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... and away! A day of travel. A weekend away. Except I'm no urban escapee from the chaos of the city. I'm leaving the quiet of the farmette to once again wallow in the deliciousness of a visit to the city.

I don't take off immediately. At sunrise, just as the first splash of pink leaves its quiet mark on the patches of snow...






... I am up hurrying to open the chicken coop. There's squawking inside and I think I am not incorrect in believing that Butter is picking on little Henny again.

And yet, the chicken way of thinking remains a great mystery to me. Though it's below freezing, the girls come trotting out -- all but Henny. I open the roost -- she is huddled inside, but not for long. Hearing her buddy Java below, she goes down and both hens follow the older girls outside. What happened to warfare?

I have to think -- might we be past the worst of it? Let me stay with that chipper cheeper vision. As rosy as the morning rays of sunlight...






Breakfast at the farmhouse. Warmed by the early sunshine.






Things are looking up, no? When I come back, every hen will have found her place in the wee group of four, right? The snow will be gone, the crocuses will continue their steady push toward the heavens. Dream big.

And as if to give substance to these lovely thoughts, I go outside and see a vignette that warms my heart: the cheepers are not that far apart. Henny feels safe next to Java. Nothing, not even Butter, seems threatening when she marches by the big black hen's side.





Spring, peace, harmony -- here we come!

There is a morning of chores -- of shopping, of car washing -- the usual end of week stuff. But in the afternoon, I do the most luxurious thing: I board a plane for Minneapolis. The big airlines have introduced discount fares (no seat, no this, no that -- stripping it down to the bare essentials of going up, staying up, and landing in the place you want to be) and I grabbed one before it disappeared. That's a 45 minute journey, as opposed to a brutal and cold five and a half hour bus ride.

Up up indeed, over the isthmus that is Madison...






What, you can't spot our Capitol? Look closely.






A slight turn west and north and we disappear into the clouds (the same ones that have just dumped an inch of snow in Minnesota, but I have no complaints: our sister state is due for a warm up starting tonight. Remember: rosy thoughts, Ocean readers, rosy thoughts).


In the early evening, I am in the Twin Cities, riding the lovely light rail to meet my daughter and her husband. A stroll through the maze of skywalks, a quick drink in the office building where my girl works and then the three of us head out to dinner at the Brewer's Table.






It's the restaurant that sits right in the belly of the Surly Beer company. It has a well deserved reputation for delicious food (the chef here shares the honor Madison's young food geniuses received this year -- all nominees for a James Beard award) and we choose to have it paired with superb craft beers.  Yes,  despite my love of good wine, I am perfectly capable of saying kind words about beer. You just have to catch me at the right place and at the right time. This weekend, in Minneapolis, at the Brewers Table with this wonderful twosome for example.

But shhh! They're both fast asleep as I write this. I am proud to say that for once, I outlasted the younger generation. Snore away, my dears. Me, I'm already thinking about tomorrow's adventures.