to be happy

I so look forward to the holidays. With total devotion to the concept of a shared time with people you love. Over good food and lovely baubles and gifts that come straight from the heart... Mmm!

I am not blind to the fact that many, too many people have real worries. Somehow we are not spared those. And yet, at this time of the year, we do our damnedest to put them aside. Isn't that a beautiful thing?


Okay, back to the farmette. A sunny day. A lovely day, really.






But I have no time for letting time slip through my fingers. I drive out to do errands and I note that in the fields to the west of us, there's some activity now...






Perhaps I mentioned that efforts to stall development around us ultimately failed. This is the beginning of laying the groundwork for the roads that will criss cross the fields to the north and to the west of us. (The farmette, miraculously, is likely to be surrounded by a buffer nature zone, so that perhaps we wont quite be surrounded by a suburban landscape, but we definitely will see lots of construction here in the years ahead. Ed has threatened to move if it comes too close to us. I'm less inclined to think along those lines. We like living close to the heart of Madison.)


Snowdrop is on vacation from school and so I pick her up at her home today. I bring her to the farmette along with grocery bags of food. She leads the way, Ed carries the bags.






And then she puts stuff away. All in the same reachable cupboard, but I am thrilled with her efforts to be of help.

Okay, little one. You can go play now! (I must remember to retrieve the carrots from the dish closet...)






Groceries must be on her mind, because she goes straight to her toy foods and makes sure her Parisian penguin gets a proper share of orange.






She rests briefly (ahah joins)...






... but is revived with a sip of milk (a rare request on her part... really rare!).






... and a bowl of cherries. Again I show her how to wear them as earrings (am I the only one who did this throughout my childhood?).






She knows that it's a game. Off they come!






After her nap... her long nap! -- well, there's just enough time for her to express her frustration with the way of the world, only to swing toward her usual happy normal. Here she is, engaging ahah in a game of "throw me an orange slice."






I think about Snowdrop's wakeups after a long nap. She wants to be happy, but it takes her a while to get to the point where she can let go of her dozy state.  Perhaps the lesson there is that you don't just automatically fall into happiness. Perhaps sometimes we all need both time and effort. But it's worth it! Really -- for those who are wondering -- it's worth it!

it's winter and it's raining rubber bands in the farmhouse

Well, it was time to get up on the roof. There's more than a foot of snow on it and though the porch glass roof can take even more (we think), it does make for a darker kitchen. A clear roof would be very nice, especially on gray winter days like today. And yes, it's officially winter!

I write this because first of all, you know I didn't fall off (shoveling on a glassy incline is a challenge when the bottom layer is icy), or I wouldn't be at my computer right now and well, because I think it's a fine way to welcome the official start of winter.

We eat breakfast in the kitchen which is again bathed in the light of the outdoors.






As for Snowdrop's visit -- I have to admit to being a less than perfect grandma this afternoon. First of all, I suggest at the outset that we take bread to the chickens in the barn.  Fine. But I have the not so clever idea of taking her in the little sled. It's just at freezing, so I do not fret about the fact that Snowdrop is not in her snowsuit. Too, she wants to nibble on the bread. Off come the gloves.






... and the snow piles into the sled and it's all so cold and wet and so we bail ship and hurry to the warmth of the farmhouse.


While ahah is making bagels with melted cheese, I once again try to pin back her hair in a pony tail. This time, she wants to examine the bag of rubber bands that I keep hidden on an upper shelf.






There are maybe one or two million teeny tiny rubber bands in that bag. I'm not quite sure why so many were packed into it. Perhaps it's for an army of little girls all clamoring for pony tails. In any case, Snowdrop is not satisfied until her little fist takes out every last band from the bag.

Every last band.

At first, she tries to add some bands to her pony tail.






(But hey, why stop with just putting one in her hair?)






And then she just wants to toss the colorful tiny things into the air.






I try to make light of it and gently suggest an end to the game, but she just giggles and throws them higher.






And higher.






I'm sure she truly believes that this is their purpose. In any case, I explain that I now cannot play because I have to spend the next two hours picking up two million tiny rubber bands from all corners of the room.

Ed thinks this is all terribly funny. I tell him the throwing was a lot funnier than the picking up.

Sweet Snowdrop rewards his kind words by giving him her coveted raisins.







As she naps, I gaze out at the changing light on the farmette fields. A drop of sunlight does wonders!






The little girl sleeps a very long time. It's as if the schedule of early school, intense play, outdoor activity, Christmas -- all of it, has worn her out!  That's okay! Today is her last day of school until the new year. The little one will catch up on beloved rest.

It's nearly dark when she wakes up from her (very long) nap. Well that's understandable. It's the shortest day of the year, remember?

She leads me to the sun room, to my desk. She climbs up on the chair and does what she loves so much - reaches for the pens and pencils and sets to work. (Yes, that's the post nap remains of a pony tail.)







"You click a pen for "on," why don't you click a pencil?"

"Sigh... I've got writer's block..."





Day is done. Tomorrow we'll have that much more of "day." And there will be the snow days and eventually it'll rain -- not rubber bands, but real spring rain, the kind that makes the crocuses explode. And writer's block will come and go... And so it continues. 

Tuesday at the farmette

I stand corrected: today is not Wednesday December 21st and therefore it is not the shortest day of the year nor is it the first day of winter. All that comes tomorrow.

And in fact, though it definitely does feel like winter already, the temps perk up a bit, reaching the mid twenties F (just below freezing) by mid morning. And the sunshine is enchanting!

Breakfast. It's my usual beginning and I like to start with it here, on Ocean, even as I know that I'll have to give Ed a break one of these days. But for now, he is in the photo...






... and I am as well, because Ed's feeling a bit impish today and so he snatches the camera away from me.






I've deliberately set aside time for skiing. Let me throw the laundry in and then let's go! Ed's been out on the trails of our local county park twice already while I was away. For me -- it's a wonderful first run, made all the more great because we had so few snow packed days last winter and so the skiing season then was terribly short.






The wind is steady and it's shifting the snow a bit...






... but put your face out to a winter sun and the world is a good place again!






A selfie, to commemorate this moment.







And a few minutes past noon, I pick up a radiant Snowdrop.







And because it is just that much warmer outside, I suggest to her that we take some bread and walk out to the barn for the cheepers (who will not be coming 'round to the farmhouse now until the snow significantly melts off the path). She's happy to do this, so long as she, too, gets a slice of bread.






(The hens peak out, but only for a fleeting second.)






Back to the farmhouse then...






... to the world of play. Here, the Eiffel Tower is on board for a plane ride. (Day two of a successful pony tail!)






And of course, the minute she sees ahah, she wants that famous melted cheese on bread -- no baguette this time, but she's quite happy with a whole wheat bagel as a substitute.






Where there's a Snowdrop, there is music, especially since the little one has figured out not only how to turn on the record player, but also how to get it to stop after her favorite song and go back a replay of it. "The Little Saint Nick" is heard an awful lot around the farmhouse these days!






(She continues to chomp on her cheese topped bagel, teasing Ed as he tries to conduct a work phone conversation in the sun room.)






(Here's a curious thing: Snowdrop is trying very hard to balance a book on her head. One always wonders -- is she bringing home a school thing, or is it her own doing?)






After nap -- hair tussled again, but spirit intact.






Very intact. (Ahah, do you want to eat orange? Cereal? Sushi?)






You cannot be upset with the world when Snowdrop is within arm's reach. You just cannot.

Monday at the farmette

Yesterday might have been colder, but I wasn't here for the day. I felt the big chill only at night, coming in from the airport. But today I could really feel that Arctic air pounding down on us. I suppose we could call ourselves lucky: the blast never lasts for long. And, too, it most often is accompanied by plenty of sunshine.

And here's a thrill: the timed coop door opener is working beautifully. No more early trudges to the barn to free the hens. (Not that they're so anxious to leave the coop now: they stay huddled inside until they hear one of us coming and then maybe, maybe they deem to step outside. Just in the barn, mind you.)

Because I've just come from the east, I'm up very early. By sunrise, I will have scrubbed the whole house. (And during the winter, I can appreciate that sunrise without stepping outside! How good is that!)






Breakfast!






I can't do an enormous amount of house organization because my suitcase and bag are still in transit. (These days you can watch the progress of missing luggage in real time, as it moves from one place to the next, so that you would occasionally hear me exclaim -- no, driver, don't go up Stoughton Road! Come to the farmette first!) But I do have the weekly grocery shopping to do. On my way out, I encounter farmette visitors.






They are not quickly spooked. Only when I move toward them do they do their famous about face and in big leaps, high tail it into the snowy fields behind us. (High tail indeed!)






And after my grocery run, I pick up Snowdrop!

I tell her that our snowman got a bigger, better nose! Goodbye wimpy baby carrot, hello the real deal!






She's impressed. But we can't stay out and play. It is just too cold.

Once in the house, she is torn between wanting to rediscover favorite toys (it's been a whole week after all!) and wanting the coveted baguette, fresh from the store.

The baguette, prepared with melted cheese by ahah, wins.






And oh, do they wolf it down!






If I had hoped to save some for dinner -- forget it. All gone.






Her hair is getting longer and it gets in her face and I resist saying something like: little French girls have very neatly pulled back hair and instead just work that rubber band in and try to distract her from pulling it right off.






It works for now.






She is a happy girl today! But then, unless she is under the weather (and even then), Snowdrop is always a very happy girl.






In the late afternoon, my suitcase (and bag) arrive! Oh, things are crushed and a bit off in appearance but still, all is as it  (more or less) should be. I said to Snowdrop when she woke from her nap that there would be presents.

Oh, I don't mean great gifts of any sort, but small things. Like this book I picked up in Paris about a penguin family Christmas (very anthropomorphic, as these penguins did everything from decorating a tree to baking cookies). You could look at the scenes with a pink rose colored spyglass and she loves that! Holding it very close to her eye...






And, too, admiring a small Eiffel Tower, which at 3 Euros seemed like such a good price for a tower, until you realized that these petite structures are of no real consequence, except to tickle your Paris fancy.






The whole day is a blur of good things.






Dance! Of course, there has to be lots and lots of dance -- Snowdrop is quite adept at working the record player so that it plays her favorite song (Muppets singing Little St Nick) again and again.






(Snowdrop will get anyone to dance with her. Even Ed, who, in my experience, never ever dances.)






In the evening, I ask the young couple to pause for a drink. Snowdrop loves this -- the merger of her most intimate worlds.






(At one point, we turn on the TV to catch the headlines. Fascinating stuff for the somewhat disheveled by now little one...)






I'll end with a photo of her as she discovers my returned suitcases. My daughter comments -- I'll bet anything she grows up to love travel.  Well, this would not surprise me!





Tomorrow is the first day of winter. An irrelevant classification! We're in the thick of winter now! So cold outside! And so very warm inside.