The three of us are in Mineral Point on our annual retreat/reunion/meetup. Temperatures are dropping and by tonight a weather horror will descend on this corner of our state. I have to say, this has been our May saga for several years now. Last year we even had a tornado rage past our hilltop rental house. Does this month always insert a small reminder that not all days can be bright and beautiful? That we must learn to find joy even in sub-optimal conditions?
We eat breakfast at the Jones House (the name of our "home"), though being terribly spoiled by my daily coffee routines back home, I dash out for my beloved caffeinated drink -- a latte. There is a coffee shop just a five minute walk from our place. What's this -- they have blueberry crumb cake! Yes please! I take it home for our dessert.
At the dining table we find a box of question cards. We'd already played the owners' Hygge game last night -- one where you ask each other questions that probe your thoughts on any number of things, from the mundane to the profound. The table questions are similar and we love feeding each other these prompts! Sure, we've known one another for many decades, but still, coming up with a pet peeve or a favorite purchase from last year is (the table cards err on the side of "very innocuous") leads to some funny recollections!
Afterwards, two of us sit down and pore over the pages of a cookbook of sorts (one that shows you how you might arrange platters of foods for guests). One wonderful aspect of this rental house is that the owners have fantastic books and magazines lying around. You could spend your days just going through them. Anything from poetry through art and history and of course foods. We lose ourselves in this for a good hour.
As these are the last minutes of dry weather, we schedule our exploratory walk for early in the day. Well, two of us do this. The third is determined to make inroads on the jigsaw puzzle I brought along (even as their are plenty of games and jigsaw puzzles here as well). We'll help her when we come back.
(exploring "Pendarvis," a small community of well preserved houses from the early mining days of 1830-40)
The wind picks up. Time for lunch. We all go to the Wild Blue Yonder Coffee House. Quiches, soups, and a hummus sandwich. Delicious! (Few visitors at this time of the year, but many locals, meeting up to take stock of the goings on in this world.)
And another outing, this time by car, to the Brewery Pottery, so named because the rather huge shop is located in a 19th century building that once housed a brewery.
And finally, we all lose ourselves in the puzzle. 1000 pieces and two days for it. We made great progress! And supper is a composite of chips and salsa, with a salad and bits of smoked salmon. No one is hungry for more. The lilacs at the table? Well, if a bush is hanging over a public sidewalk, you're allowed to pick a few twigs off of it, aren't you? Aren't you?
It was a full day. We're preparing to be housebound tomorrow. With winds, rain and a high of 49F (9C), it's safe to assume that we will finish the puzzle. The house is warm, our food supply is ample. And it's so good to have unlimited time to listen, speculate, maybe vent a little, because there is so much to fret about right now in this country. But we end the day as always, on a high note. I'm the youngest of the three and still, I have joined the club of retired contentedness. If our kids our happy, our partners are still upright and our knees/eyes/hearts/minds aren't failing, we remain upbeat. And happy to have this time together.
with love...
