snow

They said -- "snow." We got snow.  Another half foot fell overnight. The pretty face of winter is with us now.

(I know you can't tell from this farmette photo that it's deeper. Trust me -- it's deeper.)






A happy breakfast.





Snowdrop's school is closed today. Not because of the snow -- it was one of those planned inservice closings. I offered to play with Snowdrop while parents put in some work hours.

I'm at her house once again and perhaps predictably, she begins with offering (play) food for her babes and for gaga. I love this pose and her facial expression here, because it completely reminds me of the way my grandma would stand and survey the table, wanting to make sure there was plenty for all of us.






Play ice cream ends our meal.





And of course, the great outdoors beckons! It is cold, but on the upside, it's warmer than the really cold days we've had this season. We attack the snow on the deck!











Snowdrop loves most things about snow -- including its taste. I try to think if there's a reason to act alarmed as she stuffs fresh flakes into her mouth. Snowdrop, no, that's not a great idea! Yum! Oh, Snowdrop!






We slap together a snowman of sorts, but it's not easy. It's just too cold and the snow is powdery. Even a snowball is a challenge. Here's our attempt at a snow palace. Snowdrop and her baby are enjoying a royal rest inside!






A snack after snow play is important, delicious, satisfying, memorable. On this day it's pain au chocolat.
 





And then I leave to continue with the usual Friday duties: make sure that the car has gas, and that the fridge has food for the week.


Home. The sun is out, the skies are blue. Shall we ski?

(Note that our snowman just grows and grows!)






By the time we head out to our local county park, the shadows are beautifully long. We try the upper trails and find them to be completely untouched! We blaze pathways, spewing powder and filling our boots with snow...






... all the way to Ed's favorite tree. Selfie!





... then across the snow covered prairie to pick up the trail again.






It would be hard to imagine a more beautiful day!

jump

Ed dragged in very late last night. The volley ball game was long and tiring. Too few people showed up. Were you okay anyway? (He'd been having a good season thus far.)

I'm the old guy there.

So?

I can't jump as high anymore.

Old people can't jump?

Nope. Go ahead, try it.

I do.

How was that?

Not so high.

It felt high!
It wan't high.

We do a google search on how high, on the average, a person in her/his sixties can expect to jump. Would you believe it -- there appear to be no immediately available data on those past 59. Well now! Not too late to improve! We watch a youtube on how to give height to your jumps.


In the morning, I wait for the phone call. None comes. Snowdrop is fine and in school!

A big sigh of relief!

I go out to deal with the silly cheepers. Well, perhaps not so silly: Henny has started laying every now and then. (She is the only one of the three, so we're grateful!)

It's cold again, but there is sunshine! I look out over the farmette: so many tracks, not one of them our own. Deer, groundhog, rabbits and who knows what else...






Breakfast, bursting with sunshine!






And skiing at noon at our local county park. Blue skies and for the first time this season -- the trail is groomed and ready!






We zig zag, taking this turn and then the next... (Such pretty colors!)





Lovely. How lucky we are to live so close to a park!

Immediately after -- I pick up Snowdrop. It's not that she is immediately full of giggles. She hasn't napped. She is tired. But if you find an excuse to laugh, inevitably she will join you. She can't help herself. Worries slip away. The giggle slips out and now it's full blown guffaws.






Which last and last...






Yes, she is her old boisterous, ridiculously funny and fun loving self.





Wouldn't it be wonderful if we were done with the bugs and the Arctic blasts for the year?


As for jumping -- I'll go back to my piddly saunters later. For now, excuse me, but I have some Olympic figure skaters to watch. The Winter Olympics have begun.

fly fishing

A cold day, with a new dusting of snow. It's not a morning where you want to linger outside. A quick walk to the barn to tend to the cheepers and that's it.





I don't have to go out again for a while. Or do I?

I get that early morning phone call that can only mean one thing: Snowdrop's down again. I offer to go to her home after breakfast so that the parents can attend to at least the most pressing work business.



Over the morning meal...





... Ed talks about fishing with his dad.
I liked going out with him on the boat to fish. Flounder. We'd be fishing for flounder. Often times we wouldn't get any. And in fact, I'd prefer that. It didn't make me happy to catch the fish. I just liked being out there with him, fishing.
Me, I love Ed's recollections of time with his father, though I feel this particular musing is heading somewhere.
Indeed: you should write this on your blog: shopping for a dining table is like fishing with my dad for flounder.

From this, he spins into fishing tales. Did you know that trolling differs from fly fishing? Actually I know next to nothing about fishing. Last time I tried to catch a fish was when I was right around Snowdrop's age and I cast about the pond by my grandparents's village home with a butterfly net. I think I netted and released a tadpole or two. Now, Ed is suggesting that we watch a youtube on fly fishing.

This is how time simply disappears when I am with Ed.


When I get to Snowdrop's home, she is rallying again! It's such a relief!

She has her medical kit close at hand. I bring over her farmhouse baby. She checks her baby's health.






All good. What now, grandma?






We run through many books and games, but what really gets her going is the idea that she should dance. (It's her inspiration, likely tied to the fact that she knows she has to skip her Storybook Ballet class today.)






Seeing that smile on a grandgirl who was so dragged down by a bug just a few hours ago makes this grandma's heart swell!






(She picked up from a book that dancers do Arabesques. Okay!)






(As in her Storybook Ballet class, we end with a story. This time, she does the reading. I, in my own "light dance wear" -- undershirts are a winter staple for me -- listen.)






(Then, one more check, to make sure we're all well...)






... and I return home.

(From the cheepers: where have you been???! They're so demanding of attention on days when they're cooped up in the barn!)






In the late afternoon, Ed and I hop over to the local park for a quick ski run. I mean, there's enough snow and there is a patch of blue in the sky. What more could you ask for?!





Evening. I think about fly fishing. I think it reminds me of flower tending: long periods of silent work, alone, working in cooperation with that what nature allows.

Tuesday

I wasn't sure about today's schedule. Will Snowdrop be well? Will she return to school?

I am up early. Just in case.

It is again bitter cold outside. But pretty! Especially in the minutes just after sunrise.






I go out to greet/feed the cheepers. There'll be plenty of sunshine today, but the hens have had enough of snow adventures. They're staying put, in the barn. Wise decision.





I clear some of the farmette paths and I decide there is enough snow up on the porch glass roof to warrant my climb out there as well for some heavy duty shoveling. It's brutal work, especially if you're dumb enough to leave your mittens inside. I wont be making that mistake again!

Breakfast. In the sun room!
(Ed asks -- could you cut my hair later today? Oh yes! So glad you asked!)






In the end, I learn that I'll be picking up Snowdrop in the afternoon. This leaves a golden morning window for skiing!

Except that it's so cold. We're at 6F (-14C). But there is snow. For the first time this winter, there is an adequate layer of snow on the cross country trails in our local county park.

We bundle up. I mean, we really bundle up. It is only the second time in my life that I see Ed put on snow pants. I do as well -- the old fashioned kind that make us both look like inflated balloons. It's worth it -- anything to keep warm.

It's a beautiful day to be outside! The trails aren't groomed, but we manage!






And perhaps you will have guessed that halfway into our run, we get very very hot.






I have to say, I do not mind feeling hot when an Arctic blast has descended upon us once more. There is something deeply satisfying in opening your jacket and unfurling your scarf in defiance!

Ed asks -- can we ski over to my favorite tree?
Of course! His favorite tree has a grand resting place for my camera, thus providing us with a time release selfie.






A pristine white snow, a clear blue sky -- what more could you ask of a February day?!






In the afternoon, there is Snowdrop.






She is feeling much better now, even as the day has dragged her down a bit. She surely has flicked away whatever bug was ailing her, but you can tell that she is one tired little girl.

Still, she is content to read her favorites...






And she takes a stab at play, but honestly -- I think she'll be happiest when she is tucked in for the night in her warm comfy bed.






Evening. A quiet one. All projects put aside for the day. The snow outside has turned from morning gold to dusky dusty blue. Winter colors in a still world.

at home

My first words here are in the form of advice: slow down! And watch a youtube clip on on how to keep a baby/child/adult from choking. Seriously. It'll take you a handful of minutes and you may save a life.

It is a bitter cold morning. In the negatives (so, well below -18C). There is a momentary showing of sunshine and the cheepers take that as a good omen. They are so wrong.






And now they're stuck in the garage and there is more snow on the way and the temperatures refuse to climb more than a wimpy couple of degrees. It's that kind of a morning.

Ed is sleeping in. I am a little bit in a hurry because Snowdrop is under the weather and I promised to spend time with her at her home this afternoon.

That doesn't justify a rushed breakfast, but the head doesn't always work out the finer details of life well before that first morning cup of coffee.






So at breakfast, I choke. Ed is adept at Heimlich maneuvers and so I am back to normal quickly enough.
Seriously, Nina! On oatmeal? -- he shakes his head in amazement.
It was a strawberry! -- I answer in my defense. And it isn't the first time that I have choked on fruit. I am a notoriously fast eater. That seems so antithetical to someone who loves to savor well prepared food, but there you have it, the truth's out. I eat like the devil.

Of course, if I can wedge a strawberry (or apple bite -- another favorite offending object), so can you and so can your kid. So watch a video on how to help when someone near you is gasping. Different ages require different strategies: watch them all. I'd say take a CPR course, but you wont, so at least watch how others do it. Still reluctant? Let me suggest this five minute one on helping kids who eat too fast or stuff their mouths with legos:

For adults -- lear the Heimlich. It's easy and effective: above the bellybutton, with upward thrusts.

And now the clouds roll in. Ed is back in bed, I'm settling down to write.



In the afternoon, I am as promised at Snowdrop's house.

I smile as I remember her grand claim that she prefers plain to fancy! You could have fooled me, little one!






She is feverish this morning, but by the time I get there, she appears on the mend. Good books, quiet play and a solid nap fill the hours quickly.






We cross our fingers that nothing more serious will come of this.

As I walk up to the farmhouse, I notice two things: no footprints in the snow (therefore Ed has not left the house all day) and, too, it's not really dark yet. Yes, it's bitter cold, but just that show of evening light is so uplifting!





I shovel a few of our paths, then come in to savor the wonderfulness of a warm house on a cold cold day.

to Cottage Grove! Or, careful what you wish for!

Well, what a surprise! We must have a half a foot of snow on the ground and it is a pretty snow! The winds haven't yet blown the puffy white stuff off the branches. I go out and admire the suddenly delicate landscape.







(Not that the cheepers are pleased!)






Finally, winter has given us something to admire!






Over breakfast...






... I make my case to Ed: we should get the listed farmhouse table that I discovered and liked yesterday. It's long, yes, but it looks so authentic! And it's not wide! It wont overwhelm!
But I thought you wanted something lighter, brighter! I'm so confused!
I want something that feels right.
And this feels right?
Yes it does.
I just can't believe it! It will crowd the space.

(Pause)

Okay. Forget it then.
No... we should look.
Really?
Yes. I don't like the idea of such a large piece of furniture, but I'm trying to understand what's driving you here. We should look.
Great! He'll meet us there this morning! It's in Cottage Grove. Let's take the truck!

I say this, even as the truck is buried under heavy snow. It has to be cleaned out. It has to be backed out of its precarious position in the corner of our parking ledge. Still, I am convinced that once Ed sees the table, his heart will swell with joy and we'll drive it home, in time for our Sunday dinner tonight!

Ed plows the driveway and works on clearing the truck. I'm excited.

Are you sure you like it? As much as the one in the store?
Yes, I think so. It's different, but...
I'll say it's different! (In Craigslist, it is described as hand crafted from repurposed barn wood. And the photos are stunning!)

And now it is time to back out the truck. The wheels spin and slide and before long, one wheel rolls into the huge groundhog hole and the other dangles precariously over the ledge.

Well, that wreck cant be moved. Certainly not until Ed thinks of a clever way of not getting himself tossed upside down over the ledge, truck and all.

We take the car. We can always hand over a deposit and come back later. Ed has trucker friends! We'll borrow a truck!

And it is a good thing we're not driving the pickup  because the roads are treacherous! The hazard light in my car keeps flashing: you're in a slide, you're in a slide! Yes, I do realize that. I'm trying to stay on the road!

We are late. I am apologetic. I look around us: we're at a golf course. In some sort of a storage shed.
The wife wanted the new table in, so I moved this one here.
Okay fine, let's see it.

It's horrible. The wood is not smooth at all. Run your hand over it and you'll walk away with ten splinters. It's a piece of junk.

He must have seen the look of disgust on my face. He is quickly reassuring: This isn't really the one I wanted to show you. The big one is in the club room.
Okay...

We walk to the club room. There is another table there. Presumably also built by him out of "repurposed barn wood."
It's not horrid. Just pretty gross.



We drive across country roads and some forty minutes later, we're home.

But I can't shake the awfulness of those tables. That must have been an exceptionally misleading set of photos on Craigslist. To me, it looked so good!

Ed brings up the ad again.  It's not the same table. I can see that the one in the photo doesn't have the row of screws I saw in the ones he showed us. The guy is pulling a fast one. It's a bait and switch. He's scamming.
He tries t o reassure me. You'll find something. And if not, we'll consider something new.


I smile.



In the afternoon, we had signed up to work on building a prairie along a segment of the Ice Age Trail. But I'm thinking --  surely the volunteer event must be cancelled. The snow is significant. The wind is harsh. It's just 11F (-11C) and it feels even colder.

We get a message from the coordinator: we're on! wear warm clothing!

The clouds have moved on, the sun is brilliant. It's beautiful outside!

But oh, is it cold.

We meet the very small group of volunteers and hike up toward the four acre field, soon to be prairie.





The coordinator is happy to have us. We have a wind shield and we've built a fire to keep you warm! Let's get to work!

Ed and I empty seed pods into a big tub.





The seeds are attached to soft, luxurious puffs and when the wind kicks in, several puffs rise into the air and dance away from us.






So delicate! So beautiful.





Our coordinator mixes up bagfuls of various donated seeds. Millions, trillions of seeds! He knows his work well. Rows of footprints mark off segments of the former pasture. We each get a segment.

Off we go, carefully sowing the seeds, making sure that they're evenly dispersed.





Ed comments -- who knew sowing seeds could be hard work...

When we're done, we're offered donated treats from Clasen's Bakery. Someone tells me the morning buns are especially good when toasted over the campfire. I try it.






Ed tries it.





Delicious! But then, pretty much anything would taste exquisite here by the warm fire on this bitter cold day.

(Us, the seed sowers, as taken on a timed release.)






Ed and I do one more segment and then we cut out. I have a dinner to cook and it is dangerously close to evening time!






The young family is at the farmhouse tonight and yes, we'll be eating at the old table. The trusty reliable smooth and bright little table that has stood up to so many family meals!






And yes, Snowdrop. There's time for play!






There's always time for play!






Always.