Thursday

Wet, gloppy, heavy snow. A lot of it, too.  It is such a burden for those having to drive, that schools closed today. At the last minute.

The snowfall began (switching over from a night of rain) just as I set out to feed the animals.

And very quickly it piled up on the walkway, and clung to the tree branches. We watched it come down over breakfast, grateful that we were in no hurry to go out in it.

I'd ordered a grocery delivery for late this morning and so I felt compelled to shovel a path for the poor delivery person who's forced to navigate a slushy slippery mess out there. Heavy as it is to clear, I have to say, it is awfully pretty to look at!

From all sides!

(down the driveway...)

But wet and slippery. The kids are home and I promised that if the roads were drivable, I would come out for a short visit. To give the parent on duty a reprieve for a bit.

I set out, crawling and sliding along a messy highway. But, it's worth it! I get to spend time with all three today!

(studying his book about Number Blocks... what else?)

(stealing the book I finished reading with Snowdrop...)

(settling in to tell her own stories...)

(the brothers descend... Gaga, can you maybe read a book to them so that they would leave my set up alone?)

(the thing is that once I start reading to Sparrow, Snowdrop decides she wants to listen in, and once the two of them are in my lap, Sandpiper is not far behind...)

(photo gratias my daughter)

And in the afternoon I come back home. Lovely views at every turn! 

(At the farmhouse, the quintessentially cosy snack: warmed up half of a croissant with milky coffee)

The snow will be with us for a day or two and then boom! It will melt once again. Typical early spring weather, even if we are still in early February!

Wednesday

It's been said by many:  if you want to stay sharp and avoid the sclerotic thinking so often associated with older age, engage the younger world. Listen to their take on things. Laugh at their humor, be open to their ideas. 

My day was delightfully filled with younger people's stories and perspectives. Not bad, for a middle of the week February day that so many would associate with dreariness and stagnation.

First, though, the usual.

(all hens are now moving around despite the occasional snowy ice patch)

This morning, I see that we have a visit by Pancake. We still do not know if she is feral, but she is here a lot, at the same time that she is terribly afraid of humans. We try to feed her, but most often she runs at the sight of us.

Breakfast, but very very "lite," because we have an early lunch before us. Old people can only eat so much!

I have a haircut then. It has been half a year and I need a trim. The woman who cuts my hair is my daughters' age and she is full of bounce and stories today. She's a mother of a young one, I'm a grandmother of several young ones and some of them happen to go to the same school as her child. Common ground, despite the age difference: there is much to share and compare. And I learn a lot on yet another person's honest and oftentimes amusing take on the whole job of raising a little one. 

Okay, hair is cut...

I drive to pick up Ed and we head out for a lunch at the Weary Traveler. We are a foursome -- with two people from Tormach in addition to the two of us. All those machine designers and software people! Why was I included? Well,  because one of them, a newbie, is (freshly) from Poland.

I sometimes get frustrated with Poles from my generation, but young people so often leave me reeling with hope --  with their determination, their vision for their lives, their almost poetic connection to nature, family, their respect for age -- all of it. So lunch is a total delight.

And then I quickly drop Ed at home and go off to pick up Snowdrop. On the ride home, we review our days and then settled comfortably into a discussion of the sunshine, the lovely warm air outside, the coming of spring. And then she tells me -- but of course, the Groundhog saw his shadow so...

I say the first thing that comes to my head -- you know that that's just a fun saying we tell ourselves? The groundhog's shadow doesn't really predict the coming of spring, right?

She looks at me with that reproachful look that kids are capable of throwing your way: Gaga, I know about the tooth fairy, about the Easter Bunny, but this? You ruined the Groundhog for me!

Really? Oh oh... I'm so sorry! Who knew that the Groundhog story mattered!

Yep, ruined it!

Thinking back, I'm wondering if maybe I did her a favor: if she thought the groundhog was going into hiding for the next six weeks, she should be relieved to know that actually spring may come before that, our February 2nd sunshine to the contrary, notwithstanding. Still feeling apologetic, I promised her compensation in the form of a whole half of my coveted fresh croissant, which I'd picked up earlier on our drive home from lunch.

Perhaps you'll have noticed the bouquet? Flowers arrived today for Valentine's Day! Well, that's not totally true -- they are in anticipation of Valentine's Day because I picked this time to have them here. They are a free gift from the flower company that had sent me a bouquet I had ordered for my holiday table way back in December, when the Amaryllis refused to grow. I dont know if you remember our December, but it was in fact one long Arctic blast. It killed half the flowers in the bunch that was delivered, and the company promised me a freebie at the date of my choice. And so once again, I have a free and beautiful spray of roses on the kitchen table!

Except for a brief check in with Ed...

... Snowdrop and I spend the afternoon reading almost to the end of the book that has held us both captive to its story line for several days (The Penderwicks). I remember being equally enthralled reading some books to my daughters at this age. Excellent stuff that made me feel so grateful that my daughters indulged my love of reading out loud to them. It's hugely wonderful to have a chance to do this all over again with the grandkids.

To be old, yet still a friend to those half, or a third or a tenth of your age is truly fantastic.

I am so very appreciative!

with love...

Tuesday

This is when spring weather can turn ugly: pelting rain, with periods of sleet. The snow melts, but patches of slick ice remain. In case you'd like to avoid sliding on one, say because you value your neck and would like to keep bones in working order, you have the option of squishing your shoe instead into wet mud. At the farmette, that mud can run deep. We have no poured asphalt anywhere. Our walkway to the house is made of laid bricks on soft soil. Our driveway starts off with a short stretch of gravel but then rapidly deteriorates into a cover of wood chips which, for the most part, have decomposed, so -- more mud. Ed has promised to take out most of that muddy dirt come spring and replace it with freshly poured chips, but for now, we will have a late winter and an early spring of a heck of a lot of mud.

We are only a few days into February, but it sure does feel like we are moving in the direction of spring. There was a significant melting of the snow base overnight (with periods of rain) and this process will continue all week. I mean, I like early spring, but honestly, all this seems a little premature. 

(morning walk: oh, hi girls! back to leaving droppings our walkway, are you?)

Still, the smell of wet soil is potent and the markers of early spring are never anything but grand. The animals are happy. I'm happy.

But breakfast is quick and squeezed in between two long Zoom meetings that keep Ed busy from before sunrise until noon. 

I do house chores. Believe me, there are many.

In the afternoon, Snowdrop is here, briefly.

We get so lost in our book that I have us panting to make up the time afterwards to get ready for ballet. It is infuriatingly disconcerting not to know how the story will unfold and Snowdrop and I spend the car ride to ballet speculating what ending to the family saga would be appropriate. (There are five books in the series and so it will be a while before we find out.) We are not allowed to cheat and look ahead, though we can give ourselves hints by peaking at the back covers. She peaked at one, I "innocently glanced" at another and so between the two of us we have hints and then plenty of imagination to take the story in wild directions.

Ballet class: putting on her ballet slippers as only a young kid can do it -- in midair.

I have been watching kids do ballet for more than 15 years. Typically I track daughters' and now grandkids' progress with some care. But Covid interrupted that. First dancing was interrupted, then, when it resumed, the waiting room with the one-way  viewing window was too crowded, so I retreated. I'm still a bit in retreat. I spend most of the time on a bench in a hallway reading. But today I peeked and I had my camera and so I'll include two pics from class. I'll say this much -- Snowdrop surely looks serious about whatever it is that she is reenacting. 

Evening: Ed and I eat eggs (there are so many! the Bresse girls are such solid layers, even in the winter!) and then catch up on news of the day, wishing there was some way to make easier the lives of those in the Ukraine, in Turkey, in Syria. All we can do is take out our credit cards and keep giving. Places that I found easy to work with today: Oxfam (works with local partner organizations providing water, food, shelter and eventually reconstruction), and GlobalGiving (medicine, food, shelter, mental health support). 

With love...

Monday

Sometime in mid August you realize that the summer season is coming to an end. Oh, it'll be hot as hell for a few more weeks, maybe longer. And there are blooms still before us, and we'll eat breakfast on the porch for at least another month, but still, the summer is wrapping up, looking around for suitcases to start packing, because soon it will be time to move on.

We are nearing that time in February, when winter is cresting and small signals begin to appear, telling us that winter is looking for its own suitcases! 

More songbirds in the yard.

More days when the chickens are on the march.

(hey, I already laid my egg in the garage!)

(2 sisters...)

And soon, we'll hear the cranes, returning from their snow bunny days in Alabama. (Read a beautiful piece about their migration in today's paper here!). One of only two crane species native to North America, the sandhill crane, is our Constant Spring and summer companion. Our wetlands are their playground. Our cornfields their dinner party. Poor is an afternoon when we don't see them, rare is the morning when we don't hear their gargled cry. Soon, I can feel it in the air: they're coming home soon.

Breakfast is again with unusual blooms: I had purchased an amaryllis bulb in mid November. Holiday blooms for our family gatherings! Or so I thought. The bulb stayed dormant. Looked dead, to be honest. Still, I watered it weekly, mostly because it was there, on the sill, next to other plants. May as well.

Three months later it sprouts and very quickly produces beautiful flowers! A little late for Christmas, but perfect for Valentine's Day!

And speaking of Valentine's Day, Ed and I finally set out to our favorite local chocolatier for a box of yummy chocolates. Happy Valentine's Day, Ed! Happy Valentine's Day, gorgeous. No new cards this year -- Ed is very big on recycling old ones. Same message after all!

Not too far from the chocolate making place, there is a segment of the Ice Age Trail. We'd never hiked it before, perhaps because it isn't exactly a stunning segment of the trail. Still, it's good enough. Fields and forests and a rapidly encroaching new development to the side.

In the afternoon, I bring Snowdrop to the farmhouse.

Shoes off, socks off (she has her habits!)...

A glance over to see what Ed is up to...

And then we read. The book is a fantastic read-aloud story (actually there are five volumes, so we'll be at it for a while), because there are so many great characters to give voice to, and so we lose ourselves in it for the entire afternoon.

Evening. Time to take her back to her family. Such a beautiful sunset!

And it continues, even after I turn around to drive home.

Can you blame me for pulling over, just to watch?

Each season has its fantastic finale. This one belongs to winter: a grand string of sunsets, one day at a time.

P.S. Here are a few links I found useful for helping those in both Turkey and Syria: Doctors Without Borders, CARE, UNICEF -- targeting Syrian children right now.

With love....

Sunday

You have to love your winters -- that's the yard sign I'd put up were I into yard signs. The more you look for ways to love them up here, in Wisconsin, the happier you'll be.

Today was easy to love: a breath above freezing (maybe by one degree), gently sunny, with just enough breeze to send a kite flying.

Chickens, heading out!

Changed their minds. It's not that warm! Besides, the food is back in the barn.

Breakfast is all fruits and cakes -- perfect for a February morning meal!

And just a bit later, Ed and I go out to take a look at the Frozen Assets Winter Festival on Lake Mendota. Ice sculptures, ice skating, kite flying. A few kite skiers, bike riders,  a lot of kids liking the freedom of tumbling around on top of the lake. Really, nothing more than that, nothing less.

Yep, gotta love our winters!

I wish we had taken the grandkids, but on the other hand, they would have wanted to join the kite flyers (you could purchase kites on the spot from the Kite Club) and flying a kite on the lake is no easy feat, especially for the more complicated kites that are just soooo attractive -- to adults and kids alike.

It's good to see people strolling on the frozen lake. It reminds you of what's underneath all that snow and ice -- a water basin rich with aquatic life. Something to honor and preserve.

(Ed and cats)

(Our cats love winter too! Inside, on the bed, in sunshine.)

In the evening the young family is here for dinner once again. It's been a while!

We all love familiar routines and the kids fall into theirs: cheese and long crackers for Sparrow, plain cheese for Sandpiper. The boys play, while Snowdrop lingers in the kitchen, listening in on adult conversation.

At some point the two older guys go and mess with Ed. He is so much stronger than they are that it never quite ends as they planned. There's a lot of laughter in it though. Always.

Dinner: I'm still not changing the menu for them. In the winter  there are only three dinners that I cycle through without much thought to innovation. No one will dispute that if it's Sunday it must be crunchy chicken, or seafood spaghetti time, or just sometimes -- tacos with shrimp. Always with corn, because someone here will have a face riddled with disappointment should there be none on her plate. Adults get a salad too. Rare is the day that I do not make a salad for supper.

(Sandpiper is a happy eater, though his preferences change from day to day.)

A brief after-dinner play.... (the boys dominate the Wobbel board... Snowdrop is itching to take charge of it, but she knows that she has many more opportunities to play with it than they do, so she hangs back...)

They leave, I clean up, Ed and I settle in for our evening together. Always calm, always wonderfully intimate. Our chocolate. Our viewing choice. Our time to stretch out and feel that swell of gratitude for it all.

with love...