sleep

I don't think either of us logged in more than a couple of hours of sleep. He dozed off on the couch, I eventually went upstairs, only to stay up reading. Eventually I dozed, he came up, we chatted on and off for the rest of the night. Nothing important. I tested his knowledge of the personal lives of colleagues. (Amazing how little he knows!) We talked about the reasons for the confusion in who gets a third shot. I was about to tell him my thoughts on Merkel, but then I dozed off, only to be woken by my phone, or was it his phone first? No matter. It was, in fact, a gentle, lovely night.

This morning, it became clear that we are in for a warm-up. We may have tasted fall weather the last few days, but it was in the end only a taste. On my morning walk, there was a definite feel of late summer in the air. I'm back to short sleeves!

Morning walk -- forget the hoodie.

(We have two quince trees -- a rare reminder of my father, as he was the one who urged me to plant them; this year, each tree produced one fruit.)

 

Breakfast -- most definitely on the porch.

And then we drove off just down the road to get the newly approved third shot. Ed and I are nearing on eight months since our second shot. Given the fact that we are ancient, and in addition, we have solid indoor time with school-going kids almost every day, I'm happy to follow the guidelines and accept the boost.  

It was, I admit, disheartening to see the long snaky line for Covid testing at the pharmacy. That many people fear that they may have been exposed! Our county has a large student population and their age group is by far the largest driver of new infections. Just like last year, only this year, so many of us are protected. Not the kids though. Still holding my breath for the kids to get the luxury of feeling safe.

Speaking of kids, here's one of mine, coming to the farmhouse after school! 

 

 

 

I'd baked muffins for us, for her...

 

Time to play!

And talk. I ask Snowdrop about school. She's not a recounter of detail from the day. She tells a story or two and then she is done, claiming she is saving the rest for later. 

It's okay if you don't want to talk -- I give her a way out.

Oh, I do want to talk, but with you, I talk about different things! 

Like what? 

Books!

I have to smile. She must be thinking of yesterday's discussion about controversial authors that are sometimes kept out of school libraries. Today though, during the ride to the farmette, she is into playing our own word game. Her favorite -- "name the lake elections" (don't ask). 

Once here, she is full of energy!

Hard to believe she just finished another full week of school.

 

 

 

 

It rains this evening. Ed works on setting up a new phone system (we'll finally join the legions of young people who have given up on landlines), I cook up a frittata. In September, our frittatats are totally local: bok choy, green beans from our CSA -- Tipi Produce. Corn kept over from Stoneman farms. Mushrooms from the market. Parmesan from Farmer John. Eggs from Peach, Pepper, Cherry and now also Uni. 

The house is calm -- Ed's presence makes it so. I had asked him earlier in the day -- do you ever worry about anything? I knew the answer of course. I knew it from the first days we were together now nearly 16 years ago. I just like to hear him say it. No. It never fails to make me smile.

cold hands and tall kids

What's the first thing that you notice about your body in Autumn? For me, it's that my nose and my hands turn cold. I mean, not bricks-of-ice cold, but you know -- no longer warm. And I noticed that last night, just before going to sleep, as I glanced at the thermostat. Hmm, that's a little low for us. I up the temperature by a couple of degrees. Nothing happens.

So much for a furnace that's working.

Clang! Ring! Hoot the horn! Yes, it is the winning week for malfunctioning mechanicals!!

It's not that hard to figure out the problem. There is an error code and it translates into the trouble spot (something about a condensate sensor mis-sensing) and Ed does a temporary fix, promising to return to it on the next day. Meaning today.

To show you how determined we are to check off all the unaddressed issues, we are also up early -- both of us -- so that we can catch Uni as she comes out of the coop. We want to attach a blue tooth tracker to her neck. We want to find out where she is laying her little green eggs!

She's not happy with the device and Happy (the rooster) is not happy with her device either. Both peck at it relentlessly. We predict that they'll peck it off before the day is through. In the meantime, we try to remember to pick up the smartphone and follow the signal, but of course, we get distracted and time passes and by the end of the morning we still haven't located her laying station!

It is, however, a beautiful autumnal day. We can't forget that. 

 

 

 

(A warm September means there will be a few lily reblooms! Like summer, only different.)

 

 

Crispy clear skies. Even if it is on the cool side of the river. (Remember when 60F, or 15C, was a springtime delight? So warm, after winter lows! Well, not anymore. Darn cold.) We eat breakfast on the porch, but I think we may be nearing the end of that ritual.

I pick up Snowdrop at school. Hoodie weather indeed!

I watch as she plays with the cheepers, collecting some of the feathers that they routinely drop at this time of the year...

 

 

 

... and I see that Uni is not with the pack. Might she be laying? Where? I retrieve the smart phone and hand it to Snowdrop. Find her! 

I guess the hoodie conferred upon her super powers of detection because within minutes, the laying culprit is located. I would have never ever looked there -- in the tall grasses beneath the front maples. Strange girl!

Many days have passed since Uni has appropriated this spot for herself and so the egg buildup is tremendous: 16 little green eggs! They survived predators and storms and the lawn mower! Amazing...

 

Toward evening, I return Snowdrop home and visit for a few minutes with her brothers.

How are they all getting to be so tall?

Yes, even you, Sandpiper!

It's so easy to forget this most basic truth as you're reading with them, playing, feeding them -- kids grow up. They actually become adults pretty quickly. Funny how that works, isn't it?

 

Fall

Can you find joy on this day of changing seasons? I hope so. If you're in Wisconsin, it's made easier for you -- our weather is just beautiful. Sunshine and crisp breezes, a gentle ebbing of a summer mood, our faces turned now toward the golden colors of autumn. 

For me, the first day of Fall also brings up memories of my older girl's wedding -- one that took place nine years ago on this day. The weather then was partly this, partly that, but it did in the end deliver that solid display of cloud and sky, sun and gusty winds. A stunning day, filled with happy moments, with love, with the welcoming of that next season in life. (And now, with three kids in tow, the young couple can celebrate so much more!)

 

I can't say that I spent this morning well, in that I did not fully take in the beauty of the moment. It was one of those internet sucky things -- meaning, I began to do some research on masks and travel. Talk about going down a rabbit hole! Every time I explore this issue, changes have been made -- to the requirements, to safety considerations, to the marketing and regulating of this essential component of our pandemic response. It should not be this hard to come up with an authentically safe and comfortable product. But it is. Five hours later, the day has moved from morning to afternoon -- all those lovely first-day-of-fall hours spent on the couch, except for the morning walk to feed the animals...

... and the pause to eat breakfast with Ed. Inside.

And guess what -- I briefly turned on the heat! Because it was chilly in the house, but really mostly to test the furnace. Shockingly, it was not broken! (On the other hand, the washing machine needed a fix today. It refused to dispense cold water. We are on track to set a record in terms of the number of mechanical devices needing a repair this week. Let me add to it my computer -- which I take over to a repair shop so that they can finally fix the "t" problem. No more missing "t"s! -- for now.)

In the afternoon I do step out for a good, long-ish stroll. My welcome to fall walk. Each season has its magic. Autumn rolled out an impressive opening act. Very impressive!

Evening: I love this time of day! When the kids were growing up, evenings could be a lonely thing. After dinner, the kids worked, most often in their rooms, or went out with friends. The grownups -- well, some of us were lost to work as well. It's hugely different now: for Ed and me, evenings are sacred shared couch time. Sometimes we lose ourselves in some independent project, he on his laptop, I on mine, but there is always a big chunk of time when we converge, almost always over a movie or a show. With popcorn. Ed will return to his stuff later, much later, often working into the wee hours of the night. But evenings belong to the both of us.

The moon is out, the night has a taste of winter to it. Autumn stuff. Beautiful autumn stuff.

water

We have been struggling this week with the mechanicals here, at the farmette. First there was the water pump-on-overdrive issue. Ed fixed that over the weekend, but in doing that, he unleashed a bunch of rusty sediments in the pressure tank. We thought we cleaned them out, until I noticed this morning that they came back.

On the one hand, it is reassuring to know that this wont kill you, on the other  -- it is stuff in your water. Not toxic stuff, not lead, not some contaminants, but still, stuff. You don't want rust bits floating in your drinking water. 

I'm up feeding animals, chasing chickens, pulling weeds. 

 

 

 

And dealing with Dance who has decided she just loves tearing into one of our beautiful carpets.  Dance! 

I hear Ed stirring upstairs. How's everything? How are you? -- he asks. 

Exasperated! I plunk down on the bed and spell out all the issues -- cats that scratch, chickens that lay who knows where, water with stuff in it. Of course, none of this is hitting me -- I wont be the one fixing any of it. Well, maybe not the chicken issues. Who knows how to find the missing eggs of Uni.

We eat breakfast...

Ed tries to clean out the pressure tank. An impossible job. Next step -- replace it. 

We drive out to get a new tank and leave him to it while I pick up Snowdrop at school.

Water at the farmhouse necessarily has to be shut off for the day. I'd filled a pot to use for essentials, forgetting how many essentials come with a grandchild visit. Wash your hands! -- I shout out automatically as she enters the house. Gaga, there's no water.

No water for toilet, no water for watermelon juice dripping everywhere, no water for the snack plates, for the thirsty child. All this before I even begin to face dinner.

Never mind. I restock when I take Snowdrop home. Hi, boys!

(Hi Gaga! I'm baking a cake!)

(I'm just keeping an eye on my sibs...)

Meanwhile, at the farmhouse, Ed has been working away to get us back to normal. And by dinner time, peace in the water system is restored. We cover the scratching corner of the carpet with another rug and we bring in a climbing structure to tempt Dance (she snubs it of course). As for the missing Uni eggs? Well, you cant expect to solve all problems in one day, can you?

 

moving on to pokeweed

We are in a never ending battle with weeds. Mostly, I mind weeds that invade the flower beds. They take over and crowd out flowers. But sometimes I mind them, we mind them, because they are toxic monsters that are a nuisance to the entire property and beyond. And the longer we live here, the longer is the list of these invasive monster plants.

We started with a goal of eradicating honeysuckle. That plant has ruined forests and wetlands throughout Wisconsin. You need only drive along the rural roads around here to see its effects. The shrubs fill out all available space and before long, prairies and woodlands succumb to their noxiousness. Ed has been relentless at digging it out here and I think we're on top of it! 

Then came garlic mustard: we've been warned to pull it out, roots and all, quickly and efficiently. It, too, destroys a forest floor (or a flower bed). We are good at pulling out the hundreds of mustard plants that sprout each spring.

Before long, we came across another warning: get rid of your dame's rocket! Looks like phlox, with its pretty purple flowers, but it's not. It is part of the mustard family and it is a menace in our wetlands. So we pull all visible dame's rocket the minute we see its flowering heads.

Not the end. Beggar's lice came next (aka Virginia stickseed). Getting the seeds out of your clothes and worse -- hair, is so awful that I waged an active campaign to eradicate all stickseed from farmette lands. This, at about the same time that Ed went after thistle plants that were invading all our meadows and prairies. We haven't eradicated either, but it's better than it was a few years back.

This summer, we also discovered the dangers of letting those tall monster wild parsnips grow in your prairie. If you want to have any prairie flowers left, you really need to pull the giant parsnip out, with gloved hands because they are toxic to your skin (to say nothing of your digestive system).

Are we done yet??? No! Yesterday, Ed asked me about a "pretty if somewhat exotic looking huge plant" that's blooming in the back of the writer's shed. I sighed. It's pokeweed and I have been trying to keep it out of here for several years now, but it's winning every single battle. It's huge, with an equally huge root and it has toxic leaves and toxic berries and it spreads like wildfire. So, add pokeweed to my list of gardening headaches.

And I'm not even going to mention the small weeds, the clovers, the dandelions, crab grasses, bindweed, dayflowers, and all those tamer creepy creeping invasives that aren't going to kill your flowers and grasses. At least not immediately. Pushy, but not deadly. 

 

 

*     *     *

I came across an interview with Rick Steves in the New Yorker this week. To me, he represents the best and the worst of European travel. The best, in that he works hard on convincing people to humbly choose Europe over yet another trip to Disneyworld as their vacation destination. I say humbly, because humility is not typically packed into the suitcase when we go to distant places and visit unfamiliar cultures. The worst thing about Rick Steves? Well, he is an empire. He is a Simon says of travel: one Steves suggestion and a million people are going there and doing it. For this reason alone, many of us go out of the way to avoid anything Steves has put into his Europe travel books.

In the interview though, I  did come across several thoughts of his that I found worthy of a smile. For example, the idea that Europe is like a wading pool in the summer. He is right: for the overseas traveler it's a joyful place to explore without much danger and with a lot of pleasurable moments sprinkled throughout. To me, of course, the variety, concentrated into a small physical space is especially tantalizing. 

And so now comes the question of when: given that Covid is not going away anytime soon, when will it feel safe to travel to this wading pool once again?

 

 

*     *     *

We eat breakfast on the porch. It is an amazingly quiet day. The balance of busy followed by quiet is exquisite. The balance of staying home and getting out into the world is equally exquisite. 

As I wait to see what the next weeks will bring, I go back to weeding. I mean, there are so many to pick from! So very many!

family Sunday

One of the best things about weekends like this one is that they reaffirm this basic truth:  we -- my kids, my grandkids -- we really like time spent together. We like hanging out for hours on a deck or on the porch, we like watching the kids play, we like talking about the quirky aspects of life. We like to laugh at odd happenings. We like it all. Kids grow up in different ways. There are no promises or guarantees. Different interests, different convictions, different ways of approaching life. But we were lucky: we did not grow apart. Things we liked doing together twenty years ago we still like doing together now. And always there is laughter. Family gatherings are never serious affairs. They are gentle, kind, and most of all -- fun.

 

This Sunday began early, because there are kids in our lives who live by clocks that are set to their little person needs. At the farmhouse, Primrose is excited to start in on an art project even before breakfast, before switching out of her pj's.

We linger, we play, we nibble. And then I scoot out to pick up some brunch foods at Madison Sourdough. No need to cook up a storm today. We're taking it easy. Indeed, we pack up our stuff and head out...

(cool morning...)

(warm day...)

... to my older girl's home so that the cousins can log in some outdoor playtime. (Until they are vaccinated, we'll stick to the great outdoors.)

Sandpiper doesn't care for the heat and yes, today is hot -- one last heat wave pummeling us with sticky air. Nonetheless, he, too, likes family activity. The sound of sib voices. The sweetness of an aunt who, herself is pregnant with a cousin.

 

Family brunch....

I'm not sure anyone felt like pumping up and filling the pool one last time, or slathering the sun block on kids backs, faces and arms, but we did it all because the kids just love getting cool in these splash pools. So, one last time -- an ode to summer.

And then the young Chicago family has to head home. Good byes are tough!

 

I had the idea that I would catch my breath for a few hours before heading into dinner, but Ed asked me to run some errands with him, including one that required me driving behind him as he took his car to the other side of town, depositing it at his best mechanic for a brake job.

Are your brakes not working? -- I ask.

Not a whole lot. But I'll go slowly on the highway and you don't have to stop much between here and the shop. 

I was not going to let him do this alone. Indeed, he could not do this alone.

And when we got back from the car deposit and from his errands (picking up a Craigslist  very used seed broadcaster for $15), it was time to cook Sunday dinner for the gang.

(here they come! tree stop first...)

It's shrimp taco night tonight and the kids are delighted.

I think all the grownups are plenty tired by the end of the day. But it's a good tired. A happy tired. 

With love...

 

missing "t"s

Things break. Ed says this all the time. Since he will never call a repair person if he has the strength to attempt a fix himself, he is one busy guy.

What neither of us can fix however, is my aging computer's missing letter "t." Well, it's not really missing, it's more like a wobbly tooth that can never be made firm again. It works if you stick to mushy bananas and milkshakes, but of course, who lives on a diet of mushy bananas and milkshakes?! 

One of the first things I do in the morning is hunt for missing "t"s in whatever I may have written the night before. (I will have already done a search the previous day, but looking for missing "t"s at night after a long day is like searching for a four leaf clover after sunset with an aid of a very weak flashlight. 

I thought about this early in the morning as I began another full day. The sun is out, the skies a clear, I have plenty to do as I prepare for a visit from the Chicago family and yet here I am, looking for "t"s. Is it compulsion or stubbornness that leads us to irrational acts that suck the minutes out of a busy day?

After most missing "t"s have been added, I go out with my new and heavy camera to feed the animals. And once again I tell myself that I really need to set some adventure goals for this fall. No camera is going to make the walk to the barn extraordinary. And no matter how much Ocean celebrates the ordinary, I'd say an occasional infusion of the unusual into your life is a pretty good thing too. 

(Not today though. Morning walk, as usual!)

This is my day for meeting up with the girls for morning coffee and croissants.

Well, girls plus one little guy who needed company, as his brother and dad went off to play ball. (Hey, Snowdrop did try to be part of a soccer team some years back as well! It did not stick.)

And now the day is a real whirl. Snowdrop is at the farm for a quick visit...

This is when Ed tells me that the water pump, which has been clicking on even when no faucet is open, has  developed a serious problem. Ed wants to shut down everything. I protest. The younger family is about to arrive! The parents have something in the schedule for this day and so I am again keeping an eye on Primrose. Ed mutters, putters, does internet searches. At least he has time for this, because his tree chopping project is on hold: the wood chipping machine just broke.

I concentrate on playing with the little one. Being who I am, I insist on some outdoor time. Primrose goes along. Stuffies and all.

And lo, the water pump problem is (temporarily?) fixed. I am so grateful for this small victory! Indeed, I'm jubilant. Primrose, let's go hog wild! Let's just do an art project, says my sensible granddaughter.

Ed is busy loading up the wood chipping machine for a return and exchange at the hardware store. Luckily it is still under warranty. One less machine to fix.

 

Because I am a creature of eating habits, Primrose and I again make pizza for supper. Hey, don't tell me I am without imagination! Kids like pizza! And she is good at making it!

(Yes, she is wearing a "wedding dress," because just minutes ago, there was a "wedding.")

Followed by popcorn.

Someday I'll get Primrose to hunt for missing "t"s with me. Maybe when she is ten. (Will Ocean be still up and running when Primrose is 10??)  For now, we watch a show about bears.

I tuck in the sweet three year old, finish my writing, and put off my own hunt until tomorrow, when I'm sure to start the day, another very busy day, with yet another search for words with a missing "t" or two.