Sunday

There was a time when I used to fuss for Snowdrop when she stayed overnight and ate breakfasts at the farmhouse. These days, she eats more or less what I eat. I'm sure she'd prefer pancakes, but Ed is on a "small breakfast" kick lately and so she's stuck with gaga's oatmeal. To her, fruit trump everything and so in fact she is a happy camper.






After, she so wants to cajole us into play, but I linger over my coffee. Oh, how I love to linger over that last mouthful in the morning!

Still, Snowdrop is ever hopeful...






The three of us do play for a while. When I say it's time to go out, she's not at all opposed to that idea. She just uses it as an invitation to play hide and seek while I take out all the necessary jackets boots and mitts...







(When do you tell your little one that the left and the right boot are not the same?)






(Surely not if you only have a short walk before you...)






Ed and I both drop her off. We have a list of aspirational stuff to do afterwards. First -- a few minutes on the ice just by Snowdrop's school. It's not exactly a smooth surface, but it's good to get some practice glides. (Ed takes the photo.)





Next we go to the garden expo at the big convention center down the street. If you're a Madisonian and a gardening enthusiast, you'll probably ask -- what garden expo?

Well you might wonder. I keep track of months. I keep track of days of the week. And I certainly keep track of weather patterns. But the date itself? I don't pay attention to it.

The garden expo is next week! This weekend - it's all about RVs!

We don't bother buying tickets for that. But there are a few exceptionally large "portable homes" that are standing outside and these you can explore for free. We do that.

Inevitably you start to wonder -- could you do a caravaning (to borrow the British term) trip across the country? We have friends who travel south this way each winter. And they love it! The freedom! The adventure! Trading information on where best to park for the night (Walmart). Finally landing by some beachy place and enjoying glorious sunshine while we up north complain incessantly about the weather.

I couldn't do it. Indeed, I announce boldly -- I wouldn't do this if you paid me!
The long stretches of highway. The overnights in parking lots or at best -- RV campgrounds. The tiny space inside (though the homes we entered weren't so tiny).
Ed glances at me -- you would too do it if someone paid you.

He knows me too well. I've cooked, baked, driven groups around France, and sold cosmetics -- all to earn extra money (and that's just in the last fifteen years). I surely would take that RV trip. Reluctantly.


In the late afternoon the sun is out again.





I have on my list a winter gardening chore and we tackle it today: the sawing off of limbs on trees that abut some of the flower beds. These trees have gotten to be monstrously big and they provide too much shade. I could never get Ed to do a thorough pruning job, but when there are egregious situations, he'll cooperate.





This then is the first taste of yard work for 2017. Isn't it grand to know that the very next season is spring?


Evening. Snowdrop and her mom are over for dinner.






You think to yourself -- this is what peace looks like, right? Generations of people sharing a meal. It's what we want for ourselves, for our kids and grandkids, right?

Odd how a handful of people can interfere with this tableau for you. For her.






So forgive me when I get a bit wistful for the days when I didn't have to end a day with a sigh. Those wonderful wonderful days when we could go to sleep, like she does, with the belief that those who could affect our future would have the wisdom to avoid at all costs the escalation of conflict.

Outside, the moon shines brightly, the stars dazzle, the air is still. Peace, that cherished peace. Oh, how lucky we are, those who live in peace! Don't take it for granted. It's too easy to have it slip away from us and from the little ones in our midst.

good adventures, awkward adventures

February is famous for giving us weather surprises and though today wasn't a great shocker one way or another, still, I was surprised how cold it was outside. No, I swear, it's not just me getting tired of winter (though I am slightly miffed at the lack of good snow once again this year). It just felt cold.

(Obviously you could not tell this by looking at Ed at breakfast time.)





I had a morning date with Snowdrop and her mom: there is, in the wintertime, a musical program for young children at our performing arts center. It's free and it encourages listening and movement and it's a great way to spend a cold weekend day with your young one.

Snowdrop is just out of the tub when I arrive to pick them up, but we bundle her up for the ride over, scarf and leg warmers included. She's happy as anything to be going out on an adventure.






At the theater, she is captivated by the crowds, the music, the orange slices a kind neighbor shares...






And she taps her foot (as instructed by the person on stage)...






...and is in great spirits! This is what good adventures are made of.






There she is, leaving the auditorium.






After dropping Snowdrop and mommy off at their home, I have another errand -- one which was born out of a drive by the farm fields just to the east of us. As in most years, there had been some melting and freezing taking place just at the lowest point. This is slightly amusing, as a development is slated to go in there soon and it leaves us wondering whether there'll be some wet basements in the these parts.

For now, there are the ubiquitous cornfields of the midwest. With the frozen "pond" at their base.

I had commented that it would be fun to skate between the stalks and of course Ed thought that was a splendid idea. Anything to get me back on skates! (He himself doesn't ice skate at all but he likes to nudge me toward my forgotten hobbies and sports.)

But my skates are old and rusty!
They can be fixed.
They probably don't fit -- my foot has gotten wider...
You could try.
I do try. They still fit. They're rusty. Ed removes most of the rust and hands them over to a local hockey shop for sharpening.

And so on my way from the theater, I pick up the skates and head for the fields.

On the one hand, it is an exciting prospect. I'm a confident life long skater and I imagine this will be somewhat adventurous but easy.

It's adventurous alright, but my oh my, does the wind kick in!






Skating toward the camera (perched on a limb for a timed release) is like fighting off an invading army of invisible particles. And the stalks keep appearing out of nowhere. I swear Hans Brinker had it easier on those beautiful, clear canals. After a few minutes I give up, resolving to take my skates to one of the many wonderful skating places in Madison's outdoor parks in the days ahead. Just not while the winds are gusting at fierce levels.


Evening. Snowdrop is at the farmhouse for the night and she is on a roll of wonderfulness and sure, that's grandma talk, but really she has her days and this day definitely is one of her grand days.

(Asking to be seated for our home made pizza supper -- something that she associates with her overnights here.)







(Very politely, she tells me many times how much she loves the pizza.)






She is full of energy, but she also takes time out to color with ahah...






And she is fascinated with our PBS show on polar bears. ...Because this week was, after all, very much about polar bears...






She dances, she darts, she kicks up her feet and spins round and round.





And I'm sure she is exhausted, but you'd never know it. Except I do know it. When I lay her down in her crib bed, she offers no protest.

Sweet dreams little one. Sweet dreams to my family, to Ed. To friends, to strangers, to all good people everywhere.

like riding a bike

Ed and I have an ongoing project of ridding ourselves of unnecessary stuff (which, in truth, means ridding myself, as Ed believes he needs to have all those scraps of metal, wood and who knows what else in the garage, for example, just in case a fixit job demands it).

The other day I told him I had a few items in the basement I could shed. The guitar, for example.

The guitar.

When I was a kid, we were not a family of music lessons. But there was one exception: when I went to summer camp at the ripe age of seven, I fell in love with the guitar there and when I returned home I asked for lessons.

My mom had a friend who had a son... You know how that goes. He came over, taught me a few chords and I took it from there. I was never great. But good enough so that I spent most of my adolescence lying propped on my bed, strumming sad songs that spoke to my inner soul (and reminded me how much I wanted my boyfriend -- who was a much better guitar player -- to come and swoop me away in a sea of love).

I associated guitar playing with unrequited love.

Still, when I eventually moved to the U.S. and then to Madison, something tugged at me. I went to a guitar store on State Street and shelled out money for a relatively inexpensive but solid folk guitar.

And then I hardly touched it. What a surprise! Being a mommy and a full time faculty person and a school volunteer and a dedicated cook and ... well, demonically committed to ten million things far more important than the guitar took away idle moments for strumming.

Still, that State Street guitar somehow made it all the way to the farmhouse basement. Obviously some part of me wanted to touch it again.

The guitar case grew moldy. The strings snapped. The bridge popped. I told Ed it's time to hand it over to Goodwill, along with the other stuff I pile into the car to offload every few months.

At the same time, I fell in love with the song from La La Land (City of Stars) and Ed has listened to me sing it (over and over not so quietly) nearly every night these last few weeks. He, who has no musical talent that either of us can spot at the moment, fixed the guitar bridge, pointed to a set of new strings on Amazon for less than $10 and today, when they came in the mail, restrung the instrument for me.

Am I near the right range?
No! Way off!
Now?
Not even close!
Getting there?
Yes!

I've been around too many people who are excellent musicians (including my daughters who are incredibly gifted and rose to great heights in their days of orchestra playing) to ever take out the guitar in public, even if you would first plow me with several rounds of 10 year Tempest Bowmore Islay Scotch. Still, I think that someday Snowdrop, who shows a love of music that is so disarming, may like to hear a chord or two...

In the meantime, I spend the morning figuring out the rather difficult (for me, and especially after so many years) chords to City of Stars... Hey, it's like riding a bike, no? Always with you... Always with me...

The day is otherwise very very busy.

A sunny breakfast. But rushed. Ed has a tech meeting. I almost think he's going to miss breakfast and I take a photo of the table without him...






...but then he's there, frozen wet hair, jacket thrown open, there to start the day with me in a blaze of sunlight.






Snowdrop's school is closed today and her parents need help earlier than usual. I come to her home and here, too, I am welcomed by a swath of sunshine. The little one is building furiously...






...which is lovely, though I see in this a lot of enthusiasm and energy. Perhaps after lunch, we should go outside after all, cold snap notwithstanding? I mean, we're Wisconsinites! I'm sure I wont be the only person out with a stroller today!

I dig around her drawers for one special item -- something that isn't really for the everyday and yet something that I remember especially fondly from this August. Ah, there it is -- the Peebles scarf (from the Scottish borders)! Since she sees me wearing colorful scarves all the time, she is eager to imitate. But she is energetic! The minute I turn my back, she runs off for a spirited game of hide and seek. (She is, at this stage, still easy to find, but - gulp! - less so each time we play...)







I find her cap and boots. This season calls for such a protracted dressing regiment! But she doesn't protest. Winter is in Snowdrop's blood, or at least in her understanding of how the world functions.






Off we go, singing as we roll along her familiar neighborhood streets. Initially I am feeling ambitious. Perhaps we could walk all the way to the distant coffee shop! But I change my mind. Going into the wind is in fact quite nippy. She's well covered, but part of her face is exposed. I know it's in the low 20sF (just below freezing), but I think a modest amount of outdoor time should suffice.

And so we go to the closer coffee shop, where I order a cappuccino and the little girl munches on a piece of lemon scone.

My coffee drink comes with an unusually large amount of milky foam and as I sip it, my upper lip is drenched in froth. I am reminded of the book she and I read -- If You Give a Mouse a Cookie: in it, the mouse has a milk mustache and I always wondered if she knew what that was. She's not much of a milk drinker in the best of times, always preferring water. Well now, I have an opportunity to explain!

She is at first shocked by my appearance, but not for long. The giggles take hold.






I suppose I do look ridiculous...





I let her wipe it off for me. She is one of those kids who loves to step into adult roles whenever and wherever she can.


Back at home, I check my computer.
Gaggie! -- she admonishes me. Whaat? I have a nickname? Children's instincts are so gentle and sweet!
Gaggie, I use my computer!

And she does. Productively. All the way until it's time for a nap.






In the evening, I go from drinks to dinner with the group of software guys and their partners. The team had been working on various projects this week at Tormach (the company that has absorbed much of Ed's time over the past decade) and the dinner puts closure to these efforts.

I'm not a good company team party person. I've skipped most of the social events that Tomach places on the calendar. And yet, every once in a while some portions of us come together and it is so much fun that I wonder why I continue to be such a recluse.





Week is done. What a week, no? What a week!

Thursday

You could tell me -- careful what you wish for! I praised "sunny and cold" over "dreary but warmer" and today delivered a load of the first. Plenty of sunshine and really a significant dip in temperatures. A high of 16F (or -9C).

I'll take it!

Breakfast in the sun room!






It's odd how this year, the story of the groundhog looking for his shadow seems so trite, so ridiculously childish, especially when politicians would take part in the whole carnival of taking a poor groundhog out for that definitive inspection. Me, who loves the trite, the playful romp, the silly stuff that make up our everyday or every year --somehow I can't get a chuckle going over politicians fooling around with groundhogs this February 2nd.

The world has become a very serious place this year and my chuckles remain tied to home.



Because it is really quite cold, I can't do much of anything outdoorsy with Snowdrop. And yet I know she has now been spoiled into believing that after school we can spend at least a little time outdoors. I need a counter plan!

In the end I pick for us a trip to our local library. It's nearly always empty at the noon hour and I am hopeful that over time, she'll develop better library habits. Right now, she loves the books and the toys there, but the enormity of choice throws her off. She goes from one play table to the next, from one book to another and my admonition that she must replace one thing before moving on to something else is still very hard for her to follow.

So we play a little..






(Oh that sunshine!)






Count a little...






And then I find a quiet corner for us to read...






She likes that... for a few minutes, instructing me where I should sit and what I should read...






But when she once again wants to reach for new books out there on those long, colorful shelves, I decide it's time to move on to our next place -- Paul's coffee shop, which happens to be just across the street. We need pickles for ahah!






She is on her best behavior and is happy as can be to be handed big chunks of cheese croissant.






But you know, there is that sunshine! It just beckons! Snowdrop doesn't yet understand the power of those golden rays, especially as they fall on an hard winter landscape. So full of promise! Yes, maybe, but not now, not on February 2nd when we're still such a long way away from spring (ha! the groundhog today surely tells us so!). Still, she hesitates before coming indoors. Play a little in the snow maybe?





No!

Once in the farmhouse, she sheds her outdoor stuff and runs, really runs to her tea set. No hesitation, no glance elsewhere.  And having secured the participation (for a few minutes at least, before nap time) of gaga and ahah and bis, she is just one happy little girl. Tea party indeed!
















The sun is low now. Cold becomes colder. And still, it all looks so golden and warm! Snowdrop would step out in a second if I were willing.

I open the porch door for her. Feel how cold it is!
She does.
It's cold! -- she tells me.







The sun plays its tricks and we're all happy. I'm happy. But you can't buy spring with it. It's not magic. It's not a promise. It's just a luminous, beautiful sunny day, that's all.

Wednesday

Sunshine! It came, it went, but it always came back. Lovely, lovely sunshine!

Breakfast, of course, in the sun room.






I had to grocery shop today. I'm terribly off schedule and can't seem to hop back on, but no matter -- on a day where it's just at freezing and the sun plays hide and seek games with us, I don't mind heading out.

(At the check out counter, the clerk asks me -- are you planning a Groundhog Day celebration? The answer is of course "no," but I am amused that my weekly shopping looks like it's food for a party.)


I thought long and hard how Snowdrop and I might profit today from the good weather. The snow cover is still icy and slippery and no fun to navigate. The playgrounds are inaccessible. Walking the neighborhood is fun, but we'd done that yesterday.

In the end, I ask her as we are leaving school if she would like to go to the zoo to check out the polar bears, who surely would relish a January in Wisconsin.

She is more than happy to go!

After playing for weeks and weeks with her Duplo wild animals, she is pretty interested in revisiting some familiar faces: lions, for example. (Though she is taken aback when the one with the mane released quite the roar.)







But we are on a bear hunt (!).  Snowdrop finds this one to be pretty agreeable:






But the real deal? Well, she has a wonderful chance to inspect a pair of polars, who, perhaps because there are no people at the zoo, decide to pace close to the window in powerful strides.

Bears? Up close and personal? Snowdrop's self preservation kicks in!

Let's go back to the car, gaga!






You can get out of the stroller and watch them right by the window!
No, gaga, I don't want to.






She does offer them a friendly wave and a parting salutation -- bye polar bears! -- from a distance.

Smart girl.






At the farmhouse, she encounters Ed, fixing the door lock. Though he had just installed a new handle and lock five years ago, it broke on us some weeks back. When he discovered the contraption had a lifetime warrantee, he called the company to get replacement parts. It took a while to receive them and so for the past month we've been without a lock. You could have entered at any time just by pushing on the door with your little pinkie finger -- there was nothing to hold you back! (It is also true that Ed is almost always home so that you would have encountered a big gruff guy, but still, it was interesting to be living, as it were, without the protection of a closed door.)

Snowdrop is fascinated by Ed's work with tools! She watches closely for a long while...






And she loves to be of assistance. Keep turning the screwdriver, little one!






(Looking on, to make sure he does the job well!)






And after these adventures, she is thrilled to snack on a piece of baguette. With fruit.






(Yes, she also does go back to her tea set, but only for a little minute. We've got books to read and naps to take!)







Much later, just as the sun is nearly at the horizon, Snowdrop articulates her most fervent desire:
can we go outside?

Sure, sweet one. Barn?
Yes!

We're off.






Cheepers! Where are you?

They come running.

She explains to them all her troubles and gives them ample opportunity to do the same.






I want to interrupt and tell her that they have no reason to complain: treats, food, shelter. Safety. And we do not even demand eggs in return.

But I need say nothing. Snowdrop is in her own world with the hens. And she is happy. And we are happy. How good is that!