still February

Well that's a stunning ending to this normally cold and indifferent month: a high of 52f (11C) today! And sunny.

And windy, but who's complaining! 

(Well, the chickens are -- not about the weather but about my coming to feed them on the late side...)

We have some small animal altercations which we've not been able to control well: a skunk keeps visiting the barn at night (he leaves his signature card behind). And a racoon came to the porch last night. We had to scramble to chase him out and hide Pancake's food dish (which normally stays out on the porch). One of these animals clearly visited the sheep shed as well overnight, creating a mess in search of food. You have to wonder why these beasts are suddenly desperate for additional food sources. And then you remember -- it's spring. Pregnancies abound. Appetites soar. 

There's nothing we can do really, except be diligent about hiding cat food and chicken feed. We do use the trap to scare off these animals (nothing like an overnight in a cage to give them pause) and sometimes we remove them to an approved place far away, but honestly, you just have to cross your fingers and hope your chickens will be spared and eventually that these invaders will look elsewhere.

 

Breakfast: I tell Ed that all his blood donations have resulted in me sitting across the table from a guy who has the word blood emblazoned on his chest. (The free t-shirts he gets lately have a message about giving blood, which is fine, unless you have to look at some iteration of that message every single day. He donates frequently and so there are many t--shirts!)

The topic of blood makes an appearance again later in the day as I tune in to the meeting between the leader of a nation ravaged by war and, well, two angry men who are at the helm of this nation. I'm not sure anyone can stomach the berating and finger wagging of our "leadership" at a man who has bravely lead the defense of his country in a hellishly bloody war. But I force myself to watch the details. And it is shocking. I know my Polish friends must be watching as well. What must they be thinking! Hard to believe we traded away an alliance with economically successful democracies around the world for a phony alliance with a floundering dictatorship headed by a war criminal.

 

At noon, Ed and I go for a walk in the new development. The wind is fierce, but this may be a good thing: chase those thoughts away, clear the mind, face the sun, let it go...

(Oh! The pond behind the farmette lands is almost completely melted) 

I pick up the kids at school and quickly drive them over to the farmhouse.

On the one hand, it's a rushed visit -- the girl is tech crew for a Shakespeare performance tonight and needs to be (who knows why) behind the scenes two hours early. We drop her off at 4, then Sparrow and I go to Barrique's where we meet up with my daughter for an end of week/end of month moment.  

I try very hard to stay with our favorite topics: kids, friends, events. Future plans, current small successes. Only toward the end do I let loose with my anguish over what took place in the Oval Office today.

And then I go home. The last day of February: lovely for us. Heartbreaking for so many...

with love... 

Thursday no work day

My gifted for you article comes today again from the NYTimes. It's about America's glorification of working long hours. You can read it here. There are few articles in the paper these days that make me smile, but this one, and the (Readers Pick) comments that follow did make me at least pop a lopsided grin. Not because it provided a humorous counter to the chaotic news of the day, but because it described something that I'd long thought was absurd -- the bragging that I've so often come across on this side of the ocean about how long and how hard someone, a successful someone, will have worked that day and every day. Even though they didn't have to put in all those countless extra hours.  I'd always wanted to say --  okay, do it if it brings you pleasure. But if you're asking me if I admire your life's choices, I'm going to have to say no, not really. [Caveat: I'm not talking about people who are forced to work overtime or two jobs to make ends meet. I'm talking about those who have a choice and who choose grueling hours only to then boast about it.] 

I'm not denigrating hard work. But I do wonder why we continue to admire those who claim it's a mark of success to make big money working long hours, often under great stress and with not much pleasure. That feels skewed in the wrong direction. Shouldn't we hope to come to a point in our lives when we can work less and find joy in all that this planet has to offer?

I'm not lazy. And neither is Ed - though he claims he is! But we love to do what we love to do. Working daily on a blog, or all spring and summer out in the flower fields -- this is deeply satisfying work. I like what it brings me -- peace, joy, a calmness that otherwise can be elusive. The days I find to be most frustrating are ones that are too full, where I have no time to take long pauses. Those are failed days for me and it has always been that way. 

In younger years, I longed for more time with my kids. With friends. Time for travel. For books read in a coffee shop. For visits to a greenhouse to pick up seedlings for the garden. For long forest walks. These days I need those more than ever! In my view, Americans have never been given the opportunity to lead a balanced life. Short, unpaid vacations mean that you ration your leisure hours. Is this what we want going forward? There is an oft repeated saying that I remember coming across when I was still very young -- something like "No one has ever said on their death bed 'I wish I'd spent more time in the office'." I remember seeing it and rolling my eyes -- as in "well duh...!"

Go ahead, Mr. Billionaire. Work 120 hours per week if you want to. But don't think for a minute you're superior because of it. If you weren't such a destructive, mean bully, I'd feel sorry for you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few birds outside I want to listen to. (Today: bluejays, cardinals, sparrows.)

 

Another gloriously spring-like day. A few days ago Ed and I were skiing. Today, there's not a speck of snow left on the ground.

Another leisurely breakfast.

During my morning walk to feed the animals, I noticed how many spent plants were still standing in the flower beds. These will have to be cleared. Typically, I do a major yard clean up in early April, but this year, I'll be away for a chunk of that time. I should get to work now!

And yet -- I'm not ready for it. February isn't a gardening month for us here in Wisconsin (unless you have a greenhouse). My drive to stay out doors hasn't surfaced yet. I'm waiting for March!

(My over-wintered plants are perking up on the window sill; by December, I thought I had lost the bougainvillea and the rosemary. But both are now finally generating new growth and the bougainvillea is starting to even bloom again)

 

 

The great weather (a little cooler today, but still warm for February, and still partly cloudy) is a bit of a problem for the planned ski lesson for Snowdrop. Will there even be snow at our local ski area?

I pick her up after school and we head out. 

A week ago the fields and forests were completely covered with snow. Today -- not a speck to be found anywhere.

Except at the ski area! Their snow base is solid enough to withstand this warmup, though they are switching to a spring schedule next week and if I'm reading the weather correctly, they're not likely to last the whole week. But today, things are looking okay!

I signed Snowdrop up for one more ski lesson and for the first time, her instructor is a woman - Maddie. [I ask her later to rank them and she doesn't hesitate: Matthieu is still at the top, but Maddie comes next.] 

As I send her off for her lesson, she tells me -- you should ski! You know you want to!

Should I? I'd brought my book to read in their warm lounge. The snow is slushy. I'm wearing sweat pants and light gloves. And it's such a bother. We have a very short amount of time.

And yet...

The hills are nearly empty. The equipment is right here, the sun is out... and they have senior rates!

I quickly get boots, skis and a helmet. 

I tell myself I'll just play around on the magic carpet slopes. "Practice my technique." Snowdrop waves and grins as we ride up and ski down, often passing each other.

 

 

 

 

 

But I push myself to at least do a couple of runs from the top of the chairlift.

It's okay, but the intermediate run feels icy and I dont enjoy it. I go back to the gentler slopes, determined just to have fun. To feel that confidence again. To love the slowness of the descent.

And I do. And when the girl's lesson is over, I suggest we ski for a short while together, just the two of us. And she is delighted.

 

 

 

 

 

I never know if this will be my last time on skis, but I have to say, if it was my last time -- it was a remarkable and memorable one.

We drive home in high spirits. 

(I pause to photograph a setting sun, but Snowdrop points me to the opposite side of the road -- where the trees and fields pick up the red glow of the last rays. It's beautiful!)

 

 

And at home I cook a big pot of chili. A deeply satisfying dish for a deeply satisfying day.

 

with love...

Wednesday showers

Well they can't all be sunny, can they... And I'm not likely to move each day as much as I should, or would like to. Nor will I give a daily scrub to drains, cars, dish racks and such, on some path to a spring cleaning. Because some days are meant for contemplative quiet time.

True, I feel a cold hovering in the background trying to decide whether or not to attack me. I'm beefing up my defenses by resting more, doing less. I'm also thinking about writing. I think if I downgraded my engagement with politics, with learning about what's going on in this country, with trying to understand the background stories of some of the major players (today: rereading this one, from two years ago in the New Yorker, about Musk) -- if I significantly cut back on all that, I could, for example, write more. [People whose brain functions are intricately interwoven with putting down words somewhere, somehow, so that thoughts settle down and clarity emerges, always want to write more.]

Something to consider going forward. 

But not today. I do, however, have reason to smile as another driven writer -- the one who wrote her play while pretending to be poring over her math work in school -- finally copied her script (I'm told) for her fellow actors. I hear more about the rehearsals as I pack the two kids into the car after school. At least the rehearsals are taking place at recess and not, say, during science or music classes.

It's a pleasant car ride because, well, it's very spring like out there...

(puddles everywhere? the chickens don't mind!)

 

 

... and, too, I tell Sparrow that the time for the ice cream shop has arrived. The boy does love his ice cream cone.

Since he always asks for vanilla and she always requests chocolate, I ask them if they'd like to taste sample other flavors. She goes for it! brownie, mint chocolate -- variations on a chocolate theme, to be sure. Sparrow looks at the display (having just finished his vanilla cone) and asks -- could I just have a sample of vanilla?

I did bake the WORLD'S BEST blueberry muffins this morning, so I suppose I'm not a complete couch potato today...

(Guess who is a complete couch potato??)

 

But for the most part, the day was quiet.

No sunshine? No problem. Spring weather is often wet. Oh, and I still had some chicken noodle soup leftover from when I cooked it up over the weekend. Perfect for that battle with the possible cold. I think I'm winning! 

with love...

Keep at it!

That is what the day is telling us: keep those spring thoughts flowing, because really, tough winter days do not last. I promise you: there will be an end and we will once again be planting seeds for a better world garden.

Today's weather is fabulous! 

A high of 50F (10C) once again, with plenty of sunshine! (There can never be too much sunshine in February.)

I have a breakfast date downtown with my two downtown-living friends. I joke that this is the one day I put aside my sweatpants and put on urban attire. It feels good to take pride in your appearance every now and then and these two have an eye for the aesthetic (I suppose we all do, except it's buried beneath a pile of other preoccupations in some). Our regular meetups are always beautiful in the presentation (and delicious in the execution). And of course there are the urban views. Today I face Lake Monona and John Nolen Drive -- which I take to get downtown, and which is where I always snap the skyline pictures, like this one from this morning:

Breakfast:

Inevitably we talk about The News. But in moderation. We talk, too, about what lies ahead on the micro level: in our own back yards. It is one splendid beginning to a good day.

 

And of course, it's reclaiming the pleasure of being outside that puts it over the top for me: my bike was getting it's annual checkup this week (something that Ed rolls his eyes about, since he cannot understand why I would buy into this "need for annual checkups" -- for my own person or for my e-bike). I called Trek (lovely people work there!) and they promised to get it back to me by noon. 

 

 

 

A few minutes later, Ed and I are on our beloved bike loop. 

The somewhat less hilly one (which normally takes us 40 minutes but today took us, um, 45...).

I keep saying again and again -- this is fabulous!

Because it is.

 

 

There's something about bike riding in the country: you are at once fast and yet you notice every detail. You take in so much! And there is joy in taking note of the melting snow, the puddles, and of course, the bright sky framing our beautiful landscape.

Did I put aside the news stories for the day? Of course not. I had some moments of satisfaction though as I watched people gather in protest against cuts in Medicaid in front of Senator Johnson's office. There's so much cruelty taking place right now that your head spins as you try to understand what's going on. Cuts in Medicaid are especially pernicious because, of course, they cut into benefits for the scared, the  sick, old, the vulnerable. There's something unreal about tipping the balance in this way -- towards siphoning off care for those who need it most. Watching the protest made me remember that people do care. Many people do care. 

 

In the afternoon I pick up the kids. 

I never know what stories they'll bring to the car from the day, but by now I can certainly guess that Sparrow will start with all that went wrong in his day and Snowdrop will do just the opposite. Nonetheless, by the time they we got to the farmette, Sparrow had emptied out his bag of woes and Snowdrop had ran through the details of her exciting projects and all was good again.

The day would have ended radiantly, except that after dropping them off in the evening, I glanced over the car's interior and any other day I would have sighed and moved on, but it was just too much: the car was full of kid messes, crumbs, mud, salt stains, debris, dust. Normally I do a grand spring cleanup -- inside and out -- once the temps are warm enough to work a hose and a powerful vacuum on it, but I just could not stand the horror of it right now, so I brought out the hand vacuum and a bucket of soapy water and set to work. This is the third day in a row where I found some domain of our daily life totally beyond the pale in terms of grime (yesterday it was the dish rack, the day before  -- the shower drain), in need of an overhaul and scrub down. Maybe that is, in fact, the surest sign that spring is here? There are things you can tolerate in the winter, but come spring, your visual sensitivities are on high alert. Soon the lilac will bloom, damn it! Surely I need to clean up accumulated grime in preparation for it!

I'll end with my humble appreciation for this extraordinarily lovely day. I know there will be more in the months ahead. And that makes me very happy.

 

Monday melt

When Ed stepped outside this morning, he felt it and commented immediately -- it feels like spring. It's not just the temperature, though reaching 50F (10C) surely helps. It's the smell -- he continued. It really smells like spring. I'm with him on that. Perhaps the smell comes from melting snow, creating slushy, in places muddy paths. Or the dampness of shrubs. Some countries are bragging about snowdrops popping up in their woodlands (that's England for you!). Good for them. We, on the other hand, have the smell of spring.

We also have the smell of skunk in the barn, which is not good news. We'll be attempting a skunk freak-out (a trap and release) to get him to go elsewhere. Let's hope it works. For the sake of the chickens!

Breakfast, with tulips, though tattered around the edges because Dance has decided that she needs to participate in the morning meal and she does this by munching on tulip leaves. Somewhat cute, but mostly annoying!

Afterwards, I have a massage, with a concentration on my neck, head and back. It's always grand for the duration of the massage itself, but I have to say, once I'm up and running again, I'm left wondering if there is any residual benefit to this. Especially since I don't get them on a regular basis (way too expensive and no, health insurance does not believe in therapeutic massages, especially ones that are accompanied by lavender essential oils!). 

Bliss, for an hour anyway. Utter bliss.

I come home around noon and Ed suggests a walk. I'm completely enthusiastic about the idea, though we're getting close to my "pick up the kids" hour. Surely we can do a quick half hour in the forest, along the bike path (because the trails are way too mushy)! It's a great way to extend the benefits of a massage!

Unfortunately, we choose the bike path that runs past a prairie where they appear to be doing a burning of shrubs and tree branches. There is plenty of smoke in the air. The last thing we want is to walk along a smoky path, so we veer to the rural road, which is about as uninteresting as you can get. 

And still, we're in great spirits. We walk up to Lake Waubesa and test the mush on the still frozen waters. (There are fisher people out there so it must be safe, right?) Signs of early spring, everywhere! 

 

 

We come home enthralled by it -- that feeling of a new season just around the corner.

 

And yes, then it really is time to pick up the kids.

Sparrow is a little down because he sooooo wanted ice cream today and we have not the time for it. But Snowdrop is in high spirits.

I finished writing the play and we're rehearsing it on recess! She describes it in great detail to us. Did she write it as an assignment? She did not. So when did you write this? Oh, you know, at the side.

How long is it?

Oh, only ten sections! 

Wow. Pretty long...

Not really -- our Shakespeare play (which she is involved with evenings and weekends) has 39 sections. Good to know that the girl has not out-written Shakespeare. 

Her enthusiasm is contagious. By the time we pull up to the farmhouse, Sparrow has forgotten about the ice cream.

In the evening I bake up shrimp scampi and cauliflower. Sounds weird to combine the two, doesn't it? For us it's the perfect meal. Fill up on the veggie (sprinkled with parmesan), savor the shrimp (smothered in home grown garlic).

Such a beautiful day! Yes, there is that steady trickle of depressing news. You can't avoid it. You shouldn't avoid it. [Gut punch for today? So many... Let me note one that actually comes from Germany. They had their election yesterday. You may or may not like the conservative politics of the winner, but I'll say this: he intends to address the issues people care about (the economy, Russian aggression in the Ukraine, immigration) rather than practicing a crazy politic of revenge and destruction, and a vast majority of the German people did actually cast a vote. 83%. Compare that to our 63.9%. We consistently bring out fewer people on election day than do most established democracies. Those who do not vote are more often than not young, disengaged and disinterested in politics. It doesn't put our democratic project in a good light, does it?] 

And yet on this beautiful day here, at the farmette, we continue to live in a peaceful quiet. And at this time of the year -- it's a brilliant peaceful quiet!

with so much love...

Sunday warmup

In the morning, while fixing breakfast, I listen to Aishah Rascoe (who has to be one of NPR's best!) interview Ilyasah Shabazz, one of the middle daughters of Malcolm X (he had six of them). So much to learn about this man, his life, his evolution, and the image that he left for others to exploit after his death! The interview gave me a new perspective on him. A daughter's perspective, as it were. I was just 11 when he was assassinated and so all I knew was what I learned after. The complexities had faded. Time erases nuance.

I then read an article about Senator Chris Murphy (from Connecticut). I'll gift that one for you here. Why? No, silly reader -- not because his mother is of Polish descent (and has a maiden name remarkably similar to mine), and not because his sister shares the name of one of my daughters! Rather -- because reading it gives you hope. It reminds you that there are smart people in Congress who seek to understand the current crisis and address it with the tools we now have available to us. Pay attention to this guy. If we have elections in 2028 (and it is an "if"), I would expect Murphy to be among the front runners on the Democratic ticket.

Why all this reading early on? Well, Ed did the run to the barn to feed the animals this morning. As a favor, yes, but mostly so that I would hurry up with my morning rituals, so that we could head out to do our (perhaps last) cross country skiing.

Breakfast, still leisurely, followed soon on the heels of morning chores.

And by 10, we were in our local park.

That's exceptionally early for us. Why rush out like this? Because the temps are rising and the snow is melting and there wasn't that much of it in the first place. 

Is this our last ski outing for the year? It could be. Best commemorate it!

(a selfie that didn't quite align well!)

(proof that I was there... in my pink sweatpants)

It is a good outing. Indeed, a great one. We didn't quite get a robust skiing season this year, but we had this -- a few days in February that weren't drab or bleak or centered on the living room couch. We are grateful!

 

And the afternoon, which is in fact split between the couch and chores, quickly morphs into the evening. Dinner with the young family!

(crackers, cheese, olives: take your pick! Snowdrop always goes for the olives. The boys? cheese on very long crackers!)

 

 

 

 

Dinner.

 

 

After everyone was fed and the kitchen was tidied and toys were put away, Ed and I watched a new video from our old farmer favorite (Just a Few Acres). The farmer, who lives in upstate New York, noted that winter was half over. Half over?? No way! I'd say we're heading into spring. Sure, early spring, which does last a long time up north. The ground is hard as a rock and there will be a spotty snow cover for a while. But when you have temps inching up -- for me, that's a sign of early spring. Not just the second half of winter!

One last week of February, coming up!

with love...

Saturday warm-up

Oh there is nothing like a good night's sleep and a day of sunshine to make you almost forget the horrors of this world. Almost, but not quite.

I feed the animals...

Then drive to the bakery for a supply of croissants...

And of course, the news is on. Stories about people who have lost their work. Overnight. With suddenly nothing. No word on unemployment compensation, health insurance. Just a big silence. 

I read later several comments on this. From good employers who had had to fire people in their companies. They wrote how tough it was -- they couldn't sleep for days knowing that they were imposing hardship on families. And there, the termination was warranted. Not random, helter skelter, based not on efficiencies but on someone's idea of a good time. "Let's have some fun!"-- cries the perpetrator (Thursday, Musk). While people suffer.

By the time I sit down to breakfast I'm jolted out of my state of blissful peace. 

Still, I eat breakfast with Ed, and Dance, and those two help me let go a little of the tension. 

 

And the croissant is excellent! It took many, many years before croissants sold in bakeries here could be ranked as superb. And I say this having baked croissants for L'Etoile for several years. (I thought they were just okay.) These days, I have no complaints. The fact is, several of our bakeries make fine croissants. Madison Sourdough just happens to have ones Ed and I regard as top of the line.

 

 

 

Later in the morning, Ed went to give blood again (free t-shirt!) and I did my usual guaranteed relaxation: a rework of a trip. This one isn't until the summer, but it was great fun re-imagining it.  It's as if I already took the one that was on the books, then scrapped, and now I was ready for something new! 

And in the afternoon Ed and I pack our cross country skis into the car and head out to our local park. And it is beautiful. 

The forest is quiet. Not a soul in sight. The wind on the prairie is gusty, but here, in the woods, the trees shelter us. I suppose they've seen it all: people have done some pretty insane, destructive things before. And they will do it again. But the trees will stand tall despite the tumult. In the forest, I can always lose myself in their quiet, their sympathetic nod. Their protective branches.

Home again. I make chicken soup, with egg noodles. Seems a good option for tonight. Now if Ed would only find light fare on the TV, we'd be set! Eh, we're set anyway. We are among the lucky. Unemployed by choice. Old, but content.

with love...

Friday in favor of moderation

So much sunshine! Take one look at the weather: there's a real push toward spring.

 

 

 

We are feeling boisterous. Breakfast chatter is about fixing some things (cat door to sheep shed, for example). Hard to believe that in two months I'll be outlining my planting agenda for the day. 

But boisterous doesn't equate with fast. For example, our breakfast? Slow...

Do I sound like a broken record when I say (yet again!) that sometimes slow is good and speed is destructive?

I read in the press interviews with those who voted for the leadership we have now in this country and I am surprised how many are favorably impressed with how fast this administration is forcing through its agenda. 

Is that good? 

I am reminded of Sandpiper's visits to the farmhouse on Sundays. He can undo any structure the other two may have built or set up in the course of the week, with lightening speed. And he's just three years old. Amazing how easy it is to shoot a cannon ball at something that was erected with patience and care. Quick to wreck, without thought or analysis. This is a good thing?? I don't understand. What have you gained from it now and more importantly, how will this affect your future?  Do you even know? Don't you wonder if someone is maybe pulling the wool over your eyes with all this talk of fraud and waste without evidence of either? Blindsiding you just a bit? Quickly, with speed, before you can understand what's really happening? 

 

We go cross country skiing. It's windy but beautiful outside! We're not fast on the trails. But not slow either. Moderate!

 

And I pick up the kids, bring them home...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

... feed them, give them play space, read, then pack into the car so that the girl can get to her lessons on time. We've taken to pausing then at Barrique's. Sparrow and I, and eventually my daughter, and still later the lesson girl. It's a great way to let go of the week and ease into the weekend. What are your plans? -- she asks. What are yours -- I want to know.

I drive home. To Ed, to the farmhouse. To our peaceful quiet. 

with love...