snow ball

the day after a fresh snow, the not-so-little girl wanted to play, to be outside. the snow was so deep, it was chilly, and i had things to do. but outside we went, she running and jumping like a pup through new powder, me dragging my heavy-booted feet and wondering how dinner would get made. we threw this orange ball for the better part of an hour, back and forth, back and forth across the wide expanse of snow. we whipped the ball across the surface making bowling ruts in the snow. we carved out circular depressions for targets and held our breath as the ball circled the perimeters and rolled in. our bodies warmed as our whooping echoed into the woods and through the early evening air. i worried only momentarily that we might disturb neighbors. this was too much fun to be quiet.

as sure as i sit here typing, i know a time will soon come when she's too old to play, when she's not willing to be wet and cold, when friends will replace me, and visits will go to classmates' houses and not mine. i know i will long for days like this one. so dinner be damned, i'll take play like this whenever it comes my way.

one last ride

in this, the month of her birth, the not-so-little girl bemoans the fact that she will soon be too old to ride the mechanical rides at the local outlet mall. for many years, she's been too big to ride them, but every time we're there, she squeezes herself into one and begs for three quarters. being the good grandmother that i am, i, of course, oblige - and off she goes, blissfully a little girl again, laughing and whooping for the two minute ride. but now it's different, because the age limits are clearly posted on each ride, she can read them, and she knows she will very soon be out of the age range.

to mark this mournful passage, i gift wrap a roll of quarters, and off we go, the two of us, on the eve of her birthday, to ride one more time the merry-go-rounds and vehicles and animals that have given her such gleeful joy for so many years. and although it takes more time that we have and more money than we should probably spend, she rides every single one. and that's okay with me.

win-win situation

i love t-ball. it's such a civilized game. everybody plays. everybody's at bat until they hit. everyone runs the bases and comes home. players take turns pitching and catching and everyone has a turn in those positions. the coaches are patient and encouraging. the crowd roots for both teams. there's no score. and when the game is over and it's time to go home, each team gives a cheer to their opponents before players high-five each other.  no better team sport than that!

into the woods

today was our first time in the woods since snow melt. now the canopy is sprinkled with fat clusters of tree flowers and ferns' tight circles begin to poke up through the surface of the ground. the stream courses downhill as the little girl wonders aloud where the water is coming from. she adds many natural elements to the pool, predicting which will sink and which will float, then trying to adapt them so they will do the opposite. we sit together on the damp ground. there may be ticks, i think. but i silently promise to check us carefully - and there we sit, playing in the chill water and revelling in springtime.

the fidget bowl

this tiny bowl has been in the center of my dining table for months now and seems to be earning a permanent place there. for lack of a better term, it's being called the fidget bowl.

in early summer, i put the bowl out and filled it with an assortment of shells, smooth stones, and sea glass collected on beaches over the years. in the weeks before our ocean get-away, the little girl and i sifted through the contents, remembering vacations past and planning for the upcoming one.  when we came back, we added this year's bounty to the collection. then fall came and the summer trinkets were packed away. the bowl was quickly refilled with acorns, pinecones, seed pods, indian corn kernels, and tiny stiff apsen leaves. through autumn, folks sat at the table fidgeting, sorting and stirring with fingers while talking of apple recipes and halloween costumes and preparations for winter. and now in december, the bowl holds the sights and sounds and smells of christmas. we rolled the sweet gum pods as we planned christmas lists and rubbed the cinnamon stick as we composed holiday messages to friends. we jingled bells absentmindedly, waiting for the kitchen timer to signal cookies were finished baking.

as it gets closer to the time of putting christmas away, i wonder what to place in the bowl for the winter months. i think people might miss it if it were empty and i'm pretty sure i've come to rely on it if only a little. even now, i crush the pine needles with my thumbnail to release a hint of their woodsy fragrance as i search for the right word or the correct phrase. as i write, i just fidget.

all that glitter

an impromptu craft session this evening led to a veritable explosion of glitter all over the dining area and kitchen. with great abandon, we glittered gold and silver, the little girl and i, and then tried to clean it up. truly, i had forgotten how persistently clingy glitter can be. to clean our hands, we wiped, we soaked, and we scrubbed, finally resorting to the sticky side of tape to remove the last offending speckles. later tonight, cleaning the table and vacuuming the floor, i chase bright specks, trying to capture them with my cleaning cloths. finally i give up. just for tonight. in the morning, i will try again. but i am pretty sure we're still going to be finding glitter around here well into the new year.

imagine that

marching across the yard yesterday, carrying her creation, after deciding she needed to make this sign that reads stop. i have no idea where she comes up with these things. 

today she asks if i noticed any animals stopping overnight. 

these are the times i'll remember when i think back to this summer. 

not-so-boring board games

there's nothing like a rousing game of candyland in the evening to calm a little girl and make her sleepy! she played with a vengeance and came in a close second, then took almost ninety minutes to settle down and go to sleep! next time, i'll go back to reading her books before bed!

clay date

long have i waited for the day when i could introduce clay to the little girl. our first session was spent making blue and yellow hot dogs, snowmen, and pancakes. note the rolling technique, pictured. i think she's got it! it was good grammie fun - and thankfully, she never once tried to explore the clay by tasting it!

snowman

this sunny saturday afternoon spent playing in the snowy yard with the little girl. here's our snowman, complete with carrot nose, pine cone buttons, and red scarf. all placed under the direction of the little girl, who hugged him briefly upon completion, then moseyed off in search of even more embellishments.

prioritizing christmas

and to think that i thought that i was too busy, that i wouldn't have time, that i was too tired and stressed - and that i almost missed decorating gingerbread men for santa with the little girl. thanks to the girl for making me see the light of christmas - and for making it happen.

just think...i almost missed gingerbread men with belly buttons.

no school snow day

what better way to spend a snowy stay-at-home day than to have a play day with your favorite little girl? books and crayons, music and dancing. a nap by the woodstove. and here's lunch - turkey soup, crackers, milk, and grapes, all consumed with as much gusto as a two-year old can muster, while her babies haven't even woken up from their naps yet.

a saturday in mid-october

begins at the farmers' market with macoun apples, homemade rolls, and beautiful freshly dug carrots for a dollar a bunch. continues at home with the little girl opening dried bean pods, plunking the seeds in a bowl to save for spring planting. smelling each sad herb plant one final time before heaving them all into the compost. raking piles of leaves to leap into and roll about in, shrieking with laughter, as the girl films for posterity. ends in the sitting spot, quiet and alone, with a cup of tea, a grateful heart, and leaves in my hair.

fall, leaves

this picture is probably bad from a technical standpoint. but i find it kind of fascinating in a bizarre way. it was taken in the yard with the macro. the pink blur in the corner is the little girl who had just seconds before scooped up an armful of leaves and tossed them high. and there they are, suspended. sort of.

friday night ritual

at the restaurant with the little girl we color as we wait for our dinners. she giggles with glee each time i color in one the characters' eyes or nose, then grabs the red and scribbles in great round strokes. when the food comes, she helps herself to the side order of rice, spooning it onto her plate with great tenacity and care. later we go home, put on pajamas and socks and snuggle on the couch with books. friday evening is for babysitting - because i want to. the anticipation sometimes gets me through the week.

bringing the corn

the perfect babysitting day with the little girl punctuated with music, heavy equipment, frogs and toads, table settings, and the shucking of the corn for dinner. she exhibits a mean arm as she stands at the edge of the yard pulling husks from ears and flinging them into the compost pile, one handful at a time.

a little tripp, a little culture, a little circus

my head still reels thinking about all the beautiful and unique antiques and collectibles i saw on a visit to a wonderful museum with a good friend. the most amazing was this miniature three-ring circus, 35,000 tiny little performers and animals and circus trappings and audience members. it was carved by the artist over a forty year period, using only a penknife and a treadle jigsaw - and he worked on it only during in his spare time. would that i had spare time like that.

joker

as much as i enjoy word games and puzzles, i am not a fan of board games and cards. but this afternoon for hours i played this new game with two old friends and a new acquaintance - a lovely but rugged 88 year old woman who maintains her own home and property, makes great cookies, and was a patient and understanding teacher to this student who, in spite of the many moments of admitted fun, was quite distracted and very far away.

castles in the ocean air

the arrival of the little girl to the vacation spot unfortunately did not bring the sun. but it was still a perfect time to build a sandcastle (or a birthday cake!) in the summer's biggest sandbox.

concert on the common

a free concert on a village green on the fourth of july weekend. folk music with a celtic, french-canadian feel played on guitar, banjo, ukelele, and bodhrán. byob (bring your own blanket) and free popcorn at the back of the crowd. children dancing in the grass as the musicians sing and play. the american flag flying high above the gazebo in a cloudless blue sky as the crowd sings along at the chorus. a summer evening doesn't get more small town new england - or more wonderful - than that!