Sunday

Happy Halloween! May you have plenty of good toothpaste to work its magic after an evening of a sugar extravaganza!

I'm fully into the holiday today, except not the calendar appropriate holiday. We never get trick-or-treaters out here in the country and so were it not for the kids (more on that later), Halloween would not even receive honorable mention here. But I am fully immersed into Christmas. The family continues to grow and therefore, so does this grandma's cooking/baking/present procurement/etc/etc obligations. And with the impending (well, nearly impending) birth of my granddaughter and the travel that this will entail, to say nothing of the holiday disruption it will likely produce, one has to think ahead and strategize. 

So this is what I do for the better part of the day: I think and I strategize.

The day moves from being cloudy...

(and cozy indoors...)

... to sunny and Ed and I do go out in the afternoon. To work on the million tasks that accumulate for us out there. I finish bulb planting and I continue to bring down some of the perennials. Ed works on fixing rotted trim and then he helps me with raking the beds. Do you know how awful it is to have a female lotus tree growing adjacent to your flower fields? That tree drops seed pods by the thousands. True, the deer come in the winter to eat them, but believe me, we could feed the herds from here to Alaska and still have leftovers on the ground. Which of course sprout into a million lotus saplings right smack in the middle of my flower fields. So raking is a necessity and we started in on that job today. 

It's pretty and decently warm-ish for the last day of October. Honestly, for us here in south central Wisconsin, it's been an amazingly generous and beautiful month.

But as I dig, snip and rake, my mind is on the next holiday and the one after that. Plan and strategize, all day long. 

Except in the evening! Forget about Those Other Holidays! It's Halloweeen!

I go out to my daughter's neighborhood just for a little bit, to see them all in their regalia. There's a black cat and Applejack the pony and I believe there is a little lion in that car seat.

They head out in a small group of friends, parents, etc.

... But I'm told it's the two older girls -- Snowdrop and her school pal -- who stay out the longest, going from door to door with the zeal of two let loose gazelles. Bedtime was very very late today!

Here, at the farmhouse, the sun sets and we retreated to our usual quiet space. 

 

 

 

Ed shuts off the water for the hose outside. The long overdue night frost is finally going to hit us tonight.  We can start hoping for that first snowfall! Maybe before Thanksgiving, maybe after. Always exciting, always beautiful out here, in the country.

Saturday

Gogs, to a little girl, five minutes is forever! Snowdrop has said this several times in the last few days. She'll brush off promises of things to come in a year, a month, a week. What matters is the moment and the options or opportunities that come with it. Okay, she'll listen to what might come in a minute or two, but the cut off is five -- anything beyond that is just too far away.

Kids really are experts at living in the moment.

Time ran away from me today (as it so often does these days). Woosh! It's the end of the day. How did I get here? It was just morning a minute ago!

Well, it was a busy day. In fact, a super busy day. Perhaps the biggest difference between being retired and working a full time job is that my retired days start more slowly now. I don't jump out of bed and run. I ease into the morning. But after that -- well, I move fast.

Brisk walk to feed the animals.

Brisk preparation of fruit for breakfast, not to be eaten right away, but to have ready for later. Then a quick drive... 

 

 

 

... to the bakery to pick up croissants for a breakfast with Snowdrop and her mom. Snowdrop is already after an activity and Sparrow is gone to do his Saturday activity with his dad, so it's just us three girls and Sandpiper.

You'd have to be a tough grandma to say no to the little girl's request to go back to the farmette with you. I'm no tough grandma. Besides, it's a gorgeous, crisp autumnal day and I can easily twist Snowdrop's arm to stop over at the Arboretum. It's a late Fall season and the trees are, of course, stunning. 

Farmhouse lunch, farmhouse books, farmhouse play and now it is already mid afternoon and Ed hasn't moved a muscle yet. (He has listened to a lot of youtubes. On the couch. Like this one, which piqued her curiosity. She relays that "it's about midpoint constraint fusion some number"). 

 

 

 

I need to push the guy out for a walk. We drop off Snowdrop at home and I return to the Arboretum (it really is at  the midpoint between our two houses). This time with him.

That second walk is all well and good, but I also have Sunday dinner to prepare, even though it's Saturday. We switched the family meal to this day because tomorrow is, well, you know, Trick or Treat day. And so I see the young family once more. At the farmhouse.

For dinner.

All five of them.

(One final "let's bother Ed." Which he allows, always with a grin.)

And after the dishes are cleared and the place put in some semblance of order, I go out in search of the Northern Lights. They were to be spectacular. In the northern states. This evening. If they were, somehow I missed them.

No matter! I'm ready for some couch time. A movie and popcorn. Maybe even a boring movie so time would move more slowly on this beautiful late October day.

Friday

 Do you know the acronym FOMO? I was reading about it in the context of the big hit in Apple's lineup of new products this fall: the cleaning cloth. Yours for $19, but you have to wait, because they're sold out all the way through the end of the year. Of course, this little square of microfibers is, in typical Apple fashion, overpriced. Nonetheless, people buy it. They know they're being fleeced, yet they buy it. Why? Pushed into it by FOMO. Fear of missing out.

Oh yeah, the idea of chasing something that other privileged souls have accessed. It's a mix of a sheep heard mentality along with a desire to keep up with the jones. Compete, conform, scramble to be better or at least as good as those around you. And, too, I saw plenty of FOMO while living under so called communist rule. Lack of access to consumer goods and services triggered this fear in the extreme. If you heard that a store got a shipment of a consumer item, you got in line for it. Not to compete with your neighbor, but to make sure you got some of it in case you needed it in the future. You did not want to miss out.

I have vestiges of this very particular form of FOMO festering in me. Get it now, while supplies last. I almost signed up for the Apple cloth until I came to my senses. And here's the thing: I live with a person who doesn't have a FOMO fiber in his entire large framed body. Indeed, if everyone is going after a super Apple cleaning cloth, he is sure to let me know that paper towels or his tshirt are equally capable of cleaning his computer screen. (To say nothing of the micro cloths we have lying around everywhere, because they come free with glasses and, too, when you fly Air France overseas.) Curbing your inner FOBO: it's such a good idea. And so hard to do. 

 

In other news -- it is a typical late autumnal morning: wet and cold. I think these are the last days of the annual blooms, so I'm going to cast one last look at them now, with a nod of thanks for the color they have added to my gardens this late in the season!

Breakfast. The minimalist look. In the kitchen. Late.

 

 

 

And very soon after, I pick up Snowdrop and bring her back to... her favorite tree. It had been too wet to spend much time in it the past few days. Today -- dry enough.

(But honestly, it's indoor weather for us. With a lunch that she talked me into -- Culver's take out. Chicken tenders, cheese curds. She loves both. Happily for this gogs, she also loves the bowl of fruit I have ready for her.)

Once again we pick up Sparrow at the end of his school day. 

(With leaves, at home now...)

And once again we greet a cheerful Sandpiper waiting for his sibs to come home.

In the evening, I drive to the next town to pick up my repaired (once again) camera. It's a common occurrence here: the Fed Ex guy comes with the delivery to our "front door." We don't use that door and there isn't a doorbell hooked up to it and so if a signature is needed -- we're out of luck. We get a note rather than a delivery.

 

 

I drive back when it's already dark. This before we jump back into daylight non-savings time. Ah, the months of meteorological winter! They really push you to snuggle early under a blanket. And we do! Every evening, on the couch, we do.

 

Thursday

You know it's a low cloud cover day when your living room is dark even with the lights on. When your kitchen feels like it's supper time rather than breakfast time.

 

When your walk to feed the animals is quick, so quick that you don't bother thinking much about the photo opportunities. Possibly because you do not see many photo opportunities.

I don't mind such days, if truth be told. My candle adds that soft glow to the farmhouse, my couch time feels as good as I imagine a day in a spa would feel: relaxed, meditative, warm. I boil up water for a tea that I toted back from Paris. Leftovers from all the tea I drank in my little attic room on the Left Bank. Bliss.

 

At noon I head out to pick up Snowdrop. She is off from school (that's a Madison thing: schools close for a good part of the last week of October for inservice stuff) and so she is rested and energetic.

Still, we do a lot of reading. So much to take in! 

So much to enjoy. (She wants to bake. We bake.)

Because of the way the schedule plays out, she and I are picking up Sparrow at his school today. Oh, it does bring back memories! Until March 2020, I was at this school daily, picking up both kids, bringing them back to the farmhouse for their afterschool play here. Then, during the pandemic, Snowdrop grew out of preschool and Sandpiper was born and now the kids are spread over many different childcare situations. They are lucky though. All of it is good. No one is complaining!

 

 

Later, on the way back to the farmhouse, I stop and pick up our last CSA veggies. Two boxes today -- one making up for the missed week while I was away. Hey, do you remember the first CSA box of the season, back in May? It was full of green stuff. An exciting beginning to the growing season! Now the box is loaded with squash, brussels sprouts, beets. Celeriac, onion, kale, sweet potatoes. Is a spring box better than an autumnal one? Of course not. They're both amazing.

Evening. Still cloudy, a little drizzly. Late Fall weather. Ed and I like seasonal changes and so we take in this phase in much the same way as any other time of year -- with a little bit of curiosity and a lot of patience. In spring we wait for the flowers to appear. In late fall? For that first snowfall of the year. So that we can be out in the forest again. We just have to wait. And the lights around the house twinkle and shimmer, and the soy candle burns slowly, and I chase cats away from the kitchen counter as I reheat leftovers for supper.

Wednesday

As Ed remains lost in his endless sheep shed based Zoom calls that begin before dawn and continue until nearly the dusk hours, I do stuff that I rarely do when he is in the farmhouse: play music. And think about what's next.

We have learned that the pandemic is unpredictable, that the virus may come and go, that vaccinations are working now, that kids will be safer soon. It took so long to get to this point that it's hard to adjust your behavior to any new reality. Maybe it's time to hatch plans, despite the fact that we haven't guarantees of their success. 

So, after my morning farmette walk...

And after another solo breakfast, I put on the music and, with the help of all kinds of informational resources, I think about winter, about spring. About travel. About kids, writing, visits, projects. 

You can help yourself with thought processes by walking and I do that too. (I also plant a few bulbs, which doesn't help with anything except in the growing of my blisters on my hand from excessive digging.) 

Forest walks. Today I head back to the Arboretum.

Here's a weird combination: we are just about at peak maple leaf season and at the same time, some of the lilacs are reblooming. Is it the fault of the excessively warm October?

Beautiful colors. 

Peace.

As I get ready to get back in the car for the short ride home, my phone rings. It's Ed. He's done with his calls. He's itching for a walk. What's a gorgeous to do but to oblige. We go to our local park. Yet another forest. We need all the forest walks we can get, don't you think? (No photos. I wont say that all forests look alike -- our local one is a little wild and indeed, it's open for hunting, so we wear our blaze orange garb -- but still, I gave you enough to look at in the Arboretum.)

Evening. Call with friends, frittata for dinner. Don't you think there's beauty in predictability?

last October Tuesday

Somehow I missed the first half of the day. It just passed me by. Oh, sure, I fed the animals, ate another solo breakfast (Ed was on a Zoom call all morning long again), took a few pictures for Ocean...

 

But I did not seize the moment and run outside. No bulbs went into the ground. I mostly stayed in, candle lit, hoodie zipped tight and read about the art of French baking. That's not a good use of a sunny morning, no matter how you slice it!

By the afternoon, I needed a forest bath. You know -- a walk in the woods where you pay attention to the trees, the fragrance, the quiet.

 

I wanted to drag Ed out with me, but that just wasn't going to happen. He was still on his Zoom call. Still, I needed that walk, if only to slow down the day a little and have me acknowledge its tenderness and beauty.

In the afternoon, Snowdrop comes to the farmette.

 

 

This, at least, is always a good set of hours -- ones with a child in them, where the child teaches you something about her young life, thus teaching you a little about yourself too. 

(tossing crab apples at each other)

(at home, with the brothers two)

(just outside their home -- evidence that fall is at her brightest)

In the evening I go back to my cookbooks. What is it with me? An imaginary trip into another world of cooking and baking? Or maybe I'm preparing for the winter months, where kitchen work is meditative and healing and, yes, joyful. 

So many grand cookbooks out there! Ed, are you ready for a winter of overeating?