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In the Snow

Sunday 14 February 2010

It promised to be a lovely morning: after a day of snow, the forecast was for cloudless skies Saturday morning. I opened my eyes and realized I had to get outside with camera and tripod as fast as possible.

But it was hardly any fun alone. Since we finally had snow, K and I were both eager to get the Girl out into it.

Once outside, L was keen on imitating K and me: in short, she began cleaning. First, seeing us knocking the snow off the car with a broom, she needed to help. But weightier obligations awaited her in the back.

The deck.

When we had a snow an ice day, L enjoyed knocking the ice off the banisters and deck chairs, and she was eager to get to work. In the course of a few minutes, she'd just about knocked off all the ice.

Yesterday, sheÂ applied her expertise to snow. She banged it a few times as experience had taught with the ice, then knocked it off.

If only we could keep this urge to clean in imitation going for another fifteen years or so.

As it was, the cleaning bug lasted only a few more minutes. She knocked some snow off trees and shrubs, then headed to the front.

The great sadness was that the snow was too dry to make even a small snowball, let alone a snowman.

Still, snow angels seemed doable.

"Watch and learn," I told the Girl, then gingerly lowered myself onto the ground. I'd forgottenÂ how quickly the snow invades shoes, sneaks up jackets and settles into just about every article of clothing.

L took a more direct route, and with a flop was wallowing in the snow.

She didn't mind the snow working its way down her boots, up her jacket, around her neck: by the time we forced her back inside, she was covered with it.

Real Snow

Friday 12 February 2010

Not ice. Not sleet. Snow -- actual snow -- began falling just as school let out this afternoon and continued until well into the evening.

Such a rare occurrence in South Carolina that it became the evening entertainment. Some quiet music (Madeleine Peyroux), red wine, and a view of the snow falling.

Certainly all my students are disappointed that all this happened on a Friday, and a Friday before a free Monday (Presidents' Day) to boot. No chance of a snow day.

It's a fairly dry snow, piling up lightly and promising a fun morning with the Girl tomorrow.

Ice

Saturday 30 January 2010

We've lived here long enough to learn through firsthand experience that the Greenville area doesn't get snow; it gets ice. Still, the ground becomes white, and it's inviting to a little girl.

The driveway became a skating rink. Or, more accurately, a slipping-and-sliding rink.

But L's great dream was to make a snowball and throw it. She made a valiant effort, scraping the ice from the ground, forming it into a little ball

and giving it a toss.

Retrieving Apples

Sunday 25 October 2009

A trip to the orchard is supposed to involve stretching to pick the perfect apple that is just out of reach. It's supposed to mean a delicate tug and twist to remove an apple without causing others to fall to the ground. It's supposed to be about branches bending under the weight of apples. Last year it was about all those things. This year, it was a question of picking them off the ground.

It's a little disheartening to be scavenging apples rather than picking them, but Pink Ladies -- sweet with a tart edge and a crunch that is audible -- are not apples one leaves to rot on the ground.

So we picked them,

hauled them in baskets

as well as wagons,

and brushed them off and ate them.

Every now and then, we stopped for a group picture, which reminded me of the greatest features of digital photography: easy sharing. No more line of cameras at the photographer's feet. No more "One more! Just one more!"

No more last minute re-groupings as someone realizes that he wants a group picture, too.

And that certainly was a possibility, given the number of photographers in the group.

Swimming III

Sunday 05 July 2009

We took L for her first swimming lessons when she was six months old. She loved it. Then through some kind of osmosis, she began taking on the fear of the kids around her, I think, and by the end of the series of lessons, she wasn’t wild about swimming.

Last summer, she still clung to her anxieties: we really didn’t go often as a result.

This summer, it’s a different girl with us in the pool.

This makes for different parents in the water, as well.

It has, in short, become a family affair. L floats; L slashes; L jumps — and we have to be there for it all. And that’s not just the parental pride; it’s L’s request.

“Hey guys!” she likes to call out, “Watch me!”

The clearest indicator of how her attitude toward the water has changed is her willingness to jump excitement about jumping.

Again, and again, and again, only occasionally losing her nerve.

Nothing deters her, not even a face full of water. Not even a face entirely under water.

All of this is both gratifying (it’s great to see her overcoming her fear) and terrifying (it’s sometimes heart-stopping to watch her overcoming her fear). During a visit last week, she was being silly at the water’s edge and fell in. I was ten to fifteen feet away, so I swam there in a matter of moments. But those moments seemed eternal as she bobbed about in the water, unable to get her head out of the water, clearly terrified.

Another object lesson in the obvious: parenting isn’t about holding tight, but it is about being close by when those tight embraces are necessary.

Spring Evening

Wednesday 15 April 2009

The trees in the backyard are slowly filling out; the sun came out today after two days' rain. The only option was to get out in the warmth.

Swinging is always the start. Swinging sets the stage for everything else. It often bookends activities in the summer: it's that popular with the Girl.

Afterward a walk -- such a change from last spring's walks.

Baby came with us; turtle had to stay in the mailbox.

Lonely, I'm sure.

Eviction Notice

Sunday 05 April 2009

He flew in with a beak filled with building materials, landing on our back deck banister. L saw him first.

"Tata! Look! A bird!"

We'll have to begin playing "I spy" soon.

The bird sat for a while on the railing, then flew into one of the juniper trees in our backyard. The ones which I'll drastically cut back at some point this spring, thus disturbing the bird, possibly spoiling a nest (though I'll do my best not to).

If only I could have reasoned with him: demolition work ahead. Best build elsewhere.

Spring

Sunday 22 March 2009

In South Carolina, spring comes when the calendar says it does: late March. The tops of trees, where the light is most direct, already have buds beginning to open.

The tulip poplars have buds all over.

In the brush beneath the trees, there is just enough light for some blossoms.

All this inspires me finish up with the leaves that have been blanketing the ground for four months now.

A new mulching mower makes relatively quick work of the leaves (except for those in the rocky, uneven areas that remained undisturbed this time around), turning them into a powder that will improve the soil for the spring of 2011, when we think we might get around to doing something with the backyard. This spring we're concentrating on getting veggies growing; next spring will be the front yard's turn.

Leaves

Monday 03 November 2008

We have quite a few trees in the backyard, including a yellow poplar -- also known as a tulip poplar, which is reflected in its Latin name -- that's probably over 200 years old. There's another one close to it, but it's not nearly as big.

This was one of the things I truly longed for in Poland. The leaves of the few deciduous in Poland, in my experience, simply turned brown and fell off.

We didn't make it to the mountains of North Carolina this year, so a bit of yellow in our backyard will have to do.

Of course nothing can compare to autumn in New England. Reds and oranges that almost make the eyes ache.

Still, it's nice to have a touch of color yellow in one's immediate vicinity.

Autumn on the Parkway

Sunday 22 October 2006

Yesterday, K and I took the Hoary Ones out onto the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Last year we did the same, but the autumnal colors were dim, to say the least -- a dry summer and a drier early autumn meant that the leaves just turned dark and fell off.