it ain't over til it's over

That's a Yogi Berra quote, by the way. Did you know that? (We are heavily focused on baseball this month here in Wisconsin.) Perhaps if you're not a baseball fan (generally speaking, I'm not a baseball fan, only because I think it can be boring, unlike football which I dislike profoundly because it's brutal) -- then you might not know that Yogi Berra was a baseball super star (MVP several times in fact), but he was also known for his kindness, inclusivity (gay rights advocate, spoke up for racial tolerance), financial smarts, devotion to his family, humility. Rare qualities in a person of great fame. 

I thought of him today as I picked up my Rose Book and added one more rose to my list (which thus stands at 95  96 planted -- or will be planted -- roses, and 7 potted ones). I look at the weather and again, there is no freeze in sight. So my gardening window is still open and I got this itch to take out (and give away) the two William Baffin climbers and put in something more in line with what is in the garden now.  Why? A rose is a rose, no? Sure, but the first William Baffin came from the farmette and even though it's a three year old, it has produced scant blooms. That's the trouble with William Baffin -- it's known for miserly repeat blooms (if any). And the second one is an even worse match  -- it was put in by my landscape person back in May. Those were the days when I couldn't do much on my own because I had a renter in Steffi's House. My landscaper chose and put in the rose, and by now I have moved or given away most of what she had planted. Yet there stands her choice, the Baffin rose, in the most prominent place of the front garden, growing bushy and crazy big, with no blooms. And no, it's not that it's working on root establishment. It's just that kind of a rose.

To garden is to move, to give away, to start again and again. And while I'm at it -- there's the rose tree that needs to come out (I'm keeping her, albeit in a pot), and something else that needs to go in. 

My thoughts are on my roses. As usual. Not over till it's over.

 

But, I do understand that there is life outside the Rose Book. For example, Millie and I have a fine breakfast hour...

And then Ed calls and suggests a walk. We are up for it!

(I pick him up at the farmette: Ed, you do know that there is a chicken following you? Yes, she does that all the time now...)

 

 

(at the dog park: late autumn colors)

 

 

 (Miss floppy ears)

 

 

Followed by Tati's -- now a real favorite for Millie. It's the routine of it that's so attractive for her. Ed always sits in the same spot, she always gets her pup cup, what's there not to love?

(did you know that dogs can smile?)

 

 

Back at home I realize that the weather could stay this way forever and I will have spent the last years of my life just thinking about, and learning about, and scheming about roses, and nice as that image may be today, it would be a shame to bypass everything else. 

Reluctantly (very reluctantly!) I take out my spring bulbs, lay them out on the counter and try to draw up a plan of what will go where. Interfering with this is the dahlia project. There has to be room for both -- bulbs and dahlias, and they have to coordinate well with the remainder of the garden. Someone once asked -- what would you rather have, lots of space for roses,  or lots of roses without much space. I've found myself in box number two, and I think that is a good thing -- I cannot let the garden grow so big that it becomes a burden. Nevertheless, lots of roses means I need to think before I plant. Allocate things with care. Too crowded is never good. Plants need room to breathe. 

Maybe tomorrow I will actually begin putting bulbs in the ground. You never know!

What a fantastic month it has been for us! August was tough, September was wobbly, and then came October. The month where for me at least, many good things happen.

with so much love... 

 

same

I have been wondering -- is everyone, even those who are, say 73 years old, terribly rushed all the time, not finishing all that they need to do in the course of the day? Or is it just me? Why is the day so short?! (And no, one hour added once, next weekend, wont help.)

Ed said to me the other day -- you plunge into these things and there's no moderation. Dogs, cameras, gardens, roses, kids -- it never ends.

Well I suppose that's one way of looking at it. Or you could say I get enthusiastic about projects and devote myself fully to doing things that bring me satisfaction, joy, pleasure. Nevertheless, as the day catapults forward at a breakneck pace, I'm left thinking -- shouldn't there be time for just being unoccupied? Maybe even bored? 

Today, I am not bored. 

Millie and I are up and out at a compromise point: not before sunrise (the day before yesterday), not after sunrise (yesterday), but just at sunrise, which today is at 7:21 a.m.

 

 

Yes, it is another beautiful day here in south central Wisconsin. Probably in all of Wisconsin. Perhaps even beyond Wisconsin. So... what if I get completely used to it and get all grumpy and sour when cold wet air returns?  What if I wake up one morning this winter not liking snow?

   not likely.

I take my breakfast to the sunny window of course. The peonies are grocery store stuff and they're cringe worthy since the season for them is ... long ago. But, it's rare for me to love a grocery store flower in late autumn so I turn my back to the wrong season issue and bring home this beautiful three pack (one still hasn't opened)..

 

 

 

Millie naps, I try to process some bills and returns, Millie wakes, we go to doggie daycare.

If I thought yesterday that I might start sorting through daffodils and crocuses and bluebells and tulips -- well, that was an unrealistic expectation. There was still garden fixing to do out there. Last strips of sod to rip out and mulch to put down. Last rose hole to dig out (I mean it! Last one!), Set up corner garage space for wintering over pots of roses and tree roses (in addition to my final tally of 94 planted roses (three still in transit), I will have three tree roses and four new pots with planted baby roses that I hope will survive in the garage. I have bubble wrap and cardboard flooring all ready for them! A trellis to build for two climbers, plants to water in the front yard.

Coincidentally, the expert on Public Radio's Garden Talk today was Rita Perwich -- she is the author of the recently published Natural Rose Gardening: the Organic Guide to Growing Amazing Blooms. Since I was hurrying to get stuff done (what a surprise), I only caught snippets of her Q/A segment. That's okay -- she was a poor choice to give advice to Wisconsin rosarians since she lives in California and has no idea about our growing conditions here. But I do have her book which is a great source of practical information for those times when your plants are covered with aphids (buy some ladybugs!), or worse -- thrips (release some Amblyseius swirskii or Amblyseius cucumeris -- beneficial bugs that you can buy online). I'm guessing those will be her recommendations -- I haven't gotten the book yet. But what I did find interesting was something that I have learned already, on my own in my two months of rose growing: the best defense against disease or pests is to be vigilant. To observe your roses daily. Yes, daily. I make the rounds every morning, snipping and removing where appropriate. Taking note. If day lilies required intense oversight in July and part of August, roses need your walk-through from April through November. 

 

 

 

And finally, when I put down the shovel, the clippers, the hose -- it is time to pick up the kids. The boys, then the girl (who was so busy chatting to her friend that she passed my car without noticing it.)

 

 

 

 

They're all freshly after parent-teacher conferences, where the parents learned some obvious truths and, too, some less obvious ones. For example -- two of the three kids were independently praised for being very kind to their classmates. A different two of the three were described as leaders, though in very different ways! And two were seen as very funny. All three were doing well academically, so that's a relief I suppose, though one was described as perhaps a tad inattentive to teacher's directives.  (The other two were highly amused by this.)

I offered them all a trip to Barnes & Noble as a reward I suppose. Or maybe because I myself enjoy these Friday outings to a bookstore. And whereas on our first Friday trip there this year, the younger two balked, right now, everyone looks forward to it.

And there is a Starbucks in the store, and I do offer a snack there. 

As on previous Fridays, I drop all but Snowdrop at home. She and I go to pick up Millie...

... and then she goes to her Youth Group meeting while I bring Millie home.  

I study the weather web page. No frost in sight for the next ten days (it could change of course). Fabulous news for my roses. And for me, since I'm always running behind schedule. I'll be planting the bulbs without wearing a cap and mitts. (This week for sure.) Will that be the last gardening task for the year? Not by a long shot. I need to heap chips and dirt around each of the 94 roses (after a couple of hard frosts that will have them drop leaves, which I will then have to rake up to keep spores and larvae out of the soil). I need to plant the pots with the baby shrubs and dig out my one planted rose tree. I need to feed what remains of the lawn, and mow it one last time, leaving some length so that whatever is burrowed at the base isn't shredded to pieces by the mower. And I need to do a winter trim of the perennials. And water everything solidly until the ground is frozen. Gardening into December?? Seriously?? And I wonder why I have so little time for anything else...

with so much love.. 

 

this weather!

If it's pleasant and then rain comes and then it's pleasant again -- well, you have a rhythm there that allows you to fit in all that you set out to accomplish. You work outside on grand days, you pay bills on wet rainy days. You pay attention to your writing too, because you're indoors and have the time for it. 

We do not have such a pattern this month. It all has been excruciatingly lovely -- every single day of this month. Oh, maybe one day it rained. Maybe there was a second one when I was away. But apart from that -- it's been sunny and delightful for outdoor work. T-shirt weather! Snowdrop is still wearing shorts to school. (Ed is in shorts too, but he's nuts in that he wears shorts in the winter too.)

And so I work in the garden and then the clock moves forward too quickly and it's time for me to pick up kids or Millie or both and then it's evening time and boom -- the day has moved on.

Now, this is fabulous for my gardening. With all the great weather, the roses do need to be watered, but that surely is better than having them drown in downpours. And apart from the one night of maybe a tiny light frost (though I swear we had none), the night temperatures have also been warm. My plants are working hard on developing their roots. All is good.

But I have no time to read, write, shop, pay bills, fold laundry -- not any of that. Not the mundane, not the creative. So forgive me if this is rather... brief and banal. Some day the weather will turn on me and I will go back to indoor work and perhaps (though it's not a given) post more creative texts here.

And speaking of creative, a neighbor stopped me while I was working outside today. She had a gift for me. (I'd given her a couple of plants, she was grateful.) What she likes to do is gather up broken plates. People give them to her, she finds them, collects them. Shattered china. Out of these pieces of tableware, she makes mosaics. And this one is for me. Since she thinks of me as the neighborhood gardener, she was sure to include bits of flowered plate pieces. With a little mirror in the middle.

And how was my early morning? Oh, just extra fine!

 

(Millie waits for me to get ready, keeping an eye on possible movements outside) 

Another misty walk, this time after the sun already made an appearance.

 

 

 

Breakfast? The olive tree brings in a bit of nature to my sunny seat. A flower, Millie, a book. Coffee and granola with yogurt and fruit. And honey. My Polish roots always lead me to drizzle a good honey over whatever it is that I am eating for breakfast.

Millie goes to day care, I take boxes to the recycling center and food and compost buckets to the farmette.

(Ed's container garden on the picnic table...)

 

And then I work on ripping out more sod (for the dahlias!), and planting a rose (my replacement plant), and starting in on one more hole, for you know what.

And before I know it, it's time to pick up Snowdrop. And Goose. And the boys. And then Millie. In that order, with various drop offs along the way.

 

(she laughs when I tell her she's wearing a scowl) 

 

 

(picking up the boys at Taekwan-do) 

 

 

Do not expect creativity to surge tomorrow. The weather is going to be... perfect. I may have to start in on my bulb planting.

with so much love...

 

and how did you spend your Wednesday?

 Me, I played with Millie. I kid you not. It was a her and me day. Everything I did had Millie in it. And, conversely, she kept a vigilant eye on my doings, never straying far. Actually never straying at all. She's not one to jump fences to see what's on the other side. In fact, she's the kind of dog that you could never put on a leash and she'd still walk by your side. Of course, the day I try that is the day she runs across the street to greet another dog and I lose her to a car crash. 

Why so much of Millie? It's just how the day evolved.

 Our mornings of course are always together: the pre-sunrise walk (a beautiful morning mist today!)...

 

 

 

And breakfast (with her always nesting on my feet while I try not to wiggle too much to disturb her)...

 

 

A short nap for her, another walk.

("what next?")

 

Then, all the things I planned for this day were within her orbit. For example, I watered the roses in her yard while she searched out the wood chips to steal, splinters or no splinters. Loves those wood chips. 

And we played ball. Oh how she loves that!

And I tidied up some roses -- out in the front yard, while she kept an eye on me from the porch (such a beautiful day yet again!). 

And I finally started to work on my Rose Book. I had taken it to France with me, thinking that I surely would have time to fill it there -- a ridiculous idea. When have I ever had too much time while traveling?!

And I took care of the set up for my bougainvilleas for their winter in the basement. With grow lights.  And I transplanted my olive tree and positioned it also inside, hoping that a southern exposure would suffice.

All this while Millie enjoyed sniffing things out and barking for no reason. 

 

 

 

Sure, there was a lot of rose work in my day. I blame the weather. It's so good these weeks that I feel compelled to continue. The more I do now, the better the spring and summer bloom will be next year. 

My pup, my roses. My coffee, my books. Blue skies, warm air. I'm so grateful. For all this and so much more.

with so much love... 

and many more...

Years added to our tally: Ed and I started being a thing 21 years ago today. On his birthday. He was then freshly 55 years old. I was 52. I didn't know it was his birthday. He worked hard on not telling me these things, assuring me that he didn't care, didn't celebrate, didn't count. Alright, we can talk a long time about why a person chooses to go that path but no matter. He may not celebrate. I do. His birthday and our coming together and forming this very unusual union (but is there a "usual" union out there?) back on October 20, 2005.. It's good to count -- it helps you see the evolution, to understand how nothing stays the same, even as you feel that closeness, intimacy, love. 

Ed and I almost never disagree openly. That's probably because if we started to pick on choices made by the other, we'd never stop. We are so different that it's no use dwelling on that. Where does that get you anyway. For us, it's one day at a time. We find the overlap, we focus on that. 

Yet, I have to admit that this last year has brought with it a sea of changes, all instigated by me, and though I think the end result is a good one (we live in each others back yard, but not under the same roof), nonetheless, there are challenges. Ed's habits are such that he does not plan ahead. Living together (as we did in the farmhouse for quite a while) allowed us to bypass the arranging of things. Now we are back to having to do that and though Ed rarely (never?) says no to my ideas, still, sometimes I wish I wouldn't have to generate them all the time.

But, there is love. There is a calmness, a harmony, a synergy that grows over time because the longer you are together the more you understand where your sweet spot is together. (Or there is no sweet spot at which point you may as well go your separate ways.) 

And so I live alone and yet I cannot imagine a life without Ed. He is in my head, my heart, maybe some other organ, I don't know. He is very much a part of my mindset. Love that has morphed into something solid. Not likely to change now. So, until one of us keels over, we are together. 

And yes, he is 76. One of those 76 year olds who loves to ride his bike and play pickle ball and learn new things and design new machines. Loves, too, growing his own tomatoes, harvesting old orchard fruits that no one else would call edible, sailing, sleeping under the stars, petting his cats, hanging out with me. I could also give a list of things he doesn't like: gardening for the visual pleasure of seeing things bloom, an overpopulated planet, buying new things, polluting the environment, cruelty to animals and to people but really, maybe especially to animals, cars and driving, wasting food, drinking alcohol, talking about feelings. There's more, but I think this gives you a good idea of what's what. 

We talked about possible things we might do today and in the end we settled for dinner -- of the pizza type, at home, watching a show we like together. But that comes later. Let's take a look at what came before:

A gorgeous day. Just splendid! Sunshine, cool and warm both at the same time -- October perfection. 

 

 

 

Millie and I had a lovely evening of following our old routines and now the morning too is back to having that sweetness of predictability, ending up with breakfast in the sunny reading corner, with the pup curled up on my feet. Bliss.

 

(make room, Millie)

 

 

(Millie, on the guitar...)

After she is done resting, I take her to doggie daycare, where she is deliriously happy to see Julie again. Those two! Me, I return home and you will not guess what I do! Or maybe you will?

I rip out more sod and dig out three new holes. 

I blame the weather! It's so perfect for garden work! Sure, I could be putting in bulbs. But no. I choose instead to make room for spring dahlias. And the holes? That's for the rose replacement that the nursery is sending me. And, um, for the two other roses because they were practically giving them away this late in the season.

 

Too, I water the front yard. Tomorrow I'll do Millie's yard. No time for that today -- I need to pick up Snowdrop at school.

We walk Goose, we talk. she plays with her big guy.

 

 

 

  

 

 

And then I'm back to picking up and dropping off. Drop off Snowdrop at Girl Scouts. Pick up boys at Taekwando. Drop off boys at home. Pick up Millie. Did I forget anyone?? 

Finally my pup and I are home and Ed comes over and she is still a tiny bit apprehensive when he stands up (he is so tall and his booming voice so strong...), but she knows now that this, too is part of our routine. He's part of this household, even if he isn't always on the couch with me...

Happy birthday, Ed. Happy anniversary too! 

with so much love... 

home

How I love coming home to Steffi's House! It is all that one would want from one's little nest. Not yet cluttered by life's progression (and I mean cluttered in the broadest sense of the word), it is pure and innocent. Cheerful and warm. Welcoming. 

Here's how my rentrée (borrowed French term for re-entry to normal life after a vacation) progressed:

My transatlantic flight was seamless and on time. Coming into Chicago is a bit much for a provincial hayseed like me who thinks Detroit, with maybe two international flights arriving at the same time is too chaotic. Lines through passport control (ten different lines and it's up to you to figure out where you belong), long waits for luggage (lucky break for me that I do not have to recheck my bag because there are lines for that as well), and then you have to take a train to get to a place where you can pick up your Uber. No thanks. If I'm going to take a train to Terminal 2 (where Ubers come), I may as well walk from there to the Chicago El (their subway) station and take the train to my daughter's neighborhood. Cheaper and no traffic. 

What I didn't count on was how awkward over bumpy uneven sidewalks the walk from the El to her home would be. I was helped with my suitcase on the station stairs, but thereafter it was just plain torture and my backpack felt very heavy. Next time Uber, you dumb scrooge you!

I was pretty wiped by the time I arrived at their place at around 5 pm. Still, it was grand to see the two girls! Kids at this age never stay in place for long and they already seem ten years older than when I last saw them in August.

I joined them for dinner, and we played a game and it was all great fun.

My daughter had actually been out of town and she arrived just as I was ready to leave, but I did catch her for a few minutes and every few minutes is good in my book! But mindful of my bus schedule (and total exhaustion), I left their home at 8, Ubered (wisely this time) back to OHare airport, and caught the bus back to Madison, arriving in my home city and state at just about midnight. Ed was there, waiting.

Julie, Millie's best bud, had left the house splendidly clean, which was a great gift for me! Still, as always, I felt compelled to unpack and take stock and so it was close to 2 before I fell into bed completely spent.

 

And this morning? Sunny and beautiful! First thing: take a look at the roses. They survived!

(The Primard gardens looked like they were shutting down fast. Mine doesn't look like it's in that much of a hurry.)

 

 

Several of the roses have significant leaf damage which I assume is due to rose slugs. I'll have to clean them up today -- rip out leaves in the hope of disposing a good chunk of the little green larvae. And all my plants need water, but no problem, I'm on it! After breakfast of course.

As you see, there are still blooms coming through here and there. I so appreciate them! We're not going to have another frost night this month so I expect my rose luck will hold. For now.

 

 

 

The slug control takes forever! An easier strategy would have been to use organic insecticidal soap, but since it is the end of the season and the leaves will soon drop of their own accord, I thought I'd limit my interventions to just manual removal. We'll see if that's sufficient!

Rose care always sucks up many if not most of my available hours. But you couldn't ask for a nicer day to do this in. Or... am I simply avoiding getting to the bulb planting? Possibly.

 

By 4, I am so ready to pick up Millie. I get a quick summary of her week ("she was perfect!") and then I bring her home and brush her, and hug her, and walk her, and hug her, and generally spend my time convincing her that I missed her very very much.  

 

 

 

 

 

There is nothing to eat in the fridge and though I did order some groceries, they aren't delivered until very very late. That's what frozen leftovers are for! And my crispy wheat crackers. And chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate.

with so much love... 

leaving France

It will be a long trip and it may or may not result in a return home. And this post probably wont solve that puzzle for you. Here's why: 

I set the alarm for 7, so as usual, I wake up five minutes before that. Why do I even bother with the alarm? Because the day I do not set it is the day I wont wake up. That's how it works, isn't it...

It's dark still. Or, that predawn gray. (Sunrise here today is at 8:15, a whole hour later than in Madison.) My bags were already packed in Paris, with just a few things needed for my two days in the Loire Valley. I have a relaxed hour -- breakfast here starts at 8. It gives me a chance to throw a glance outside. 

The longer I stay (granted, only 2 days), the more I like this landscape. There is a lesson here, no? Stay put, learn to love all that grows close to you.

There aren't many at the restaurant. And it's cold in the room! Is that intentional? So that you do not linger over your second cup of coffee? There is nothing unusual or especially grand about the morning meal here. I'll say this much -- the croissants are very excellent. That counts for something. My last croissant this year. I've stopped eating them in Madison. That and wine-- indulgences during travel, ignored back home. (Does that mean I opt for dull drudgery when not on vacation? Not really. I dont miss either at home. There, it's all about Millie and roses and the grandkids. And Ed.)

(more light after breakfast: the petanque sand strip)

 

 

After breakfast, the golf cart comes for my suitcases. I opt for walking to the main house.

(the little bridge is covered entirely by a climbing rose on one side and a wisteria on the other)

(one final one: maybe a "Francis Meilland?")

And then at 9, I take the cab to the Paris airport. Normally this would be prohibitively expensive (it's an 85 minute trip), but they have a special price for hotel guests so I budgeted the transfer into the whole package of staying at the Domaine.

Will I ever return? Dont ask me impossible questions. There used to be a time in my travels where I was hell bent on finding a place to return to. Again and again. Sorede comes to mind (years: 2010 - 2013). But when Ed dropped out of the picture, announcing right after that last Sorede trip that he was done with travel, my attempts at returns became half hearted. Chamonix a few of times. Brittany of course, though never to the same place. Only le Baume. Le Baume is all mine. People can come and go there with me, but it is mine. Solo trips to Paris can only be grand if I am there. Without it, I am but a lost soul drowning in the melancholy that can be very much a part of a stay in that city.

Truthfully, I probably wont return. I liked the Domaine quite a bit, but I am getting up there in years and there are other ways of linking Paris with the countryside that I have yet to try. (You'll understand come January!)

We arrive at the airport in an okay time frame. The warning here is that if you travel by cab, the entrance to the unloading for transatlantic flights these days always takes forever. I was lucky - only 15 minutes of stop and go (mostly stop) for the last 300 meters of travel to terminal 2E. 

Long lines at check in, even longer at passport control and then a quick sail through at security. Boom! Sixty minutes from stepping into the airport to stepping  before the gate, but really, full credit for that speed goes to my participation in the Air France loyalty program. The privilege of the frequent flyer in Paris is that you stand in shorter lines. Not much, but at insane airports with long lines, I am grateful.

Final foods on French soil: figs, a prune clafoutis (a fall standard here), and a partridge in a pear tree.

Eight and a half hours later I am in Chicago.

The plan had been to spend the afternoon/evening with my daughter's family, then to overnight at my usual hotel, and to return in a leisurely fashion tomorrow, by the usual bus. However, I changed my mind and everything aligned itself to put in place a new plan. Why spend money on a hotel and sit in rush hour traffic tomorrow, when I can take a night bus home? True, I will be on a European clock so in fact, I will have missed a whole night of sleep. But I save quiet a bit. And I gain some time at Steffi's House -- time that I need badly. Millie's guardian (and BFF!) is taking her to visit her mom, so the house will actually be empty tonight (I hadn't wanted to arrive in the middle of the night if they are both there). If I pick up Millie at daycare tomorrow (as planned), and if I am home in the morning, I will be able to water the garden thoroughly. It needs it. There was only one rainfall in my absence and that is pushing it for my newly planted flowers. I do not want to lose them or weaken them for the winter! Too, I have a zillion auto pay emails, telling me my card is being denied, as it well should be since I cancelled it,  I need to authorize my new card and start paying or else, for example, Millie loses her health insurance. God forbid!

The upshot? I plan on time with the grand girls, and when they go to bed, I will return to the airport and catch the night bus home. Ed will be at the bus stop if I call him loudly enough to wake him.

I'll post now, and update tomorrow on how it all worked out. The one thing that I do know is that there will not be time for me to write again until I am home, at Steffi's House.

See you then and from there!

with so much love... 

the Loire Valley

It's often called the Garden of France. Vineyards, abundant produce, artfully arranged landscapes behind manors and smaller homes. They're all here. French roses weren't developed in this region -- that's more of a Lyon thing (Meilland, the breeder of roses that I have in Steffi's garden, has ancestral roots in Lyon and he's not the only one). Nonetheless, you'll find the country's best rose nurseries in the Valley and in a different season, I would be tempted to take the Rose Route that would have me visit both gardens and gardening centers in the Loire Valley. And Lyon is a mere 20 miles (or 30 kilometers) from the Valley proper, and we know that these boundaries are artificial anyway. In late October though, none of this is really on anyone's list of Loire imperatives. Nor is visiting the numerous Loire vineyards, since the harvest is long done. I suppose if you were me even ten years ago, you'd like to poke around the wine caves and maybe sample the delicious whites. That's a thing of the past. Now I just look for peace and quiet and a nice walk in nature.

I get up late-ish. Late sleep, late morning. It's rather nice on a vacation. I love my routines back home, but some are meant to be broken when away. Getting up early seems to be one of the routines I let go of on this trip.

I'm readyfor breakfast just before 10, but I am diverted en route! The morning sunshine is just too gorgeous. Morning light is the best for contemplation, for taking in the beauty of our planet. I walk over to the little lake across dewy meadows and I exhale deeply.

(out my window: beckoning!)

(Two chairs, inviting. Behind them -- a see of winter rye and heart clover)

(The Lake House)

(The lake)

(Another pair of chairs, a boat, and yes, it's an American Red Maple)

(morning mist)

(Time for breakfast; and yes, there are donkeys here as well)

Breakfast is fine. I go eggsy this time, because the granola looks uninteresting and besides, I'm sure to skip lunch so I may as well enjoy some protein, even though this is a truly do nothing day.

After breakfast, I read a bit about the horrors of the world (meaning I catch up on news). Is this a mistake? Should I give myself just one day of blissful ignorance? I don't know... I think I've lived through so many decades of political turmoil and human loss and environmental degradation that I've accepted by now the fact that in our short lives you have to make peace with yourself and your community, wherever you may find it, despite it all. To be miserable helps no one. To find ways to live with contentment may in fact help others to do the same.

Another walk follows -- this one along the entire perimeters of the property. That takes maybe an hour. The Domaine de Primard is spread over 30 hectares/75 acres of land. That's okay for my do-nothing day, but you'd have to head out for a proper country hike. I do wonder -- where is everyone? A few are sitting on the artfully positioned chairs (see below), but the strolling paths are empty. I'm enjoying that! And before I delve into the photos, let me just say that some of my first impressions are evolving! After my walk, I'm beginning to understand that this property really is for a rosarian, but the proper time to appreciate this is... earlier in the season. There are roses everywhere and most of them are quite substantial. Jacques Wirtz is the landscaper who designed the gardens here (he also designed gardens in the Tuileries -- the sculpted, cloud-like boxwood are a giveaway) and I see that these are not young plants. Almost none of the roses scattered throughout are labeled. I had them ask the gardener if he knew some of the varieties (there was one in particular I was curious about) and he responded that he did not know any of them. This is very understandable. There are over 30 000 known rose cultivars and if you lose your tags and do not create a map of your roses, you might as well say good bye to ever knowing what you have planted. If these were put in tag-less a decade or two (or more) ago -- well, there's no way the current head gardener could say what they are.

(I pass this tall tree, maybe twice my height, and I think -- this is actually a rose bush, and not a rose tree. and it's quite old)

 

 

 

(and this is the "official" rose garden... just a few blooms now) 

 

 

 (The vegetable garden is actually quite big, but I don't see abundance right now, certainly not enough to keep all the guests happy at dinnertime)

 

 

 

 

(Chairs that I associate with Parisian cafes, by the river. I sit for a few minutes, looking at the rapid movement of the water) 

 

 

 

 

(Another 2 chairs and next to it, another old rose, climbing nearly to the top of a tree) 

 

 

 (In the roses by the main Domaine house: looks to me like a Desdemona, but what do I know...)

 

 

In the afternoon, I do something that I thought (months ago when I made a reservation at the Domaine)  I would need after many weeks of hard physical labor and the emotional strain of late summer (all these people, ill!) -- a spa time. The Domaine has a spa and I daresay, many a French person here from Paris is here exactly because it has a spa. A sort of relaxation break if you will. (There is also a pool, but it's outdoors and despite the fact that it's open until the end of this month, you'll find no one swimming in it. I wonder why...) 

Truthfully, I'd rather not do anything at the spa today. But, I booked it and it's the weekend -- their busiest time, so I am not going to unbook it. There are benefits to reserving things in advance (availability is always limited in these places), but there are drawbacks. And it's not as if I wouldn't enjoy a spa treatment, I just dont need it, and these days need trumps want for me. Money and time are at play here. 

 

In fact, I'm thinking maybe I did need a rub down. My shoulders hurt. After the therapist's kneeding, my muscle mass softened from tight to like butter left out on the counter too long. Never underestimate the value of lymphatic and immune system support! And of course I'm delightfully relaxed after it. All ready for my very long journey home tomorrow!

Another "tea time with cakes" follows. Possibly a terrible idea as it's a latte for me -- in fact, nearly dinner time (working that caffeine into my bloodstream and then wondering why I cant sleep!). But, a new routine has been established (can you call something that you do for two days a routine?) and so here I am. 

(back to the main house)

(drinking coffee)

And now it really is supper time, again at the Bistro (because... where else? We are in the middle of nowhere). No photos for you. My camera often switches shutter speed accidentally, seemingly of its own accord and it did so tonight. I got a lot of black photos from the evening. But I will note that the dinner was delicious. A lovely final one in France. 

with so much love...