a very long breakfast

My porch chairs, which I took from the farmette (Ed and I had purchased them when we first finished the screened porch there) are good for about a 90 minute sit. After that, the back feels rough and my feet need a lift. This is a good thing, or else Millie and I would have lingered from 8 til noon, that's how much I love watching the world from behind the wall of flowers. And sipping my milky coffee.

 

*     *     * 

It is quiet to the front of the house. Were I in the back, I'd hear the rumble of a CAT excavator. There are two empty lots on the other side of the back alley and today the construction people who will eventually build there, are clearing weeds and leveling the "dirt."  And once again I marvel about the timing.They're doing this just as I have finished major digging in Steffi's Gardens. I have hauled hundreds of buckets of stone and construction crap and clay soil there. A drop in the bucket for the lots. Once smoothed over, it will all become the base of a new construction project. But for me, this empty lot made gardening possible. What would have I done with the awful "soil" had I not had that wasteland in the back? Most likely I would have dumped it to the rear of farmette lands. But it would have required so many trips there, and lengthy walks to the back of the property. I thank my lucky stars that many aspects of garden creation fell into my lap with perfect timing.

 

*     *     * 

I spend a few minutes on the bench in Millie's Yard. (Let's face it -- this should be the proper name for our fenced space.) It is the best space for doing nothing. I glance at the roses -- one after the next -- and take in the various other plantings. 

 

 

 

Millie finds her shady spots. 

 

 

 

We are content here, in our bubble of flowers and shade.

*     *     *

By noon, I am sure Millie could use a walk. It's not easy to do this on a leash. She resists going beyond the block (in either directions). Unfamiliar scents cause her to do a doggie stall: sit down and refuse to budge.  And so to the dog park we go!

And walk she does. No running today. Too warm? Too timid? We dont see other dogs. Perhaps she needs their presence to set herself free. 

*     *     *

In the later afternoon, my daughter's friend (who is visiting from California) comes over to check out Steffi's House and to pay his respects to the aging person living there! I haven't seen him since Poland (he traveled with us there). It is so hard to believe that only two months have passed since that trip. Normally I do not clock in so many events into so short a period. Seems like a year at least.

 

*     *     * 

And in the evening Ed is here for a supper of leftovers. He comes at a time when the mood here is rather... subdued. Things are not going well with my friend. All I can do is lean on his shoulder and sigh.

 

with so much love... 

 

embers

I wasn't a Girl Scout (no such option was available to me at my New York City school), but I did go to a Y camp where I sang with the rest of them the song that I've subsequently learned is a Scouting song, titled Each Campfire Lights Anew. And as the embers die away, we wish that we could ever stay, but since we cannot have away, we'll come again another day.

The end of the reunion came today. Honestly, there is a sense of finality to this day that extends far beyond the reunion. I had had three big, no, huge events for this year's summer. The family trip to Poland. The move to Steffi's House. Planting Steffi's garden. And two smaller but no less important ones: Grandma Camp, and finally the Reunion. When I would check off any one of these, I would focus immediately on the next. 

Today, the last of them ended. I spent a morning with Barbara and then drove her to her young family's home. 

And now I am with my own thoughts, and I have no pressing events to which I should shift my attention. No plans. No crunch time because there is no deadline. I did everything I had to do, culminating in this weekend of our reunion, during which I could begin to unwind, or at least imagine life without an immediate event looming before me.

It would be very easy to feel the enormity of it all. A sort of PTSD moment where I fall apart at the idea that I am no longer beholden to an intense series of days. No preparations. No fears of failure. But also no craziness to fill my day. I can now finally sit on the bench in Millie's yard and enjoy a moment of rose gazing. Or read a book in my book corner. Or sip a milky coffee on the porch. 

I can, and yet...

I'm still picking up the pieces. And maybe I dont want to let go of it all just yet, because then I would have to confront my future days and in doing this, I would plunge into useless worry about my sick friend for whom I can do very little these days. 

Still, I am transitioning. Into something else. Though I am too tired to imagine what that something might be.

*     *     *

Barbara and I stayed up late last night. Way past midnight for me. Millie was delighted with the whole weekend and Barbara continued to be delighted with her, so it was a harmonious threesome that sat back and chatted (or occasionally barked) into the wee hours.

This morning, Millie did ask me to please get up at the usual hour and honestly, I was more than happy to do so, because the day is so lovely, the sunlight so gentle, the breeze so cool.

(two morning views)

 

 

 

 

Barbara came down for breakfast...

And here, we lingered forever. This time I do remember what kept us to the table: filling in some blanks. We've known each other forever, and yet there are many things that I either do not know or do not remember about my friend. Like where she lived as a young child. Or what dog she had growing up. Or what was the subject of her dad's work. Or where her daughter had had a bat-mitzvah. Endless details that to me are fascinating because they are like those missing puzzle pieces -- they complete a familiar by now picture. Of course, you never quite finish the project of sharing a past with someone, but still, you feel great every time more pieces are found.

 

 

 

We drove Millie to doggie daycare, we shopped for kombucha, because I had never tried it. (So many things your friends can teach you!) And then I dropped her off and came home.

*     *     * 

I'll be thinking about this summer, this whole year in fact, for a long time. Maybe while sitting outside and enjoying the dapple and dance of the maple leaves in Millie's yard. My tree planted yesterday, tree of love, friendship, of great beauty. 

I'm sure with time I will imagine new projects and develop new ideas on how to clutter up my life. For now though -- I'm giving myself one big exhale. 

with so much love... 

reunion

I'm thinking of Dickens, writing about peaceful London and violent Paris at the end of the 18th century. At several moments this weekend these words kept circling around in my head -- it was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Dickens did a deep dive straight into the paradoxes of the human condition -- the hope and despair, the wisdom and foolishness. My weekend could have served as an example for him: all in one place, in one set of days, the calm and joyful, the worried and agitated. The best of times, the worst of times.

My friends' visit is fabulous. You cannot help but love a day of meals together, of hikes, Millie romps, tree plantings. And yet, weaving its way through the day is this ongoing drama with my ill friend. Sometimes it spikes, sometimes it runs parallel to a joyful moment, sometimes, but not often, I can put it aside. Happy as a clam, unhappy as a clam at low tide. Both at the same time. One doesn't displace the other. 

It's remarkable how adaptable and resilient we can be.

So, about those happy times:

Breakfast, of course.

And then a drive to Prairie Morraine dog park. Yes, with my dog. Of course with my dog. I've not taken Millie there before. She barely manages not to freak out at my local dog park. So many unfamiliar scents! People! Dogs! But yesterday, she managed the nearby park well and so today the three of us -- my reunited law school friends along with me -- drove out with Millie to Prairie Morraine. The park that Henry loved so much. Let's give Millie a chance to fall in love with it as well.

And she does. My pup is cautious, but also cautiously happy. I am gratified to see her not shy away from dogs, nor their owners. For the first time in my life, I am at this wonderful gorgeous park...

... with a dog that just wants to be friends with everyone. Cautiously, but with love and affection for the world and its inhabitants.

The walk is lovely, the weather is perfect. The prairie flowers -- black eyed susan, evening primrose, bee blossom -- in full bloom.

After a good spin around this huge park, we drive to K&A Greenhouse. Barbara had the idea that I should put in a tree that would provide some shade in the Millie yard My furry pup is always on the lookout for shade.. Maybe a river birch? We drive out to look at all the discounted now trees at the nursery.

The birches are tall and threatening to grow to heights and widths that would overwhelm the space.  Moreover, I am warned to be on the look out for birch leaf miner. And provide preventive treatment every couple of years, or else. That felt burdensome. I back away from a birch. How about a redbud? Dont like the leaves that are big and unattractive after the flowers disappear. A maple maybe? No! We have huge maples at the farmette! Talk about overwhelming! 

I have just the thing -- says the nursery person. You know that when they say "I have just the thing" you should be wary of the suggestion. And yet, I think he pointed us to the perfect tree -- a Korean Japanese maple called Jack Frost.

Such dainty leaves, promising great color come fall! And a reasonable height. Perfection itself.

And now we can come home for lunch.  And more discussions about hugely important subjects, so important that I can't at the moment remember any of them, 

Evening. Time to take Diane to the airport. She's due to travel to her own younger family. It's just Barbara and me for dinner tonight. (Pasta, salad...)

Oh and Millie. Until tomorow at least, I have Barbara. And Millie.

 

with so much love... 

reunion

A full day with my two law school friends. Luxury supreme. Oh, and ones who love dogs, especially Millie sized dogs, having themselves been dog owners of just such pups. 

We wake up to a beautiful day. Really gorgeous. Breakfast inside because it's more comfortable there. 

And now the important part: a tour of my flowers (Barbara is a grower, albeit in a New Mexican climate). Millie likes this! She shows off her toy and zoomie run.

 

 

 

Millie, this isn't about you right now! I want to focus on my roses!

 

 

 

Well, maybe it is a little about you! Should we go to the dog park? All four of us? 

 

 

 

Did I tell you that Millie is angelic the whole time? Turns out my pup loves gentle house guests! 

Ones that find working on a puzzle to be positively exciting!  

Lunch at home -- cheese, crackers, fruits...

Dinner at home -- frittata with asparagus, garden tomatoes, Stoneman corn...

 

 

 

And then we just talked. And sipped prosecco. And ate Jeni's ice cream sandwiches. And it was all so good...

with so much love... 

 

reunion

We do it every year: the three of us, best law school friends, get together for a long weekend. In recent years we've been meeting up in Wisconsin. Fond memories, easy for one of us, some family still here for another. We'd rent an AirBnB and spend the hours talking, sometimes over a jigsaw puzzle, sometimes a glass of wine (though that has gone down significantly -- no need to stock up on lots of that anymore!). 

For the last few years, I've been a bit of a wet blanket: three years ago, I had had knee surgery days before the reunion. I was in pain and probably complaining or at least not moving much for the duration. Two years ago I had a hacking cough that woke the dead (leftover from some bug that lasted too long). Last year? I can't remember what last year delivered but I'm sure I was in some ways either less able or impaired or something, because that seems to be my contribution to our time together and sure enough, this year I am the person with the mental baggage of someone who is still reeling from shock. From what, you ask? From the moves, the dogs, and most importantly from a friend being ill.

So, goal for me -- to take in each good moment and not spend our time fretting at something over which I have no control.

But first, my solo morning. My pup is being mischievous. After having a brilliant week of having no accidents, she has had three in the space of 24 hours. I think she is testing the waters. As in -- can I get away with not holding it in? I try to communicate no, without seeming like I am holding anything against her. These days you have to tread gently with dogs -- they have fragile souls that are easily thrown out of wack by a harsh tone.

Breakfast. Peaceful.

(another frequent visitor to my porch lavender)

 

I take her to doggie daycare and drive over to the airport to pick up Diane. Friend number one in terms of arrival, though not in terms of length of time we've known each other. Barbara, friend number two in terms of arrival, has been my pal since 1981. Diane? Only since 1982. 

A torrential rain hits me on my drive. Buckets of water coming at me from all sides. I can't see the road, I can't see anything at all except a light in the car, flashing to tell me all the safety features are disabled by the deluge. (This strikes me as unfortunate since you would think I need more, not fewer safety features while being blinded by a storm.)

I survive. Diane lands. Eventually. All rain is gone, we drive home. 

So long as we are on that side of town, I stop over at Madison Sourdough to pick up croissants and such. Diane has been traveling since 4 a.m. CT. I think the first thing on the agenda is to feed her.

We take it easy. Meaning we talk. 

 

 

 

And pick up Millie who of course has to voice her fears that I am exposing her to someone who definitely is here to strangle her and stuff her down the garbage disposal. (She gets over it quickly enough. Millie is a dog of loud "first time" greetings but a mellow albeit mischievous temperament.)

We eat supper of crackers and cheese and then I go out to pick up Barbara at the airport. Also a day of travel for her. I bet she is tired. I bet Diane is tired. Not me though! I can honestly say that I feel too tired to be tired. Still, we are reasonable people. We are also older people. We go to sleep just slightly after midnight!

 

 

 

with so much love... 

overdue

Overdue books from the library? No, not that. It's been a while since I have had those. I'm overdue with life! The everyday stuff. The roses in Millie's fenced yard need to be watered. The old cameras hanging around in the basement need to be sold. Compost needs a trip to the farmette. Overdue with clearing out the rest of the farmette possessions -- all to be sold or given away. Overdue with testing the water (is the softener doing it's job? I'm not sure..). 

And what do I do about it? Well, breakfast on the porch is very long...

(we have a repeat visitor in the mornings: a hummingbird that just loves the porch flowers)

 

 

Then Millie and I go inside and I take my book to the reading nook and within minutes I doze off. For a good hour.Mybe more...

And now I have to think in terms of priorities again. Roses first (while Millie plays in the yard).

Next? A trip to my daughter's garage sale (it's going well!! lots of kid stuff! cheap!). I say hi to Sparrow at his lemonade stand and pick up Snowdrop, to bring to Steffi's House, with a stop over at Tati's for a lunch date with Ed. I get coffee, she gets Boba, Ed gets lunch, Millie gets a pup cup.

 

 

 

 

 

Snowdrop rests and reads at my place and I make up some pasta for her real lunch...

 

 

 

It's a relaxed afternoon, deliberately so (she tells me she was up until 2 on a sleepover last night and she has a Shakespeare show this evening -- hence the black clothes, which are standard tech crew garb). And as she takes it easy, I water some of the side garden roses. They're overdue for a soak.

I do a lot of rose analysis before and after Snowdrop leaves. There'll be adjustments to make. Maybe this year, maybe next. Some roses need to be moved. Some will go in places that right now are sporting other blooms. I stock of my non-rosy flowers as well.

 

 

 

Moving things around now sets the stage for a good spring. Gardens are never "done." The work and planning and redoing and improving is ongoing. Is it a compulsion? Yes of course. But one that brings calm to the soul and a great deal of satisfaction. This morning, for example, I was sitting out with my breakfast and my Millie when a jogger passes by. She pauses and says -- your garden is so beautiful! 

I really do not look for compliments. They make me squirm and blush. But her words sent a message to me. One that I loved. My flowers are bringing enjoyment, to random strangers, in the way that flowers often bring enjoyment to people who happen to find themselves very close to a flower field. I mumbled a thank you, but what I should have said was -- I am so so glad you felt a spark of joy passing by the garden! It makes me happy to know that. Considering the rather somber Zoom call I was on late into the night concerning the state of health of my friend, I'd say that this brief morning exchange about flowers was a high point in my day. That and watching Snowdrop give Ed a hug. Ed is not easy to hug.

 

 

 

with so much love... 

 

running around

Some days it seems I am again the person who just shuttles things (actually animals and people) around. The distances are not great -- never more than 17 minutes toward a given goal, but still, I am dizzy with all the routes I have to take. In fact, I was driving at one point with Snowdrop and turned on a light, because the arrow indicated that I could do so and she exclaimed -- gaga, where are you going? why did you turn here?! And I truthfully answered -- I don't know!!

 

Breakfast on the porch. Calm. Lovely weather. Well behaved pup. Delicious, all of it.

And then I dithered. I hadn't surfed the internet for a while. I truly dislike what it does to me when it's pointless like this, but I could not decide what I should attack next. So I surfed.

Eventually I took Millie to doggie daycare, because I had a dental appointment (there is never a season within which I dont have at least one dental appointment). From there -- to the young family's house to try to unravel the complexities of schedules. Snowdrop wanted to come over to Steffi's House, but I still had shopping to do, and she hadn't eaten lunch, and she had to be back before 3 to go to school with her friend and set up her locker. I could not think of a good way to fit it all in, so I took her out to lunch (not Culver's please -- this from me), at a coffee shop. They have many good foods for the midday meal at Ancora's Cafe (her choice), but she ordered two platefuls of potatoes. Oh, and an orange juice, because I insisted she had to have something with a plethora of vitamins in it.

From there we went grocery shopping. 90% of the purchases were for me -- for my upcoming weekend, but I made sure that she selected some fruits for herself. I'm sure her family has fruits in their kitchen, but she hasn't bothered to reach for any of them lately, so I instilled into her spacey pre-teen head that the ones she picks now are the ones she must eat today. 

And then home. Her home. Because I had foods to put away.

I did put in some work in Steffi's Garden, but of course, there was still a Millie out there on the other side of town, so I got back into the car and drove to get the pup, thinking -- surely I could have come up with a better schedule for this day! It's funny to title this post "running around." The one thing I did not do is run or walk much today. I dont feel guilty -- I've done plenty of movement recently, but I do feel the lethargy that comes with spending so much time in a car.

Tomorrow I'll do better!

with so much love... 

enlightenment

Life is not about knowing but about learning. If you think you have things figured out then you've closed yourself off to the wonderful possibility of improvement. That's my train of thought for today.

It was a very calm morning. Gentle, with a slower pace, and some old habits thrown in, just to remind myself of how easy it is to create a peaceful moment when you have all components at your fingertips -- a flower, fruit, yogurt, coffee.

It's not a real breakfast, because I have that one ahead of me -- with my two breakfasting friends.

That breakfast was a remarkable meal! A mushroom tart, a blueberry lemon cake -- you could not ask for a better way to spend a morning.

The nice thing about having friends who are even older than you is that they will have that many more layers of wisdom. You benefit from their experiences. (Here's a fun fact: except for two young things and one sort of young soul, all my good friends are older than me!) 

I left feeling deeply satisfied. And just to give you an inkling as to one wisdom (out of the many) that really stuck with me from today -- it was a quote from a book (that I am actually just going to start in on, but one that my friend already read titled "Foster") -- Many’s the man that lost much because he missed a perfect opportunity to say nothing.

(my friend takes making a cup of coffee to a whole new level)

 

I came home to my garden. And I worked hard. Really hard. I mowed, I trimmed, I weeded, I dug another hole. Heavy stuff that made me toil and sweat, with great pleasure. I dont know about you, but hard physical work requires such concentration that I stop thinking about anything beyond the task at hand. What else in life gives you that kind of respite from your anxious thoughts? Okay, reading a book, maybe. But working hard in the yard -- for sure.

In concentrating on my roses, I see that most are doing well. One has a white fly infestation (bring out the Neem!), a handful have some black spot fungus -- understandable given the weather -- but nothing a few snips can't cure.

It is true that when I first got interested in roses, I picked ones that were vibrant in color and available inexpensively. Only after weeks of studying roses, did I develop other selection criteria -- like disease resistance, blooming habits, to say nothing of fragrance and color softness. Height didn't matter on my first round. Now it's very important! The age, too, matters. Older ones give you a head start -- important for a senior just starting in on this project. And especially important is the nursery where they are cultivated: I've had some careless growers send me plants slated to fail (I got my money back on most of them!). Basically I figured out how best to buy roses  now that I no longer intend to buy any! (My planting budget is closed for the year. Besides, the garden is plenty full right now. Any future expansion has to be carefully thought through. Possibly not worth the money.)

I put down my shovel, mower and buckets for the day and set out to pick up Millie. Just when the storms and rains started. Uff! This is what driving under a tornado warning looks like:

 

 

We made it home safely! Of course we did. Ed comes over for a supper of leftovers. Millie rests. And I'm starting to unwind. Not there yet by any means, but getting there. Tonight I'm smiling.

with so much love... 

Camp memories

I have vivid memories of every camp I ever went to as a child. (There were only three, lasting between a month and two months. I liked the first one I went to (Camp Robinson Crusoe in Massachusetts), I disliked the second (a Russian camp on Long Island), and I chose the third, so yes of course, I was slated to like it (a Y camp in New Jersey). But all were memorable.

Having a Grandma Camp in the summer for some of the grandkids isn't really camp. It's just staying with grandma while parents work or do their thing. But we give it that label because to a younger child especially, being away from home alone for a week feels a little like being sent off to camp.

In past years, I developed a routine for this summer week with (most but not all) the grandkids. As they grew older, they became more independent in their play, but they still liked my imposed activities. 

I couldn't plunge into activities this year. The number of grandkids with me fluctuated constantly. Sometimes there was just one. Sometimes two. Sometimes three. Sometimes four. And I would never know how many would be there until the last minute. Nor how and where I would need to return some of them to either another activity or home. This was hard enough, but in addition, because there was another grandmother visiting the local kids (a last minute thing), none of those kids could sleepover with Primrose. Understandable, but still, a real disappointment. And, of course, I am at least mentally and sometimes physically distracted by the health crisis of my friend.

Sounds, pretty chaotic, doesn't it?

I worried. A lot. (And therefore slept little.) About my friend, yes, but also about Primrose. She looks forward to this week, and so do her cousins. In the past, they swam, we went on nature hikes, visits to farms, to lavender fields, to our botanical gardens. We did daily art projects. And of course, there were the famous sleepovers and on those, the kids were the ones who didn't get a ton of sleep but oh, the excitement of those nights!!

This year I tried to plug in some favorites: a trip to the movies, a trip to the mall (hey, they were greatly in favor of this!). The weather was all wrong for water play and I couldn't do excursions because the days were so chopped up. We had no big family dinners, no special meals out (except for Culvers). I didn't think I could manage a restaurant with four kids of varying ages and very different food preferences.

But, as it turns out, kids are resilient. Adaptable. They can pivot faster that most adults can. And they like pizza and corn and there's always plenty of that around. Steffi's House was much easier too -- Two bathrooms, more space. And then there is Millie -- a great distraction, especially for the two Chicago girls. True, keeping my pup quiet was an added challenge for me, but we all managed!

I suppose the toughest hours were for Primrose, at the end of the day, after the cousins left, and for me after Primrose went to bed. Because I worried. My friend bounced from better to worse in a matter of hours. (She bounced back again to better, but of course, that took longer.) 

I would like to believe that the kids will still remember the highlights (and there were plenty of those), much as I remember my camps' highlights. That my stress was well under cover and that I teased them as much as always. Kids dont notice bags under the eyes. They think grownups are all weird anyway, so what we see as odd behavior is, to them, indeed odd-- just like all adult behavior, which, to them is plain nuts.

 

Today, the morning was for me downright relaxing. I walked the dog and fed everyone -- all easy peasy, since my daughter was here to keep Primrose on task.

We didn't linger at home too long because my older girl was expecting us -- we had offered to help again with setting up for the garage sale. And Primrose had a morning of play with Snowdrop -- that was definitely a high point for her.

Millie was delighted to be back in the familiar doggie daycare. She'd been perfectly angelic at home with people coming and going, and it felt good to reward her with a day of the predictable and fun.

I picked up a Culver's lunch for all and then we worked and talked and worked some more and then it was time to take my younger girl and Primrose to the bus stop, so that they could get on their bus home, to Chicago.

I had two hours before I had to pick up Millie. I spent them watering my front garden. It needed that, and I needed that.  Ed came over...

 

 

 

... I fed him some leftovers and then evening came and it was just Millie and me.

There are aspects of camper chaos that I really do miss. And I love nothing more than to have several generations here in the house with me and this is how my week ended. The quiet of the house now is unnerving. I need to get used to it again! 

But I need the rest. Most definitely, I need the rest. I almost want to go upstairs and tell Primrose to turn out the light already. And then I remind myself that maybe tonight I should be the one turning out the light already. 

with so much love...