departures and arrivals

This is one of those topics that readers do not care about: when did your flight leave? How late were you on arrival? Bleh, move on. Tell us how things are in your new place, don't waste our time on the banalities of air travel.

Yet, for the traveler, leaving and then finally getting there is important: emotions run high on both ends. At least for me they do. I dislike leaving home and flight delays make that departure drag. But I do like arriving in Paris. Not so much at the Paris airport, which requires endless navigation, but in Paris, the city. It's at that moment -- when I step outside from the Luxembourg RER train stop that I think -- when I get too old or too poor to continue the crossings, I will miss this moment of alighting by the Luxembourg Gardens in Paris.

Apart for the emotional spikes surrounding departure, there are the practicalities and yes, I'll bore you with just a brief mention of a few hiccups I encountered in leaving.

The weather was fine. A few random rain clouds. A pilot could navigate through those blindfolded. But, planes are like cars, lawn mowers, wheelbarrows, mopeds, farm carts and bicycles. They get flat tires. (Ed has changed tires on all the above.) My plane that was to take me to Detroit got a flat and even the nice cushion I gave myself for a connection proved not to be enough. I was going to miss my flight to Europe.

Because I booked an evening flight (I wanted not to back out of picking up the kids on a Monday, which is the busiest work day for both parents), I knew I was in trouble. There are limited flights out of my hometown after 7 p.m. and only a couple connect to a place where I can get on a Europe bound flight.

Luck. In travel it can put you back on track. Absence of it can derail even the most carefully planned trip. This time it was going to be my best buddy. Delta booked me on the last flight to Minneapolis -- in time for an ocean crossing from there.

And another good outcome: I was so tired after all the recent activity at the farmette that I actually slept for a couple of hours, which for me is a rare treat. Most often I arrive in Europe after a night of no sleep.

(Breakfast, Amsterdam airport, so late that I can only call it an indifferent lunch)






And so I alight from the commuter train at the Luxembourg Garden gates, later than planned, but happy to connect with all that this side of the ocean stirs within me.


















And then I walk to my little hotel, just two blocks down the hill (Paris is not flat: you learn this quickly if you ever drag a suitcase across its bumpy streets). I leave my bags in my lovely little room (actually not so little - I'm in an upgrade) and quickly set out. I have a few errands to run before my friend arrives (tomorrow).

(an unplanned stop at a shop around the corner -- to add a bee to my lapel...)






As the night light intensifies and shops close all around me, I hesitate by this favorite cafe restaurant. Should I ask for a table?





No, it calls for too big of a hike back to my hotel after. When I am alone in Paris, I like to eat dinner pretty close to where I am staying. I don't know why -- perhaps it feels more like I am in the neighborhood of "home" then.

Today I try new place, one that my hotel had reviewed in one of their seasonal newsletters. It's called the Cod House and it's a blend of Japanese and French tapas style food and it's perfect for me. I start with a raw yellowtail and one of their lovely coctails...





... Then a delicious sea bass in soy, with pea pods and an incredibly yummy strip of eggplant gratinee.

But I am tired. It's been a very very long day. Delicious, sensual Paris is worth it of course, but still, at the end of the day the eyes grow heavy. Especially on the day of arrival.

Monday twists and turns

It wasn't your typical morning. On any other day, I go out, feed the cats in some half awake half asleep fashion, consider going back for a cat nap (if I may borrow a feline term), I read, write, do chores. That would be normal.

Instead, this morning I make my way to the kitchen when it is still dark. Overcast skies, late October. What do you expect from this brooding combo... I glance out and there is Stop Sign, the grand mama, on the porch steps. And some movement in the background. Oh crap, have the teenagers invaded her space?

I leave a bowl of food for her, then go out, hustling the teenagers, who have descended on the farmhouse path, jostling, rubbing, nibbling. Hey, Dance, that's my leg! Keep your nibbles to yourself!

As I get to the sheep shed, I see Happy, the rooster, darting by. Say what? Shouldn't you be in the coop? He's chasing the hapless Peach who never really likes his advances. Damn it. Ed must have forgotten to put them in the coop for the night. It had been an unusual Sunday and stripped of our by-the-clock routines, we floundered.

I count the chickens. Phew! They survived.

After feeding the teenagers and Yo-Yo the babe, I go back to the farmhouse and look out again. There's no mistake. One of Stop Sign's wee kittens figured out how to follow her onto the porch. Well that's a relief. I feel that they are safer and warmer here. And close to the food source and away from the herd of teens. For now.

And just as I consider dozing off again, I hear the pounding on the roof. A regular old downpour. So... where are the three other kittens? I go back to the kitchen. It's really coming down hard. And then I see them, or at least two of them: they're clinging with their claws to the bottom of the screen, on the wrong side of course, meowing to high heaven, wondering how to get in, even as the rain is slashing at them with the force of a real storm.

I go out and seize one before she gets away (the other flies off into the pounding rain). I put her wet little body on the porch, where she is greeted by Stop Sign. The next I check, the two little guys are snuggling with Mama the Beast in their lair (Ed and I put a blanket into the pet carrier and covered it with a quilt. It stands on the porch. Stop Sign has resisted going inside, but now with the kittens, she takes that risk.)

So, two kittens and Stop Sign on the porch, two kittens missing for now, eight cats in the sheep shed. And the rains keep coming down. Hard.






We eat breakfast in the kitchen. I have so many last minute animal instructions for my breakfast sweetie. I doubt Ed will follow any of them. We each have our own way of tending to animals, to stuff in general. Neither is better than the other.






Why "last minute?" Oh, today is the day I take off for Paris. But not until after I spend the afternoon with Sparrow and Snowdrop.

(rains stop, sun comes out... will the leaves be gone in a week?)






(Sparrow, upright and on the move!)






(Snowdrop: how do you pack up art work?)






(I made an airplane!)






(at home: stealing cheddar bunnies)






(looking at the two youngest kittens..)





Stay well and I'll see you in a few days, all you little Midwestern babes, cats, kids!



As for Paris -- it's just until Sunday. I can't really take more days off, nor do I want to be away from my clan here (I speak of people, not cats and certainly not chickens!). It's a meaningful trip because I'm cutting back on the frequency of my ocean crossings. So, for example, no December trip this year.  And no Poland for now. That extra leg just adds chaos. I don't want chaos. And here's another special element -- my lovely and loyal friend from Warsaw is coming to Paris to join me there for a few days. That's truly special. Time, plenty of time to just walk the streets of that city together.

So, in the evening, I wait to catch my flight to Detroit, from where I will be flying to Amsterdam (unfortunately I follow the cheaper air connections and this one trumped a direct flight), and finally from there, I'll fly to Paris, arriving in that beautiful city tomorrow, toward evening.

My next post should be from Paris.

Sunday, family Sunday

I'll start with the summary: it was a beautiful day. Sublime. Unreal in its magic.

It is, however, late now. Very late.

Still, such a beautiful day! Let me at least post some photos. They'll help me remember. As if I wouldn't otherwise!

Photos. In three chapters.
'
1. Farmhouse Morning


Primrose is up! I come in from cat feeding, we sit down to a prebreakfast breakfast. The day is off to such a good start!






The two young families are here for brunch.  Three young cousins, together.






So much to smile about, but nothing makes me happier than this: serving a good meal to all these people... listening to them around the table... Getting up to add this or the other thing to the meal...

This is the proper moment to tell everyone that October 20 is special for us: Ed and I plunged into what it is that we have now 14 years ago on this day. Later, I found out that it's also his birthday. Not that he takes note of the date. But I do and in the end, in a shy way, so does he.






Happy Birthday, happy anniversary, and yes, I'll put away the camera in a minute.






Kids get up, kids find comfy laps. Grown ups like to linger. Little ones think lingering is for the birds.






I suggest drawing. Each child is engaged in this activity in a different way. Sparrow is content to use crayons, Primrose wants to move on to markers, and Snowdrop is lost in a creation of her own...






Outside, the sun comes out. Isn't this a fine day to go out for a farmette walk??






Cousins.






The two families that make my heart sing...






Snowdrop suggests -- lets sit in the shade of this tree. We do.






I love this next photo from our farmette explorations. Taken in by the beauty of the moment, we linger. For a long while.






2. Do you want to go for a walk?

The young families scoot off.  Ed asks if I want to go to the county park. We've taken hundreds of walks together. It's our specialty! Selfie at the farmette first.






So much gold, just around a couple of corners from us.






Forest walk: we haven't really savored the autumnal forest this year!






Sandhills. Two. In love.






3. Happy day to you...

In the evening, we have a reduced crowd for dinner. 






When I mention Ed's birthday once more, Snowdrop asks to be excused, rushes to the drawing table, and produces a card. Which has to be wrapped of course.

You are good at fixing things, so I drew lots of hammers. And a chocolate cake!






She draws a second card. For the anniversary, even as it's hard to explain to a child what exactly happened fourteen years ago.

Or is it?

Ed would not have liked a celebration planned by me, or anyone else. Except if it's orchestrated by one of the kids.  It's okay then... More than okay.






Good night! With love...

Saturday little ones

Delays happen. You think of them as something that is part of air travel. But of course, mechanical issues can interfere with any mode of transportation. With the young family attending to car problems in Chicago, our morning here, in Madison, begins with crossed fingers: may everything work out well for them, and may they drive up without any more glitches, and before the rains come down on south central Wisconsin!

In the meantime, Ed and I have breakfast...






... and then I join my daughter and Snowdrop at the downtown Farmers Market. It's not so crowded now. People don't think of outdoor markets as being full of bounty in late October. But for us, there's plenty to buy still!

(apples...)






(pesto, cheese, beans, tomatoes...)






Me, I'm in it for the good company. I've done all the grocery shopping that will carry Ed along while I'm gone next week.





Back at the farmhouse, I see that Stop Sign is again at the porch door asking for food. Really? You just ate a while ago!

I watch her eat so hungrily... And then, on a hunch, I follow her once again. This time she goes to the garage.

Four.

Four little kittens.






She has brought with her the little flock we always suspected she hid somewhere across the road.






This is a huge challenge -- for us and of course, for them. There's much to be scared of: other cats, chickens, people. It doesn't help that Stop Sign is just as skittish, untrusting (except of Ed and me). Yet, if they give in to their fears, they'll be crossing that road all too often.

But how do we protect them? There isn't a chance in hell that Stop Sign and her four newest babes (and thankfully her last litter) will join the eight sheep shed cats in a peaceful and harmonious fashion.

Should we warm up the porch some? Surely these littlest guys are deserving of protection! Does anyone want to adopt some little kittens???



And in the afternoon, we see that luck is with us! The young family with their sweet Primrose pulls up, ready to head out with us to the pumpkin patch! But first, a look around, and a snack.













Pumpkin patch! It's a grand outing and only time and in the end a few sprinkles keep us from taking it all in. I'm posting a bounteous handful of photos, because, well, there are three kids and wonderful parents and it's October and how often do you find us all in a pumpkin patch anyway?!


(tractor pulls wagon with straw bales and those wanting a ride...)






(which pumpkin? how about this one??)






(Sparrow likes this one... I've noticed the little guy really does like yellow...)






(it was a very long and convoluted drive from Chicago, but we are all so glad you three are finally here!)






(the band of cousins, redoux!)






(pumpkins, corn stalks, pumpkins)






(a Sparrow accomplishment: he walked the whole way there and back)






(I know this to be true -- I adore all these guys!)






(loving the walk!)






(a snack at the pumpkin patch shed)






In the evening, the rain does come down, but we don't mind. We drive out to Pizza Brutta for a beautiful family supper...






I sit across the table from my two daughters and I half listen to their conversation. They have a tone of voice that I hear only when they speak to each other. It's full of kindness and a desire to be good to the other. It's funny, it's serious, it's personal. It's full of love.





Their spouses, their kids, they're all in this together. Little ones, feeding off the warmth and wisdom of their parents.


When you're old enough to be a grandma, you notice these things and if you're like me, you thank your stars every minute you're alive for your young ones, indeed, for all the good young people in this world who try so very hard to make this place a kind and loving home for everyone.