To you, one Ocean day may seem not too dissimilar from another. The morning walk to the barn... it's cold today, it was cold yesterday. Still beautifully golden, with those tiny crab apples dangling in their ornamental fashion, ready for the robins that come by all winter long...
The trip to the bakery to pick up morning treats for me, a loaf of bread for Ed, and croissants to freeze for the kids' after school snack...
Yes, I stop off at the market -- the last one until next April! I pick up some pesto for my daughter and spinach for the farmhouse. And I say goodbye until the new year.
And breakfast -- you've seen farmhouse breakfasts hundreds of times here! The better question is -- when haven't I posted about the unique magic of this morning meal?
To me, though, this day is singularly different. Okay, I admit it -- every day has a different mood. Maybe a certain tranquility that comes only with gray skies, or an energy radiating from brilliant sunshine. Maybe I will have finalized some travel plans that will make me smile with satisfaction. Or a grandchild will have said something extraordinarily poignant. Or, I'll seethe with frustration at the post-Covid congestion that refuses to budge. Or a planting goal will have been accomplished (although that's always a moving target -- witness the planting of the bulbs which, when finished, only lead to the purchase of more bulbs).
This Saturday, for example, has two unusually delicious moments. The first came as a complete surprise: I got a message from a friend letting me know that she would be driving up to Madison for her son's sporting activity this weekend. She hasn't been here for many years. Would I have time for a coffee?
Would I!
She is younger than me -- my daughter's age actually. And we used to have a different relationship -- she was my student back in my teaching days. And what a student she was! These were days when I barely kept up with life. New subjects to teach nearly every year, kids still needing my time at home, dinners waiting to be cooked -- it was a race to get to the end of the day without keeling over. For several years, this student -- so much younger than me! not yet a parent herself! -- kept me focused on the quality of my work like no one else at the Law School. She is a great writer and a superb thinker. So many times I kept at it because I knew that if I let something slide, she would see it, and she deserved better from her teachers.
And then after she graduated and moved for a while to Denmark, we became friends. She is that kind of a person -- she knows how to span decades and find common ground.
So we met for coffee, at Oasis Cafe...
And honestly, it could have lasted way into the late afternoon, because she is that wise and that fun to talk to. A rare gift of modesty, humor, and smarts. You walk away thinking -- the next generation is so much more centered and broad-thinking than we ever were! How good is that!
My second outstanding moment came shortly after, when I dared myself to finally take the bike out again for a ride and walk with Ed. Covid had slapped me down. Was it perhaps time to get up and get moving again? The weather cooperated. The sun came out. We are on our way!
Was it easy? Well, initially yes. I pedaled as if Covid never made its way to the farmette. It was a glorious ride!
(here: behind Ed, who always beats me on the downhill)
The walk, too, was good. Straight into the sunshine. How could you lose?
The ride to the lake was still fine...
The return trip was a bit of a drag. I'm not surprised: the last time I rode the bike was the day before I tested positive for Rebound. One bug can really zap your strength so that you have to climb back up again to where you were before.
I wont obsess about the movement rings again, but I have to say, I was glad that today I closed them once more. First time in two weeks.
So no, not a day like the others. Singularly rewarding and very beautiful.
