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Flying into the Midwest. Pretty from above the cloud cover.





Below? Darn. It should have snowed. Christmas doesn’t always deliver the white stuff in Madison but last year it certainly did and it was pretty. At least what I saw of it. Living downtown (as I did then) – you see snow piled at the edge of parking lots and you lose track of what’s fresh and what’s been there for weeks.

No white stuff this December.

Ed waits at the airport, dutifully there in his beat up car. I appreciate the small gestures. Like his wet head, signaling that he thought to take a shower before picking me up.

We have a remotely controlled thermostat in the farmhouse and I had churned it up already in Paris thinking that heat needs to sink in or else the place will feel chilly after ten days of just high enough to keep the plants alive. As we enter, it’s pleasantly warm. I glance at the mouse trap. Empty. I comment on that, but Ed admits that he put it up just a day or so ago. Why? I didn’t want to keep checking for mice while you were gone.

For the first time ever, I am too tired to unpack. I take out the computer, check email, finish posting. It’s midnight by the time I haul myself up the steps of the farmhouse.

And of course, four hours later I wake up thinking it's midday. So much for rest. Return jet lag makes a morning person out of anyone.

I go outside, take stock. There is just the slightest dusting of snow. True, one must remember that winter doesn't officially present itself until Thursday.





For the next hour I confront the damage to the contents of my suitcase. A jar of pine bud syrup from Poland popped open in flight. Imagine sap, seeping into everything...

And still, I would rate the entire trip to Poland and then Paris as remarkably without hassle or shortcoming. And that’s a good thing.