is this all I can give you?

Do you know that the phrase from the title line can be applied to any number of vignettes from your day?

For example: as I type my daily post here, on Ocean, on days that are swamped with work and the best of the best comes from breakfast, I wonder -- is this all I can give you?











Or, when I finalize travel plans for this winter and I watch Ed burrow his head in a book in mock disinterest -- I may well ask the same thing.

Too, when I throw together leftover chicken, spinach, frozen garden tomatoes (always with garlic, olive oil, parmesan) over pasta for dinner -- it's back to that question.






If we stare our limitations straight on, we can see where we could add a little more. Cups that could be topped. Conversations that could be improved upon.

Damn. Not good to review the day in this way. Better to focus on the stuff over which I had little control.

Like the emerging winter blooms:

The nasturtium, after being snipped from the outside in early fall:






The "Christmas Cactus" that's all screwed up and thinks Thanksgiving and Christmas are one and the same.






You've noticed that they're all indoor shots. Well yes, it was that kind of a day. Despite the sunshine, I was stuck at the kitchen table with work books. I hate to admit it, but the only, the only time I ventured outdoors was to empty the compost bucket.

But it was a grand (five minute) walk!

















The farmette always gives everything of herself. It's us mortals who struggle to get it right.

the storms move through

It is so very unusual to wake up and hear that you're under a tornado watch in November. And then to hear the winds outside, hitting the farmhouse with a whiplash of rain. And to see the basement foundation leak puddles of water. To turn on the lights during the day, to watch Isis absolutely refuse to go out.






Such an odd Sunday!

Breakfast -- that's fine. It's always fine.






After, I stack the table high with work books, but it's more for effect than for hard core work. My mind drifts. It's brutal to have a computer at your elbow when your mind drifts. Brutal and dangerous, too, to be told by your sweetie -- oh, do what you want with our trip! That and a computer -- well now, work progress is going to be slow.


Toward evening we are ready to haul ourselves outdoors. The winds are less intense, the rains have passed.

We have errands to do -- Farm and Fleet, where Ed buys his replacement winter jacket (no, it's not cool and quaint: more like stiffly practical and cheap). Woodman's supermarket, where we restock in  life's essentials. And then -- bowling. We go bowling.

It's Ed's idea:  we haven't moved at all since the bad weather set in. More importantly perhaps (from his perspective), the bowling alley is close to both Farm and Fleet and Woodman's and -- it offers bowling for three for $15, shoes included, so long as you come on a Sunday after 5. No, we're not three, we're two -- but they'll bend the rules.

Ed and I don't bowl often, but this game is electric! He wins all four rounds, but I am on his heels!





In truth, I'm not much of a bowler. No one bowls in Poland. Then, too, there's my speed (these days, in addition to your score, you get to know how powerful your throw is) -- Ed routinely shoots that ball at 17+ mph. I'm thrilled if I throw it at 10.





Stil, each of us has a strike here and there and the gutter balls are fewer than in the past.

And it is good to move again.

Even as the winds are picking up outside again, pushing autumn out, bringing winter closer and closer to the farmhouse doors.

digging in

At midnight last night I finally said -- enough! No more talk of airfares! No more speculating what wins the "boring trip of the year" award. No more talk of tents, no more talk of adventure, I am ready to shut down this entire discussion, because it has gone on too long!

Of course, for Ed, weighing the ins and outs of just about anything  -- from installing a porch roof to unplugging the septic system has to run its course. Nothing happens at a snap, nothing gets decided until it absolutely feels right.

And nothing yet feels right about our next escape together. Me, I feel we've already traveled there and back -- multiple times and to multiple destinations. I'm thinking we've talked this through so often that I'm ready to go elsewhere altogether -- and preferably a place that has only one airline, one airfare, one place to stay, one adventure to be had and then we turn around and come back home.

We are different that way. Who knew that I would get so stuck on a pattern of travel and that I would hate so much to deviate from it.? (I'll tell you who knew: the person who has been assiduously following Ocean, reading my daily accounts, where my breakfast of oatmeal and honey and kefir and fruits (from the yellow/red and blue families) along with a coffee has been the same, day in and day out, forever. Ed at least changes cereals!)






And, too, my less nomadic pal here at the farmhouse, has his habits and we are getting old and the habits and styles of living are getting to be as stiff as the bones and muscles after a day out with the shovel.

So, it is fair to say that we've decided nothing at all, or that our own ideas have not yet reached that sweet meeting point where we are both on board and happy to plunge. Not yet on board and not plunging anywhere -- not with cross country skiis through lovely villages far far away, not to a jungle hut in Central America, and not to Cyprus where Ed tells me we can rent both kayaks and bikes and skis, all from the same outfit!
In one day? -- I ask, somewhat dubiously.  
Yep! I'll send you the link.
And crossing to Greek Cyprus -- that border poses no problems?
People do it all the time!
Legally?
The discussion ends there.

In the meantime, it rains that drizzly dark clouded rain and all I can say is that I am grateful for the red sheep shed because stuck as I am at my computer at the kitchen table, I see no other color before me. Oh, sure, the twinkling prch lights. But they're programmed to go on and off and when they're off, it's like someone clicked "black&white" on Photoshop and the entire image drained of color and only the sheep shed was spared.

In the evening, the younger ones come over for a dinner of tandoori chicken.






They look serious in this photo, but they are only playfully so.





Ed and I -- we appear light and airy tonight, but we are only marginally so. Trips are serious business for me. And I'm thinking (therefore?) that they are serious business for him as well.

You wont go white water-kayaking, you wont backpack through the rainforest...

It's true. I wont.

Sigh...

weather

In winter (and let's face it -- we're close enough to that season that we can dispense with the Fall talk), weather matters to everyone. Summer is different that way. During summer, farmers care. Those who live in tornado belts care. Vacationers care. The rest of us take it as it comes and barely remember later which day was over the top lovely and which was just, you, know, summer-like.

In winter, eyes strain to watch for snow or sleet. We crave sunshine. It lifts us up and carries us forward toward April. Give me a sunny winter day and I'm okay with everything else.

Well now, today is just such a sunny day. And so I'm okay with everything else.

That includes breakfast alone, because Ed slept too late and was then late for a meeting.






And it includes the countless tasks and chores that comprise the better part of life for everyone.

And finally it includes reinventing travel plans because suddenly, airfares plunged for 2014, but they plunged only to one place and so perhaps predictably, Ed and I will be going to that one place.

In the evening, we bike to the library.





And once again I borrowe a book I desperately want to read and once again Ed will be the one reading it because, well, because I'm not retired yet.

But it is a glorious day. A beautiful, warm-ish, sunny day.

The moon shines brightly on the farmette tonight.





And on Berkeley too, I hope. Happy birthday, Mom! One more decade and you will be 100 and I will insist that you celebrate that one!

Thursday

Time. It's shocking how it can move quickly even as you're not doing anything that would warrant a significant usage of hours. It's like asking -- why did I need so much water, I wasn't that dirty? So, too, I'm genuinely puzzled -- why did I use so many hours, I have so little to show for it?

Typically, my semester Thursdays allow me to ease up a bit. But in that less taxing time frame, I stumble and in the end, I can only shake my head and wonder at how unfree that freer time feels.

So, following the delightfully late breakfast...






...and the those jobs I cannot now even remember doing, Ed and I go out to shovel out two truck loads of wood chips over the raspberry islands.






Yes, he's wearing shorts. Jubilant that the thermometer crawled upwards of forty, he decided it was warm enough for this.






In the evening, we eat dinner with the Fitchburg Fields people, giving our support to those incredibly hardworking types who are working to turn much of the land around us into small farming plots and community gardens.

This annual event is catered by Madison's best of the best -- the Underground Collective and so I am quite happy to shake off my beef abstenance and indulge. Give a non meat eater some meat and it's like tasting candy after not eating sugar for years.

I ate a lot of beef tonight. (On the plate, you can see the vegetables -- squash and kale; the beef is gone! Devoured!)





Yep, a lot of beef.

Late in the evening, Ed and I messed around with the details of our next (January) trip together. It has sticky points and it forces us to make peace with the other one's eccentricities.

We're getting there.

And I glance at the weather website and I see sunshine for tomorrow and I think -- oh, these days are so very very good!

Wednesday

On this second most busy day of the week, I sit in my office as the evening rolls in feeling not a little nostalgic. A student meeting reminded me of how much I care about these guys and how cool it has been to be involved in their educations.

And running parallel to this is a second stream of thoughts -- how in three weeks, my classroom days will be done and the stress of being ready and "on" for 150 students (I have that many this semester) will be a thing of the past. Being "on" for someone else is, to me, such a huge responsibility! As I move away from it, I can't help but feel the luxury of letting down my guard.

And still a third theme -- I was thinking of some travel that I have before me in the next six months and I was marveling at how different it is to hold back a little on the frantic scheduling of things. I don't have to make things fit anymore. I can decide now, decide later. I can mull it over a tad more.

All this, from my office chair, idling the last minutes of the day, before I head home to cook chili.


Earlier -- we woke to a somewhat warmer day. Though in my morning trek to the compost heap, I could see that our *new* raspberry patch still has a leftover dusting of snow.






Breakfast -- in the front room. We're just following the sun.






Campus time and Bascom Mall --  the belly of our university. The Law School is halfway up this hill.






And finally, the drive home. Coming up the back way, to see the sun set over the woods that stretch due north of the farmette.

Tuesday

You know by now that Tuesdays this semester are my burrs, my most stressful work-packed days, my moments of madness and furious efforts to get on top of things.

So understand why these shots are important -- it's our modest most peaceful time -- breakfast.





After -- I again sit at the kitchen table and occasionally look out at the world outside. Tired of my robins? Okay, a non-robin photo. This dude is in the rose bushes.






The  outdoor thermometer that we rely on shows that we never get above freezing on this day. The fun little snow-shower from yesterday never fully melted, despite today's sunshine.





The days will grow a tad warmer again. And definitely they'll slow down for me. In the meantime, I'm a mess of tangled work strands.   And for today -- cold patches of snow.

different

Every now and then, we've been finding small puddles in the basement. At first, we thought it was the pickles, leaking their brine. Then we pointed a finger at the washing machine. (I'd be happy to blame the dryer which is perhaps thirty years old, but I don't think dryers leak water.)

A few days back, we explore it some more and it becomes clear that the water, at least in its most recent incarnations, is coming from a back up in the septic tank.

Mind you, we've had this problem before -- two years ago. We were told then to cut down the huge willow, or continue to suffer the consequences of the roots infiltrating crucial places in the system. Ed said something like "yeah yeah" and promptly ignored the advice. Perhaps with good reason -- it wasn't 100% clear that the willow was at the "root" of the problem.

So now what? Call the same people to run various cleaning and investigatory tubes down the sewer pipes? No, not Ed. He's going to rent the proper tools and do the job himself.

If there is one task that I would hire away if I could, it would be this -- clearing the sewage pipes.
This is how you and I are different -- Ed tells me.


I wonder how much he is influenced by a show we've been watching daily now: it's our go-to viewing option in the late evenings and both of us stay awake for it -- this is how much we love it. It's called Grand Designs and we pick it up on You Tube. We're toward the end of the second season already and we are mesmerized by it: it's a British series and it's about people building crazily beautiful houses for themselves in England. I think that Ed sees himself as being the one who designs and implements most everything about his immediate space. He doesn't shy away from the dirty tasks. From any tasks. Perhaps the shows remind him how much he is in control of all that goes right or wrong here.


In other news? Well, on a tediously work-filled Monday, me, I get excited by breakfast.






After, I work at the kitchen table -- in full view of the changing weather conditions outside.

I run out to record those initial snowflakes.

But I I toss those photos aside. The snow showers intensify. The white stuff starts clinging to trees...






Beautiful!











And so different from just yesterday! It's as if someone really put a motor under Fall so that we would get to winter alredy.





Of course, the prettiness of winter is an on again off again thing, even as the coldness of the season settles in without ambiguity.

But I can't look forward to changes for the worse. All I know is that today, different as it is from our past weekend weather, surely is beautiful.






Very very beautiful.





So yes, a work day for me. But a thrilling one, in the way that the first snow day always makes you look up. With a smile.

Paris, the last few hours

Spick and Span

Massive farmhouse cleaning. Sometimes I rush it and cut corners, at other times I'm intense about it. Today I am intense. Scrubbing floors, polishing door window panes -- the works. Why? Well, some weeks back, Ed finally admitted that we need a better kitchen carpet than the rag I threw down when I moved in. Daily, he would bring up horrible carpets that people were trying to off-load on Craigslist. And each time I refused. Too dark! Too ugly! No!

Next, he tried the bargains on Amazon. There are millions of carpets on Amazon, even if you limit the price to under $150.  (He tried under $100, but believe me -- you don't want to go there.)

Nothing looked good.

Finally, he caved and we shopped at a real store (though still online), purchasing a very lovely wool runner with just the right warm colors and an on sale price that was if not agreeable, then at least comparable to the ugly things posted on Craigslist or Amazon (meaning under $150).

I was merely getting the house ready for the new arrival.


And the carpet is lovely -- all wooly, thick and warm...

Wait, what's this? The door wont open over it?

Here's a photo of our kitchen, as I fix breakfast, with an eye to the light outside and the carpet that's about to go back...





...unless Ed shaves down the door and installs a door sill. Which he is very reluctant to do. To him -- a rug has to accommodate the house, not the other way around.

I talk about my deepening love for the carpet over breakfast (in the front room, facing south, catching the sun there...)





And sweet guy that he is, eventually he agrees to make the proper adjustments to the entrance-way. The carpet can stay.


Strawberry patch, Raspberry Rows, Raspberry Islands

Well now, it is another beautiful November day.

If today is lovely, tomorrow promises to be tough to love. Sunny and upper forties today, snow-showers and a promise of an utterly freezing 17 degrees F at night tomorrow.

So the push is on to Get Things Done!

I know you cannot possibly care to hear more details of the various planting beds at the farmette, but I do want to say that I have (finally!) a vision of where I think we should be with respect to all the weeded-over patches and beds and fields. Including the old raspberry beds (until we attacked it this year, it was a mass of shrubs, weeds and the occasional cane that barely bears fruit; the redone spaces are neatly topped with wood chips and have more or less even rows, ready to deliver). And the strawberry fields. And perennial beds. And so on.

Today we work on moving closer to the goal of having it all hang together: first, we extend the strawberry fields toward the sheep-shed...






...and then Ed poops out on me and I continue, creating additional raspberry islands in places where the old canes sent runners. Very neat, very lovely, very accessible.





But it is grueling work. I dig up shrubs and vines and weeds, working without pause from before noon, to after the sun has already set.






Paris, the Last Few Hours


Ed wakes up from his nap and comes out to find out what I could possibly be still doing outside. Huffing, I say -- it's the last chance to get things in order  for spring!

And truly, it feels exactly as if I were in Paris and I had only a few hours left before stores closed: surely I should use this opportunity, run through all the possibilities -- because time is running out!





Yes, quickly so. I yank at another invasive and another... I really feel it -- the last chance syndrome. This is it. Now or never.

By evening, my back feels out of sorts and I am strongly looking forward to dinner.


The Celebratory Meal

When I saw lobster tails on sale last week at two for $10, I was thrilled! And when Sunday turns out to be this physically intense, I know that it's a good day for lobster omelets. Possibly with a bottle of poor-man's champagne (Spanish Cava, one fifth the price) on the side.

I stumble in, only to see Ed stumbling out. His annual bike club meeting is tonight. I'd forgotten this and now here I am, eating a lobster tail alone.

Or, am I really eating alone? As I reach for the camera to commemorate this meal, Isis jumps on the table (he otherwise never does this). Oh no you don't! Oh fine... let me get you your dish...

And so Isis and I share a lobster tail (luck has it that he usually gets tired of anything, even lobster, after a few bites).

And Ed calls  -- sure you don't want to come down to the meeting? They're showing slides of bike trips through Cuba and New Zealand.

Last year, we watched a presentation on a bike trip to Slovenia and were inspired enough to spend a week there a few months later. And though I don't think either Cuba or New Zealand are in the works for us this year, I rarely pass up a chance to watch someone's slide show on their happy travels far away.

I tell Isis to be good and keep tabs on the Amazing Race on TV for me, but he hardly pays attention. Must be the spike form having a bite of lobster. Aching with every move, I get in the old Ford and head out into the night.

shovel

If I were paid for my labors by the hour today, at the end of it all, I would not be rich. If I were paid by the effort put into it, I'd be a millionaire.

It was a beautiful November day. I mean, I cannot oversell it -- mostly sunny, windy, not too cold.

Morning -- well, that was given over to breakfast...





... and then, unfortunately, to school work.

But afternoon? We are out  digging and hauling...





...and digging and hauling.


We have made significant progress this year in rebuilding the land around the farmette structures. Ed wonders about the future maintenance of it all, but I remind him that we're front-loading the work. Maintenance should be nothing, by comparison to what we're doing now.





In the late evening, all I can do is to hack away at anything that is still visible in the fading light. We will leave undisturbed clumps of berries (without replanting them in rows). But invasive vines and stumps have to be removed. I strain my eyes and then finally, I throw down the shovel and retreat.

And when I sit down, believe me, it will take a lot to get me to move again.

Friday

When Ed suggests a game and a dinner for tonight (UW women's volleyball --  free tickets, but still...) -- I say sure! The day is starting to look fine indeed.






And then the usual happens: long hours of reading and  an afternoon of hefty digging up shrubs and weeds in the raspberry fields, and evening comes and I get tired.











And I have to wonder how it is that people regularly go out at night for social functions.When the sun sets, I like to retreat home.

Still, on this night, we mobilize our energies and head out. To sit at the bar of Brasserie V and eat moulles frites (mussels and fries). The waiter comments that the last time we were here we sat in the same place and ordered the same thing...





Well now. We're predictable.

Then onto the game.

It's the third time that Ed and I have sat on the hard benches and watched Badger volley ball. And each time, Ed cares only about good plays and I care deeply about our home team winning and this time it is far far too close and so we walk out before we can witness someone lose.






...and the band plays on.





Beautiful. (Even if I do read later that our team lost.)