and then it's Monday all over again.

Despite everything, life always does aim to return to normal... Sometimes you wish it would, other times you wish it wouldn't, but it doesn't ask for your opinion: it pushes toward its own equilibrium.

We feel the tug toward normal today.

Breakfast. For sure.






And of course, when it's time for me to pick up Snowdrop.

Funny thing about the girl: her report card thus far notes that she has only skipped one day of school this year and I must note that that day was when her parents took her to Chicago.

You would think, therefore, that the girl is never sick. Not so! But I suppose you could say that she is only really sick on weekends or vacations. She struggled over Thanksgiving and rebounded soon after and by Monday, today, she is happy as anything to be back in school.

And delighted to be at the farmette afterwards.
















Inside: top priority is building towers and making the Duplo children sit.






There!






Kindness calls for feeding Duplo baguettes to the the stuffie cat.






The day, as nearly all days that she is here, ends with quiet play with ah-ah. Me, I am hugely frustrated as I try to purchase air tickets for a family trip next spring. I spend hours on this project. Hours! But Snowdrop and  Ed bring me down from high levels of exasperation. Life is better than being angry at a computer that's too slow or an agent who doesn't really know how to make things work smoothly for you.






The regular repetition of tasks, days, and events is a good thing. For us it is more than that -- it's the essence of a grand life.

Sunday

Do you see yourself as being an optimist in life? One of those glass half full people? Do you recognize promise where others see failure? If asked, would you say that yes, our children will fashion a world that's better than the one we leave behind for them?

Perhaps most people would say these are complicated issues and asking for clarity and predicting the future are both futile and naive enterprises. But I am not one of those people. I would have answered yes to all those questions.

Ed would have answered no.

Of course, I know this about him. On our very first date, now more than eleven years ago, I listened to him speak about our planet, the people who inhabit it, the rampant destruction, the disrespect toward life, toward nature -- and I thought: whoa, that's really harsh!

For the most part, we each know where the other stands on such issues and we leave this topic alone. No good will come of challenge here. We're committed to our positions. I know as sure as there is life that nearly everyone on earth plays by rules of hope and cooperation. This is my given.

Ed thinks differently.

He is a quiet guy and he seeks no confrontation and so this rarely comes up in our time together. But last night, after watching yet another set of horrific scenes on the news of people assaulting and destroying each other and destroying the ecosystem and destroying nearly everything worth preserving, he had to articulate (albeit ever so quietly) his frustration with the human race. It was like listening to Woody Allen have angst over the condition of the human soul except that for Ed, there is no angst. There's just the belief that the human soul is irreparably flawed.

Once he puts this on the table, I cannot ignore it. Yes, I know, I should ignore it, but you can't parade this stuff before me and hope to move on to topics such as how to fix the shower nozzle, or which cereal is best for breakfast after a weekend of big eating.

So this was our night and then again, our morning.

We do enjoy our breakfast...






... but at other times, I have to retreat, surfacing only when he proposes a walk in the Arboretum with a naturalist as a guide.

I tell him I am in no mood -- that my existentialist core had been rattled, but he throws in some good bribes like a big cappuccino at a coffee shop afterwards, perhaps with a purchase of a bottle of some favorite wine for the evening and so I finally agree.

The extraordinary thing is that the Arboretum guide turns out to be the daughter of one of my very best friends...





... and her partner and two children join in as well and this is actually so weirdly funny because here is Ed, proclaiming his most dismal vision of the human enterprise and then on this walk, proposed by him, we come to share it with this beautiful set of people, flaunting his theories even as he clings to them with all his might.

It is a very strange afternoon.


Some vignettes from our walk...
















In the evening, my daughter and her family come for dinner. Snowdrop is initially happy...






... then a tiny bit discombobulated, but ultimately incredibly spirited and joyful, which, in my opinion only speaks to the triumph of the human spirit.






It is a beautiful set of hours and I do not falter in my belief that life is incredibly fine, even if some cogs in the wheel are occasionally a bit splintered.






As I've known from day one, Ed and I are far less apart on how a regular old day should proceed than on what it means to live as a human being on this beautiful planet. And though he is not likely to admit it, perhaps my optimism does rub  off in bits and pieces. You need only watch him join in on dinners with my daughters or hold on to Snowdrop as she pounds a hammer on a stake that will support holiday lights to know that this is so.

one more day

One more day where my family can come together for a meal. One more day of light stories and chuckles over Snowdrop's antics.

Snowdrop, show us what you do in yoga! Show us a downdog!

She does.





Then she says -- aunt do downdog!
Her aunt obliges.
I laugh -- your sucker aunt!
Snowdrop repeats earnestly -- my sucker aunt!

She may as well add "my sucker uncle," because she gets him to do yoga with her too!





It is such a good day! All the best elements are present: a leisurely beginning, a morning of cooking up a spinach and mushroom frittata. With roasted tomatoes and strips of bacon. And bagels and cherries and berries and ... Thanksgiving leftovers. Stuffing. Cheesecake. Oh, anything!


But let's go back a little. To the arrival of Snowdrop and parents...






I am so very happy to have everyone here once more. Snowdrop is so very happy too.






We eat. Of course. We're one of those families that likes to be together over food.






The youngest couple will soon be heading back home, but not just yet!






No one is in a hurry and so we linger. Snowdrop seems to be finally licking her bug and she plays hard!






... loving her games, her interactions...






Every last minute.






Yeah...






And of course, there has to be a last minute. The day moves forward and the younger couple has a drive to Chicago and the other couple has a day of work and Snowdrop care and so we all say our goodbyes, but with smiles at the recollection of this most beautiful weekend.


In the afternoon, Ed and I go for a walk. No grand plan here -- just a stroll in our county park. But oh, my, is the sky beautiful today!






At the horizon: cranes. A huge flock of them!











In the park, new paths to discover...






Playgrounds, just for fun...











And a new, unfinished bike bridge to navigate over the neck of Lake Waubesa.






By the time we're done, the sun is about to disappear.






The farmette silo stands tall and yet it is but a speck in the scheme of things.





By the time we pull into the driveway, dusk has settled in.

But guess what -- tomorrow, at 7:05, I'll be letting the cheepers out again. The sun will have cracked the horizon... A wonderful thing, isn't it?

Friday, Thanksgiving week

This morning, while others dig into Thanksgiving leftovers, I must admit to sticking to my oatmeal. Morning and evening routines are tough for me to break!





After this breakfast mishmash, the men scatter to do their work and the women (we are four!) band together and set out for Clasen's Bakery -- a place we always and I mean always visit just once a year -- before the Christmas holidays. And yes, we are officially in that winter holiday season!

Snowdrop had been here a year ago and still, she is a bit dazed by the place: it's sort of extraordinary, really. Lots of glitter and sugar and chocolate (and bread too, but your eyes these days turn to the more colorful concoctions). She doesn't necessarily want to eat any of it (and is most happy when her mommy buys her a plain old mini croissant), but she does want to take it all in.






For kids, the piece de resistance is Clasen's gingerbread house.






There are any number of customers who would have taken a picture of the four of us, but I like my timed release shots and despite the crowds,  I set one up here.






Snowdrop would really like it best if her mommy, aunt, and gaga would just hang out in the house with her...






... but others want their turn and besides, we have some small shopping to do! (Chocolate covered gingerbread... mmm!)






"But it's so fun in in here!"






We have other errands and, too, we stop at the Hubbard Avenue Diner for lunch. And then my two daughters retreat to their work, which leaves just Snowdrop and me -- the two people of the group who have absolutely no work to do. (Well, folding endless washed napkins and putting away dishes and pots and all other holiday paraphernalia may be work, but I admit, it's all rather trivial. My cooking marathon is behind me. My attentions return to the here and now.)

We play. She rests. Oh, does she need that rest!

Afterwards? Take a look:






























Dinner. Take out Laotian. Just what the doctor ordered!






Crab rangoon!






"I like having you here!"






The evening draws to an end. Almost. Snowdrop needs to retire, but we can all go to her home and watch a movie while she sleeps...

Yes, a lot to be thankful for.