how to invent a problem without really trying

We are close to spring. We have had an abundance of sunshine. There have been no significant glitches in our days. Only small stuff, easily solved. We've been lucky.






Time to invent a problem, don't you think??

After breakfast, of course. (And it's a sunny, flower-filled breakfast. The best kind!)





It actually began last week when we spent our entire weekend (or so it seemed) at the Farm and Fleet store. Perhaps you've never had the pleasure of shopping there? It's like a big box for farm-type people. It's the kind of place where you're asked at checkout whether you have the card for an agricultural tax break. New York City Ed (born and raised) truly loves that! Mistaken for a local boy... He's come so far! He'll give a small shake of the head, as if to say -- no, not this time. The jacket he wears year round (and which acts as sweater, rain coat, and Arctic blast protection)? Farm and Fleet. Inner tubes for tractor? Same. Chicken feed? Of course.

Well, we got roped into a chat with one of the employees -- the guy in charge of livestock feed that day -- and there must have been something especially sweet and compelling about his descriptions of his own chicken brood, because when we returned home, Ed turned to me and asked -- should we add a few young chicks to our three?

We have never purchased young chicks. All our cheepers come from Craigslist sales, where people were probably offloading under-producing or in other ways bothersome chickens. We always thought that raising chickens from day one is too much trouble. You need indoor enclosures. You need special lamps. You need to teach them to eat, drink, and enjoy each others company. Forget it.

And yet... We are always tempted to bring animals here. We have the space, the grasses, the trees. We even have a wreck of a structure once called a barn. It seems only right to populate it.

We investigated the dozen breeds of cheeps scheduled to arrive at Farm and Fleet next week and picked ones we thought were perfect, I mean perfect for us! (Never mind that the site that reviews chicken breeds hasn't an unkind word to say about any kind of chicken anywhere on the planet! They're all friendly, good, producing perfect eggs all the time, asking nothing more of you than to give them some cheap food and water and a place to escape from the world's nasty predators.)

We pick our preferred chickens: A Plymouth Barred Rock, a Speckled Sussex and maybe a Partridge Cochin. So beautiful!

And here's our first mistake: we tell Snowdrop. She immediately has names for them! She is excited! And now we are super excited! We are all just a bunch of kids pretending to be grownups.

But now come the particulars: how do we set up the chick home for the months before they can go outside?

There is my approach: we buy the necessary equipment, do as the books say, cross our fingers. We make sure Snowdrop washes her hands before and after touching the chicks. We consider building a bigger coop to house our growing flock. We don't think about the digging up of plants. We think, instead about the joy of watching our cheepers do their silly chicken antics.

Then there is Ed's approach: we buy absolutely nothing except for food and the chicks themselves. We cut up milk cartons for dishes and use old lightbulbs for heat. We more or less follow the stuff some people on the internet might suggest, but it's not like baking a cake: you don't have to be exact! The coop is big enough, so don't even think about getting a bigger one. Besides, they've all taken to falling asleep all over the barn walls, so where they get shoved in for the night hardly matters.


Time to take a pause, to clear the head and lungs, time to walk on this still cool but sunny day.

Ed picks out yet another trail that is close by yet unfamiliar to us -- in and around the Lake Kegonsa State Park.

And it's very pretty. Not exciting perhaps, but a good place to roam for about two hours.






Pine plantation.






Melting ice cover over Lake Waubesa...






Bluejay blue...






And from there, we drive to Farm and Fleet. We need chick food. We need a lamp clip.

The day of the arrival of the new chicks is awfully near.

Still, he and I just do not approach the new additions in the same way.

Aw heck. It doesn't matter. For the most part, he is the one who cares for the cheepers. Let him construct whatever he wants.

We come home. Ed works endlessly on regulating the heat over the soon to be baby chick home.

Then he goes out to put away the three big girls. And it's the usual these days: reaching for them perched somewhere high in the barn, grabbing them as they squawk, hoping that they stay put as he reaches for the next one.

He returns to the farmhouse and says -- we have it fairly easy now. Should we really rock the boat? Chase after five or six cheepers each night? Let them all scratch your garden?

Wait, you're having second thoughts??
No, not exactly...

To be continued.

Friday

Sunshine! It's so beautiful, especially now that the cold of winter is receding! The soil warms, the trees and shrubs shake off their winter stiffness, the cheepers wait for the worms to come to the surface.  (Goodbye, snowman.)





Sure, expectations run high. When can we see the first spring flowers??
But in my view, it's good to feel excited. I am like Snowdrop -- I look forward to the adventures that come with being out and about.

Breakfast, in the sun room.






It's still cold outside -- hovering around freezing or just a degree above. No matter. It's grocery shopping day. And the cold snap is a passing thing. We are on our way to the Great Spring Warmup!

For now, the flowers are limited to the ones on the kitchen table.

(Coffee break, before picking up Snowdrop...)






Wait, am I wrong? Are there signs of blooms outside? As Snowdrop and I leave her school, I see them. Right out front!






(She is happy, yes, of course, though she thinks my over-the-top glee at the sight of the flowers is... curious.)






At the farmette, she indulges in her last stomp and romp through wet patches of snow...






"Let me feed the cheepers!"






Telling ahah: and there were yellow flowers and we found an egg!






"Can we all have some tea now?"






Ball time. Of sorts.






And now she finds various hair ties. Can I have pig tails? Ah, finally. She's letting me tie back her hair and it's not even for ballet.






Yeah!






Happy girl!






It seems that the hair game isn't over yet. Can I wear your ponytail band? She pulls it off of my hair before I think to protest.

She runs to the sun room, finds my folder of tax forms (haven't mailed them yet!) on the chair, dumps it all unceremoniously on the floor and sets to work on the continuation of the art museum. (In truth, what she likes most is using the huge scissors to cut the ribbons of colorful tape.)






Do I wear you out, grandma?





I know she'd like me to say yes...
Yes, you wear me out, Snowdrop... Well, not really. No, not ever.

Thursday

Oh that sunshine! I like to look out at your radiant presence, even when I do spend the day sequestered inside, typing away!

The cheepers know the bitter cold is a passing thing. I glance up and see Java -- she seems terribly assured, given that she is walking on snow on a chilly March morning.
Where are your buddies, Java?
(If she could talk she would tell me: laying eggs. Yes, we're back in the egg production business again. Except for big Java. Freeloader.)






Breakfast, in the sun room.






I pick up Snowdrop at the usual time, but today I find her outside with a handful of other non nappers. She seems energetic, proudly sporting a baseball cap from her daddy, collecting bits of "nature" as per teacher's suggestion.






But she is tired. I can tell. She's fragile as we pull up to the farmhouse. She doesn't like where I park the car. It's different, it makes her feel even more off-kilter. I say to her that I, as the driver, have to make the parking decisions. I carry her in and, clinging to me, she tells me, with big tears in her eyes, "I don't want to be a mommy now!"
Too much responsibility? Too many weighty decisions to make (such as where to park the car)? I reassure her -- sweet one, you're still a little girl!
She calms down. She snuggles into my shoulders and clarifies -- I don't want to be a mommy or a little girl. I want to be a big girl!

Inside, we read, she revives, narrates her tales...






... with all the gestures and emphases that they deserve...






...But I sense the need for a slower pace. We retreat to books and even a viewing of Peg and Cat (another good PBS kid video, for the uninitiated).






Only toward evening does she settle comfortably into her world of play again.


Sometimes, when Snowdrop and I romp and play and Ed joins us and she is so very happy to have our silly attention, I think -- her world is very lovely indeed. But I'm going through this process of growing up for the third time now -- there was my own, there were my kids, and now I have this grandgirl (to be followed by other grandkids) and by now it doesn't take much to have me remember that it really isn't always easy being a kid.


In the evening Ed and I test the temperature under a heat lamp that he has dug up from his storehouse of bits and rejects. Were we to get chicks next week, we'd have to create a spot for them where it's reliably 90F (32C).
It works!  -- he tells me.
We are going to have to make a decision on this baby chick project. But not today. One step at a time -- that's always the best way to move forward.

just a few words today...

Sunshine and cold air -- that's the recipe for this day. It's fine. It's temporary. It's pretty. Cheepers are ambivalent.






Breakfast is lovely.





And then I write. I have to be done with this project already. No more excuses. I write.


In the afternoon, I pick up a girl who is more than ready for her Wednesday ballet class!











(At the studio...)






(Learning...)











Today, they are reenacting the tale of the twelve little princesses. One young dancer leaves the room crying when a teacher wraps a black cape of the soldier (prince?) around her shoulders. Snowdrop takes it in, then opts for her usual smile of joy.















And in the evening she goes home to celebrate her daddy's birthday and I go home to reheat chili and write. When the weather improves, I'll slow down my efforts to be done with this project. For now I write.

the last big snow

We wake up to wet, heavy, beautiful snow. Indeed, it is the only wet snowfall of the winter. For the first time it's not impossible to roll a snowball!















It stays just a breath above freezing. Still, the cheepers are not happy.

What? Snow again? What is this??






Java is the brave one today. She is determined to make her way up the path.






You bold sweet thing! This is no weather for a chicken! (I pick her up and carry her to the dryness of the garage.)






Breakfast. At the kitchen table, so that we can admire the snow hitting the screen on the porch.






I shovel paths, Ed shovels the driveway. The cheepers appreciate the clearings.






Snowdrop is thrilled to be coming to the farmette after school. Snow play!






(Yes, one pink mitt and one purple mitt. Do you like them, grandma? I picked them!)






But as we came into the farmhouse, ostensibly to put on winter wear, she changed her mind. The warm house, the favorite toys, the snacks, the books -- they trump the snow outside. Perhaps she is making a statement: I'm ready for spring, nothing else will do!






At some point, water play douses her clothes. Snowdrop's dream of wearing pj's is realized!






Clothes dry off on the heating vent.

And now the little one is getting ready to go home. Just one more wild play of ball!






And, with the last few minutes left, she returns to her story.















To be continued. Tomorrow and the next day and the day after.


We have a few cool days ahead. Ah, but what a small price to pay for what comes then!