I keep having to remind myself that really it isn't spring yet. Whenever I begin to get lulled by the beautiful sunshine and the fifty degree weather I have to remind myself of March 21st two years ago when we signed for this house in the middle of a snow storm and ended up stuck in Ann Arbor and staying with my parents. It was fun, but definitely a Michigan style spring. I am expecting at least one more of those episodes yet this year.

But still there are signs of spring all around us. At the library last Friday we were treated to a special "farm animals" story time, followed by a chance to touch and feed a variety of baby farm animals. What could possibly say spring more than bottle feeding a baby goat?

Maybe tiny peeping baby ducks?

How about maple syrup? On Saturday morning after swim class Jon took Calvin to a  special Parks and Rec presentation on maple syrup. Yummy. Calvin got a chance to crank the tap into the tree and also to taste some freshly made syrup.

Definitely signs of spring everywhere, even if we are in for at least one more snow.

Our little village loves Christmas. All cities have their different way of celebrating the season. Dexter's version includes a weekend of sales, ice sculptures, reindeer, bazaars, tree lighting, feasts, and Santas. Last year we participated in all of the above, but this year the events were all scheduled for one day, and that day just happened to be Sinterklaasavond, so this year we were limited to the bazaars, the library book sale, and Santas.

Calvin thought breakfast with Santa at the Lighthouse Cafe was the bee's knees. What can be better than enjoying pancakes with blueberries and OJ while the big man in red asks you what you want for Chrismtas and continually lets out a jubliant "ho ho ho"? Jon and I enjoyed coffee and a rare meal of adult conversation, since the kid was so taken with watching St. Nick.

Breakfast energied us for the rush at the library book sale. Have I previously mentioned how fantastic our library book sales are? Well, forget it if I did. We don't need any more visitors—we'd like to keep all the books to ourselves. This trip supplied us with a few more classics (Portrait of a Lady! It's within the next few on my to read list, too) and the obligatory handful of children's books (when I picked Calvin up from his afternoon class last week his teacher mentioned to me how very obvious it was that he adores books—I was proud).

The book sale stop got us in the mood for shopping, so after that we hit up the three Christmas bazaars—the Girl Scouts (got a great handmade ornament), the senior center (got a few dandy flea market type items), and the musem (got some great hand mades). This was actually our first trip into the Dexter museum, and I'm intrigued enough to add it to our "must do in 2010" list. All the antiques (old fashioneds, according to Calvin) were pushed out of the way to make room for the various sale tables (hand mades and baked goods), and for Santa and Mrs. Claus (really, Mrs. Clause in a rather short and flirty claus outfit complete with tights and elf shoes). Calvin's second visit (of the day) with the man in red went equally as well as the first. He didn't want to leave.

All that shopping left us just hungry enough to hit up the Koney Island on the way home for their lunch with Santa event. That made Santa number three, and the activity never got old. Last year Calvin's first Santa visit was in the Dexter Gazebo, and we hadn't prepared him for the inevitable "what do you want?" quesiton. He answered with "an African wild dog" last year. This year we were just as lax in our preparation, but Calvin was equal to the task on his own—he had an entire list that he rattled off, clearly and precisely, to each and every Santa, and while the items may not have remained in the same order, they were all there. It also happens to be the same list that he worked out when talking to his grandmother about it a few weeks ago. There is something to be said for cosnistency, and for a good memory.

There are many modern, or semi-modern, conveniences that we rely on every day to make our lives easier, safer, and even more full; electricity, for instance, gives us the lights by which we can see what we are doing, run our sump pump and general appliances, and read books together, without the dangers of an open candle flame.  For these advantages we have to thank the many inventors and brilliant minds who have come before, and for their loss we have to thank the violent hour long storm that graced our area late in the afternoon on Thursday, knocking out the power for 12 plus hours and giving us the chance to more fully recognize their value.  We were very fortunate ourselves;  the high winds that blew siding off one house and our neighbor's metal patio furniture into the vacant lot next door left our home virtually untouched, and the hail that damaged cars throughout the area obviously did not hurt our car, which was in the garage.  And while, as a runner, I have often bemoaned the fact that we live at the top of the hill in the village, as is evidenced by our proximity to the water tower, as I watched the water gathering in our backyard, reaching ever closer to our backyard neighbor's house, which is notably lower than ours on the hill, I told myself that the tiring uphill climb at the end of every run is worth the comfort of a dry basement.  This, of course, was driven home to me when, 12 hours after the storm, the water still ankle deep in the back yard and our sump pump still impotent without its power source, our basement remained dry thanks to that hill and our location upon it.

And while I will remain always thankful for the refrigerator and freezer that allow me to shop only once a week, instead of once a day, and for the washing machine that allows me to spend five minutes washing clothes instead of five hours, and for all the many conveniences which add time back into my day, time that I can then spend enjoying, nurturing, and guiding my growing son, spending some time without the electricity also reminded us of some of the things those conveniences have taken away.  As soon as the storm cleared Calvin and I ventured into the garage to disconnect the door and open manually for Jon, who was undertaking a harrowing drive home through down trees, power lines, and impromptu lakes, and when we opened that door we were greeted with a wonderful sight - our neighborhood was crawling with people who would normally have been shut up tightly in their air conditioned homes, oblivious to the presence of other human existence on their block.  We have friendly relationships with several of our neighbors, more so than ever we enjoyed in our old neighborhood, and when we walked down to the home that we consider to be the social hub of our neighhood we found them taking advantage of their new waterfront property status - the high school aged boys were surfing on the new lake in their backyard, and the parents were gathering to enjoy the antics and each other's company in lieu of regularly scheduled TV programs.  And while Calvin joined in the water play in the yard and we joined in the beer drinking on the patio I thought, momentarily, how nice it would be if we could have a scheduled power outage every once in a while, just to bring back some of what we have lost

I don't know about the rest of you, but I distinctly remember that old high school legend about the senior pranksters who walked a cow up the school stairs and stranded her on the second floor, since cows, as everyone knows, can walk up stairs but not down.  That school must not have had an elevator. 

Our fantastic library has a fantastic summer program every year that brings in events of all kinds to amuse and enrich the kiddos during their summer hiatus from school.  Last year we did everything from enjoy bedtime stories to meet cockroaches (the enormous hissing kind).  This year the library is in a new location with a grand indoor presentation room complete with a stage, and many of the events that took place, regardless of heat or rain, under a tent in their old front yard last summer will now be brought indoors into the relative consistency of air conditioned comfort.  I should not have been surprised, then, to attend today's "Farmyard at the library" activity and find it inside in that grand presentation room.  Besides, that is, the fact that farmyard implies to me an outdoor space complete with grass and mud and any of the various weather elements that see fit to arrive.  This farmyard, however, referred to large (and I do mean large, thankfully) mats covered in hay and a large backdrop painted to look like, well, a farm yard.  While it rained outside we sat comfortably inside and enjoyed, if not the actual sights, the wonderful sounds and smells of a real farm:  The mooing calf, the grunting piglet, the quiet lamb, and the goat that kept trying to eat the large mats.  Farmer John was a really talented presenter and had most of the adults in stitches and most of the kids in awe.  And, since the great indoor presentation room is down a flight of stairs, I just couldn't help thinking of that old high school legend as I watched Farmer John coax his calf into the elevator.  Twice.