returning home...

White nights are those when it never gets dark. It feels like the sun was on its way down, then, just as it began to disappear beyond the horizon, it changed its mind and came right back up again. Like a pogo stick. Down and up, down and up.

If you have a flight that has you waking just before 4 a.m. (after going to sleep just a couple of white night hours earlier) so that you can catch a ride to the airport at 4:30, then you really appreciate the light gently coming in through the window. You don't want to wake the little girl still sleeping in the big bed, so you dont turn on the lights. And still, you can see everything. You tuck your cream and night-wear into your big bag (to be sent through), zip up everything, and hop into the shower, from where you hear that soft sweet voice -- hi gaga... I'm going to miss you...

Go back to bed, Snowdrop. You dont need to be up for hours!

I will, I just want to stay up a little to say good bye. 

 

 

 

Leaving Helsinki. Down the elevator...

 

 

 

... to the front desk for a quick check on my account. The hotel told me that since I'd be missing breakfast, there's be coffee and croissants available at 4:15 for me to take. I was going to pass, but the croissants were warm and smelled so good...

A quick ride through the quiet city, and I am at the airport.  

Helsinki Airport. It is the culprit here, responsible for this middle of the (white) night wake up. My airlines of choice flies out of there, but to connect to U.S. bound flights the same day, you have to leave by 7. I contemplated over-nighting in Amsterdam, or even Paris, just to give me a decent night's sleep in Helsinki, and a last breakfast with the young family (they are flying to Chicago, so they have no connection issues), but thankfully I decided way back when, at the time of booking everything, that I'd just want to get home. And that is just so true! I do want to get home. (And I don't want to stop even for a minute in sweltering Paris or overheated Amsterdam.)

Breakfast, therefore, is at the airport and it consists of that croissant and fruit picked up at the hotel, and the world's worst coffee, straight from a machine that asked if you wanted coffee with a whitener. Sounds ominous, no? Whatever it was, I would not call it milk. I did add to my tray something that will be my Helsinki breakfast gift: yogurt with juicy squished berries. Possibly lingonberries or maybe bilberries. The flavor is tart in a pleasant sort of way. Had they granola, I would have sprinkled it on top. I picked up a love of croissants from France, a love of muesli in Switzerland, and now, from Finland -- a real fondness for creamy yogurt with a juicy berry mixture (and granola, once I'm home). You might wonder -- what breakfast love did I bring back from Poland? Really not a whole lot since Poles tend to favor savory breakfasts. White cheese with radishes and maybe chives, over dark bread, a soft boiled egg in a glass, lots of meaty cold cuts. I suppose from my grandmother, I did pick up a love of oatmeal with fruits and honey. My winter staple!

 

 

The flight to Amsterdam took off on time. And it arrived on time. That is really good news: I need to go through passport control in Amsterdam and the stories of lines there have been harrowing and my layover is unusually short, again, picked because the choices were poor: just one hour to connect, or wait 4.5 hours for the next flight. I went with the risky one hour and this time at least I won.

The flight to Minneapolis, on the other hand, did not take off on time. Something about numbers that needed balancing. An hour past scheduled take off, the soft spoken captain finally proclaimed it to be okay (whatever it was that was not okay), but of course, there was that lost hour, and once again, I had a short connecting time in Minneapolis: originally one and a half hours. -- to clear customs, pick up luggage, transfer it to the domestic connection, go through security once again and get to the gate which in Minneapolis is no small feat, and now I had that cut to under an hour. It was stressful, hurried, and I had to budge a few lines, and move along at a fast clip, but in the end, I ran up to the gate just as the last passenger was boarding. It was that close, but I made it.

Ed is waiting at the airport. Your beard needs a trim -- I comment. Yes, my hair too. 

I had asked him to come over and hang out with me tonight, but I changed my mind and told him we need to push that to a later day. I have a lot to do before I pick up Millie tomorrow and, too, I am still coughing up a storm. After listening to my raspy voice, I'm sure he was relieved to return to the farmette (where, as of yesterday, the mosquitoes are horrible!).

I drive by Steffi's House. The garden looks pretty good. Lots of rain made for light work for my watering person. But it's not all perfect. Some plants have fallen, some chips have been washed away. Worst of all, the fencing people put up a mini fence inside so that Millie wont be able to squeeze through the posts and in places it looks plain horrible.  They need to redo it. They wont be happy to hear this. Sigh...

And then I'm home. 

But is it really home if I'm to move out of it in a week?  My to-do list for the return is not to unpack and put away, but to throw out and downsize once again. To take stock of the plants. To bring boxes up from the basement and start packing and stacking stuff in the garage. And to get Millie! But not until tomorrow morning. For now, I sit back and drink my perfect milky coffee. And I think about it all. It was such a grand trip! Possibly a "best ever!" Which makes me not just content, but plain old happy.

with so much love...