Tuesday

From frets, fraughts and frailties to serene gentility and calm. Isn't that always the pattern -- one day you're stumbling around, the next -- you're gliding across a lake without a ripple on it.

More kittens are returning to food, fewer minutes are spent tidying spent flowers, a kind Air France soul called to apologize and make amends, and the sound of crickets (no, not frogs) fills the air here, at the farmette.

Morning garden photos:
















Both Ed and I have loads of appointments all morning long and so breakfast is calm, but quick.






When it's time to pick up Snowdrop, dark, menacing clouds move in. My hair cut person is to trim Snowdrop's hair a bit. How to avoid a downpour? Buy a cookie and sit in the salon and eat it, waiting for the appointment. By the time we finally leave, the skies are nearly blue again.


(at the farmette...)






(silly girl...)





The little girl is determined to (nearly) finish building the Lego set and we make great progress! In a couple of hours, we work our way through three more packets of microscopic pieces! But, alas, we do not reach the end.
You want me to get it done in the next few days? I ask this, because I wont see the little girl until the weekend. (She has other family commitments.)
No! I want to work on it too!

And there you have it -- the girl is growing up very quickly.



Late in the evening...






Pretty light, sweet kitties, tranquil thoughts about the day gone by...





In the farmhouse, Ed and I flip through the channels of the TV. Typically, we watch the PBS channel or nothing at all, but today, we tune into a Western movie, one from 1966 (so, really terrible from any which way you look at it). To make matters worse, all the commercials target very old and infirm people. It feels like sitting around watching TV in a nursing home for those with greatly impaired mobility.

I tell Ed that we really should consider biting the bullet and spending the $10 per month for Netflix.

You really want to waste your time binge watching Netflix shows? -- he asks.
Better than tuning into a commercial infested bad Western from 1966 -- I retort, eyes nonetheless glued to the screen.

We go around this every once in a while. Ed is loathe to spend money on anything that isn't essential and believe me, his definition of essential is very rigorous. We like our time on the couch in the evening. A good show is an unnecessary bonus. A bad show? Something to groan about, until, like tonight, you can stand it no more and you flick the thing off and plunge the farmhouse into lovely silence.

Monday

Would you believe it  -- another drippy day -- fogged over, clammy, promising more rain.

And another "cats are not eating" day. Why? (Only little Dark Blue chomps away...)





And the more predictable -- another day of garden cleaning, even though I'm hardly making a dent these days. Forget the lilies -- rain brings with it weeds. Everywhere.

And another day of waiting for two hours while Air France stumbles through a phone conversation with me. (My advice: much as I otherwise do really like Air France -- I wouldn't be on their frequent flyer program if I didn't --  it's not a good choice for families with infants, especially if you're a person who likes to plan ahead and hold on to whatever seats you booked for yourself, or if you're weird enough to want to sit next to your spouse while holding infant in arms. They reserve the right to separate you and in general, mess with your booked, paid-for seat and they will do so, without consulting, without notice.)

Small stuff, you say. And you'd be right -- it is small stuff. How beautiful is the life that is full of the inconsequential frets!

Breakfast? No frets there!






*   *   *

My flowers continue to show off, albeit in somewhat different, more messy configurations.

(the Big Bed)






(looking toward the farmhouse...)






(the lily field...)





*   *   *

It's my "you call this lunch??" lunch.  I ran out of time. For days like this, I reach for my favorite "no B.S." protein bar: blend dates, cashews, almonds, egg whites and blueberries and you get something that goes oh so well with a cup of frothy coffee! "no B.S." is their chosen catchline.

Do note, too, the table cloth. It's a fill-in for when the big one is in the wash, but I do quite like it anyway -- my extraordinary Polish architect friend, Karolina, gave it to me -- it's a Polish artist's rendition of a stack of hay. Do you see the mouse peeking through (in other corners, you may find a lady bug, or a beetle)?





*   *   *

As the rain starts its rhythmic play on the farmhouse roof, I set out to pick up Snowdrop.

("What is she doing?" -- you may ask. "I don't know. Being silly." -- I will answer.)






We dig into a Lego building project. Snowdrop loves these so much, that I quit paying attention to minimum age. This one was 6+. Fine, she can manage 6+! There is a downside though: they are complicated structures with hundreds of tiny pieces, which means it takes FOREVER to complete it. We put it aside after finishing just one packet of lego pieces (out of five). To be continued!

(Pretend game that involves eating cheddar bunnies and looking for those little creatures that are sprinkled around the Polish table cloth...)






("there!")





*   *   *


Evening. Ed is sitting on stump, watching the cats. He swears he saw Dance nibble at food. We were to have storms. We did not have storms. Windows are open, crickets chirp. Or, are those frogs? Either way, it's all good.

Sunday

Looking back, it all looks so normal. So ordinary. And yet, it's a Sunday that feels slightly unbalanced. As if some of the pieces are not quite aligned properly.

Morning rains. Heavy at times. Diminishing finally when I go out to feed the cats. They're huddled together, all six little ones, as if surprised by the weather. Dance is there as well, though a little to the side.






They're all not eating. Only one -- wee little Dark Blue -- ventures anywhere near the food dish.

Dance, their older half sibling, is really thin. Something is off with her health, even as she has taken to coming to me for a solid rub behind the ears.

Seven cats, seven complicated lives.



I have to repair the garden after a couple of days of neglect. At this point, I am really transfixed by the rare stem sporting one or two lily blooms. So beautiful, and increasingly -- so rare.

A few to remember, wet and radiant!





















How about the entirety? Oh, still fine. Not as abundant, but totally fine!






(the Big Bed, August version...)






By 9 I'm done. I go back to bed (Ed never left it). I drift in and out of sleep for another hour. Maybe more. Luxury, no? It felt that way. I never sleep in late. Really, never.

A few cursory swipes at farmhouse surfaces (I'm supposed to clean the house today, no?), then breakfast.






It's still cloudy, but there's no rain, so Ed and I bike over to Stoneman's for their fresh corn. Thirteen ears, no photos.

And now we split up: Ed goes to my mom's, to fix some stuff for her and I head out to the grocery store. On Sunday! Very weird. By the time I'm home, I see that it's really really late. I need to fix dinner for the young family! I rev up the motors and put a move on it. No, really, I rush like a crazy hyena.

The young family arrives...











Don't worry, I'm on it! My daughter has a chore to get through, I have a dinner to cook. Meantime, kids want to be held. Both. For no good reason.






Finally: dinner's ready!






The dinner feels good and normal. I mean, it's slightly cool right now, but still, it's typical August stuff: on the porch!


After the young family leaves, after the last dish is washed clean, I go outside and try once more to coax some food into the kitties. I have some enticing cans of yummy tidbits! Again, only one of them takes a nibble. The others? Solidly refusing to touch anything.

Well so be it. Who can understand cats anyway.


I retreat to the farmhouse, Ed pops some corn for the both of us. Heavenly in its simplicity and ordinariness.

Saturday

Comings and goings: the constancy of them in my life! You'd think I'd be more at peace with transitions and transfers...

No, the answer isn't to quit the incessant movement. Obviously I go places because something I crave is out of my reach if I stay home (the young family comes to mind). I'll never sit still so long as Paris is on the other side of the ocean and, more importantly, my younger daughter and her family live away from Madison.

Ah well, I know that departure melancholy fades, mainly because I know I will be up and moving and reuniting again.

This morning belongs to Primrose, of course. Primrose, the builder.






Primrose, mom's cooking assistant...






... and grandma's breakfast companion.






Nourished, she kicks around a ball...






She rests, with ball, but only for a while.






Catch me if you can!






I can, and I do.






Okay, time to settle down. With a book. With dad.






We go out for our traditional parting brunch. Hot Chocolate this time, because honestly, it's always good. And especially with the little girl and her parents. Sigh... all you need is love... well, and food and shelter and wise authors to read and beautiful music to lift your soul, but honestly, it does all start with love...






(Here's the food part! Jammy toast will do that to a mouth!)






I take off from here: it's a perfect way to depart -- the last image is of the three of them, together...





Happy.





A long El train ride, with construction detours, to the airport. A long bus ride, also with detours today, to Madison. Then a brief car ride along rural roads, where I get pulled over by a police officer.
What seems to be the problem here?  - he asks.
I don't know, you tell me! - I retort.
You're driving slow. And a little off the road.
I pulled up to photograph cranes!
What cranes?
Take a look! -- I point to the fields by the road.





Some people never stop to smell the roses!

Finally home. No bud snipping tonight. Somehow it just doesn't seem necessary.

Friday

Time for a change of pace, no? Put cats and spent buds aside and focus your attention elsewhere. Easy enough! Chicago always beckons and it so happens that these two days are the only August days that work for both the young urban family and for me (in terms of scheduling a visit).

It's not the usual "arrive Thursday, leave Saturday" trip. It's truncated because extending it would have added to everyone's chaos. We are all in a very busy period right now.

Very early, as I go out to feed cats (who snub their noses at the introduction of a new cat food, telling us that they are only borderline feral) and to snip the buds, I see that I am leaving so many stalks bare of new buds that by weekend's end, our lily season will be just about over. Is there anything to take their place? Well yes, but not a whole lot. I just don't want to be tending flowers well into late summer or early fall and so I plant very little for this coming period. The garden is nearing its autumnal mess. And frankly, we kind of like it that way.

But this morning, you can still give it to the day lilies!






The enchanting, elusive, ever-beautiful lilies.











(Though it's my enduring love for the phlox flower that really gives explosive color to the fields right now...)






It's a gorgeous day! Simply stunning! Breakfast on the porch...





And then puff! I hop on the bus and I'm off!

There isn't a lot that I'll post from the Chicago end of the day. Because of the shortness of the visit, I do not want to devote many waking minutes to photos, let alone text. Still,  as I arrive in the city, I have a little downtime before picking up little Primrose at school. I head for La Colombe coffee shop.






I used to think that living close to a good cafe was luxuriously essential. Ed and I hung out at our local one several times a week. Total regulars. I've shied away from that in recent years. Don't know why. But when I travel, even just to Chicago, I feel the guilty pleasure again: a coffee, an ear toward the conversation at the table next to mine (their talk is so New Age!), a glance outside...






Decadent!


And finally, Primrose. She is the ever delightful, ever changing child, showing off her big girl ways at every turn. (Her teachers love to pigtail the little girl each day...)













Mom's here! Book time.






In the later part of the evening, my daughter and I go out for dinner at Le Bouchon. We'd been there before and I'm sure we'll go again. The restaurant may be the same, but oh, do the years continue to change us both! Just that much more compassion and gentility on my part (I can hope!) and patient wisdom (for sure!) on hers.





The evening, which, just a few days ago felt clammy and hot, now calls for a sweater. It's Friday and people, hanging at bars and eateries, trickle out onto the deliciously cool pavements.

You always hear easy laughter on nights like this. And this is as it should be. For everyone.