Monday

No more grumblings about the cold! Looking ahead, I see the coming of the first Arctic blast. The chill of today is nothing! A mere drop in the winter bucket!

Grow those winter feathers quickly, cheepers!






On Mondays, my photos are nearly always abundant and child-centered. That's no surprise: my grandkids fill my waking hours -- the challenge is in balancing the photo taking between the two. Today, there is an even split: the morning photos belong entirely to Sparrow and the afternoon -- to Snowdrop.

Both kids had a rough start to their time here: Sparrow is doing another growth spurt ("I'm hungry all the time! Feed me! Feed me!") and Snowdrop had fallen into a deep sleep at school nap time. It was tough to wake her! But both kids rallied and gave us (me, Ed, each other) their best.

Let me break it down a little.

Sparrow is with us early. So early that I keep him busy playing for a while, giving Ed a chance to sleep a little longer.






Initially, he is in a calm mood. I push it by taking out a needle and thread to move some buttons around on his overalls, while he is wearing them. He is not pleased with my maneuvers. His protests wake Ed. You could say that Sparrow did the work for me: I was really hungry for breakfast. Someone had to wake the sleeping guy upstairs!

We all sit down to breakfast. ("Hey, speak for yourself! I'm not getting any of that yummy looking oatmeal!")






(This is his "what now, grandma?" look.)






Sometime in the late morning, Sparrow naps. He has somewhat of a rough wake up. I cheer him up by showing him his own reflection in the upstairs mirror.






It's not great weather for outdoor play. I try to explain to him that a carpet of golden maple leaves is both rare and beautiful. He listens, unconvinced.






(Here's Peach, ever hopeful. She's getting her feathers back and is laying right along with the young girls. The other older ones are still molting.)






There is nothing so thrilling as coming into a warm house after spending time in the windy and somewhat wet outdoors. Add to it a hearty lunch and life becomes utterly fabulous.






And now we flip the coin and focus on the girl: it's afternoon and Snowdrop is done with school. Her brother does us a tremendous favor and bounces patiently in his bouncy chair while I read her a couple of chapters of a new book. She is such a happy girl as a result.






Ready for play!






Gaga, I want to take some paper and measure the rubber ducks!
Okay...
And I want to teach my babies to measure.
Okay...
First you have to put the ducks here, draw a line...






(Her baby I'm told is struggling. Snowdrop is patient...)






This is when Ed comes in. He'd been working on collecting water samples from the pipes in the basement. Who knew that testing your water could be so complicated!

They share a few oranges and now he is heading out again and Snowdrop wants to go with him. It's lightly raining, but hey, that would not stop either one of them.

They're gone a long time. She wants to put something in the mailbox. He wants to put away the cheepers. They then pretend to be birds in a forest...






He tells her he loves the sound of rain, she tells him it's her very favorite sound too.







It is completely dark when the kids leave. They don't mind it. Stepping out into the night as colorful lights twinkle along the path before you can be somewhat magical, to a little girl, to a baby too.


At the farmhouse, I scramble some farmette eggs (we have so many!), steam up some veggies and toss a salad. I finish up a bubbly wine we'd opened yesterday. Ed and I settle in for a very peaceful evening on the couch.

watery Sunday

A wet wet day. The rain comes down, steadily (though not with much force). We stay indoors.

Breakfast is in the sunless front room.






I step outside only briefly...






Especially since we have much to do inside -- of the cerebral reckoning sort. In reading the NYTimes, I come across an article on well water contamination in Wisconsin. It's pervasive. We, of course, live on a former farm and we do have a well. It had been tested and it passed, mostly with flying colors, though with some small presence of nitrates. We put thoughts of well water aside.

Every now and then I would say -- we really need to have it retested. Last fall, I even went so far as to order the testing kit from the state lab. But, it's a complicated thing and I let it go. I mean, it's not as if cattle have roamed here in recent decades. (Which is a sorry excuse for inertia, but it worked for me. Nitrates remain my main concern.)

(To my credit, I buy bottled water for all kids who come to the farmhouse and for all pregnant moms who eat here. The only person who consumes lots of well water, daily, is me -- in my very numerous teas and coffees. The current wisdom is that adults are not affected by elevated nitrate levels, but of course, that's an ever changing piece of science. On the upside, the super duper hardness of our water is so healthy that one sip and you are on your way to a centennial birthday!)

Today, we decide to get with it. We prepare the tubes for testing. We fill out forms. Tomorrow morning we'll send the samples to the lab. It could be that we will have to install complicated filtration systems. Or maybe do nothing at all. We'll let the scientists decide.

(The farmhouse, fronted by the giant maples...)







In the evening, three out of four young family members come for dinner. (One has work commitments.)

Snowdrop is in love with predinner snacks. I'm kind of low on the usuals. Cheese and crackers? Sure. And that's about it. Gaga, do you have beets? Gulp... How about olives? Well...

She makes do.






In the meantime, Sparrow just laughs and laughs.






Dinner is special. The holiday season brings to our store (frozen) lobster tails. True, they are small (4 oz). But if you make pasta with tomatoes and asparagus, you can throw in a chopped up (4 oz)  lobster tail and have yourself a feast!






Baby Sparrow is wistful. One more month, little guy! Maybe not for crustaceans, but for some form of mush.





It's dark outside, of course. It was dark when they came, very dark when they left. You'll guess that it wasn't dark at all here at the farmhouse. Not at any time this week. Not at all.

Saturday

One could say that I do a lot for my kids. There is the care of grandkids -- I'll give them whatever time I have. And dinners -- I'll cook for them anything, whenever they want to come for dinner.  But of course, you could also argue that I'm not doing this just for them: I love them to pieces and being around them and their kids, makes me happy. So I do it also for myself.

But today, for a good half hour I thought -- I am so doing this one for my girl! Every ounce of me hates it, but I will do it, because she is my daughter and I love my girls oh so very much (one should note that she never asked for it, btw)!

Okay, all that was at 10:05 a.m.

Earlier, I fed the animals and admired the gorgeous farmette landscape.






And I had breakfast. With Diane, because Ed was still very much asleep.





Then, as Diane readied herself for her departure, I got on my moped and headed downtown for the farmers market. My girl loves the pesto sauce sold there. On this terribly cold day, I'm determined to get a few jars for her for the long winter ahead.

It is a brutal ride. I knew it right away, as I picked up speed along our rural road, but once I pointed that Rosie nose toward my destination, I could not turn back. I can do this! I can do this!

I think it may have been 100 degrees below zero.  I am so very windblown and cold. (But not so cold that I can't take out my camera while riding, to take this photo...)






Finally. I am at the market. I scoot around the perimeters. You're not going to see much fresh produce in November. But at Snug Haven Farms 9the place that supplies us with spinach all winter long), I pick up several bags of heavenly arugula.






And of course, I get the Renaissance Farms pesto.

And now I am finally back home. Beautiful, gold-bathed, farmhouse home.






It takes me several hours to warm up from that ride!


Eventually, Diane has to leave, The wind tosses around another batch of leaves, I shop for groceries, and finally, Ed and I retreat to the warmth of our little house for the evening.

It's quiet tonight. The kind of quiet that follows the wonderfulness of several very very chatter filled days.

Friday

You gotta love Fridays! You wake up to one and say to yourself -- I survived the week! How good is that!! (Even if the week wasn't especially troubled, we all live with schedules that are bursting at the seams and so the very fact of working our way through them deserves a great big cheer.)

This particular Friday is all good! Lovely, in fact. Partly sunny and cold, but hey -- it's November! Do you see how naked the trees are by now?






(Pepper, hoping that she has better access to treats  from this elevated position.)






For breakfast, I am once again with my two friends. And Ed.
















After, resisting the temptation to stay put in the warm embrace of the farmhouse, Diane, Barbara and I head out. You can't expect to find much color in November, but nor should you despair and give up hope for anything at all. Consider this pretty scene, in the morning light of the faremtte.






I'm amused (and delighted) that my two friends find so much pleasure in driving along the rural roads. I share this love of Wisconsin countryside with them.We pause in the little village of Paoli -- it's home to a handful of art galleries and we visit them all...






But we don't linger too long. At around noon, I have this visitor again!






And of course, in the afternoon, I pick up this little girl from school:






Can I have a peanut butter sandwich? 






(An end of the week rest...)






Evening. There is still a friend dinner (with coctails!) at Sardine...






And a later evening outing to visit friend families. But I think I'll leave you with this photo. Taken at a Paoli art gallery. So many years of hanging out together! So many good years of life!

and so begins November

Oh, friends! How grand their presence in my life! I'm thinking of two right now: one who lives in Florida, the other in New Mexico. You've heard of them -- we've crisscrossed each others paths for most of our lives.

What exactly have we done together? Gone to school, traveled -- many times and to far away places, with kids, without kids, watched first marriages turn complicated, gone to weddings of our children, gone to second weddings of some of us, discussed grandkids -- endlessly, drank tons of espressos and not a few glasses of rosé, cooked, hiked, sat on trains, planes, and automobiles together. I tell Snowdrop they're like my American sibs. Last night, they flew into Madison. Diane is staying at the farmhouse, Barbara is with her kin in town and today and the next day the three of us are wonderfully in each other's hair.

Beginning with breakfast.






Oh! Look who else stopped by (for a few hours)!






Our young visitor plays, eats, rests, and leaves.

And in the afternoon I go to pick up Snowdrop. Oh, the joy of leaf piles!






And chickens.






And stories. SO many stories...






In the evening, my two pals and I cook and talk. So much to review, think about, enjoy.






Those are, of course, the best moments with friends -- when you can laugh at the absurdities, past and present. And then, sit down to a meal together (joined by Ed for this) and chuckle once more.

last day of October

The month of October is showing off with a spectacular final act.  The skies are hazy at first, but the air is gently warm, in an autumnal kind of way.






(The cheepers follow me to the front yard, rustling along the golden maple carpet.)






For the next few months, Sparrow will be adding Wednesday mornings to his time with me. He shows up early, dressed for the last day of October.
Can you say boo?  Oh, that sounds more like an ahhh. Good enough!






(Like any 4.5 month old, Sparrow loves to stare at himself in the mirror...)






The little guy eats, but we put off our own morning meal until later. Ed isn't ready for it, I'm not ready for it.

Finally, long after he leaves, we do a proper later morning breakfast.






As the day progresses, the skies clear. The kids could not ask for a better Wisconsin Halloween! Such a beautiful, beautiful day!

The robins are frantically going after those apples. I love watching them, but there is a price to pay for all that apple consumption: the birds do not digest the seeds and crab apple seedlings sprout everywhere! And what doesn't fall to the ground falls on the cars that are parked under the great willow where the birds like to rest after their eating frenzy.






Never mind, it's all rather beautiful. Red birds, red apples, red sheep shed -- all in a petticoat of gold.






In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. (The little girl and her puffin who goes back and forth each day with her, except on the day she forgot him. That was a morning of great drama. But not today -- today the hazy sun is with us and puffie is firmly in her grip.)






(At the farmhouse: so many stories in that little head waiting to come out...)






In the late, late afternoon, I tell her it's time to head home for Halloween!

 Okay okay okay! Right after a quick romp with the chickens.





Trick-or-treating from one pumpkin  bedecked door to the next is such an American kid ritual! True, when I was a child living in a Manhattan apartment, I felt shy and silly going from door to door. I had a UNICEF box and I hid behind it and tried to collect pennies for that worthy organization instead of candy for myself, even though I was nuts about sweets in those days. Still, it felt strange knocking on doors. Then came Halloween in Madison with my own kids. Now that was a big deal!

And it is a big deal for Snowdrop too! Here she is, getting ready to set out with Sparrow. She is  Princess Aurora, he is Orca the whale.






Since their dad has work commitments tonight, I am stepping in to help. A sitter comes over to stay at the house and give out candy (the sitter has many, many sitting talents; one I love is her ability to fashion anything and everything out of Snowdrop's hair; tonight, she crafts for the girl a princess bun).






We eat a quick dinner then set out. (Sparrow is in the stroller where he promptly falls asleep.)






The night grows dark, the girl grows bolder...






... then, after many many houses and a bucket full of candy, she wears out. Double strollers were invented for the long walk back after a Halloween night out.

And Sparrow? Well, he doesn't get the candy, but he enjoys chewing on his whale fin.






Snowdrop gets her sweet allotment for the night...






She's happy as can be, even though she can't finish her three wee sized pieces of candy.





The pleasure is all in the beautiful evening, surely not just in the swizzler stick (deep pink!) or in the Reese's peanut butter nugget.