, she'll give you the biggest smile.