Monday once more

It will be the start of summer on June 21st and unlike the last season, which was slower than slow in coming, summer is very much with us already. Even if you didn't know that it is steamy warm here today, you can tell we've left spring behind, just by casting your eye on the flower fields.






I spend the morning doing all that one does when a big family weekend has come and gone: wash linens (to have things ready for a future visit), fold napkins from the wonderful family meals, straighten this, put away that, thinking all the while how good it was to have everyone here.

And in this way, slowly, I transition to the week ahead.

(Morning walk, just to check up on possible garden trouble spots, with a detour to feed the chickens...)






It really is too steamy hot (and truck noisy!) to eat breakfast on the porch. The morning meal is supposed to transition us to the demands of the day, no matter what they may be. But if you're fighting the heat and noise, you've lost your calm already. That wont do.

(View toward the gardens, from the porch...)






We eat in the kitchen.





The day is a bit interesting: Sparrow comes to the farmhouse to be left here while parents attend to stuff. It's when you're alone with your youngest ones that you really begin to study them as individuals, separate from their parents. It is when they learn to tolerate your peculiarities and you begin to notice the tiny stuff that make them uniquely delightful.

(Here, Sparrow is testing Snowdrop's old play quilt: he doesn't mind the occasional pink... he's cool about color.)






(With eyes wide open...)






And now the rains start coming, one cloudburst at a time. Snowdrop comes to the farm straight from camp and she considers her options.






Inside. Everything about the day suggests that we play inside.

For the few hours she is here, we do nothing more (and nothing less) than play pretend. Here, we're in the thick of Art Class. I'm the teacher (so says Snowdrop). The assignment is to draw a house with something in it. A family!  -- she tells me.

And now her stories begin.
















And so we've all found our new normal. True, nothing about young children remains the same from one day to the next. Still, we search for patterns and slowly we find them. And a Monday becomes a Monday once more.

the close of a family weekend

A family get together is not easy to orchestrate, particularly when babies and young kids are in the mix and distances between households are not small. The things that can go wrong! Work demands, bad weather, upset tummies, tired little bodies -- any of these may topple the best laid plans.

Or, you may be lucky, like I was this weekend: everything just sort of falls into place. No one is sick, the weather stands in no one's way, babies gurgle and show off new skills (Primrose chose this farmhouse night to sleep right through it, Sparrow -- well, he really discovered the joy of moving seamlessly between eating to napping), parents and us older types grinned and jiggled and danced with the wee ones, and talked about old times, because that's what you do when a new generation emerges and your childhood or even parenthood becomes that much more remote.

It is our last day together. It is also Father's Day and so I'll start my family photo album with Primrose, early in the morning, chatting with her dad about this and that.






I fix a simple brunch. Fruit of course. Pancakes, bacon, and a spinach-mushroom-potato-cheese frittata, because a  brunch at the farmhouse almost always has a frittata. With a dozen fresh eggs from the cheepers, you can't lose!






We're all at the table! Well, two men are missing from this shot: a dad and his son. You can't sit down a newborn, even if you do have a miracle table that can accommodate many!






A few last minutes with the Chicago clan. Yes, Snowdrop, you can hold and hug your cousin.






Yes, Primrose, your eyes are bluer than my sweater!






Yes, little Snowdrop, you can have another piece of strawberry rhubarb Basque cake.






Yes, little babies, you've had a busy weekend! Rest now... just rest.












A family photograph is also not easy to orchestrate! One baby may be hungry, another may be sleepy. A child can grow impatient, someone may be missing, someone else may be in a hurry. I hand the camera to Ed. He knows I want to at least give it a try. Take one or two and maybe we'll be lucky! -- I tell him.

Yeah, I think we fared well today. This weekend. This spring. Pretty damn well!







And then the Chicago crew sets off. Good bye, have a safe trip, come back very very soon!


Hey, dad of remaining two, want to try for a photo?





There! We are on a roll!


Afternoon: the farmhouse is quiet. The air outside is steamy hot. But the bugs are down (Ed is furiously studying mosquito data to try to understand why: is it the work of his traps? the construction?) and we have these tomatoes that are only doing well if planted away from the big tomato field. So we dig and transplant about a half dozen more. We now have several dozen tomato plants growing in various farmette spots. Maybe by the end of the season we will have figured out why some tomatoes thrive and others teeter totter toward maturity.

Hot work!






But it does give me a chance to notice the little detail in the garden that I love so much: like the climbing pea plant with the beautiful delicate flowers...






Still, it's not a day for prolonged outdoor work. And perhaps that's a good thing, because I have Sunday dinner to fix!

Because it is Father's Day, I prepare something that I'm sure will appeal to my daughter's husband: he loves the variously seasoned sardines sold in the south of France and I just happen to have carted over a few tins from my last trip there (which seems a million years ago). Time to fix a salad Nicoise, with mustard-lemon vinaigrette.


 



(Snowdrop loves green beans and doesn't mind the sardines too much. But, she's always easy to please if you add to her plate an ear of corn.!)






The day draws to a close. One more minute of play, one more song to sing. Snowdrop does a beautiful heartfelt rendition of "Whoa My Pony" -- a song I learned in school when I was little and one that I used on the diaper table with my girls, working their little feet to the rhythm of the bouncy tune. It's absolutely disarming to hear Snowdrop sing it now.

 




Children are mirrors to your soul. You wonder on that night you read them a story when you were so tired if they even noticed or cared.

Oh yes, they noticed and cared. And  don't be surprised if you hear them singing that song, or see them reading that same very long story to their child several decades later.

Thoughts, no longer spinning from the excitement of the weekend ahead, but instead floating slowly, gently, as I recall the dances, the smiles, giggles, the quiet times, the chatty times, the beautiful times of this glorious family weekend.

family weekend, continued

Oh the storms! They raced through south central Wisconsin in the middle of the night, flooding homes, streets, construction sites, toppling flowers, unnerving at least one person at the farmhouse (me!). How could you sleep through that?

It turns out many people could, including all farmhouse guests and one resident (ed, not me!).

Still, I'm up early. I take a stroll through the gardens, shaking off the water from the toppled phlox...






... and whoa! whats this?? A beautiful day lily that tells me that the lily season is at long last here, ready to bring a rainbow of colors to the flower beds.






The youngest farmhouse guest appears to wake up as her cousin does when she sleeps here: with a big grin and a readiness to start the day.






Breakfast first. It's going to be a very hot day, but in the early hours, it merely feels summer-warm.

Primrose, welcome to one of my favorite routines: having a morning pause on the porch.






Ed, I want to hold her -- this little girl with cow pajamas and inquisitive eyes!






Her parents bathe and dress her. Oh, radish girl, you do look like you're ready to have a grand day!






Check out my sandals, grandma!






Everyone wants to go to the farmers market! It's an ambitious plan: there is a mom who gave birth just a week ago. There is the newborn. There is the three year old who in theory does love the market, but has some reservations on the hottest of hot days, especially when the early summer crowds can be intense. And of course there's the Chicago babe who doesn't quite know what she's in for.

Still, everyone is determined! The grownups love this summer ritual too much to put it aside just because there now are young ones among us. Too, there is the cool, shaded Capitol lawn for a post market romp (and a study of three-leaf clovers)...






"This will be my highest jump EVER!"






(An uncle for three years, a father for nearly three months...)






I'm not one for posed pictures, but I do want this one. I should note that I'm wearing a dress I found recently in a stored cardboard box: it was one of my pregnancy dresses. Fast forward a few decades and here I am, with daughters and grandkids!






So how was the market excursion? Perfect!






We spend the afternoon at my older girl's home. Because we see her less often, our eyes are on the wee Chicago girl.

Here she is, with dad...






... with mom...






But never do we forget the other two: here's little Sparrow, getting so many hugs and cradles from Snowdrop! (She is superb at supporting him in all the right places...)






(My older girl remembers that her little sister loved cheetohs as she was growing up. This modern day version is much more sophisticated and you can actually taste the cheese in it. She brings out a big bowl now and of course, Snowdrop follows in the footsteps of her aunt!)





And here's what makes me insanely happy: I have such powerful feelings for all these guys! I mean I just love them to pieces, with all my heart. And this is the joyous part: I know that everywhere I look, there are people whose hearts, too, are filled with intense love: toward kids, grandkids, toward partners, spouses, toward siblings, toward all the people who make their lives, our lives beautifully full and intensely rewarding. Just being in each others company, doing nothing more complicated than that, is sublime!

(My daughters, granddaughters, grandson...)






Evening. We're back at the farmhouse. I'm baby sitting Primrose while the young couple goes out to celebrate their anniversary. Four years ago (almost to the day), they held their wedding at the farmette and now here we are again, with all these little ones, with all this love...





Forgive me for getting a wee bit sentimental in this post. This spring has given us a lot of happiness. When I sit back and write about a family weekend, it comes rushing to the surface -- all that tearful gratefulness, all that profound joy.

family weekend

A weekend to remember!

It starts early.

I'm up at 4. Blame it on the storms, blame it on the anticipation, blame it on the very long list of things to do.

Blame it on happiness.

You'll know that the younger family is coming up from Chicago to meet Sparrow and to spend time in this place of my daughter's childhood (and of their wedding!).

But first, after a thorough house tidying, I settle in to eat breakfast.






(Stop Sign settles in to spend the day watching our comings and going.)






At last: the meeting of the boy and his aunt and uncle...






Two babes, so close in age, slated to watch the other grow up... (My younger girl holds Sparrow, her husband holds Primrose.)






(a switch around...)






Primrose: "wow, my family's crazy nice!"






"but, is he, like, gonna roll over on me??"






"Go to sleep, six day old child!"






Time for me to pick up Snowdrop. She is so busy making play-doh cakes for me with her good friend.






Never let it be said that the little girl doesn't pause to smell the flowers...






And now we're back at her house. Hi Primrose!!






A reading moment: Primrose likes the first parts alright. She finds the last pages a tad predictable.






We are all at the farmhouse! Welcome, Primrose! It's your first farmette visit!






"I think I'm gonna like it here!"





We have supper (take-out Mexican): for the first time, all nine of us are at the large table. And I learn something: to get everyone to look photo-normal while they're eating dinner is hard! (In this shot, you can't see Sparrow as he chose to sleep this one out.)





There is so much activity! But it is a fine evening. Everyone is delightful, everyone has a heart full of play. And love.

(Primrose, kissing mommy good night)





What a day what a day what a day!

I'll sleep when  this week, or make this summer, or make that this year are over. For now, I'm just riding the wave of a grand family weekend.