Tuesday

Ed and I are like two pseudo country people who have no stomach for country facts of life. No sooner have we allowed ourselves to relax about kitten safety, then we are back to worrying what to do with our chicken flock.

It's another bright, cold day. Lovely to the naked eye...





... though I'm sure predators are lurking in wait for the great release date of our girls.

We continue to have no good solutions for the cheepers because honestly, there are no good solutions. (Ed even sent an email to Vital Farms -- a producer of free range eggs, boasting pictures of happy chickens in fields of green grasses and wild flowers and asked -- how do you keep hawks away from your "happy chickens?" He got a long response, but there was no new information: fencing, dogs, roosters, eye balloons, people, bla bla bla. The usual.)

One option still on the table is to get a rooster. A friendly rooster. Personally, I don't believe such an animal exists, but Ed promises to give him up to an ax (we know someone with an ax!) if he should turn mean toward humans.

But a small part of us wonders if it's worth it. There are no guarantees. The woman who lives not too far away and is selling one of her roosters tells us -- "I just don't even let the kids name the chickens. I assume some will be lost to predators in the course of the year. They're chickens. End of story. Last summer, I lost a whole flock in two days to an aggressive weasel."

A weasel?? We never even considered a weasel. We watch youtubes of a weasel killing a rabbit ten times his size. It's brutal!

So maybe we're not cut out for this? But, we have these five girls who are antsy to get out. We continue to brood about our brood.

Hey, but the cats are doing well!






(Stop Sign patrols her territory...)






(Breakfast: calm, contemplative...)







In the afternoon, Snowdrop comes here after school and as always, she is the perfect distraction.

(Still prefers to skip the jacket on walk from car to farmhouse. After all, we got all the way up to 15F, or  -10C today.)






Games: "Rosie goes to school..."






... and "bus stop." I know, it's a puzzler if you've not played it before. Usually we confine ourselves to the kitchen, which is The Original Bus Stop in our game, but Ed has a friend over to talk shop and so Snowdrop and I move our operations upstairs.






... and then downstairs to the sun room, where Snowdrop draws countless pictures of cows eating grass. It gets pretty creative here, in the afternoons.






Time for me to take her home... (Along with the cheddar bunnies. She wasn't done with her snack.)






I haven't had a chat with my older daughter without interruptions for a very long time and so we catch up tonight. And after, I go home and cook up a huge pot of soup.


So did you hear back from the woman with the rooster?
Yes, she sent photos.

We study the pictures. Nice looking guy. But what if there's a meanie behind those regal feathers? I swore I would never go the rooster route again. Yet, what if he really is a sweetie through and through?

Monday

One more early morning walk to feed the animals, in temperatures that make no sense for a March day. Even a Wisconsin March day. (We were at -9F, or -23C when I woke up.) Ed had put up the heater for the cheepers (one last time) and so I am confident that this sudden blast of cold air is not hurting them greatly.






The cats? Well, they're back to sleeping at the farmette, so at least temporarily, we've chased the night predators away. Jacket and Dance overnighted in the garage. Stop Sign? Well, maybe. Or in the barn. She is fond of the barn, possibly because many mice pass through there. So much discarded chicken feed to fill up on if you're a tiny rodent that can squeeze through almost any small space! Wire mesh? No problem! I'm sure when the cheepers sleep, the mice do play in the downstairs part of the coop.






I should finally put the cat questions and worries to rest, but of course, these cats are unpredictable and I am always surprised by how little we know about their needs, their attachments, and their journeys into adulthood and beyond.

Today, not for the first time but perhaps more consistently and without hesitation, Stop Sign asserted herself before her kids. If in the past she'd let them snuggle next to her on the blanket, today she pushed them to the side. Indeed, she made sure they stood back while she ate. Only when she had her small fill, did she step aside and let them take their turn.


 


And though Stop Sign still keeps an eye on them and I'm sure has concerns about their safety, you can tell that she wants them to be independent. And she wants them to know that in this particular space, she comes first. If they want territorial rights -- go look elsewhere, because this place is her domain.

Stop Sign is such a quiet, gentle cat that it always surprises me when she grunts and slaps one of the young ones lightly on the head. But, this is what cat mommies do: they nudge their young ones (right about at 10 weeks) to brave it alone.

Tough love.

Me, I like the more gentle human love that burns strong and never falters, even after our kids have long formed their own familial households. I have to think that if food was scarce, we would worry first about feeding the next generation before we feed ourselves. Indeed, we seem to be programmed to always worry about those that come after us. A good thing, too, or we'd probably behave even more recklessly on this complicated and beautiful planet than we already do.

Today is a day when I have plenty of hours with that next generation. Sparrow is here in the morning!





,
And Snowdrop is here in the afternoon.






Whoa, hold on there! Back to the morning for a little bit. I surely haven't forgotten about breakfast! With the two guys.






And of course, there are the hours of play. Sparrow is approaching 9 months, so he is both stronger and more interested in manipulating his environment. He can still be left on the couch for about ten seconds, without the worry that he'll take off and torpedo himself into some awkward space or position.




I wasn't quite sure at what age I first handed Snowdrop a crayon. (I see now on Ocean that she was exactly ten months old when she attended an art class.) Should I try to see if we have a budding artist in Sparrow?

If enthusiasm counts for something, then the answer is yes. Still, for today, he allowed me to take the lead.






But he was impressed with the possibilities!






And here's another promising toy (for future play): Sparrow seems completely smitten with the toddler legos. It's really too early to have him build stuff. For now, he seems thrilled to be allowed a few minutes with Snowdrop's old play sets.






Thrilled.






And now just a few photos from the afternoon. Snowdrop was raring to set up a pretend game -- one that evolved as the afternoon progressed. (Here she is explaining to Ed the basic set up.)






(Here, she and I are building sand castles on a bus stop. The book is not a book at all, it's a sand castle.)






And toward the end of her time here, we are all on a bus and things have turned rather dramatic. You could say that she and Ed get carried away with the story line.






And the evening came and the little girl went home.


Looking back now, I have no terrible recollections of the cold. All day long, we have had plenty of sunshine outside and though the temperature set all time records, we were made warm by the brightness of the day. Still, the plants men and women in our state will tell you this -- we are going to have a late growing season. It's inevitable. We have too much ice and the frozen ground has yet to see the warming effects of a spring sun.

But we cant complain. It's now just a matter of days. We're in the embrace of March. The snowman may still be standing...





... but the days are longer, and Stop Sign caught a mouse for dinner, and I'm sure the daffodils are getting restless, waiting as impatiently as we are for that wet, mushy soil to lift us up and push us into the start of spring.

Sunday

It's that polar vortex, doing its weather dance again, causing the temperature to plummet, as if running away from the horror of it!

But we don't mind. We know it's the last one. We are confident of that. I dig out my warmest sweater one final time and start thinking about moving all that "warmest stuff" to the back of the closet, in anticipation of spring.

Besides, it's a sunny day. A lovely day!






Just not one for spending much time outside. Unless you're a cat.






You can tell that I have all three here today. This wasn't the case from the getgo, but eventually they trickled in, in their now usual order -- Stop Sign... (looking for me in the barn this morning as I feed the cheepers)


 



... then Dance... (coming in across porch side snowbanks)


 



(joining her mommy in the garage)






... and eventually Jacket. Possibly from yet a different place, though who knows. Animal prints are everywhere. I can no longer opine about who slept where and for what reason.

So here I am in March and I can't believe my luck: we are days away from Spring!

Breakfast, in the sunny front room.






After my trip (short as it was), after any trip, there is a period of catch up. It's shocking how quickly you can fall behind in routine tasks.

And in the evening, the young family, the Madison young family is here for dinner. Let me put up that most impossible photo -- but one I try for every week, as if it could be done! -- that of all of us at the dinner table. I am holding people up, so I must be quick. The kids are stuffing food in -- never an easy thing to put in a photo. Ed is uncooperative. The young parents are so patient with me that I feel inordinately guilty for trampling over the normality of the event with my camera. For all those reasons, it's always the quickest of quick shots. And in its imperfection, I find the perfection of our time at the table. The joy is in the wonderful wackiness of the family meal.






(pre-dinner fun)






(dessert of cookies and fruits)






(Before during and after: stories)






After dinner, there is always at least a little time for play.











And then the young family goes home and as I tidy up, I think about the wonderfulness of this whole last week, even as one could say that the animal issues and the weather issues drove me a tad nuts.

Cold night tonight. I mean, really cold. Super duper cold -- words I would use with my grandkids. And who cares! It's the end of a season. After this week -- we're onto bigger and better things!

a day with Primrose, an evening at the farmette

My trips to Chicago have a very agreeable routine to them: a first evening supper at the young couple's home, with both parents, catching up on stuff. A Friday devoted entirely to being with Primrose. And a Saturday of more play with her, followed by a brunch en famille, in one of Chicago's many many wonderful brunch places.

As always, I keep my camera not too far from my side. These photos are my souvenirs, my true mementos of our time together. With Snowdrop and Sparrow, I'll take a few pics and if I'm satisfied that there is at least one good one, I'll put away the camera for the rest of our play. With Primrose, it's different: I want to remember her every expression.

Take this morning, as I feed her  her morning meal. ("Grandma, why are both of my bowls empty??")






Sometimes, her expression is intuited. Here she is, lost in a book...






I can't see your face, little one!
"Well then read the book, grandma!"






(Photo taken by daughter)






Playing with the girl means I have to anticipate the hurdles and pitfalls she faces.  She is an explorer and I make sure that her bravery doesn't get her in trouble. And occasionally, I'll offer a helping hand to get her across the tough spots.






It also means being there to reassure...

("Where did the bunny rabbit go? No, not the one on my dress, the one that belongs in this car!")





And to figure out good paths to better outcomes.

("Found him!")





It's tough being eleven months old!

When she naps, my daughter and I sit down for a mini breakfast. Fruit, with kefir and honey. Kefir is my fourth favorite beverage of all drinks out there! (You can probably guess the others. Yes, the short list includes fizzy water and cafe creme.)





As we sit down for a leisurely chat, I'm offered a golden latte. I've never had one before. My girl whips up almond milk with turmeric, ginger, cinnamon, black pepper, a drop of coconut oil, and honey. A coffee without the coffee! (I'm thinking that at my age, I have a reservoir of so many favorites that I rarely notice new offerings in stores or coffee shops. My daughters are my link to a world that has moved forward, whether or not I've been paying attention.)

And now Primrose wakes...





And we bundle up for our brunch outing.





The young parents have suggested Fat Rice, a place with a cook who whips up Macanese food like you wouldn't believe! He's good! (And has been well recognized for his talents.)

(Arrival: Primrose takes in the colors and the customers.)





(Studying the menu...)





The restaurant is appended to a bakery which puts out a steady supply of pork buns, croissants with kaya jam, and egg tarts.  Primrose is tempted.





Yum!




The flavors are sublime. I order a chewy rice flour, egg, spinach and shiitake stir fry, with spices that are mind blowing -- both subtle and profound.

There are a lot of talented people in Chicago who cook with passion and commitment. Here's a blurb from the Fat Rice website explaining the goals of the kitchen:

Arguably the world’s first fusion cuisine, the Macanese table includes ingredients and techniques from Portugal, India, South-East Asia, Africa, China and other far reaches of the globe that the Portuguese traveled during the Age of Discovery. It is our goal to preserve, protect and aid in the evolution of the Luso-Asian table.

It's a wonderful meal.

("Can we take some of the piglets home?")




("No, not this time.")






The hard part is giving that last hug and saying good bye. Stay happy and healthy!

Next time I'm in Chicago we will be, at least by the calendar page, fully into spring.


At the farmette all is quiet. Deer come in toward dusk, just as I am driving up...

 



New snow had fallen (of course... what a surprise...), some combination of cats came and now disappeared into the dark night. Ed survived without me.
Have a good time, gorgeous?
Yes, yes I did. 
He pops corn, we settle in for an evening together.