Wednesday

At last! The pillows Ed and I use became so lumpy, so terribly uncomfortable that I convinced Ed we needed new ones. They came in the mail yesterday.

Perhaps Ed hadn't been fully paying attention when I pushed my new pillow proposal because even though I had heard an "oh fine, go ahead and get them," in the end he decided to cling to his old lumpy one. And so I have two new pillows and he has none. And the bed looks oddly skewed but I do not mind! A night on good, soft pillows -- heaven!

The moral of this little story: you do not appreciate the small details of daily life (eg. a soft pillow) until you lose them. And when you lay your head down on that soft pillow again, the night is exquisitely sublime!

I could not get myself to rise out of bed until 9, which surely is some sort of record for me.

Breakfast is, therefore, late.






As we linger over this grand morning meal, we begin to hear it -- the rumble. The bing bing bing of a truck mvoing backwards. More rumble.

The construction to the west and north of us has begun.

Ed had worked tirelessly to stall the development that's slated to go in on the acres and acres of farmland all around us. And it wasn't only because he hated the idea of construction noise and a development closing in on us. The more he met with scientists and those who studied wetland ecosystems, the more obvious it became that this particular development is going to have a detrimental impact on the water quality of the streams that feed our (once) beautiful lakes.

I've written about our appearances at public hearings. And indeed, the development was stalled for many many years. But in the end, the location could not be ignored: it's just too good (don't we know it!) and the developer danced visions of sugarplums before the eyes of the decisionmakers urging them to move ahead with the building plan. He received approval late last year and today we hear the movement of an army of trucks.

On the upside, the years of struggle weren't for naught. The plan now is much saner than the original one put forth by the developer. Green spaces abound and there is more than a nod to a new urbanism, with bike paths, community gardens, buffer zones, parks and this part I find terribly amusing -- even names of streets that presumably have some marketing appeal: Arugula Road, Radicchio Lane, Spinach Street. I kid you not!

From a personal standpoint, the development, to me, offers many upsides. The idea of having sidewalks and parks nearby thrills me. Snowdrop loves to go out exploring and I have not liked taking her out on the rural roads. Each time a car approaches I feel compelled to step into the ditch.

I tell Ed that we must look at the bright side of it, but of course, Ed is a consummate lover of the natural world. Even though we had mainly cultivated lands around us, nonetheless, we had our share of flowers and crops from the truck farmers. Concrete to him is a poor alternative.


When I pick up Snowdrop, it's still very chilly outside. There will be a warmup later this week, but today, the air feels winter-cold. Not that she appears to notice.






I need indoor distractions for us and so I tell her we're going to the store to pick up a big box of crayons. (She has a little set and I know that a kid her age can well be satisfied with 24 colors, but I have this childhood longing for that magnificent set of 64!) While at the store, I throw in some stars -- you know the kind: our teachers used them to reward our schoolwork decades ago, when kids still thought that getting a star on a paper was big stuff.

But when we come to the farmhouse, first thing's first. I give her what has become her very favorite snack: a fresh, cheesy herbed croissant.






And as she is happily munching away at it, I tell her about the trucks that are rumbling nearby.
I hear it!  -- she tells me with excitement. Indeed. I had paused the car just before pulling into the driveway so that she could see it too: a plethora of trucks.






I suppose you could add this to the upside: Snowdrop will, in the course of spring, have many an opportunity to see trucks in action.



And now -- play time!

Within a minute of being on the ground, Snowdrop discovers every single new item in the house. Colorful index cards! Woah! A pack of alphabet cards! Yes!






Two new books! Let's read!

But eventually she returns to her favorite toys. She takes command of her play space (after cajoling ahah to sit down with us). This goes here, that she needs for over there...






For a while, she and Ed build, but then Snowdrop remembers that it's been a while since she's played with her grocery cart. She pats Ed on the back and tells him -- be right back, ahah!






An important component of playing "grocery shopping" is, for her, finding and putting on her necklace. Purse goes on crook of elbow and away she goes!






Snowdrop is in a joyful mood! She gathers up the scattered pinwheels and she dances as we blow on their tails and make them spin. (When do we lose that giddiness that a two year old so freely expresses? That pleasure in just watching a pinwheel twirl?)






To settle her into a prenap mood, I take out the sticky stars. She colors a sky with rainbow hues and ever so carefully, manipulates each little star into a special place on the page.






Outside, the skies clear and the late afternoon sun recedes, ever so slowly, and the farmette lands take on their honey tone.






Snowdrop wakes up to music. Mine, hers, it's all so fantastic for her.






After she leaves, the house grows quiet. It's going to be a cold night. On the upside, it will be studded with stars. A lunar eclipse, a comet and a full moon will fill our dark country skies on Friday. But tonight, we'll have the stars. And a nearly full moon shining brightly over us all.

wet

You expect rain, mud, melting snow -- in March. But here we are, toddling along through February and we're getting that dreary weather again, with lots of good old fashioned rain.

So we eat breakfast in the front room.






Here's what the world looks like from the kitchen window (looking out onto the porch).






Just walking to the mailbox is treacherous and muddy all at the same time. The icy path is still icy, interspersed with sloshy puddles. Bleh!

And so I revise my plan as to how to spend the afternoon with Snowdrop. When I pick her up from school, I tell her we'll first go to the bread bakery, then to her home to play.

She's okay with that. She's an agreeable child after all. Besides, she knows she'll have some choice of bread product.

I want a croissant!
Ask nicely.
Please!






As a treat, we also share a macaron. It seems fitting, given that she has spent every day of the past several weeks at the farmhouse playing with the toy macaron cookies. And you know what? She gives it the perfect pronunciation, rolled "r" and all! Children are such sponges!






She is a happy girl.






As we get out of the car at her house, she tries to talk me into a walk to the playground.






There is no way that I can work up enthusiasm for that idea. We compromise: I let her stomp her feet in puddles for a minute or two.

And inside, she settles into her usual play. I have no good photo of that. She works hard on repairing the roof of her play house with a hammer then a fork. She is tickled when I talk on her play phone, telling everyone and anyone that Snowdrop is your go-to person for fixing roofs. She sits and watches for the UPS truck. Oh fine, I do have a photo of that. She looks very serious. The UPS truck is a big deal.






Evening. Drizzle outside, warm thoughts inside. It's too early to think about spring. I'll just think about how good it is that the days are getting longer, warmer, brighter. For the most part. Mustn't be greedy.

the old, the new, and a combination of the two

A new week. So what -- you say. A day is a day. True, but something about the ordering of the days of the week strikes me as significant. So that Monday, for me, is always a beginning of sorts.

But breakfast is the invariant. Sunny, not sunny, early or late, it's always there.






We continue our morning meal discussion for a long time after, speculating about the farmhouse -- its future, our work on it.

And before we realize it, it's time to pick up Snowdrop. Ed asks if he can tag along and then go out to a coffee shop with us. Sure!

The little girl is delighted to see him at school! That's my ahah! -- she tells everyone. (I am fairly certain that this is the first time Ed has ever set foot in a preschool.)






On our way to the coffee shop, we stop at Trader Joe's to stock up on their bags of oranges. (The little one loves the small oranges and can put away many in the course of a day.) The free sample of the day is mac and cheese. Snowdrop has many helpings! (Again a first for Ed: pushing her around in the cart. She insists that he do the pushing. He looks at the little seat and mutters -- is that what that's for!)






At the coffee shop, she has her orange and cookie bit, but she is incredibly curious about Ed's snack and crawls over to be by him and share in his food.






I have a bit of a nostalgic reaction to our being there. Ed and I used to hang out at coffee shops for hours in the earlier years of our relationship. That diminished once I retired. No good reason for it. Our daily rhythm simply changed. It felt sweet to be enjoying a coffee drink ('pucino! -- as Snowdrop would say), now with the two of them.






(She is playing hide and seek again.)






Later, at the farmhouse, for whatever reason, she goes straight for the miniature Eiffel Tower. It's funny how that whole Paris trip stays with her in one form or another. I'm sure it's not a vivid memory, merely a recognition of words, as well as scenes that are immortalized in her photo book. Still, the little one does know there is a Paris in her past.






As I unpack grocery bags, Snowdrop does her disappearing act again and this time I find her in the sun room, where I had hidden my guitar. She has discovered it and is in love with what it offers! She has seen people play it, but this is up close and personal. And since it is an old and weary instrument --  cheap is a word that comes to mind -- I do not worry that she will do damage to it.

But she doesn't do damage. She carefully examines every component...






And bangs and strums and strums again! (All this is far more exciting for her than having me play it. And that's okay. I'm not especially hungering for an audience.)







Later, much later, she wants to go out. I offer no protest: it's above freezing!

We visit the cheepers and I think  -- okay, fine, let's go in now. But she's not ready. I tell her I'll make a wee snowman out of the wet snow. Well now, that's interesting! Her little hands reach out to help me. Oh, I hope her parents are not reading this! I didn't put on her mitts for the barn walk! Her hands must be so cold now!






She never complains. Indeed, she wants more of the outdoors. She begs for the red wagon that stands just inside the porch.  Oh, you've earned it, you sweet tempered child!






Evening. She goes home, Ed and I eat a spicy supper. So... a spicy beginning of the week? Maybe.

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.