Saturday: from Chicago to the farmette

Some people are better teachers than others. Too, you could say that you're willing to open yourself up to learning from some and not so much from others. For me, Ed offers a wealth of learning, just by virtue of the fact that we are so different! It's not that I always incorporate his method, but I'm always considering it. Every day.

Then there are my kids and their families. Every time I spend days with them, I learn so much! Oh, there's the small stuff: music, style, trends -- they are my enlighteners! But, too, as they embark on a life course -- one that picks up elements from their own histories and enriches it with their unique take on things -- I am awed at how deliberate and beautiful it all is.

I resist asking sometimes -- why did you choose this (their take) over that (my take), even though at times times I'm curious. I know there isn't a good answer. Their lives have taught them to do stuff their way. And in any case, the results are magnificent. Yes, I am super proud of my kids! (And I'm sure you are too: parental pride is not an exclusive club!) So much love pulsating in their homes, so much hard work and goodness! And fun. Don't ever forget about the fun. A happy life is a balanced affair.

These are my thoughts as I ride the bus back home from Chicago this afternoon.



It had been a lovely morning: my daughter hung out with Primrose and me...






... I fixed fruit and yogurt bowls for the three of us,






... with Primrose's indomitable spirit and assistance.






Mini breakfast on the little balcony, looking one way, with Primrose on one lap...






... then the other.






Because the little girl has recently (mostly) dropped her morning nap, we eat an early brunch at Cellar Door Provisions. I don't think I've ever eaten a brunch with the young family in Chicago that I didn't like, but in many ways this one is especially good. The team of young cooks and servers works together to bring local foods, herbs, and clever ideas to your table. Their quiche has developed somewhat of a cult following and pretty early in the day they run out of it. Why not make more? To encourage you to eat other stuff and because, well, it's too boring to just make endless quiches all morning long! (If you're a foodie, you will enjoy reading the Bon Appetit article about this place here.)

(on our way...)






As early diners, we are there in time for the quiche, though we do also eat their baked goods. Primrose goes nuts over their croissant. She has refined croissant taste. It truly is excellent!






Not quite ready to part ways yet, we walk afterwards over to the Logan Square neighborhood toy store.

Madison's independent toy shops have closed and I'm not terribly sorry because they were only modestly good, so being in one that has a lot of exciting stuff packed in a small space is grand. Primrose would agree.






Still continuing our stroll, we end up at a coffee shop -- the Passion House Coffee Roasters. I begin mouthing my coffee shop usual request -- cappuccino -- but my daughter asks for the needle something or other white iced tea and I am intrigued. It's a little fizzy, very subtle and absolutely delicious! (Primrose, perhaps recalling the cup and straw I gave her yesterday at Floriole, is not happy that she isn't given the opportunity to sip some and so she and mom go for a little walk...)





In the scheme of things, it's a small deal. Iced tea. Still, it's one more tidbit, an addition to everything else that my kids offer me. Oh, they will never have the experiences that I have had, as in immigrant, a newcommer here, trying to figure out what to do with my life on this side of the ocean. They surely had at least the contours of a vision early on. And now, as they fulfill it, I get to follow along, reveling in their young discoveries.


The bus pulls in, I hop into my car and go straight to the grocery store to do the week's shopping. At the checkout counter, a store clerk says to me -- excuse me, if it's a style choice, then I don't mean to butt in, but just in case it isn't, two of the buttons on the back of your shirt are unbuttoned. I laugh at that, recalling the same comment in Wales, only tonight, I wasn't called "lovie."

 By evening, I'm home.

How has everything? -- I ask Ed.
Quiet -- he responds. I smile at this most Ed-like answer and turn to the yard, to snip spent day lilies. 350 spent lilies later, I go inside and start in on supper.

Friday with Primrose

Just about all my visits to Chicago this year have been on this same schedule: arrive Thursday evening, play with Primrose, who is now 15+ months on Friday, spend Saturday morning with the young Chicago family, returning to Madison toward the evening of that day.

All visits are exquisite, but I have to say, the summer ones are the most fabulous of them all: they give us the great outdoors. As Primrose grows older, our range of adventuring will grow as well, but even now, possibilities abound, all within walking distance of the little one's home.

Okay, but first an early morning with mom and dad before they head out for work...






... then breakfast with grandma. Primrose has a hefty portion of oatmeal with fruit, I have a hefty portion of oatmeal with fruit.






We do play for a while at home, but when I mention going out, she is more than ready!






(Always happy to go for an expedition!)






Today, I decide to walk over to the Lincoln Park neighborhood. 

We pass empty spaces that were once considered for Amazon HQ2, but are now are slated for new development (with that famous skyline framing the landscape).





You could write a book about Chicago's growth, renewal, search for solutions for problems of segregation and development! But, for all the troubles this city has struggled with, there are definitely the bright spots these days. Gang related gun violence in certain neighborhoods remains high, but it has been going down. And high school graduation rates are up. Overall, students are performing better academically. That's huge!

Predictably, neighborhoods such as Lincoln Park have some of the lowest crime rates in the city. Violent crime here is almost nonexistent. The residential blocks are a mix of rentals and family owned homes, all quite beautiful in the tree lined blocks. Where Bucktown and Wicker Park (neighborhoods encapsulating my daughter's residence) are now filling with with young professionals (sitting outside over a supper of grains, I saw dozens and dozens of people walk by: only one couple was my age), I think Lincoln Park is more established. Sure, it has a university, giving it a student vibe in some sections, but, too, it has had a boom in larger family home sales. If anything, the locals complain that too many visitors flood its restaurants, museums, zoo and lakeside attractions. You cant find parking here if your life depended on it!

For me, it's all walking distance: a twenty minute hike from the young family's home brings me to Lincoln Park's western edge.





Primrose and I stumble upon a small park. Well, perfect! The weather is beautiful! Sunny and not too hot.

I go for the obvious choice first: a swing. She likes it okay, but there isn't the love for it that her cousins have.






Now that she is solid on her feet, Primrose prefers exploring.





It's enough to work up one's appetite! We walk over to Floriole Cafe and Bakery.

Such a delicious display of flaky pastries!






Does Primrose like croissants? Let's test it...






The answer is "yes and then some!"

Time for a (timed-release) selfie!






With a few bags of additional goodies in hand, we walk back home. I'm relieved that the little one does not lack an appetite for lunch!






Naps, saunters, more play, more books, more drawing -- we can really pack it in!






Evening comes. When Primrose's dad returns and takes on the Primrose watch ...





... I step out to grab a supper, so that I can baby sit while the young couple goes out to eat.

It's a beautiful evening in Chicago. And in the young family's home, where little Primrose sleeps, after a full day of gregarious play.

Thursday

Can beautiful days become wallpaper, in the sense that you hardly notice them after you've had a long string of sunshine and warm breezes? Should you teach yourself to appreciate the gift of beauty, every time you are presented with it?

I think about this, but not very often. Mostly, I follow my senses and on good days I'm giddy and full of ambition, and on more fragile days, well, there are always deep breathing exercises and the calm shoulder of Ed. The point is, you can't spend all your time in deep appreciation, because thinking about how fleeting a good moment may be is just a recipe for getting yourself into a funk: oh! I'm healthy! the sun is out! I must rejoice because this will surely pass!  I mean, doesn't that guarantee that you'll start feeling anxious very quickly, thinking of all the storms that are hovering at the periphery?

So on this beautiful day, I do not feel compelled to go out and enjoy it. I go about my day as I would at any other time. In this month, early morning always has in it a walk through the garden. Bugs or no bugs, I snip and pull, I pause and smile.

And fall madly in love with some of the blooms right now.





Breakfast: on the porch. With my sweet partner, who just last night proposed that we head out for a week-long biking trip along the Erie Canal.
Ed, I'm too old to lug camping gear and daily stuff on a bike.
That's the trouble with you -- you think you can't do some of this stuff anymore, whereas, in fact, you can.






I put off thinking about this. I know Ed is trying to imagine a trip together that we would both love. I know I want to imagine it as well. The last time we camped was four years ago, in the Adirondacks. It's not that I believed it to be my last one, but still, the years go by and Ed cannot talk me into doing something in the wild again.

In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop, but only for a short spell.






We read her favorites, then she ropes us both into play that recreates the stories she favors these days. Ed, who is gathering up eggs for the farmers' market, gets assigned the dual role of two grandmothers: a spiffy one and a down to earth one who drives a tractor. (Honestly, I can't see him in frilly attire, but Snowdrop has a vivid imagination.)





And then, just a short while later, I am off to Chicago to see my city granddaughter, Primrose. It's been a month since I have sang goofy songs for her and hugged her tight!

Car to bus, bus to city, train to their neighborhood. (So green now! I was here in May, when sunshine and warm air were an iffy thing. Today, the city is in summer mode!)





Familiar routines, yet, with the passage of time, each visit is transformed into something new and different. And beautiful! No, not wallpaper at all: more like a kaleidoscope of ever changing patterns, each one remarkable, each one creating new memories that will last far longer than we could possibly imagine.

Wednesday

Kittens still gone, air thick with heat and humidity, mosquitoes are having a ball. A July farmette day to the core!

On the upside, the lilies are indeed blooming. In the Big Bed first...







Lovely en masse...

 



... exquisite one by one...






And the porch! A haven! A real treasure! Breakfast -- sublime.






Afterwards, Ed and I run some errands for my mom. Several miles into the trip his motorbike breaks down. This is not good news. We are far from home. We are on a bit of a tight schedule.

Ed fiddles with the wiring and emerges victorious. He finds a defective fuse and pulls it out. We're set! He grins.
Wait, you don't need the fuse?
We'll be fine.
What's the fuse for if we can go without it?
It prevents fire, explosion when stuff malfunctions...
Oh.

Still, you cannot ride with Ed on a warm sunny day without melting into his big frame and feeling totally relaxed. It's like a massage, only with gentle breezes and the clean smell of his shirt rather than with hot stones and essential oils of lavender.

One big job for us is to get my mom onto a new computer. Ed has done the work of transferring files and doing the set up here, at home and you always believe you've done it all until you show up with it and you see the puzzled look on the user's face as she cannot find this file and that icon...






We spend a good bit of time on it (well, Ed does; I do more prosaic stuff like change light bulbs and give haircuts) and still, several hours later he tells me -- I should have done one more thing! It's always like that with new computers.

Ah, but the ride back on the motorbike is grand and no, the machine did not explode or catch on fire!


In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop at school and bring her home.

After Scotland, or perhaps after having a baby brother herself, she is in love with Katie Morag books.






And always, always, there is lots of pretend play. Today we're all going to the beach!






(extending our play to the bug-free porch...)






(warm days are popsicle days)






This summer, Wednesday is once again ballet day! Guess which story they're dancing to. I know, it's easy:  Little Red Riding Hood.






Later, much much later, I cook up a red lentil soup and Ed goes out for a Wednesday Night Bike ride. I look out at the garden in the evening light and smile ...





If your July garden doesn't make you smile, call me. We'll put something in there that'll light up your days going forward. July (at least here in Wisconsin) is flower month!

Tuesday

It is about as normal a week as you can come up with these days. Routines are with us again. And I like that! The interplay of chaos and the ordinary is a good thing and it's quite pleasant to switch into a steady pace. For a while, anyway. You don't want to get complacent, or grow dull through endless repetition of the same. (Of course, the balance has to shift over time: chaos or even grand adventures become less desirable as you pass a certain age -- not sure which age, but something tells me I'm not awfully far from it!)

We have a stream of good summer weather before us: pleasantly cool in the morning, with plenty of sunshine throughout the day. The lilies will definitely rejoice!

Not that they have been completely silent. I picked off nearly 300 spent blooms from all the beds this morning, mostly from the yellow girls. They're nestled in all corners of the flower fields and they have been really blooming up a storm for a while now.






It wasn't totally pleasant work because the mosquito population is rapidly growing. It's five weeks delayed as compared to last year, but in the morning, among dew soaked foliage, they are now buzzing away.






I was up early of course because of the cats. Here are three out of the six youngest ones, hovering near Stop Sign.






All one family, all getting along right now. All needing to be neutered soon! (The task of doing this is daunting: tell me, how do you trap cats and not terrify the rest? And how do you do this when the cheepers are endlessly trying to get to the cat food?)

I go back to gardening thoughts -- enjoying the rhythm of my work outside, delighting in the slow but steady appearance of some of my very favorite day lilies: I love the ones that have many hues, gently moving between one and the next, like these Francis Joiner ones:






Breakfast is wonderful. If you were to ask me which moment of the day is the calmest, I'd say this one, right here.







Later, stepping out into the sunny path, I can only think how gorgeous gardens are right about now.






After a three week break, Snowdrop is back in school, overjoyed to see her class friend again. I pick her up, she grins broadly and announces to anyone who will listen -- my grandma's here for me!











(the devotion to drawing does not stop, thank goodness!)






Evening: the fireflies are tremendous! I go out for just a little bit. (The mosquitoes are also tremendous.) Dance comes out of the garage meowing, wanting something that I cannot understand. The other cats? Gone. Up and left. For how long? Perhaps two hours, perhaps two days.

A normal week. Predictable, yet never fully so.

work day

Most beautiful summer days provide an opportunity, especially for those, like me, who are no longer tied to a work schedule. Work in your garden, play, go for a hike. Right?

I did none of that today. For the better part of the day, I stayed in the farmhouse glued to my computer.

Before you tell me what a mistake this was, hear me out:

First of all, I did go out early. To feed the cats. All of them were enjoying the lovely, cool morning. And this is when I was able to count them: six kittens. Stop Sign had six, not five, not four like we had previously thought! They were all there, snuggled together on Ed's old sleeping bag. Oh my...

The morning itself was rather buggy, telling me that our mosquito-free days are over. Until we resume our garlic oil and rosemary essence mistings, working in weedy areas is going to be no fun.

But, breakfast on the porch? Heaven.

(View from porch)











(one of the first colorful daylilies)






(Pepper follows us as we check out the progress of the tomatoes...)






(Views of the Big Bed...)






I wanted to devote my morning to working on my trip photo book for the kids. I'd been at it for two days now and I thought I'd give it a big push forward before noon. Typically, I would pick up Snowdrop from school and have an afternoon of play with her, but I find out that she is still a tad under the weather and so she will be staying home today. That means I can devote a whole day to the book project.

And I finish it! Nearly 100 pages of photos and captions. Phew!

And so this is my day: writing, editing, and eventually uploading and printing. Well, I don't do it myself, I work with Blurb.

Tomorrow I may resume life as you and I know it. Today -- I was lost to the world.

(The two big cats, lounging in the evening...)