to Madison

Near the front door of my apartment building there is a tree. I think it's planted firmly into the ground. Perhaps it started as a wee thing. Right now it's taller than me.

Last month someone (I assume a resident from my building, possibly the same guy who feeds boiled potatoes to the pigeons that come to his window sill) decorated it a bit and with the snowfalls that passed through Warsaw, I think it's rather pretty.

As I leave, I pause for an appreciative glance.





I'm on time for my cab: 4:45 a.m. -- it's there and I'm there.

That, I suppose, is no small miracle. I finished putting away dishes and getting the apartment in order for my absence (it has to sparkle!) just at 2 and my last chore was to put the tablecloth, towels, napkins in the dryer for a good spin. Well, you'll have guessed that I didn't quite figure out how to properly set the damn thing because as I was getting to leave, I noted that the items were still a tad damp. Oh, technology! At the farmhouse, our dryer must be forty years old. You turn it on and an hour later all is dry. No sensors, no special settings just a bunch of hot air blowing on whatever is inside. Three tries in Warsaw on the snappy new thing and I still can't get a load to dry on time.

But, everything else is in order and I give a fond nod of appreciation for this sweet place that is now my second home and turn toward the waiting cab.

It's foggy outside. Not especially cold, not snowing either. A winter mist that sometimes crawls in here (or in Wisconsin for that matter) and settles in for the duration.






It isn't until I'm well in the air that I see dawn break to the east.






Another smooth set of connections -- three hours in Paris (slightly misty there as well, but colder too, so that if I were to step outside in some rural setting, I'm sure I'd see pretty patterns of frost on the landscape)...

(From the airplane window, at CDG airport)





...then a couple of hours in Atlanta, and then, finally, a quick flight to Madison, where the bitter Arctic blast has long retreated and the air is damp and barely at freezing. Ed is at the airport and it's as if I had never gone to the mountains, or to Warsaw, or anywhere at all: we drive to the quiet of the farmhouse where we munch on some nuts and catch up on spending a late evening together.