Saturday - 253rd

Who knows why we sometimes choose to do the things we do. Something within you steers your attention in one direction and before you know it, you and your sweetie are washing all the windows in the south facing front room. He on the outside, on a ladder, you -- indoors.

 

I know we're rather focused on the way the front of the house looks right now, ever since the front entrance was reconstructed earlier this fall. Suddenly, (on my morning farmette walk), I care that the geraniums look pretty as you peek into the farmhouse from the road.

 

But it's not as if you can tell that these windows have not been washed for some half a dozen years. And yet, after breakfast, after we tick off all the things we should do today (move chips, trim that beard!, take a walk)...

 

 

... we bypass everything on that list and attack the windows, Ed using exactly three squares of paper towel for all seven of them, me -- well, slightly more generous on the towel end, but with the same sparkling result from both sides. (Guilt has me reuse some towels on kitchen windows, so long as we're on this glass cleaning trip.)

Don't be fooled by Ed's short sleeves (and shorts) outside. It is a cool day. Just a handful of degrees above freezing. Nonetheless, the sun is out and so a walk is definitely in order. Ed is really smitten with the vast new area of the Nature Conservancy that we explored just yesterday. We hadn't ventured more deeply into the woods. Perhaps today is a good day for it?

We drive the few miles to the trailhead and immediately change our minds. It's November 21st, the start of the deer hunting season (it lasts a week and there are many guns and many men aiming them at moving things). Not a fun time to walk the woods. But so long as we are at the southern tip of Lake Waubesa, why not explore the community that abuts the eastern shores of the lake? We often stroll along the lakeside road near us (meaning along the western shores). Why not check out its analogue to the east?

 

We've looked across the lake so many times, but we've never actually explored this area. And it's interesting! Hilly, with homes descending steeply to the shore. People are out on a day like this -- putting up holiday lights, playing ball in the driveway. The community has a good feel to it and as we stop to chat with one of the residents (at a great distance), we find out more about the village's commitment to clean lakes and restricted development. So we learn something too.

 

Wouldn't you call this a most productive day? I'll add to it grocery unpacking -- the bulk of all items needed for the holidays and beyond. And picking up one of the final CSA veggie boxes, with beautiful sweet potatoes and brussel sprouts and still some more squashes and pumpkins for future roasting.

I opt for doing one more day of leftover chili. Perhaps I should have been more ambitious, but still, with a salad, it's a healthy supper! I was reminded today of Ed's eating habits prior to our time together. The guy often leaves old scraps of paper  in their place, way past their useful moment. He has a grocery shopping list on the side of the small refrigerator at the sheep shed. It has to be at least 15 years old -- from before the time of me cooking dinners for the both of us. 

 

 

I think we are a step above that in terms of healthy eating.

 

Evening.  Clean windows make for good views (this from the kitchen window)...

 

Primrose and her mom call, now beautifully on display on the small kitchen TV...

 

 

I stir up the chili, chop up veggies for the salad.

We are lucky: the gift of good, seasonal food, of a beautiful November day, of knowing that the kids are fine. And a quiet evening at home, with popcorn. Yes, so very lucky.

 

Friday - 252nd

 I felt like we took a step back and approached everything from a different perspective. This in many ways, including in how we should be thinking about the holidays, about December, and, in the same breath, how we should be approaching the wetland wildlife area of the nearby acres of the Nature Conservancy. I know you want to hear about the first two, but the holidays and December will come soon enough and they will have their moment in the Ocean sun, so for now, I'll just tell you about the Nature Conservancy.

We wanted to do an early walk today. My morning stroll to feed the animals made clear to me that this was going to be one heck of a beautiful day!

 

We do eat breakfast. No picture of Ed and no picture of the flowers on the table but trust me, both flowers and Ed look pretty much as they did yesterday: pink and gettin' kind of old.

We talk about where to walk. Ed is itching to approach the Conservancy Lands (that stretch for many lakeshore, woodsy and sometimes muddy acres just up the road from us) from a new entry. Surely there will be paths if we come at it from the south and east rather than north and west?

I put in a mild protest. The Nature Conservancy, in the best of times, does not groom its trails well. The more popular approach (from the north) rarely has people on it and by early summer, the grasses and brambles and who knows what else begin to encroach on the walking trail. Heading out from a side that is even less used is going to put us in a thicket of prickly growth very quickjly. But, Ed really wants to try it out.

We have to get to know our corner of the world! -- he tells me. Ed often talks like that: as if we had a duty to our own back yard. As if we needed to know well the land, the flora and fauna that surround us. 

Okay, but we don't do this unless there is at least some sign of a beaten down path! He agrees.

 

It's a pretty approach, made all the more beautiful by the soft blue sky. A few high clouds, a gentle, rural landscape -- what's there not to like?

 

(A stunning old barn, don't you think?)

 

In fact, the trail is obvious and easy to follow. At the beginning.

And it's all the more wonderful because it's completely new for us! It does fizzle out a bit eventually, but in early winter (yes, we are in the Upper Midwest, I call late November "winter") it doesn't matter: you can trample down the dry stuff.

Too, we come across another feature of these vast lands -- there are power lines that cut right through them. But look! There's Ed at the foot of one tower and there's a nest on top -- perhaps that of an eagle? 

 

He points me to one of the warning signs posted just above eye level. It's marked by bullet holes.

People like to shoot at signs -- he tells me.

There are some people games that I simply do not understand.

Our evening is... sedentary. The bad thing about wearing a FidBit step tracker is that once you've passed 10,000 (and I did!), you no longer care if you take 2, or 200 or 2000 additional steps that day. So I sit and read dismal news stories and, on a more upbeat note, I order groceries for the next indefinite time period. I don't want to contribute to shopping chaos next week. Stock up now and give these store people a break. 

And cut yourself some slack too. For your moods, for your passivity, for your sedentary morning or afternoon, or even a whole day (just not every day!). Keep your mask handy and hang in there!

With love...

Thursday - 251st

Well, we did plant both garlic cloves and hundreds of little seeds that came from this year's garlic crop. The first part was easy. Eight little cloves, two or three inches deep. Boom. 

The little seeds from the scape? Well, there were just too many.

And so, even though the day is like a November dream -- occasionally sunny, warm, reaching 63F (17C) this afternoon -- and the morning walk is so gentle and sweet...

And breakfast is chatty and so very soothing...

 

... the work outside becomes challenging. Not physically speaking. Digging places for tiny seeds requires little spade work. But it is tough to figure out where to put all those little pearly droplets of future garlic (grown from seed, it will take three years to develop into mature garlic).

In the end, I chase Ed off to go for a bike ride (such great weather is a rare gift at this time of the year) while I poke around all over the farmette lands, sowing the seeds in weird places, hoping for the best. (The seeds do not like weed encroachment and so we expect most wont get far, since weeds are a constant menace here.)

In the afternoon, I have a meetup with Snowdrop. Outside, distanced, with masks. It's not easy to put these in place these days. The cold weather interferes into our usual outdoor routines. But today we are golden! 

It's grand to have small breaks from the tougher demands of the day. As infection levels soar and the holidays approach, it seems that everything is just that much harder. Grocery stores are trying to keep up with the demand, but this time of the year has always been a challenge. This year surely must be a huge headache for everyone. When I call with a question, I'm surprised at how good-natured the store clerks are. Would you have it in you to answer the millionth query from yet one more customer, while a deadly virus raged down one grocery aisle and up the next? I don't even know how to thank the staff enough for the work they do, day in, day out. And don't get me started on the pain I feel for those who work in our three city hospitals. You think you have a lousy week ahead of you? Can you compare it with theirs? 

So I don't care that there are items missing from my grocery list. I don't care that setting up a delivery time from my store is once again starting to be a challenge. I don't care about any of this, because I can be home and as I tell Ed -- we wont die if we can't get cranberries for our meal. He laughs. You mean we were going to have cranberries? And when is Thanksgiving anyway?

He does make me smile. Every day, no matter what, most often quite unintentionally, he'll make me smile.

Sunset driving home. Totally gorgeous.

Wednesday - 250th

Remarkable. 250 days -- a round number, a record, a sign of the times. And counting.

Here's what I'm thinking now about living the life of a recluse: I am super grateful. Grateful that this period of isolation is likely to end by spring. That quite likely there wont be another 250 days where Ed and I are alone and apart from the rest of humanity. And hey, how about this -- it could well have been 2500 more if science hadn't stepped up with promising vaccination results. In other words, if you're still COVID free, you should be telling yourself -- I am lucky. And in a few months this will be over.

And who wants to go out and party in the winter months anyway? In the cold season, you sleep. Skip the dinner invitation and pull a quilt to your chin. Give yourself permission to do nothing much.

If you're retired, here's what a do nothing much day looks like: 

If you have chickens, chip away the ice in their water dish and fill the bowl with warm water. Chickens love warm water in the winter. Then, take a walk outside and admire the bare trees. What, you don't think bare trees are especially beautiful? Well, take another look. (Sometimes beauty is tough to recognize at first glance.)

 

Let's talk about breakfast next. A do nothing day has to have an easy breakfast, but something more than tea and toast, please. I mean, it's good to make it last. If you can cajole anyone in your household to join you for this meal, you can really drag it out!

A do nothing day is the kind of day where you can spend a lot of time just listening to the wind outside. (And oh, is it windy out there today!) You tell yourself you should be planting garlic bulbs (we have a number we want to plant still this fall -- it grows really well here) and then you don't do it at all, because, well, planting requires thought and a modest amount of effort.

Still, sitting on a couch all day is a no no, so Ed and I do go out for a walk. Where to -- he asks. I definitely don't want to give it much thought so I say the obvious -- our local county park. Same trail? Same trail.   

Same bare trees.

(windy!) 

If your step count is low after all this, you can always pace your living room in the late afternoon, telling yourself how lucky you are not to have to go out anywhere tonight! I mean, all that wind! 

 

Now, my "do nothing" does not always coincide with a "nothing's happening" day for Ed. Today, for example he decides to install a bidet onto the one toilet in the farmhouse. You know what that is, right? Water squirts in the appropriate places. You need no toilet paper, ever. This appeals to Ed who hates to waste anything, including paper, especially since even the thinnest squares inevitably fill up the septic system. So he wants us to try the bidet. 

People rave about it! Cleanest job ever!

That was a selling point to him as well. I agreed. Of course, I should have known he would pick the cheapest model on the market. $27, delivered.

It got great reviews! They say if you turn it up full power, you get a blast that cleans your insides! Don't worry, I did not set it on full power.

 

The thing is, Ed was not willing to spend a whole lot more and do a complicated installation just so you could have warm water hitting your derrier. You know, like they have in Japan (where the toilet seats are often heated as well; they really treat your bathroom time royally in that country). He warns me -- it's a little bit of a shock the first time!

 I'll say! A strong cold spray of water! You should have installed this in the summer. I may have appreciated it then.

You'll get used to it! And if not, well, I did buy enough toilet paper to get us through more farmhouse isolation days.

 

On a do nothing evening, you reheat leftovers. You think about all the great meals you've cooked in the past and you smile to yourself -- cooking will always be in your blood. You don't have to prove yourself every single day anymore. Leftovers are more than just fine.

I give passing thought to the book I was supposed to finish writing this fall, to the online daily French lessons I've stopped taking (last one -- 251 days ago!), to the big meal I normally cook on the last Thursday of November. And I do nothing about any of it.

Now, on the one hand, you can say -- sounds like a pretty nice day to me! But part of you I am sure is thinking -- it will be sooo much better here on Ocean once she returns to doing something with her days! And if you're in that camp, well then, aren't you glad I likely wont have another 250 days of doing nothing before me? Yes, we are lucky. If those of us who do not work can only keep on doing nothing for a while longer, we'll get out of this mess and rejoin a life of doing grand stuff once again.

Tuesday - 249th

So, let's start off with a bit of humor today. A cartoon popped into my Inbox today. If ever there was one that hit home, this one is it! (Under the New Yorker copyright guidelines, I'm allowed to let you see it.)

 

My granddaughter in Chicago (and my friends far away who have been Zoom calling me for the past eight months -- gulp! has it been eight months?) will surely crack a smile!

 

It's a sunny day and that's a good thing. No one is in the mood for a drippy gray day. We're looking for uplifts here and sunshine is a reliable source of positivity. 

 

 

In fact, I'm so taken with it that I diddle a little in the flower beds (and listen to the lovely birdsong) before coming in for a kitchen breakfast.

 

Later, we install the new camera gadget onto the little TV in the kitchen. We're set for virtual holiday sharing with the Chicago bunch! 

And still later, Ed and I search out another reliable hike trail -- over at the Nature Conservancy, maybe a mile down the road from us. I know, we could have walked from the farmette to the trailhead, but I've grown allergic to strolling along our rural roads. I'm convinced that for too many, an empty road is an invitation to pick up a smartphone. I don't want to slog through 249 days of isolation, only to be run down by a texting driver. So we drive over, park the car off road and hit the trails!

Back home, I'm itching to try out our new communications center. Yes! Primrose and mom, right on my little kitchen TV!

Perfect. And perfectly wonderful!

Evening: I think this kind of a day (how would I describe it? Oh, sort of like yesterday and probably like tomorrow) calls for a frittata. With spinach and mushrooms. And onions and potatoes. And gruyere cheese. Wonderfully nutty gruyere cheese.

 

 

Monday - 248th

You're talking to a person here who has, from day 1 of the pandemic, practiced safe behaviors. Being retired makes that less of a challenge. Some degree of isolation at home is not so unusual for us -- we're home bodies and our social orbit is intense but small. A few tweaks later and we achieved a level of total seclusion,  cut off from all people contact. (Except for the occasional masked, distanced, outside encounter with family members who are, themselves, at least partially isolated.)

But what if you ask yourself this question: is your degree of caution excessive? Should you adjust things to meet the new available data on contacts, on periods of isolation, on testing? 

With the approach of the holiday season, I thought I'd explore these questions. For the past week, I've been reading guidelines, recommendations and new findings as they are presented on main stream media with verifiable links to reputable sources, and, too, those that appear on the CDC website. Let me tell you, it's a mess of inconsistent information out there! I can point you to several statements on the CDC that are downright misleading and even incorrect. The guidelines coming from the mouths of infection specialists are vague or worse -- so generalized as to exclude most common situations, indeed, your own situation, and so you have to modify and calculate and you have few reliable metrics to help you along.

Can I say it -- I wish there was a federal response to the virus, where directions, recommendations, answers to questions were put forth consistently, updated regularly, and adjusted for the season. Navigating what's out there now is brutal! No wonder so many people are floundering, making mistakes left and right just because they don't know what (beyond masks, hand washing and social distancing) is and what is not safe.

A cold and threatening November morning. I may as well keep staring at the computer screen. After all, the walk to feed the animals tells me that outdoor time is not going to be much fun today.

 

 

The temptation to linger forever over breakfast is so strong!

 

 

But, a morning of internet reading is enough to remind you of your commitment to a more balanced day. Yesterday, for the first time since October 1, I did not make my 10 000 step goal. Today -- I either recover or I throw it all away. I choose "recover," so Ed and I go out to rake honey locust seed pods away from the Big Bed.  It's real work and it counts toward your active steps, especially if you rake hard enough to give yourself blisters. Which I did.

 

The sun comes out toward the end and suddenly the cold does not seem so terrible at all. We rake, mow and mulch together until the whole courtyard area is mostly free of pods and leaves. Oh, did we need that diversion! 

 

 

Evening. We turn on lights late at the house. Ed likes it that way and I go along. I take in the fading light and I think how precious it is, how sweet it will be to wake up to a fresh load of brightness tomorrow. 

Ed gets up to lock up the cheepers, I turn on the lights, make up a salad for our supper of leftovers,  and we fall gently into our end of day routines.

Sunday - 247th

 It's the kind of day that makes you wish we were, say, in the middle of February already. The cold is penetrating, the somber tones outside are dark and ominous, the winds are fierce, the day is short.

My walk is brief.

 

Our breakfast, however, is warm and long, perhaps to compensate for yesterday's aborted meal.

 

 

 

Much of the day is spent on figuring out how best to connect to my younger daughter's home over the holidays. In keeping to our "stay safe" guidepost, we wont be spending any of the holidays with the Chicago bunch and so we are looking at alternatives and one that comes to mind is linking our households via a video screen. Not just the static one of FaceTime or Zoom, but the moving adaptable ones that are now on the market. They're not expensive and they give you a view of the room and the persons in it, tracking the motion of those who move around (for example Primrose!). Here are two screens from today's experimental run:

Okay, they are set on their end. Now Ed and I have to learn the technology (fine, Ed has to first learn the technology and then teach it to me) that will put the farmhouse in a similar fashion on their TV screen. It's a fun project because it makes us feel connected. Anything that brings them closer to us is a beautiful thing.

In the meantime, a Sunday is a Sunday and so I once again cook up the seafood pasta that has been a constant dinner request from the young family. I take it over when it's super dark. No stars, no moon, just a cloudy and cold November night.

 

On the bright side, November 15th does have some celebratory value to it. It's my mom's birthday -- 97 today! She is, of course, in her own Assisted Living bubble. We do talk daily, but visits are not in the cards for now. Still, I hear there were some balloons in her day today. And singing. She's not a great fan of celebrations, but I'm sure she'll take our wishes for a brighter, more peaceful year ahead.

Saturday - 246th

It felt like a race: hasty retreat from the breakfast table, a fast loop around the New Development, a run to the barn where I hop on the tractor mower to run it underneath the grand maples by the road, then finally a grab for the hand spade to dig out some hefty dandelions from the front bed. Phew! Done by noon! I go inside, the rain begins.

I'd say the usual slow lead up to the day was definitely upended! In fact, the whole morning was uniquely irregular. Sure, I did that morning walk to feed the animals...

And Ed and I sat down to our usual breakfast...

But it was no typical leisurely meal. Two cats began their porch meowing routine...

 

And Ed responded. Possibly to prove a point, possibly because he was still half asleep. Since the cats can't (as per Nina) come in, my animal guy went out to eat the rest of the morning meal on the porch with them.

No, I did not follow. And yes, I shared my opinion with him as to how much I loved that interruption.

Was I effective? Sure. Until dinner: grilled salmon, sweet potato, salad. Interrupted because, well, a cat was meowing and someone (not me) had to go out and pet her for a good number of minutes.

Am I being worn down by Ed's stubborn persistence? I am not. No cats shall inhabit the farmhouse. Stubbornness runs deep on both sides of the divide.

Friday - 245th

Are you feeling overwhelmed? Oh, but imagine being a bus driver right now. Or a grocery store clerk, as we approach a string of big grocery shopping days. During a crazy out of control pandemic. Or, imagine you live in the Upper Midwest and you hold the job of a nurse or a physician. Add a kid, or maybe two, who hasn't seen the inside of a school building since March. I'm sure I could ask you to join in and I'd have a page full of listings of people who are even more anxious about life right now!

For those of us with diffuse anxiety, it's a reminder to take stock of our own situations and keep in front and center the good stuff that is still with us. And I'd say that a string of sunny days is just one example of that good stuff. How good it is to go out and turn your face toward the sun! Welcome, vitamin D! Come right in and give us the benefits of your curative powers! (No sunshine where you live? Well, pop a vitamin D pill and take a walk anyway. It's guaranteed to make you feel better. Perhaps not great, but better. Pile on the better! We need a lot of it!)

Morning walk...

Breakfast. We are in the kitchen and this is a disappointment to the cats who enjoy our porch company. 

 

Ed would love to just let them all in for a cuddle or two inside the farmhouse. Initially, when the cats looked in with their pleading eyes I was agreeable. But of course, the cats are insatiable and there is now always someone at the porch door, meowing to come in. Sometimes, Ed asks me if it's okay. Lately, I'm stubbornly firm. I recognize the slippery slope here and I am most adamant: I do not want five cats milling about in the farmhouse. I do not even want one cat with free access to our home. We are both mildly allergic and we've both done pets in our better days and I think we need to resist the temptation to go down that path again. Still, it's tough to push back all day long.

No, Ed, I don't want to let them in. No, not even for two minutes (it's never two minutes). 

Just for a little bit.

You're asking? Well then... No.

 

In the early afternoon, we both go out for a New Development walk. We watch the houses go up, the people move in. Three years ago -- corn and soy. Now -- Santa in front of the porch.

Still later I drop off some stuff at the young family's house. It's not a great day for reading outside with Snowdrop. Too cold. But I have a chance to hand to the little girl something that she has missed a lot: two of her rag dolls, Rosie and Clover, that have been sadly collecting farmhouse dust in her absence, along with their "toys." She is ecstatic.

(Even though we're outdoors, mask goes on. We take no chances.)

And then I hurry home -- my two friends and I have a ZOOM chat scheduled and I dare say we need the boost that always comes with a visit, even a ZOOM visit.

Evening quiet now. A comfortable quiet that is far more beautiful in the winter than on a summer day. Inside, all windows closed, all noise of the outside world shut out. Well, except for the occasional meow.

If it weren't for the cats, Ed reminds me, we'd have the usual November mouse problem.

Fine, let them in. But only for two minutes. No more than that!