tech Monday

If you hang on to your old devices, sucking every last bit of life out of them, then you have to be prepared to invest time when things begin to unravel. As I sat in the Apple store to begin to address the issues that have cropped up for me, I chatted with another customer who was upgrading to the latest model of a laptop. I mentioned that back at the farmhouse, Ed just bought a computer for the price that Apple would charge for... oh, I don't know, an insurance policy on their comparable model. The customer smiled and said -- how many models has he had in the time you've had your Apple?

His point is well taken. Were it not for storage problems, my computer would be chugging along perhaps indefinitely. Whatever stuff they've loaded into its sleek and beautiful body is slated to endure a long life. (Except for the Apple cords. Geez Louise, Apple! Get a handle on the cords!)

All this to say that after breakfast...





... I spend the entire morning addressing technology issues -- at Apple and at UW's DoIt. And I have to go back to both tomorrow.

Well so what! Effort well spent! Especially since it really was on the cool side this morning. Pretty, what with the fog and the deep freeze, banding together to give us a spectacular country morning!






But a cold one.






I broke away from technology issues to pick up Snowdrop. I had trepidations. She went to sleep late last night. She refused to nap at school. Oh dear.

But, children teach you that you cannot predict life in any fashion whatsoever. Work with what's before you. Do not plan for the good or the bad. Just work with what you have.

I'm handed another golden deck of cards today.

It's not exactly warm. 41F (5C) I think. But there is a hazy wisp of sunlight left in the late afternoon and the wind has not kicked in. So we go to the playground.

Oh, she swings! I forgot my gloves and my hands are beet red from pushing her on that swing. Too, we walk toward the lake and I show her how ice is forming at the edges. I mean, we are in one big cold spell.

But you know, this is when you appreciate warmth. Hands beet red? Face feeling the punch of arctic air? Well now, enter a protected interior -- even as small and unheated as that of a car -- and you feel you are in heaven!







We're at the farmhouse now... Or, almost. She has to sweep up the leaves. Warmed up from the ride here, she forgets that she is without a jacket...






Today, she is Galileo! she is Amundsen! She is Snowdrop telling me to be quiet because she is taking care of her babies upstairs behind closed doors.






In the evening, I take her back home. Her mom is waiting for her. Snowdrop plunks herself down and begins a marathon of book reading...





On my return drive to the farmette, I listen to NPR news. So, the cavemen (and women, I hope) had already discovered and enjoyed wine? How clever of them!

Ed has work meetings all night long. At the farmhouse, I sit down to my computer, reheat a big cup of chili and drink a delicious glass of wine.

Sunday

No luxuriating in bed today: I want to be up before Snowdrop. Get the kitchen in motion. Warm up the place. Peel the fruit, prepare the pancake batter.

I do all that and more. I sit down and listen. I hear her upstairs, talking to herself in bed. This is such a beautiful time to be a grandparent -- when the child is still young (but not so young that she wakes up before you!), when she is full of joy at the prospect of a new day, when she finally calls out -- grandma! And I walk upstairs and open the door and she sits up in her bed and says -- grandma, I've been waiting FOR-EVER for you!

The routines are familiar. She has her "first breakfast" -- a bare nibble on cereal and a yogurt...






And then she runs off to cook for "her kids" while I try to coax her toward a bath.
I have to flip the pancake! -- she protests.






Later, dressed and ready to feed anyone who'll sit down with her...






...while I finish off the bacon and pancakes. Of the three -- fruits, pancakes with syrup, and bacon, it would be hard to choose which she devours with the greatest pleasure. I'm guessing it's bacon.






Happy girl, playful girl!






Her scope of cavorting is large now -- the whole farmhouse.

(Putting her babes to bed, her bed. Upstairs.)





I wont let her go up and down the stairs without slippers -- they lessen the chance of a slide down. Even so, the staircase is a problem for anyone who isn't careful. Built by the original farmhouse owners (if there is a wrong way of doing something, they did it!), it offers very narrow steps -- too narrow for a natural step down. If a guest wants to go upstairs to use the bathroom (there is only one and it is upstairs), we always warn them -- careful when you walk down!

This raises the topic of redesigning and rebuilding the stairwell -- something I very much want to do. (If you are from Madison and you know of a superb carpenter who could take on this rather large project, would you send me a note? Thanks!) Such a boring job in the scheme of things, but so necessary in my opinion!

The little girl leaves. Ed and I settle into our usual back and forth on these cold gray days:

We really should go out for a hike...
But the hunters!
We'll wear blaze orange.
So cold! But we really should...

And of course we do go. Eventually. Clad in blaze orange, we head out to the Brooklyn Wildlife Area -- a favorite hiking segment for us as it has forest, undulating terrain and a view. And it's a short drive. Less than one story of This American Life!

Yes, it's a brown landscape: but varying and pretty shades of brown.






But for the (thankfully) rare gunshot, it is quiet. The smell of a late fall forest is, in my opinion sublime!






And of course, there's the view -- one that we like quite a bit: woodland, farm fields -- the riches of southern Wisconsin!






Evening. Snowdrop is back with her mom for supper at the farmhouse.

She's had a full day and so predictably, she begs for books, one after another. Lucky girl -- she has many readers to keep her happy tonight!






(You mean you both will play with me??)






Suppertime.






She is a natural storyteller. We are the happy listeners.






It is late. Way past her bedtime. Pj's little one! Fine, but can we have some music too? Grandma, I'll play the xylophone. Can you play the guitar?






Such a day! November dark? It passed me by. The farmhouse was ablaze with sound and light and warm feelings. And that's such a good thing!

Saturday

The first thing that I have to do is go outside and pour hot water into the cheeper drinking bowl. It's solid ice in there and the girls need their fix. (They have a warm bowl in the barn coop, but until snow comes, their habit is to hang out by the farmhouse during the day. Together, in a pack, with the ever present hope that I'll come out and give them some bread.)

And then it begins. The theme of the day.

We really should go out for a hike.

At breakfast, we review the possibilities.





I don't much like hiking forested trails in November. Even if you wear blaze orange garb, you don't feel at peace with the world when all around you people are shooting at anything that moves. (We're in the thick of the hunting season in Wisconsin.)

We could go to the Arboretum.
Ed balks at this one. It's hard to escape the sound of cars from the highway that loops its way close by. You can do it, but you have to know your way around the forest paths. Me, I get lost.

An hour later: we really should take a walk.

What's holding us back really is not the sound of guns or cars, unpleasant as these might be. It's the weather. It's cloudy. It's cold. By early afternoon, we remain below freezing.

Still, you cannot grow soft. A few hours later, we're driving to the Arboretum. It's close. It's pretty. It's empty. It's vast.






I remember being here with Snowdrop less than a month ago. I had thought then that Fall was late in coming to Wisconsin. Well now, it sure did not stick around for long! It's winter!

Or is it?

We look around us.






My, it still is pretty here! I readjust my mindset: here I was, expecting dark, bare limbs and instead I see before me a variety of autumnal colors! True, most of the leaves have fallen to the ground, but not completely. It all looks rather enchanting!






The forest is now leafless and we do a quick saunter along the more familiar paths...






... and onto the boardwalk that struts out into the wetlands -- not so wet today! Just frozen!






Back in the more open spaces, we come across the Arboretum residents. As always, I feel a pang of guilt in my November encounters with them...






One last glance toward this unexpectedly beautiful landscape...





... and we drive the short ten minutes to the farmette.

And of course, after a bitter cold walk (not a brief one at that!), it feels heavenly to step into the warm farmhouse, were I get ready to host the little one for an overnight visit.

The girl is bursting with enthusiasm and energy!







Over a pizza dinner, Ed and I are regaled with her elaborate stories (this one is about her love, her absolute love of little stars. Not big stars, mind you. Just little ones).






She finds her Sorede wreath of flowers...






They stay on for the rest of the evening.






She is intensely into books right now and the usual two or three before bedtime turns into four or five or maybe six, perhaps seven. I am reminded of reading to my daughters at this age. You want another one, don't you? -- I'd ask, as if I were doing them a huge favor, even as I snuggled luxuriously into the next story.

I pause for a while.

Do you want to go outside and look for little stars? It's cold, but we can bundle up.
That's okay, grandma, just read me this book please. She's very good with her "pleases." I am impressed. Once again I snuggle luxuriously into the next story.

winter?

It's January weather. Maybe February (our second coldest month). Surely not early November! Brr!






Breakfast is early. Friday for us is a day of work, errands, of fitting in all that the week should have allowed.






Snowdrop's school is closed today and the girl spends a luxurious morning at her house. In the afternoon, she comes to the farmhouse.

I've been thinking about my role in her life lately. Because I see her so often, I tend to want things that parents (rather than grandparents) normally want from their kids: to be good, stay happy, and to do her bit to make life flow.

But shouldn't grandparents lend their time for the rougher moments? Shouldn't I be more of the old sage person who helps her navigate life's hurdles?  I no longer worry about work or stashing cash for retirement. I am retired! I want to write, but even more, I want to be there for those who need a bit of my help, love and good cheer. And patience.

But today, the little girl needs little of that patience. She is playful...







She is happy...






She is loving...






She is dexterous and creative.






And as always, she is eager to go out into the dark cold night with Ed to feed and lock up the cheepers.





There's always tomorrow and the day after. I'm sure my patience will be tested. And maybe my grandmotherly wisdom will click in and I will have helped her navigate those troubled waters. But today, we just had fun.

cold

As I write this (immediately after supper), it's 20F outside (-7C). When I wake up tomorrow, I am told it will be 16F (-9C). Or maybe even colder.

These are not "November in Wisconsin" numbers. You may think us to be a cold state, but we're not that cold!

The sudden temperature plummet requires an adjustment in the day. Finishing up the winterizing of the garden? Not going to happen... A game of disc golf? Someday. Taking Snowdrop to the playground by the lesser lake? Forget it!

Well, breakfast is the same. No change needed there.






And you really have to love the blue skies! The front yard is all gold and blue, with firs of green. Here you go -- a rare view of the farmhouse as it faces the road. It's hidden, it's unkempt, it's ramshackle and lovely.






But now comes the issue of what to do with a girl who, after school, relishes her time in the park playground.

I tell her in my "there is no negotiation, it is what it is" voice -- it's too cold. She is disappointed. I offer her a few minutes of play in the car. She takes it!







And then the library. She is always happy when I suggest the public library.

I never know how our visits there will go. She wants time at the computer. It's not always available and oftentimes I cannot get it to work well for her. She likes the puzzles scattered on the kid tables. Pieces are missing, kids are often running around dispersing all that can be dispersed. That's all fine, but the toughest part, I think, is taking a toddler to a place where she can pick her own books to read.

Snowdrop is enthusiastic about selecting books. Predictably, it is a hit and miss game. I mean, the girl recently picked up a New Yorker with an exciting cover and asked Ed to please read it to her.

But today she has a home run. She finds a book that she loves so much that she has me read it to her three times. It would have been ten times had I been willing. (It was about a little bear starting school...)






Finally I nudge her out. I tell her the Fitchburg Thursday farmers market has moved indoors because of the weather and that the vendors are all just across the parking lot. Let's run for it!

Oh, it is cold! I try to bundle her for the short sprint, but she is feeling the chill. My hands are cold, grandma! Hide them! I'm running!

All for naught. The Fitchburg community center that used to house the winter market houses it no more.

Where has it gone to??

I call Ed. He can't track it down. We're disappointed. We head home. And then, boom! We drive past a big banner announcing its new location. The Promega Corporation (our biggest employer) is housing the market this winter.


Hi Farmer John! We brought you some farmhouse eggs. In exchange, we pick up some cheese curds. (Snowdrop loves all of his free samples.)






The girl is fascinated by the Promega space.





She wants to explore it.
People are working, you can't go there...
But they will stop working soon and pick up their children at school...
Yes, they will do that soon.





The little girl has been "going to school" since she was 18 months old and initially, she didn't give it a second thought. But lately, she's piecing it together for herself. Books about children who love school but also miss home while they're at school are especially important to her and I can see why -- they give voice to her feelings right now.

At the farmhouse, she goes immediately to her characters and starts an elaborate game of school and home and the complicated ways a child navigates these two important centers of her existence.

temptation

A deep freeze came again last night. I do not understand why this particular annual keeps showing me its pinky blooms. I was ready to pull it out of its pot weeks ago. And yet, it keeps on going...





I have two laptops at the farmhouse: one is chunky and stays home and the other is light and travels with me. Ms.Light-As-Air is silver and pretty and she is close to five years old. Mr.Chunky is a bit tattered. He is just about ten years old.

Both of them sort of work. Mr. Chunky has almost no storage left (ten years ago, it seemed like so much space!) and so every evening I give him "a bath," cleaning out anything I can, to avoid getting that threatening message, letting me know that Mr.Chunky is bursting at the seams and can hold no more! Ms.Light-As-Air, on the other hand, has constant hot flashes and her cords, like all computer cords, are torn and shredded, but she is a light and happy girl and I expect to travel with her for a long time into the future.

My phone, on the other hand, is a young babe (at two years old) and it does what so many other phones do when they get a few years under their belt -- it drains the battery rapidly. And it messes with this and it messes with that. This morning, neither Ed nor I could figure out why it was messing with my email and so after breakfast...





I pack up all my devices and make my way to the Department of Information Technology (we know it as DoiT). One benefit of retirement after twenty five years of teaching at the university is that you morph into being an emerita and certain benefits -- such as the services of DoIT -- are forever available to you. The idea is that you can pontificate to the younger generation until your last breath, though the reality, I'm sure, is that anything coming from the ancient crowd is immediately deleted by the younger ones now in charge.

I expect the walk-in tech services to be crowded. I mean, we have tens of thousands of students, another such great number of staff and faculty, and they all have technology coming out the wazoo and it all breaks constantly, no?

In fact, the service counter is empty. The tech whiz zips her fingers over my phone, shows me how to fix problems in the future and boom! The phone turns golden -- it is as good as... well, as a two year old with low battery life can be.

While at DoIT, I chat with some of the tech whizzes. I learn about the new generation of computers. I work my fingers gently over the keys of a new Mr. Chunky on display (who, in reality does not look that chunky anymore).

It is glorious!

I am so tempted! Here's my logic: my own Mr. Chunky will surely break down soon. And then I will have to buy something new. Why not do it now and enjoy its wonderfulness even earlier?

Of course, new products are like the farmhouse after a Sunday cleaning: you appreciate the freshness so much on the day that you do your cleaning (or the day you buy your new computer), but after a while, it's just your old home again. Or computer. It just is there, old or new.

I blow a kiss to the new Chunky and return to the keyboard of my trusty dusty.


Time to pick up Snowdrop. As I get ready to leave, I notice how the giant maples in the front yard are suddenly shedding all their leaves. We are in the week of a carpet of gold. (The cheepers follow me around as always...)





I think how grand it would be to toss leaves with the little girl today.

But it's so cold! Sunny, but oh so chilly!

The little one is just barely awake after her nap (yes, a whole week of napping!)... Her teacher reads a book, her buddy and she slowly get their acts together to head home.






But should we head home? Snowdrop wants to go to the playground.

A haze has taken over the skies. It's 42F (about 5C). No one is thinking playground thoughts.

Except for Snowdrop.





She just wants her time on the swing. And it is a really really long time (I'm the pusher, I should know).

Eventually I can coax her to abandon the rhythmic back and forth. We spend a few much warmer minutes playing in the car...





And then I remember that this is the first day of our spinach CSA! During the winter, our favorite spinach farmer grows and harvests this wonderful year-round vegetable for those who sign up for biweekly purchases. This year we've upped our share to two pounds every two weeks.

I explain to the little girl that we are heading to the spinach house. This just delights her, especially when I tell her that this year, as a special treat, she can get out of the car with me and pick up the spinach.





I'd like to say that she fell in love with the spinach leaves as I let her dig into the bag and sample its sweet greens. That would not be entirely correct. She was okay with it. But she was excited with the entire project and so there is hope!



The sun has nearly disappeared by the time we pull into the farmette driveway. I ask her -- do you want to play in the leaves for a few minutes?

There is no hesitation.





None whatsoever.











Inside, she tries on her farmhouse boots for the winter and then she settles down to her books. Can you read this one page grandma? The girl here, is not sad, is she? 





Reassured, she picks the next book and the next one. I put on a kettle of water for tea. The house is warm, the evening is soft, mellow.

When Snowdrop returns home and our supper dishes have been cleared, I sit down to my trusty dusty computer and smile at the recollection of the beautiful new Mr. Chunky at DoIt.