together, continued

The sun is out. Meek at first, as seen through a misty air. Very beautiful!

I walk down, even before getting ready. The house is quiet. We went to bed so late! 

(rainbows on couch...)

I step outside and listen to the birds. Any new ones at this early hour? An American Goldfinch. I dont see him, but he's there.

I rest for a while, ice the knee, study the art in the house. There is a very complicated professional relationship between at least one of the owners of the house and the printed pieces of art. I wont explain it -- you have to look for yourself and read their wonderfully detailed descriptions of everything that you will find in the house.  Living here, you really do feel like the themes of art and the politics of art are very much woven into the fabric of life. The house renovation demonstrates that at the essence of any good  historic preservation, there needs to be a recognition of every aspect of history, and that you can indeed brilliantly weave that history into the experience of living in that house now, at a different time. We are trying to understand what transpired here nearly 200 years ago. Was it good? If so, who was helped? How much can we learn now, at this point in time?

I drift off to sleep on the couch.

Eventually my two friends come down and we have breakfast.

Now, how do we handle this day? Let's start with listening to the birds. Oh! A Black-capped Chickadee and a White-breasted Nuthatch added to the mix. And a totally new one for me -- a White-eyed Vireo.

Yes but what then?

We drive toward the Wisconsin River. The Tower Hill State Park is just there, squeezed in between the American Players (outdoor) Theater and the river. You can't quite get to the banks of the great Wisconsin from here, but you can approach a less sumptuous but still lovely tributary.

We climb up a small incline and view the river from this perch. (We also view the marks of beaver teeth!)

Down again. 

Into the car. Turn once this way, and once that way, and we are at Taliesin. Or at least the welcome center and gift shop of Frank Lloyd Wright's estate. This used to be a restaurant. I remember eating here maybe 40 years ago. It's the only restaurant ever to be designed as such by Wright. Now it's a souvenir place and seasonally (meaning not now), a cafe. We poke around, admire, read a few words of Wright on the beauty of Wisconsin...

And leave.

Across the bridge, turn right, go down to one of the many many small beaches by the river. You wouldn't want to bring your kids to such a beach. The river isn't a wading stream, it's powerful and deep and the currents are strong. But, without question, it's beautiful.

One more stop: we get in the car and drive the half dozen miles to Wilson Creek Pottery. You see their plates, bowls, mugs in various local establishments. I'd say they're right up there with some of our country's finest. And yet, their little on site shop couldn't be more informal.

It's open, but no one is there. 

If you want to buy something, it appears that you pick out your pieces and leave them info for them to bill you later. 

We all pick something. 

And now we are done with our exploring. We drive back to Spring Green, to the coffee shop we loved so much yesterday (Nectar). A box of baked goods to share, coffee, and a long chat. We all have more serious issues percolating in our daily lives. We have had good solid hours to review these, to gain strength, to feel support. Over coffee and cakes.

Back home, we split up: Barbara hikes up a mountain, Diane retreats to the porch, I ice my knee. Until it's time for wine and cheese. And dinner -- a soup prepared by all of us, minus me again!

And a final evening together. Treasured, relaxed, because we have been through so much, over the course of so many decades of life!

(a three person selfie, taken by Diane, by the Wisconsin River)

with love...