Friday

Keeping up with the garden will be this month's big challenge. There's Snowdrop, there are family visits coming up, and there's a busy-with-his-machine-work Ed. All those additional layers are, of course, quite wonderful and the yard trumps none of them. Still, the season does not wait for you and good weather days require careful planning.

Ed marvels at my ability to do a little of everything and to flit from one task to the next. He has lists (mostly in his head) and he proceeds methodically, checking off completed items. Sometimes he'll pause with one thing to pitch in and help with a project, but the confusion of ten projects all tripping over each other is not something that he likes nor understands.

Perhaps in this way we make a great team! I keep track of the entirety, he concentrates on doing any single job well (insofar as he gets around to it!).


All this to say that I am in a spring rush. And I am in a Friday rush. And a preholiday rush. Basically, I am not going at a slow pace.

Except at breakfast. Things always move slowly at breakfast time.






Eventually I made my way to Snowdrop's home. My mere arrival leads her to run and put her shoes on. Yep, even on days without school, she associates my coming with an invitation to go out adventuring.






(Our "adventuring" time includes a visit to the playground and beach by the lesser lake...






... and a visit to the coffee shop where, I swear, she has found a new and comfortable way to wait for me to show up with whatever treat I may have purchased.)






She is excited to come then to the farmette. Hey, I am excited as well. I can't wait to show her the flowers we purchased yesterday evening -- all ready and waiting for me! Snowdrop is tickled with the new possibilities of putting her watering can to good use.





I show her the tips of emerging asparagus. They're purple! -- she exclaims. Yes, some of them are that. I promise her we'll be picking them in a few days.

Meanwhile, the daffodils keep multiplying and blossoming...






The cheepers hover. They always hover. They have concluded that more often than not one of us has something in hand for them. Snowdrop's palm is very low to the ground and they eye it with great hope. Cheepers live by a huge amount of hope. (And Snowdrop is ever hopeful as well -- that some day she'll be able to give the girls a long, affectionate pat.)






Don't even think about Henny, Snowdrop. She gives great eggs and she is very beautiful, but she has to be the most skittish hen ever!






In the farmhouse, we're on our own today, as Ed is off at his various meetings. Snowdrop, somewhat reliably, returns to her character play -- a new favorite is placing the "snowdrop" figure on the motorcycle.






... and taking her two dolls -- Rosie and Baby -- grocery shopping.






A light shower passes over the farmette toward evening. That's a good thing, of course. Keeps the soil moist, keeps the roots happy. And, too, it gives me a chance to take a wee cup outside on the porch, to look out at the changing landscape, not necessarily to spin about what to do next, but just to enjoy what's there now.

Thursday

Everyone on the planet who has owned a lap top, or some handheld device, or piece of fancy equipment will have a technology story. All these stories are basically the same one story. There may be a lot of detail and text, a fat middle so to speak, but the beginning and the end will be the same: something doesn't work as it is supposed to, then comes the irrelevant middle where hours are wasted -- first just your own hours, then, additionally someone else's as he or she tries to help, and finally you live chat with THE experts and they make you redo all that you have already done on your own and then with your kind hearted buddy, and then finally -- the denouement! -- you conclude that it's just not working and it will never work and moreover no one will ever understand why or where or how and so you finally give up.

My own story (and does it matter what small piece of equipment caused me grief?) occupied the better part of my morning and it actually worked its way into my time with Snowdrop. I suppose I could say that it was a terrible waste of hours, but from a different perspective, I did learn a lot and, Snowdrop -- well, she hogged Ed to herself, and if he learned nothing new about technology, he surely learned tons about how to charm and be charmed by a two year old.


Let me note the pretty moments of the day with the help of photos -- taken with my spare pocket camera, which I dropped and broke a few weeks back, but which I must use anyway since my more chunky but beloved camera is out for repairs. (Ed does not understand why I stay loyal to my chunky beloved, since, in its short one year life it has gone out for repairs three times already. But, when it's good, it's very very good and half the size and one fourth the price of a comparable SLR, so there's that.) See? There is a lot of technology confounding me and testing my patience this month.

Onto the photos!

Breakfast: I left some of the tulips out on the porch this past week and the cold snap arrested them in their fantastic final formation!






Ed walking to the barn. No, it's not shorts weather. Cheepers follow. Lots of green!






Snowdrop on the swings: I didn't tie back her hair and in any case, she was terribly distracted by the boy swinging next to her. He was a bit wild and she felt compelled to track his every movement. (Note the presence of a coat again. Yes, it's that cool.)






Snowdrop waits patiently at the coffee shop while I get the coffee and cookie. A customer comments: "the sweetest scene on the planet." Perhaps not on the planet, but maybe in the room?






Maybe I should water the flowers?
No, really Snowdrop. It's not necessary. Not today.






Mac and cheese for lunch.






The two of them.







Evening. Snowdrop goes home, Ed and I head south. Oh, not any great distances. A ten minute drive maybe. To the greenhouse that has a sneak preview of its annuals tonight (Kopke's). And as it happens, I become their first serious customer of the year.

Hardly anyone is there. Oh, they have their welcoming cookies and fruit juices, but it's cool outside and people don't think of gardens when it's cool.

But I do. I've been thinking garden thoughts since February. My 13 pots are ready and waiting. I've collected all the tags of successful varieties that kept up the show of color from spring to nearly winter last year. I know what I want.

Ed waits in the car, dozing, resting, still fighting his sniffles, while I push a cart of flowers up and down the greenhouse aisles.






I'll plant them this weekend. And wish them a hearty beautiful season of bloom.

Wednesday

You could say we're recovering from yesterday's cold snap. We haven't total confidence in the warmth that returned to us today, and indeed, every now and then a gust of wind reminds us that the chilly currents are still hovering somewhere in the sidelines.

Still, let's not be fussy: it is a very pretty mid-April day!






But let's stay with breakfast in the sun room. The porch will have to wait.






In the morning hours, I have a coffee date with a bunch of out-of-towners! Hey, I haven't seen these two guys since we traveled to Poland together last October! And now, plans are being hatched for more joint travel in the year ahead.






But I can't dally too long. Snowdrop is waiting.
At her home:  Let's go out, let's go out, let's go out!





And we do go out. Straight away. To the park, the swings, the usual way up high, in the sky, Snowdrop does fly -- thrilling for her, familiar to you, so familiar is her cheery face as seen from the heights of a swing flying through the air that I'll spare you yet another version of it.

We go then to the farmette.

She runs to the barn, the cheepers follow.
Are there any eggs?
Ahah has picked them up already. But you can feed the hens some corn.






All of this is familiar stuff, I know, I know. The watering can too now. She insists on it. Strawberries, watered, grateful for the special care they're getting from her. Daffodils too, I suppose!






Inside, tea time, polka time, croissant time, Rosie time, baby time...
What's the baby's name? -- she asks me.
I don't know. What do you think? I throw out some suggestions.
She considers them. No, just baby.






Drawing with pencils (and erasing -- she loves erasing). Playing the guitar. You've seen it all, we've done it all...






Coaxing ahah into play, bringing him toy food...






And at the end of the day, waking from a nap, still a little dozy, but wanting so much to chat, to put it on the table...






Yeah, you've seen it all.

Yet every minute is as fresh as the air outside, as new as the buds on the crab apple, as bright as, well, pick your favorite early spring flower!

Tuesday

I'll give you the closing line first: despite the obvious hurdles, it was a beautiful day -- maybe because it was so obvious that it could have turned sour at any turn. But it didn't turn sour. Not in the slightest.

Let me sit back and reflect on why.

To begin with the delineation of hiccups, it was cold. I knew that this was the day that would test our spring rhapsody, but still, you have to be disappointed when you wake up to temperatures that are more than twenty degrees below what we had yesterday, and that stay more than twenty degrees below what we had yesterday.

(A wet and disappointed daffodil...)






By now, Ed, too, has succumbed to the sniffles and he asked for the one medicine that he believes is necessary for a cold -- chicken noodle soup. I obliged. (The flower vase is filled with daffodils that I had to cut down because the cheepers had leveled them...)






Since Ed is more under the weather than I am, I volunteer to clean the coop and set things straight for the cheepers.

I am amused to run into this rather adorable cheeper conflict: Henny is roosting (as these days is her habit) on a bale of hay. Java decides she wants to lay an egg too. She climbs all over Henny and at one moment, I was sure she will suffocate the little brown girl, but no: they settle into an amicable moment, though Java wiggles enough to let Henny know that she does not have the most comfortable place on the hay, but is making do.






(Looking toward the farmhouse -- do you see how lovely it appears now that its framed in so much more than winter brown?)







Snowdrop was at her sniffly-sickest this morning -- not easy for her mommy who, herself is still working through whatever bug or virus is raging here right now. We debate whether the little girl is up for what she most craves right now -- a long stroller adventure. I mean, it's only 45F (7C) outside and though Snowdrop is not terribly sick, she is also not terribly well.

In the end, we decide it's a go, and never was a decision better made.

(Here she is, begging to go out...)





Snowdrop perks up immediately as we walk through her familiar neighborhood. She asks, rather meekly, if we can go to the playground.

I offer her the zoo in stead.

She cannot believe her luck! It's a longish hike. We rarely go. Really?? The zoo??

I know I brought her here once in the dead of winter (we drove over), but today, I see that she is older, wiser, and with a better grasp on the reality of viewing the animals who live here. I can tell her: no, the polar bears cannot hurt you through the thick glass -- and she sees that this is the case. She no longer runs away from their imposing presence.






We visit all her beloved animal friends and as we prepare to leave, she asks -- can we go on the merry-go-round?

I thought the answer is surely no. It's midweek. Not a summer midweek,  but an April midweek. Cold. Not many people in the park.

But perhaps because it is spring break for schools, the merry-go-round is indeed up and running!

Oh, does the girl love a good spin on a panda!






I mean, she really loves to pieces her carousel ride!






And when it comes to a close, she begs, begs, begs for a ride on the biggest animal -- the lion.





This is what joyous confidence looks like!


On our walk home, we pass an idle fire truck.  A fire fighter gets out and presents Snowdrop with a fire hat. The little one is 100% great with politeness, blurting out thank yous and any such words as may be required and yes, I am proud of her, and, too, grateful to the firefighter who thought to save a plastic hat for this random little girl who happened to be passing by.






At home again, it takes her a little bit to settle into her nap and play routines, but it seemed to me that by the time I leave in the evening, things are pretty much back to near normal.






And that makes me so very happy.

Monday

An article in this morning's paper caught my eye: the author put forth some suggestions on how to flip a typically negative person onto a road of positive thinking. It's not that the suggestions weren't obvious, but one small item made me smile: the author, herself a senior-ish person, described how each morning, her routines take her past a pack of toddlers on their way to some activity or other. She has taken to interacting with them -- throwing out a greeting, a smile, a high five, a word of encouragement. And this just puts her in such a good mood!

I understand that. You'll see today two sets of photos -- those of my early morning glimpses of spring at the farmette. In the second set, you'll see spring, but with Snowdrop in the thick of things. The hope is that you'll see our spring just a tiny bit through her eyes. And really, if the smile is already there for the first set of photos, it should grow ten fold for the second.

And I must add, that from an adult perspective, the day was beautiful but kind of drippy, too. That is, all the female members of our family here are dripping away with the sniffles -- enough so that it would threaten to dampen the spirit of so many of us. But now Snowdrop. She takes on the world despite these inconveniences. All you have to do is follow along and smile.

First then, the beautiful morning flowers, now finally showing off their pretty faces.






Cheepers! Leave them alone! Please do not knock down another daffodil. Please. (Ed, the defender of the cheepers, responds -- oh, there are plenty of flowers. Really. And the fallen ones will only grow back stronger next year!)






The buds on the trees are robust now. A couple of warm days and there you have it -- we are green. We've arrived!






Breakfast on the porch! (Ed, you look too serious in the photo!)






(Let me include another of just the flowers...)







And then I go and pick up Snowdrop for a lunch date with gaga at Madison Sourdough.







Afterwards, she wants adventure! Here's her "take on the world" pose.






I pull out the troller and we walk the neighborhood. Oh, the flowers!





Such beautiful spring flowers!


And then we are home, at the farmette. (I'd pulled back her hair with a ribbon... She discovered it as we got out of the car. So long, ribbon!)







I had purchased a watering can more to Snowdrop's size and she has been wanting very much to water "her strawberries." Today, we set out to do this. Her devotion to the task and commitment to soaking every plant made even serious faced Ed smile and smile! Three pics from this project:
















And when I really thought the berries had had enough for one day, to avert disappointment, I let Snowdrop water the daffodils. Why not?!






A run through the front yard among the blue flowers...






A peek at the tomato seedlings...






And one last run out back, before I have to rein her in and insist on a nap.





Storms came through this afternoon and the air is decidedly cooler now, in the evening. We don't mind. There's enough spring beauty out there for now. We'll take the time to let it sink in before we move on to the next thrilling stage of this most beautiful season.