oops!

The great melt away is here. Frozen sheets of ice are slowly receding. It's good news, of course. We want an early spring.

(Breakfast..)





But here's the problem: just because most of the ice has melted, it doesn't mean that all of the ice has melted. And so you're less cautious. I am less cautious. How else do you explain the Great Slip and Slide on the way to my car? Legs flying high, I go straight down with a bang on my tailbone.

It was most unpleasant.

The last time I fell that hard was when skating in Greece more than four years ago. I was so sore then, that upon returning home, I bought a special cushion that helped me sit without pain.

I drag out the cushion once again.


In the afternoon, of course, I pick up Snowdrop. Here she is at school, with a teacher who deserves the hug Snowdrop delivers.





Walking with the little one from the car to the house, I am e-x-t-r-a cautious.
Why are you slow, grandma?
I fell on my butt (rear end? tushie? what do kids call it these days?) and it's sore.
Do you need a bandaid?
No, those only work for bloody hurts.
I will hug you!
Wow, thank you!

Apart from the reading and snacking, I'd say her afternoon is split between two activities: playing alone with her characters...





... and then (commanding a disproportionate share of time) telling a whopper of a tale about her baby who suffered a fall, necessitating a visit to a doctor.






This story lasted well over an hour and was full of drama and pathos!






Luckily, it appears to have a happy ending!






Evening. Ed and I reheat lentils and think ahead to the weekend. Ed managed to haul the truck out of the groundhog ditch so it's ready for a table, if indeed there is to be a table tomorrow.

Perhaps more importantly, there will be sunshine. And Snowdrop. And puddles in the driveway. No ice. Just puddles.

moving forward

We're not stuck in winter. We're not stuck in a landscape of frozen soil and patches of steely ice. We're not stuck in a table purchase impasse. We're moving forward!

But it surely looks otherwise when you look outside at the farmette lands and inside at the kitchen dining area.

(The cheepers slide cautiously toward me...)






Breakfast. No sunshine, but no matter. We're (slowly) climbing out of the winter chill today.






I settle in for a morning of writing, but I see that Ed is pacing. To the sheep shed. Not to the sheep shed. Upstairs, downstairs. Finally, he says bluntly -- you want to go look at your favorite (new) table at Rubin's (a local furniture store)? I'm a little at loose ends.

I know that this does not signify agreement. We have a Craigslist table lined up for a Saturday viewing. But Ed likes to examine all sides of the picture, if only to convince himself even more of the rightfulness of his position.

We drive out to Rubin's. We study a version of the chosen table. He does not reject it. But, it's new and it's certainly more expensive than the alternative on Craigslist.

As we meander across the Rubin's showroom, we pause by another table that strives to look Mid Century Modern (a style that I would not have associated with the farmhouse until we got the new-ish couch and then all hell broke loose and we veered in favor of the classic and simple lines of MCM). And it is cheap. Just a touch more than the older table we're to examine on Saturday.





All this to say that I think by the weekend we will have purchased a table. Which one? Oh, don't ask too many difficult questions! This one or that one!


In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop.

It is cold. It is useless, throwaway weather. No one mentions outdoor play.

Once inside, she reads, moves here, there, considering her options.

(She picks up her kaleidoscope. I try yet again to show her how to keep one eye closed. Can't be done. Not yet.)






But did you notice her hair? Pulled back as if she were going to a ballet class? Yes, that class, yesterday's class is still very much on her mind. She is in fact getting ready for an afternoon of most things ballet.

Dancing with her tutu'd Rosie...






Doing a giant ballet puzzle, then dancing on it...






Insisting on switching to a ballet skirt...

But I haven't a shirt for you!
How about this one? She drags out my one spare, used this summer for her backyard pool play...






Dancing with pink ball...






Balancing on pink ball...






Through it all, she is in her story telling mode. I catch snippets of ideas from books, others from her day to day encounters.

I send her home in a tshirt and a dance skirt. I'm sure her parents are thrilled/puzzled/not surprised.

Outside, it's sleeting or raining or both. March weather. You know March? The month that brings with it our most awaited, coveted season. We are getting awfully close to it!

Wednesday

Everything froze today. You know those big pond puddles? Frozen. Melted paths and driveways? Frozen. Well, it's to be expected. We can only hope that it's the last of the big freezes for the year.

But honestly -- I'm relieved that we're done with yesterday's cold wetness. We have a touch of sunshine now. That's worth a million in my book.

Breakfast.






And afterwards, I write. I'm on an Olympian roll: now or never. Finish, finish already! Move on, be done!

It is not an unpleasant way to spend a morning.


When I pick up Snowdrop, I just have to laugh! She is ready alright! Snow pants on, ballet shoes on!





I have ballet today! -- she announces to anyone who'll listen.

We go home to the farmhouse first. A few books, a snack, a few minutes of play. Ballet shoes stay on.

It's time to get ready, Snowdrop.
I can put on my tutu!





She gets over excited.

Her shorter hair needs to be pinned back. Now she is patient. Ed is fascinated by the whole process.






We're off. She relaxes. We arrive at class. She is shyer now, but not retreating. There is a constant wisp of a smile on her face.






She is completely attentive.





The story to be "danced" today is Snow White. They listen to the tale first and I wonder if they get a sanitized version of it. Snowdrop appears unconcerned and so I have to think the witch, in the dance teacher's reading of it, hasn't her nasty, villainous laugh.

The girls don their costumes for today's story. Here's Snowdrop, aka Snow White.





I'm thinking -- if she never wants to touch an apple again, we'll know why!


I drive home then. It may be icy, but it is still fairly light outside. We are inching toward the best seasons -- spring! (Pretend I didn't say that... I like them all!)

Tuesday

I'm going to say I've seen better days. Okay worse ones too, but still!

Let me release the birds of complaint and then come back to all that felt right.

First of all (not in order of importance), the weather is really not nice. It rained hard all night long. The ground is frozen and so flooding is an issue for many. On the upside and I mean literally the upside, we are on the hill. There are plenty of puddles...






... more like small ponds, actually...






But the farmhouse is dry. Well, from the ground up. We have some troubling bubbles in the wall but so far, the house has not caved in on top of us in a heap of wetness.

And the chickens remain pleased, though they hate getting their ankles wet in the puddles.






Breakfast. Nice.






But the morning is a mixed bag. The rain keeps falling. People around us are sick with bugs and viruses. Spring seems distant. I want to wake up to sunshine and reports of returns to good health!

On the upside, we are just south of the freezing line. We're getting rain, not ice.


I pick up Snowdrop. She is hoping for puddle time. She is dressed for the worst weather!






But one splash in the farmette waters and she knows this is not going to be fun. It's slippery and cold. Inside we go.

Grandma, I need to dry my clothes on the vent and change into pajamas.
Are your clothes wet?
Um, they need to go on the vent to warm up.











She throws a pile of clothing on the warm furnace air and settles into an afternoon of play in her pajamas.

Oh, and her flower "crown."






It's all about babies today. I'm thinking I've earned many points toward sainthood by acting as one of her charges all afternoon long. She is a bossy mommy!

I'm the mommy, grandma. Ask me why the macaron is blue!
Why is this (toy) macaron blue?
Because i made it with blueberry frosting!
Yum!

We continue thus.

Play ball!






Jump!






Eat ice cream.






Settle a crying baby.






Tumble and roll.






In the evening, the rains stop, the temperatures drop. Precipitously. 

I am so looking forward to March! On the upside, that month comes to us next week!

wet Monday

On the one hand, it feels like any other Monday: morning work at home, afternoon spent with Snowdrop.

But in so many ways, it's different.

For one thing, I was tossing a little at night and to move myself toward a more restful sleep, I picked up my phone to read a little of this and that. I usually reach for a book, but I didn't want to get sucked into the story, so I chose the phone.

What's this? A message from my credit card company. Suspicious activity. Sure enough, my card was hacked. Well, by chance, I caught it within minutes of the event. I put a block on the card and then of course reviewed into the early morning all the ways I have to reconfigure life onto a new card number. So much for restful night (though on the upside, I surely avoided a lot of accounting headaches by catching things early).

We eat a late breakfast...






And only then do I allow myself a look outside. I knew the snow was melting. I knew today there would be rain. I knew there would be bare patches. Still, it is a bit of a shock to go from a snowy landscape to the wet patchy puddly stuff we have now. The cheepers are rejoicing. There is earth underneath their scratchy claws again.






By the time I pick up Snowdrop, the rain is coming down consistently. Without pause. I learn that the girl has missed an outdoor play period for some inconsequential reason. Not surprisingly, she wants to make up for it now. When I tell her we may do some puddle hopping, she is ready to head out in a snap.






At the farmette she plunges in.






With a beautiful smile and a spirited splash...






Within minutes we are making boats out of seed pods and fish out of wood chips...





... and I swear we would still be there now, except quite suddenly (and I'm not clear if it was intentional), she sits down in the puddle and of course, that is the end of outdoor time.

Inside, I put on her pajamas and I spread out her soaked clothes on the heating vents.

And the rain continues.

In digging around her stuff, Snowdrop finds her sunglasses and perhaps hoping for a bit of bright sunshine, she puts them on.
Is the sun out, grandma?
No... all hidden behind clouds of rain.
Maybe a little of it is out?
Well, maybe in some corner of the sky (far far from where we are).






Playful girl...
Maybe a bit too playful, considering how little rest she has had in recent times.






Grandma, am I wearing you out? Am I? (She got this from an Olivia book.)
Hmm...





... no, sweet one. Never.

Well, at least, not tonight.

one more day

One more day of family gatherings. Maybe we'll never have enough of each other! I hope we'll never have enough of each other!

Today, we are to come together for a post-shower family brunch at the younger couple's home.

I am to get myself ready and available so that I can help my girl bake an old favorite dessert -- Maida Heatter's Black and White cake, or what I referred to for many years (under my breath) as the pain in the ass cake. It's not hard, but it does have many (and I mean many) piddly steps! But it is delicious. I remember sending it in a care package to my girl one summer when she went away to camp.

She and I are to begin work on it at 8 a.m., but when I come up to the kitchen, she is already there, with a full mis en place before her! That's my cooking buddy for you!






The cake is (finally) in the oven. She fusses about other brunch components. And like my grandma, she is not satisfied until the bounty is there on the table, beautiful and abundant, waiting for the arrival of family.






Well now, here comes family!






For now, Snowdrop is the sole little one.  She likes having all these lovely people to talk to, of course she does.






But I think she is so ready for some new younger additions. Yesterday at the shower, she was awed by the youngest guest (photo, where I'm holding a three month old, taken by my older daughter):






And today, she loves luring me to the baby room so we can talk about who'll be sleeping there one day soon.





Upstairs again, time for cake. (And here, I must insert a quick comment on how utterly awesome this little girl has been during a challenging set of days. Her warm smile was never far. Her patience with errands, trips, set ups, lack of rest, rooms full of strangers, followed by a dinner out that lasted many hours -- she not only was at her very best, but this morning, she was once more the accommodating perfect guest. Oh, we'll have chaos at family gatherings in the months to come, but this weekend, Snowdrop reminded us that eventually children grow up and and give back all the effort you invest in their care.)






We were all so tired last night that the young couple never finished opening their gifts. Snowdrop is ready to assist them once more today!






Ah, my three sweet girls (and one son in law)!





Next time we're all together, I expect to say -- my four sweet girls!

For now, I have to take off.

I rejoin the neighborhood strollers on a lovely Sunday afternoon...





... and make my way to the "L" train, then the bus, and finally car. As I turn toward home, the great big Wisconsin sky turns a fiery orange.






As I approach the farmhouse, I have to smile at this welcoming display of our state's great beauty.





A minute later, I am home.