Sunday

You reach a point where you just give up on your couch. The slipcovers shift within two minutes of sitting down, the cushions are mincemeat. It's deformed, distressed and dysfunctional.

I reached that point unfortunately in the early years of the life of the couch. Since then, it's been a daily struggle to keep it looking like you'd actually want to sit on it. As I cleaned the farmhouse this morning, I kept thinking -- the seating arrangement here has to change.

But first, the kittens.

Are you here to feed me at last?





We hope we're doing well by them. Questions remain, but for now, we bring out little bowls of food. We watch them eat, we watch them relax afterwards.






We return to the farmhouse to eat a late and very sunny breakfast...





I make my case for a new couch.

I'll sell this one on Craigslist!
You know no one will buy it...
That tells you something!
It's a terrible idea.
No it's not.
How about if we got a used couch off of craigslist?
No! Never!


We pause to play disc golf.

It's mid afternoon and still, we look up and see the cranes.






They land in groups, they rifle through the corn fields, we watch, always mesmerized, in awe...





Refreshed, we return to the farmhouse. I start in on Sunday dinner. Ed browses Craigslist for used couches.

Here's a fine one. Leather. Like new.
Leather?? You would sit on a leather couch? Unbelievable.
As between buying something new and making do with someone's used leather couch, I'd choose the latter.

Living with Ed has taught me not to be rigid. We spend the rest of the evening looking on Craigslist.

Interrupted by dinner with the young family.

It's been years since I've seen the little one! Years!! (Or so it seems...)







She is happy, chatty, delightfully impish...






And we are happy, chatty, perhaps just a little impish as well...





After dinner, the young family returns home and we settle in for a quiet evening at the farmhouse. Now is not the time to fuss about used couches out there. Now's the time to sit back and exhale and smile at all the good moments that this past week has given us.

farmette reflections on a late November Saturday

How beautiful it is when the sun is with us all day! I wake up to a cool morning, but I hardly notice. There is going to be plenty of sunshine. Our day will be made rich by it.

Even before breakfast, we're anxious to see if the kittie cats are still with us.

We haven't yet decided how to proceed. Perhaps they'll go away, though if we feed them, they probably wont. I go out and look all around the parked cars. Nothing.

They have done their disappearing act once more. I return to the kitchen and start in on cutting up breakfast fruits.

And then I see movement by the barn.
Ed!

Sure enough, they're peering out at us. Waiting.






One, another, a third. The two shy ones hang back, straining to see out of the groundhog's largest condominium.






Ed brings out food in separate dishes. The bolder ones come forward right away. Within a few minutes, they do not mind Ed's presence. (Few cats ever mind Ed's presence.)






The shy ones continue to hang back and the bolder ones capitalize on their fear: they devour most of the food. Ed mutters -- you take risks, you either get beaten or you push ahead. You can tell who the risk takers are in this pack.

(The kitties and the cheepers are very much aware of each others presence...)






For now, we'll feed them. Of course we'll feed them. But it is true that there needs to be a long term plan. Ed is a regular contributor to our local chapter of friends of feral cats. He had, in the past, taken in two ferals that were easy to domesticate. They were wonderful cats, but I am firm about keeping cats out of the farmhouse going forward. Every pet brings change -- both the good and the bad. I am absolutely sure that I don't want to worry about cats, clean up after cats, and in general, care for -- which means worry about -- cats.

Of course, we've already embarked on the project of helping this brood survive. They were born awfully close to winter time. We estimate that they're not more than four weeks old. The mom is likely exhausted. (Ed saw her later enjoying a respite in the sunshine. For once, her kids weren't pestering her for more mice.)

If they become barn cats, yes, absolutely -- they'll need to be spayed. All this is before us. For now, we just enjoy their antics.

And the chickens get a little playful as well. Young ones rub off on you: their pleasure and giddiness becomes your own.






We retreat to the farmhouse for breakfast.





And then I have a small project that I want to take on this coming month: we have a family storage unit, where boxes of family treasures and junk had been put aside a dozen years ago, when we all moved in our own directions. The family house was sold, the daughters were off at the university, I was moving to a small apartment.

In the years that we have maintained (or more accurately paid a small monthly fee for) this small storage space, we have gone back no more than two or three times to see what's there. It's time we distributed the boxes and let go of the space.

On the one hand, no one even remembers what is there. On the other hand, once you step inside and start poking around, the memories are intense. Could you easily throw away artwork of your children who are now with their own families as you hold the sweet sketches in your hand? How about toys they played with? School work? And those VHS tapes of school performances -- no one ever watches them anymore, but still, the girls were adorable and so very young!

Still, I am the one who always pushes for sifting and sorting and getting rid of the irrelevant and today I drive to the storage space to see what we have to deal with now.

I can hardly touch any of the boxes or trunks. Everything is covered with thick layers of dust. It feels like the attic that has never seen a broom sweep through it.

It's going to be a tough project!


Late in the afternoon, Ed suggests a game of disc golf. I'm enthusiastic! I need to clear the dust from my lungs and the cobwebs from my head. The sun is already starting to set, but we don't mind. We throw the frisbees, chase them down when they go astray and, too, we watch the sandhill cranes above, doing their evening flight to their night resting place.






Yes, they're with us still. They will be leaving within the next week, at most two weeks. But for now, their beauty is grand, especially in the golden light of the fading sun.





Thanksgiving weekend draws to a close. The night air is crisp. The stars are out. It's a beautiful time to be at the farmette...

Friday after Thanksgiving

Unbelievable weather! We hit a record high of 64F (18C). It's a one day only spike. A gift. We must take advantage of it!

But wait, there are all these post dinner dishes to attend to.

Or are there? In one of those memorable surprises, as I sat down to post last night, fighting sleepiness all the way, Ed, without my realizing it, stacked the dishwasher and generally cleaned up for me.

You did that? And you scraped the dishes too? (To my knowledge, Ed has never stacked a dishwasher in his life. He had never had one and I rarely use the one we had put into the farmhouse.)
No, of course not.
Ed! They were crusted and greasy! No rinsing at all?
Nope.

And here's a surprise: this morning, I open the dishwasher and find remarkably clean and shiny dishes! All those years of scraping and rinsing! Unnecessary! The darn machine gets them clean anyway!

Remarkable.

Breakfast, which is for me a stroll down Thanksgiving lane (spice cake, cranberry corn muffins) ...





... And then we both walk over to the barn to visit the kittens. Ed had rigged a shelter for them with hay bales, leaving a dish of cat food to entice them in.

But there wasn't a sign of kitties. No scurrying noises. No faces to the warm sun. The food in the dish was untouched.

I speculate that these kittens weren't raised in the wild. Maybe they are our neighbor's, coming over for a playful romp here, but returning home at the end of the day.
Our neighbor isn't a cat guy.
So maybe they were just passing through for a Thanksgiving visit...

We return to the farmhouse and plan the rest of the day. The weather is the decisive factor. A hike is definitely in order. One that doesn't require a long drive.

This is a lot of decision making, on the day after Thanksgiving no less, when the brain and the body both work very slowly. It's after 1 by the time we put on our hiking shoes and make our way to the car.

Wait! What's this??

The cheepers are by the two cars and the truck. And so are the five kittens.





Ed hurries to the barn to retrieve the uneaten cat food. Slowly, with little noise or jerky movement, we push the dishes of food to where they are.





The bolder ones come forward right away and eat with great enthusiasm. The shy ones hide in the groundhog condominium, dug out under the truck.

The mom appears out of nowhere. She is carrying a mouse. One of her brood gets it and he enthusiastically settles in for his own Thanksgiving extravaganza.





We watch, quite spellbound. The mom is off to hunt again. She has raised five babes in the wild. She works hard to keep them fed.

This raises a host of questions for us. Should we continue to feed them? Does this create reliance? The cheepers are curious about the dishes of food, but of course -- they can't eat that stuff. (Much of cat food is based on chicken scraps.) I distract them with scraps of bread for now. The kitties and the hens are very aware of each other. How will all this play out in months to come? The cold cold months ahead of us?

Eventually, when the kittens have polished off all the food in the dishes, we shoo them out of car range and drive off.

It is a late start for a hike!

We head out to the Ice Age Trail segment, just west of Madison. And boom! We cone to that sign that warns us of the hunting season this week. The trail is officially closed. Just as well: with all the cat distractions, we forgot our blaze orange vest and cap (on the weekend when it's really important to wear them).

So where to now? We both agree that our state park, the very beautiful Governor Dodge Park is a good bet. You're not going to get shot down in a state park, right? True, it's still a good 38 minutes away from where we are at the moment and it it nothing short of dumb to start a hike at the end of November in Wisconsin at 3 o'clock (the sun sets at 4:25).

Still, it's a beautiful drive along the back roads of our state. For a while we track the Wisconsin River. Yes, the light is lovely in the late late afternoon...





Finally, the state park. What? At the entrance, the sign tells us -- hunters welcome!

I ask the park ranger if we will get hunted down, what without orange clothing.
We haven't lost a hiker yet -- he tells me somewhat reassuringly.

And in fact, though we come across many a huntsman, our loop takes us away from any gunfire. Here, follow along with us!











The descending sun is a playful companion.






The shadows grow very long and finally, there are no shadows at all.





The sun does a final dip...






A fishing boat pulls in. The thin ice that had started to form at the water's edge is nearly gone now...





It is time to head home.

One last look at the sun from the crest of a hill...






And we turn away from it all and drive back to the farmette.

The moon shines brightly over our landscape. Good night daughters and granddaughter, good night all, goodnight kitties, wherever you are.

Thanksgiving

Wake up at 6.

This is too early! I stay put.

Ed, half asleep, mumbles -- the cake wont bake itself...

I'm up.

Thanksgiving.

Before I plunge into the turmoil of cooking, I must tend to those who need me now. The cheepers, for instance.





Then it begins. Thanksgiving, at the table.

Spice cake (warm!), fruit, bacon...






We are a family of holiday habit. It includes keeping an eye on Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.






Snowdrop surely loves it!






Did I mention how joyous she is today?






And wanting to help! (Filling the muffin tins...)






She shows off her new dance shoes. (Is she truly just two years old? The pose of a teenager...)






I need to keep on schedule. With so many things to prepare, if I slip, we all will fall!

I chop mushrooms for the gravy. Again Snowdrop wants to help. I give her the knife and she finishes the job. Perfectly.






(Pause for letting everyone's artistic skills take hold...)






Lunch: pureed squash soup and (I admit it, these were not made by me from scratch) spinach and cheese dumplings.






She tells us -- I love squash soup! Snowdrop doesn't just like her favorites. She is always passionately enamored with them!






Over lunch, Ed recounts a befuddling incident. He tells us that he saw no fewer than five kittens playing in the sunlit doorway of the barn.

Say what??? Where did they come from???
Did someone drop them there? It sounds bizarre, but is there any way they could have wandered here on their own? We haven't seen them up until now.  But is that conclusive? They are skittish. They hide at the sound of voices.

We're curious and immediately after lunch we all head for the barn. We see a dash and a scramble and then nothing. By the time we are inside the barn, there's not a kitty in sight.

No matter. Let's play! It's sunny and pretty mild out there!






Ed blows bubbles. Snowdrop chases them.











... then rests with her mommy.






We return to the barn, this time very slowly and very quietly. There they are! Do you see them?






A closeup of two (there are five in all)...





Well now, they're here. Anyone have any idea as to what comes next?

Snowdrop loses herself in sweeping. I don't blame her. We have a lot to think about.






I don't want cats in the farmhouse. But might they simply stay in the barn? But all five? How do we care for them? Ed reminds me that this is the first November where we haven't had a significant mouse problem here. Are they behind this?


I slice a half dozen apples, mix them with raspberries, a bit of brown sugar, cinnamon. I top them with an oat crumble and slip it all in the oven.






And now all the foods are starting to come together. Everyone is here, happy, hungry...






Out comes the turkey, The mushroom gravy gets a final stir, the scalloped potatoes have come back from Ed's sheep shed. The beans are ready, the chipotle corn is almost done.






Oh, but can I pull it all together? Carved bird and all?

Done!





Yes, this girl who rarely eats meat, devours the drumstick!






And finally, dessert. with whipped cream giggles...






We eat, we play, eventually the young family leaves.

Such a day!

I do hope your Thanksgiving was full of laughter and kindness. Stay strong, stay cheerful. And remember those you love. Always.

Wednesday before Thanksgiving

Among the countless "Black Friday" emails that popped into my box this morning (did you know that Black Friday starts on Wednesday? Try explaining that to a child who thinks she has mastered the days of the week..) -- one email stood out. It was from Yves Rocher -- a French company that sells affordable creams and cosmetics in countless stores across France and, more recently in more distant places, including Warsaw. The email came because on a wintry day in Poland, I had been passing the store and realized that I badly needed a skin cream. Cold weather is brutal to your epidermis. Sure, we have plenty of good Polish creams, but I didn't know them, didn't want to study them, I just wanted to enter, pick up something familiar and leave. Ever since that day, I get monthly emails in Polish announcing the magnificence of Yves Rocher products in their store.

But today's email was different. It's goal was to let you know, in Polish of course, that Black Friday (those two words appeared in English, in this Polish texted message, sent from this French store) starts now!

I had to laugh. What does this mean to the targeted Polish audience?? What doomsday prophecy is being conveyed? Why Black and why Friday and why today and why in English??

So maybe I was wrong when I wrote yesterday that Thanksgiving is an unfamiliar holiday to the Poles. Maybe slowly this holiday is entering the mainstream even in Warsaw. Thanksgiving -- portending the arrival of Black Friday -- when you are to shop until you drop dead. Hence the reference to this Friday's darkness.

But shopping is not on my Wednesday list. I start with pouring hot water over the iced over bowls we leave out for the cheepers. I have some bread in my pocket. They know I'm here to share...







Then I sit down to prioritize my cooking goals.

Done. I'm ready for breakfast. A very sunny breakfast.







And then the usual happens. I scale down on my cooking today. Yes, I could make life easier for myself tomorrow, but I ask myself --  do I really want to bake the dessert, the muffins, the breakfast cake -- all a day in advance? I love the "fresh from the oven" idea, even if said items (and other oven-needy foods) require different oven settings and of course produce aromas that don't necessarily mesh. I mean, you just cant bake a turkey and apple berry crisp at the same moment!

And so I try to work on stuff that you really can do in advance and no one will be the wiser. Splaying (pulling apart the turkey's legs) and then massaging the bird with herbs, garlic, lemon...






And making turkey stock for the gravy: boiling the necks and giblets for hours -- a great task for today!

And of course, cooking up our own Wisconsin cranberries:





And now what? Everything else is special only because it's fresh and honest. Okay, I can cut up that squash (standing next to the cranberries) for the soup today. But that's it!

Everything else is fitted into a carefully calibrated timeline for tomorrow. If I get up very early (here we go again!) and I work slowly but consistently (no pauses!), we should eat dinner by... Oh! I better not predict that one! The wise cook never sets expectations. It's an organic process. We will eat when the meals are ready!