A friend wrote recently that it struck her that all the travel I do must require a lot of planning. Oh, does it ever! Of course, not everyone would agree that this is ultimately beneficial to the final outcome. Ed, for example, has lost patience with my desire to know ahead of time where it is that I am going. He would prefer to just go -- like one of those young folk on a journey of self discovery, testing limits, enduring whatever the weather gods throw down on you, finding a quiet gutter if no roof presents itself, or better yet -- a sandbar at a river's edge.
Not me. I love looking ahead at the bed I'll be sleeping on (for example) March 15th, or the seat on the train I'll be taking the next day. I love imagining how many minutes I'll need to make that transfer in St Erth or elsewhere. And googling options as to what should happen if I miss my connection. Stuff like this can keep me happy for hours. And the odd thing is -- it's not a new, "retired person's" fetish. I've been addicted to working out travel permutations since I was embarrassingly young. (Think teenager.) Honestly, it's one of my favorite distractions.
Not that I need a distraction. I am in the middle of a very lovely week, with a beautiful weekend before me. I am retired from paid employment, for God's sake! I am as free as I have ever been in my life.
And yet, here I go, from 5 a.m. in the morning, plunging into the permutations of a trip I am not scheduled to take until next Spring. Ed shakes his head, not in disbelief, but in the dismay that he surely feels for not having convinced me that I would have a better time if only I would let go of *planning.* I pat him on the head and return to the open tabs on my laptop.
Still, as my friend noted in her email, planning takes time and so if you would ask me what stands out from today, I'd remember that after hours of sitting propped up in bed, searching madly for this connection and that well-liked spot, I pause for breakfast...
...and then go right back to my notes and tabs. You could say that it is a day that had nothing to show for it. I would respond -- wrongo bongo! I got my spring trip all neatly tucked away now. (To say nothing of the one before.) Done and filed, even as images of it keep popping up in the most delightful way.
So that you are not completely dismayed at how un-blogworthy my day has been, let me put up a few chicken photos. Yes, Oreo is still here. No, chicken mama has not yet shown up to take him to "her father's place." Yes, I wouldn't be surprised if Ed secretly called her and told her to stay away. I have three lovely (but shy) hens and one cocky rooster here for now. It is what it is.
Here's my sweet, puffy Scotch...
And here's Butter, making herself skinny because of the stretch to chomp off a flower.
And finally, at our entrance, here are the plants that made it through the frost.
Later, much later, Ed played crazy 70s you tube melodies and I danced.
Not me. I love looking ahead at the bed I'll be sleeping on (for example) March 15th, or the seat on the train I'll be taking the next day. I love imagining how many minutes I'll need to make that transfer in St Erth or elsewhere. And googling options as to what should happen if I miss my connection. Stuff like this can keep me happy for hours. And the odd thing is -- it's not a new, "retired person's" fetish. I've been addicted to working out travel permutations since I was embarrassingly young. (Think teenager.) Honestly, it's one of my favorite distractions.
Not that I need a distraction. I am in the middle of a very lovely week, with a beautiful weekend before me. I am retired from paid employment, for God's sake! I am as free as I have ever been in my life.
And yet, here I go, from 5 a.m. in the morning, plunging into the permutations of a trip I am not scheduled to take until next Spring. Ed shakes his head, not in disbelief, but in the dismay that he surely feels for not having convinced me that I would have a better time if only I would let go of *planning.* I pat him on the head and return to the open tabs on my laptop.
Still, as my friend noted in her email, planning takes time and so if you would ask me what stands out from today, I'd remember that after hours of sitting propped up in bed, searching madly for this connection and that well-liked spot, I pause for breakfast...
...and then go right back to my notes and tabs. You could say that it is a day that had nothing to show for it. I would respond -- wrongo bongo! I got my spring trip all neatly tucked away now. (To say nothing of the one before.) Done and filed, even as images of it keep popping up in the most delightful way.
So that you are not completely dismayed at how un-blogworthy my day has been, let me put up a few chicken photos. Yes, Oreo is still here. No, chicken mama has not yet shown up to take him to "her father's place." Yes, I wouldn't be surprised if Ed secretly called her and told her to stay away. I have three lovely (but shy) hens and one cocky rooster here for now. It is what it is.
Here's my sweet, puffy Scotch...
And here's Butter, making herself skinny because of the stretch to chomp off a flower.
And finally, at our entrance, here are the plants that made it through the frost.
Later, much later, Ed played crazy 70s you tube melodies and I danced.
It is a fairy tale chicken heaven at the farmette! The luckiest little cluckers IN the world!
ReplyDeleteThat wonderful close-up of Scotch would make a great Holiday card for you guys! Beautiful capture, as they say in the biz...
ReplyDeleteNina, I forgot to mention that when I was young aside from those things I posted about what I was longing for growing up I also wanted to be on a farm-forever. My Uncle in Rochester, N.Y. raised turkeys on his farm. He also did experimental work like grafting trees. He had a tree that bore peaches, apricots and apples. He used to play classical music to his garden plants and said it also kept the deer away. I think he had something like 43 acres. He lived out in the country. I summered there every year with my sisters as a child. I developed a deep fondness for nature and the happy meadow larks and golden finches that played in the tall grasses. I loved going up the hill to the two ponds as well. I had so much to explore and investigate. So, I wanted this above all else. This is why I find your farmette ideal. It is a perfect environment for someone like myself. It has everything.
ReplyDeletePlanning. I would have to agree with you. I'm not much of a traveler but I have a friend who is. He loves England and Scotland and has visited often. He spends hours planning and I doubt lets one minute go by without having something planned for it. I don't know anyone who gets as much out of traveling as he does. He has sent me his itinerary before he has left to travel and it is a work of art! He loves to photograph like you do too. He's in his late 70s now but still full of gypsy blood. Another healthy walker I might add.
Scotch and Butter are beautiful and I agree with Bex, great holiday card.
Bravo for the front entrance plants!
The vision of you dancing brought a big warm smile to me. I remember when dancing was like breathing in my younger years. I can't even remember now the last time I danced! I enjoyed the 70s and 80's but after that music left me confused. Keep dancing Nina, it looks good on you!
Those early years spent at farms and in village homes -- they come back to haunt you later! Both my sister and I have a pull toward the country that my own daughters cannot fully understand. Are you yourself outside a proper city now?
ReplyDeleteNina, I/we live about 20 minutes west of Raleigh the capital of NC. Busy, busy, busy. I'm not into this type of busy or all the malls, restaurants (have not found even one I like), rat race, traffic, pollution etc. I am from the north and enjoy and yearn for real seasons, room to move and peace and quiet. Not that it is always readily available there but it's easier to find. There are nice things here but they are a ways away. I am such a baby! I'm making the best of it as I can though. We've been into Raleigh several times and there was nothing to write home about. Nothing.
ReplyDelete