November snow

It's rare to see snow in November these days. Okay, let's rephrase that: in our increasingly snow-less winters, we are especially unlikely to see snow in the last weeks of Autumn. And yes, this is a marked difference from years gone by. I remember when I moved to Wisconsin, part of the Thanksgiving ritual was to take a walk before getting started on dinner. The landscape was often snow-covered and beautiful. Currier & Ives stuff. That was then (forty-five years ago). These days kids can't even count on snow for winter break.

Nonetheless, today it snowed. Not significantly, and not early on. Indeed, there's sunshine to start us off!

Now that we no longer have a drought, sunlight in the morning is very lovely indeed.

But I do have a list of things to accomplish and on that list is picking up more croissants and breads from Madison Sourdough (downtown).

I know that many in France cannot survive without their daily croissant in the morning, but I'll say this: if you quit that addiction for a few days (because honestly, granola or oatmeal are much healthier), then when you do return to your beloved buttery crescent roll (especially with homemade blueberry jam!), you are in heaven.

I have done my final potted plant transport for over-wintering at the farmhouse. (Additionally, I'm over-wintering the giant orchids in the sheep shed.) Our windowsills are full! Not all will thrive, but I expect all will survive until next spring. A few images for you:

The rest of the morning is spent on organizing the farmhouse so that things run smoothly and Ed eats healthily in my absence. I'm going away tomorrow for a much anticipated "walk." I planned that walk for Friday, but I need a chunk of Thursday (i.e. tomorrow) to get there. 

And pretty quickly it's 1:45 -- the time I have to leave to pick up the kids at school (it's a bit of a drive from here).

And this is when the snow flurries arrive. Are you near kids (anybody's kids!) when the first snow of the year hits the great outdoors? You know the excitement then. I think it rivals the arrival of Santa Claus!

It's the scheduled after school ice cream day, which I suppose makes no sense, except that kids don't find the mix of snow outside and ice cream inside to be odd.

And in the evening, the flakes grow in size, landing niftly on the kids' hair, their jackets. You'd think they'd been poured over with chocolate. Squeals of glee!

 

I'm home again. With soup ready for us now. All it needs is a few minutes in the microwave and a generous hand with the grated cheese. On the couch, sorting through thirty free days of Paramount Plus on our "big screen." So happy to be here. But also thinking about my walk, not here. On Friday. More on that tomorrow.

With love...

Tuesday, seize it!

First, the blue paragraphs, to be passed over if you do not want to hear another word about America's election.

Have I stopped thinking about/talking about it? Of course not. But I have moved to thinking more about a long trajectory of events, of the recurrence of seemingly weird election results. It goes something like that: capitalism (or, to use a less loaded term -- a market economy) has to produce inequality. No, I'm not saying that other systems are necessarily preferable, and yes it's obvious that there will be gradations, but just stay with me on this basic point: there will be inequality under a free market economy. It's a given.

If that's the case, in democratic elections the governing party can always be trumped (pardon the expression, it's not altogether intentional) by the one sidelined in the previous election, if that sidelined party usurps the argument of inequality and makes it their own, laying blame on the governing leadership for all that's not yours to have.  Nothing is required except that they convince those with fewer resources that their situation is dire. Not hard considering that there are plenty who are doing better than you or me.

But the conclusion seems to be that capitalism will (more often than not) unseat even the most competent leadership (I'm not passing judgment on our president here) in favor of a replacement. And so we have to cycle through like this, knocking down even the best systems/programs/structures, because you'll always find those who will be convinced that nothing good will come of staying the course. Because they're suffering (relatively or for real), while others are not.

The demand for an overhaul, for an about face -- it wont be the last one. There will always be another so long as there is inequality. Which, as I said, is a given. I suppose for the Democrats, the consolation is that two can play the game and the pendulum will swing once again. Eventually. Unless we all implode from exacerbated inequalities in the meantime (and from poor governance because of course there's that to worry about), because frankly, our wealth disparities are ridiculous, even though I myself can't see any value in shooting yourself in the foot and wrecking programs that help you, but maybe that's just me. You have to admire the optimism behind a desire to wreck everything just to see what happens next.

Here's a fun fact, related to wealth inequality, but I promise you, having nothing to do with the election: when I was visiting my Urgent Care doc this weekend, as I noted here, we talked about travel. Venice, yes that. But also US travel. I mentioned my theoretical love for National Parks (theoretical because I dont like the fact that they are over-loved and thus extremely crowded in places, and wild and difficult to access in other places -- those where Ed would like to hike and pitch a tent). I told him how I had once, as a little girl, looked up and saw the Grand Tetons and how I was instantly smitten. He laughed at that and said -- do you know that Wyoming (home of the Grand Tetons) is now a favorite destination for the rich and famous? That they have plunked down mansions and ranches there worth millions?

I almost didn't believe him. Wyoming, the Tetons -- aren't these places wild and beautiful? I googled a simple thing: what famous people have homes in Jackson? (Jackson is at the foot of the Tetons, so I would guess that's where everyone likes to go.) And lo! I get this: Sandra Bullock, Kanye West and Kim Kardashian, Harrison Ford. Bill Gates. Matthew McConaughey, Natalie Portman. Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Uma Thurman, Bratt Pitt. The list goes on.

Oh. My. Word.

I had no idea. It's the usual: expansive land, away from crowds, low taxes or no taxes. This morning, still under the quilt, with Ed there, I say to him -- do you know that Wyoming is the place to live if you're super rich and famous? He responds -- there are a lot of rich and famous people in this country. They probably live all over. Let's see which of the rich and famous live in Wisconsin. We google it. The list includes no one that either of us has ever heard of.

Outside? Wet from all that rain. Not too cold -- which tells me I should seize the day and do outdoor work because it is about to become really cold and it will stay cold going forward, for several weeks. Maybe the whole winter.

Does that look dreary? Let me throw in some breakfast flowers to brighten your day.

And something that will make you smile: chickens slurping leftover spaghetti!

Ed "joins" me for breakfast, but much later. We talk about the weather because we have a hard time scheduling outdoor work when the forecasts do not give us anything good to work with. Wet and not too cold today, but cold and not too wet tomorrow. And the next day. Oh, and add gusty winds and freezing temperatures that will kill the rest of the annuals and grasses outside next week. You think it's bare out there now? At least we still have spots of color. And even the occasional bloom.

(in the meadow)

It will end in a couple of days. I have my winter jacket on the ready.

By noon, we very much have the feeling that it's now or never. Ed digs out the one big and beautiful artichoke plant (he thinks he can overwinter it in the basement -- ever the gardening optimist!). I get on the tractor-mower to go over the places where leaves have covered the grasses. Mowing in November shreds and mulches everything. Honestly, it's my least favorite project -- the tractor-mower smells, bounces incessantly, and makes noise. But it has to be done and yeah, by kid pick up time I am finished!

 

The kids are with me this afternoon. Nothing new there. Well, one is more grumpy than the other. I'm not sure why. It could well be that when one is having an especially good week, the other one feels especially vulnerable. (Sort of like in the general population, don't you think?)

Still, they play/read/eat nicely at the farmhouse. The car ride is a bit testy though and I am tempted to insist on a period of classical music listening, except that they both seem to need to talk through their issues in life, and so in the end I let them go at it.

 

Home. I need to make some soup tonight. It's that kind of a day. Veggie soup, with cannelloni beans, sprinkled with grated parmesan. Mmmmm....

Monday cozy

Not a day for outdoor work/walk/play. Cold, wet. You know the kind? Where it feels colder than the freezing temps of a deep winter, because it's just so bone-chilling, as only damp days can be? Exactly. It's what's out there today. Foggy too. At least I dont have to go anywhere...

But what's this? A flower? This late in the season? You gotta love that...

I have breakfast with my friend Bee. Well, she's in Warsaw, so way past the breakfast hour for her. But we Zoom while I crunch on my granola.

Technology at its finest. Everyday life made better by our ability to connect. Write a few words -- click, send. Turn on your screen, invite for a Zoom chat and you're almost in the next room. I'm old enough to remember high phone bills for any call made outside your immediate neighborhood! I do not take it for granted. It's fabulous to have this ability to keep your far away friends close to your heart. 

And then it rained.

And rained.

And rained.

Isn't this a fine day for holiday shopping? Of the type where you do not have to leave your house? 

I pick up the one girl who does not mind rain. I honestly think it's because she is driven to and picked up from school. No one ever tells her -- would you run over to the store and get me a carton of milk? She has not yet had a summer job and when she does, I doubt that it will require working in the rain.  Kids these days!! And yet... Maybe she just likes being wet?

(She talks me into Culver's drive up. The flavor is chocolate Reeses! My favorite! True, Reeses Peanut Butter cups are your favorite candy bar.... Gaga, it's not a candy bar. It's not a rectangle. So Milkey Way is a candy bar but Reeses aren't? Milkey Ways aren't either. They have stuff inside. Never argue with an almost ten year old. They don't give up. Ever.)

It's Monday and so it's ballet for her and grocery shopping for me. All in the relentless November rain.

Until it rains no more. I pull up in our driveway. It's dark of course. I carry in the bags full of foods and I think -- does everyone love unpacking foods and filling the fridge, or is it just me? I'm feeling grateful. For the foods. For the dry night. For Zoom. For Ed patiently waiting inside.

with love...

Sunday thoughts

Breakfast conversation with Ed goes something like this: I'm wondering -- how do you govern, how do you lead in a country (indeed, in a world) where no matter what you do, or what the other candidate would have done, there will always be inequality, there will always be not only shades of truth floating around, but downright falsehoods coming in a steady stream from one side, and people, large swaths of people believing those false claims, and there will forever be someone doing better in life than you, and, too, suspicion and distrust of newcomers, and a belief that you are owed a better life than the one you have now. How do you deal with all that? (A question right up there with "how do you end a war so that neither side appears to have lost?")

This was our discussion over bakery goods from Madison Sourdough via Tati's.

 

And it is once again a late breakfast, because after taking care of the animals..

I went over to the pharmacy to wreck my gut yet again with antibiotics, much needed for my foot, but still, not appreciated by my good-bacteria hungry gut!

On the way back I picked up the pastries. Healthy eating? Saved for another day!

Ed bikes today. He doesn't want to, the weather is so dreary and cold, but he skipped last Wednesday and frankly, in November this is as good as it gets. Me, I fix dinner for the young family. And I put on my music playlist -- the one I call "Travel" because that is just about the only time I listen to playlists. And I dance. The cat named after my rhythmic movements (Dance!) freaks out and runs away. (She hates rapid motion.) The played list brings up I'm Yours (by Jason Mraz) and I think how much I've come to associate rather randomly heard songs with my best moments with Ed. I will forever hear La ou je t'emmenerai and think of driving with him from our rented rooms in Sorede to Franqui Beach. And I'm Yours? It was playing just once when he and I biked over to McFarland to get coffee. I must have been so happy at that moment because when I hear it now, I smile at the image of that coffee shop and us in it, in a flood of sunshine coming in through the large windows.  Ed is completely a-musical, which is a good thing I suppose. Music doesn't move him one way or another. I live in a climate of calm. It rubs off!

[Still, I have musical memories. You do as well maybe? Not all are captured on my playlist, but some are! I hear Home by Vanessa Carlton and I remember listening to it the first time Ed went away sailing. I had a miserable ten days -- not because he was sailing, but because everything went wrong soon after he left, and then we argued big time over the phone -- him in Puerto Rico, me at the farmhouse. The only big argument of our life together. And yet, the song makes me remember how much I loved him then. And Mystery of Love -- one time I was hearing it at a daughter's house. My son-in-law said, almost under his breath -- that is the most perfect song. Since then, when I hear it (it's on my playlist), I think how much he must love my girl and it makes me smile. And Hey There Delilah -- listened to a lot when my youngest was in law school. On the way back from visits out east with her. And Maledetta Primavera --  a song that my older girl loved singing, especially in the car, on family road trips. Oh, that one in Massachussetts, to Cape Cod. And so many more! Do you see why I love tuning into my list when traveling? Memories come flying. It brings everyone close to me. It's like snuggling with an overstuffed teddybear.]

Okay, dinner.

Here they come. All well and happy.

At the kitchen table now. Do you remember when the sun was streaming onto the porch as we ate our Sunday meal? Ha! Not anymore!

I had kept my playlist going this evening. Almost by accident. And as the meal ended, and the songs played on, two of the little guys and their mom were moved to dance, and suddenly the kitchen was a place of music and movement and joy.

Such a good way to end the week!

Now comes a half week of calm, before everything gets tossed into the air again! It's going to be a very busy set of days weeks months! Are you yearning for posts on how to be bored without really trying? Come back in February!

With love...

November Saturday

Each day puts before us something good, something special. Something sweet and charming. Something to relish, appreciate, feel humbled by. However, some days bring more of all that than other days. Yesterday's sunshine pulled us out of our cocoon and had us zipping along the bike trail with enthusiasm. The lake, the trees, the wildlife, the fading sun, and eventually the full moon --- they were all thrilling! It didn't matter that the coffee shop had run out of foods to sell, and that I had to settle for a yogurt to accompany my afternoon coffee. It didn't matter that I had had a blinding eye doc visit earlier. The day felt full and fabulous.

Then came this day. Saturday. Gray and cold and windy. I hadn't slept well. Why? Because I have a foot infection and it was bugging me no end. In the middle of the night I decided it needed a good soak. It helped, but believe me, once you sit up soaking a foot at 3 a.m., you're not going to quickly fall asleep after. Ed thought I should go see a doc. If Ed thought that, then it must be really bad, no? So I told myself -- first thing in the morning. I'll pay Urgent Care a visit.

And of course, it just had to be a very cold and dreary morning.

We eat breakfast. Ed asks why I wasn't at Urgent Care. Because when I called, they said it's close to a two hour wait. And that maybe in the afternoon things may loosen up.

 

 

We stay indoors the whole morning, but by lunchtime, we are both getting restless. Can you walk? -- he asks me. Sure, if I can find a pair of shoes that wont kill me.

We set out, me in my gardening clogs. 

It's not a long drive -- maybe 7 minutes to our local county park. We pass a field of sandhill cranes. Here, you can see some of these graceful creatures at the side of the road: 

Ed and I had just heard on the news that hunters are angling to get permission to hunt them again. The cranes had been scarce, but their population has swelled recently so that they aren't endangered any more. At the moment. The argument put forth is the usual one -- they destroy some portion of a farmer's crop.

This seems absurd to us: we see the cranes in harvested cornfields, where they peck away at fallen kernels. No way could these birds swoop down on a field of growing corn and chomp away at full ears! And so what damage could they possibly be doing? And if you hunt one down, what are you going to do with it? Pluck the feathers and eat a roasted crane for dinner? 

I hope none of this comes to pass. 

We walk our favorite trail. It is so windy that I almost suggest we turn back, but we do not turn back. Once out of that comfy house, we are not going to let go of this walk!

And it revives us. By the end, we dont care about the wind, about the cold. The air smells lovely -- full of those scents of spent fallen leaves, of late autumn. It's so satisfying to be there among the tall grasses, walking, climbing, feeling energized, feeling healthy!

But there is that infection, so I drop Ed off at the farmhouse and head out to Urgent Care, where of course the line of sick people has only grown. ("Dont worry," the receptionist tells me, "we separate the ones who are coughing and put them in a different waiting area!" Me and my foot are grateful.)

Two and a half hours later, just before the clinic closes, my doc comes in to see me. He takes one look, writes out a prescription  for an antibiotic and tells me to soak the foot as much as possible. Meaning, my 3 a.m. strategy was a good one. All that takes all of two minutes, so we chat a while after -- he's had such a long day! I tell him I'd like to be able to walk again by next weekend because I have a very special walk in mind. I explain it in great detail.

Hmmm, you're doing it in this weather? He has doubts. But then he sits back and closes his eyes, thinking back to another time: 30 years ago, he and his then new wife went for a honeymoon trip to Venice. It was November. It was cold. Wet. It was the most beautiful trip they'd ever taken. He tells me how someone handed him tickets to some small concert in some unfamiliar old church, to which they went by boat... He smiles. I'll have to take my wife to Venice in November again! It was an incredible time to be there. Thanks for the trip down memory lane...

As I left, I thought about this virtue that one can slap right onto November: the month is so awful, that no one wants to do anything nice during it. Crowded spaces empty out. You are suddenly immersed in scenery that is stripped of outsiders. It's just you in that forest, or on that Venetian canal. Me, I'm not going to Venice next weekend, but still, I'm going for a walk and I expect the weather will be not great and there will be few people and therein lies the beauty of it all: you have it to yourself -- everything out there, it's yours, while the world huddles inside, waiting for this awful weather to move on.

Something to look forward to. Only in November.

a different kind of Friday

Well, the young family is down with a bug. All of them except for Sparrow, who notably had this same bug earlier in the week. So far, Ed and I are unaffected. Cross your fingers!

It does mean that my plan for the day changes. 

Not the get-up-early-and-feed-the-animals-in-the-gloom-of-a-November-morning part. That stays the same. There is color though: the red crab apples still dazzle.

But after my morning walk -- you could say that the day oscillates and moves under the power of the full moon. It is unpredictable. It has a bit of magic too.

First, the mundane. An eye doc appointment. Yawn...  So long as I am in the area of my favorite grocery store, I restock afterwards. With sunglasses on because the glare from the appointment stays with me way too long.

All this means we eat breakfast... after 11. That is significantly late for me. But I do get Ed at the table, and a hungry Ed at that. Both of us devour our sweet rolls.

The skies clear. Yes, it's chilly, but I do not have kids here today and so when Ed proposes we go for a bike ride, I throw him a thumbs up sign. When he suggests that we bike over to the town of McFarland and get a late lunch/snack at the cafe there, I go for double thumbs up. It's a splendid idea!

We set out in mid afternoon, but of course, the mid-afternoon in mid-November leaves us with few hours of daylight. No matter. It's a forty minute ride to the cafe.

We linger there. A long time. So much to review! His machine design work, the elections, travel. They're all related! We want to step back from politics, but we cannot. The mind keeps spinning back to November 5th, when most of Americans voted for what we have now. And so small business owners, instead of discussing product development and technological upgrades, are scrambling to figure out how to remain afloat. In planning my next travel, I tell him I'm rethinking the way I go about my decisions on where and when. If I avoided countries with extreme political regimes in place (either in past decades, or now), I'm thinking -- wait a minute. That's who we are now!

Eventually we bike back. The long way.

The sun is almost down for the day. Deer in the harvested cornfields, ducks settling on the still waters of a pond. Lovely stuff. And eventually, we spot the moon.

It's a super moon: full at its closest orbit to the Earth. The beaver moon. A beautiful sight. Makes you feel hopeful somehow. Reassurred. The next super moon comes in October 2025. Between now and then, there will be laughter, there will be love.

even grayer, wetter, colder

Of course I'm glad it's drizzling. Yes, we need that rain to counter the drought that hit us in the late summer and fall. But just because something is good for us, doesn't mean we necessarily have to like it. I consider this to be yukky November weather. Need I say more? (And equally dismal is the forecast for this winter in Wisconsin: cold, but with less than the average amounts of snow. It seems that we are slated to have yet another winter with little of the white stuff. Groan...)

Breakfast, however, is always lovely. Oatmeal, of course. Cold and wet outside, oatmeal inside.

Ed asked me if I would go with him to the Expo Center this morning. It's a day for Robots and Brats. Tormach -- the company he has been involved with since its inception -- is putting on some kind of machine demo (among many other robotics demos). He wants to go, and for some reason he seems to want me to tag along as well. He tells me I may get some good photos. This is of course nonsense. To take a good photo, you have to know your subject matter. I have been to machining shows with him before and have always come back disgusted with my pics. Nonetheless, he rarely ventures out and rarely, therefore, asks me to go places, and so I agree. 

And predictably, I come back with lousy photos. Here's one from his team, talking up the robotics arm and the milling machine. And though you see a woman listening in, I bet she was not there to get robotics info. Maybe a friend of a friend? The room was pretty much 50 guys to every female. His team pushed back when I talked about the absence of women in the field, but honestly, the proof is in the pudding.

They're serving brats to the attendees and my non-red meat eating guy stands in line with the rest to get his brat. Handed out with onions and chips and Mello-Yellow or Coke. Tell me what in there sounds tasty let alone healthy to you? The chips maybe. I take a bag home with me.

 

Home briefly and then I am off to pick up the kids.

Gaga, it's ice cream day!

Ice cream day?? You have got to be kidding...

But they're correct: Snowdrop had her choice treat one day this week (french fries), Sparrow gets his choice of treat for the week. 

 

 

 

 

 

And the little guy always picks ice cream even on this grayer, wetter, colder day. And yes, he is still wearing a tie and she is still refusing to wear socks. Kids!!

 (At home, Snowdrop claims Ed needs a back pounding, aka a back massage...)

So ends another November day. With leftover fish chopped up over a salad for supper -- that's how much cooking enthusiasm I had in me today. (But it was good, so there's that!) 

It really is hard to believe that the election was just last week, isn't it? I no longer read the analyses because they seem more fueled by emotion and bias than by any observable reality. One person says this, the next affirms or disagrees and so it continues. I did look at ratings outside our borders and I noted that more than 75% of French people disagreed with the choices made by Americans this November.  I have to think Poland's numbers would skew even higher. Leaders who claim friendship with that guy to the east aren't typically admired in countries to the west.

Ed and I watch a movie -- a not especially good one. We've been on a movie losing streak lately. But the chocolate squares that I bring out for it -- winners all! 

There is a bright side out there! Always. Well, nearly always.

With love...

classic November

It's cold enough outside that if you are not yet used to winter cold, you shiver with every step. It's gray. The leaves -- except for the big maples -- are mostly gone. The flower fields should be trimmed and shaped for winter but I'm not in the mood for it. The county park paths that we normally love so much do not beckon. Yes, it's the kind of day where you can enjoy the quiet and warmth of a cozy space, except that you know you should not sit all day -- you should be moving. But tell me who in November feels like prancing around outside? Okay, you can always find a sucker out there, but really, she or he will be the exception.

A walk to the barn and back...

Then breakfast -- now that is in fact cozy. And warm. And lovely.

But then I sit down and start reading. Still pulling at post-election threads. Still wondering -- why aren't most voters concerned about, talking about, thinking about climate change? Of course, I understand the answer, but it makes me uneasy: if we can't ever act collectively to protect ourselves from an even slightly distant danger, if it's all about today's price of gas at the pumps, then what hope is there for any of us?

I go out for a walk. A brisk walk. It's not especially enjoyable, but it does give me a surge of good feelings afterwards (of the type where I am thrilled that I'm done with movement for the day and I can now stay home).

Both kids are at the farmhouse today. Everyone's healthy and happy. 

Sparrow has taken to loving ties, Snowdrop still comes with her summer shoes -- no socks, just shoes. You could say they have moved her straight from the August swimming pool to the crispy days of November.

I ask her -- aren't your toes cold? Gaga, these shoes are hot! The girl has an internal thermometer that I completely do not understand.

 

(he couldn't decide whether to go with this classic tie or whether to pull out his bow tie... he loves them both so much!)

 

 

It's no longer good biking weather and so Ed stays home tonight. Good. I bake fish, asparagus. We watch a show about lions. Perfect for a cold November night. Tomorrow? Likely more of the same. But you do get used to the cold. In a few weeks, this weather -- hovering just above the freezing point -- will seem downright balmy.  

Ah, November! You do test one's love for the four seasons! But you haven't broken me! I'm still looking forward to winter.