the unexpected

I profess to love calm. To revel in tranquility, in routines that are not hurried or interrupted. Fine. But who doesn't love the good stuff that comes out of the blue? Unexpected?

In the morning, Ed and I drive out to Albany Wisconsin. A Craigs list add mentions heirloom tomatoes at the great price of 50 cents each there. Of course, there are plenty of tomatoes to be had closer than those in Albany (30 miles south of us), but we've determined that the drive would be pleasant now, what with the blooms, the green grasses, the feeling of abundance out in the fields and meadows.

And so, a quick breakfast...





...and we're on the road.


 


And eventually we find the Harvest Center -- a place where, to the best of our understanding, some dozen families group together to grow and eat their own foods. (And sell some at the side.)





The tomatoes look infinitely healthier than ours and so we buy a dozen.

Heading home, we drive through the heart of Albany (pop. 1,019). We pause to watch a holiday gathering in the village center.  With a competitive John Deere pull among the little guys.






Heading home, we find ourselves just seconds from the Flower Factory. Okay, one last stop there. One final seasonal purchase. (With the end of spring, my planting energies substantially diminish.)






In the afternoon I get unexpected visitors. My daughter and her fiancee have some matters to attend to in Madison and so they drive up from Chicago to spend a beautiful 24 hours up here, with us.

The day is suddenly upside down in the best of ways.

We walk the farmette land...





...and linger by the picnic table, chatting about such stuff as is around us -- silos, tractors, the construction of picnic tables.






My older girl, hearing of their arrival, pops over and we share a jovial set of hours being, well, happy.






In the evening, my older girl has plans, but the younger pair wants to take us out to dinner downtown and somewhat to my surprise, Ed is pleased to go along.

The place of choice (Forequarter) is packed and the wait is long, but we don't mind. We pass the time at a so very typical Wisconsin bar across the street. Ed dozes while the three of us catch up on all those small things that you cannot remember to convey by phone.

Dinner (at Forequarter) is quite excellent and even Ed, who typically does not search out the careful creative cuisine of a younger generation, proclaims it to be pretty good for that kind of food!





It's very very late by the time I'm home. Not a good hour to start writing a post (note that I've crossed over to the next day by the time I put it up) and yet, the very best time to write one -- the heart's full, the soul's content, the desire to see more of the kids nearly satiated.

Life is so good.