we have a deal!

To remind you: I am scrambling to meet a deadline and so my efforts are directed elsewhere yesterday and today and perhaps even tomorrow.

Were I to be posting my usual reflections on farmette life, as experienced by me here in the south central corner of Wisconsin, I would certainly write about the pain of seeing what is happening to Poland's friend and neighbor -- the Ukraine. My grandmother was born in that region. She was Polish, but Poland wasn't on the map in the years of her childhood and the place where she lived is now part of the Ukrainian nation. I would write about how horrible it is to live under the threat of invasion from your neighbor, the aggressor seeking control over your people and territory (I speak from experience). Ocean looks for good things in a day, but I would not be able to not write about the Ukraine.

You would also be reading here about today's Tlusty Czwartek -- the Polish equivalent of Mardi Gras. It's when we eat paczki (Polish doughnuts) by the dozen. My friends in Warsaw discussed the virtue of one bakery over another. My daughter in Chicago texted me a photo of paczki that may make it to her table at home. I miss a good paczek (that's the singular for paczki). I'd write that here.

And I would probably mention the weather. So often, I mention the weather. It normally sets the day for us, but honestly, when you are reading and writing all day long, you hardly notice it. So, in an usual move, I offer no weather report.

Surely I would throw out a note about our breakfast flowers...

And most certainly I would tell you about my bringing little Snowdrop here after school. 

 

(picking up anything in sight)

 

 

She was playful alright... But mostly we read. Together. For hours. She would not, could not let go of the story (Graphic novels: Click then Camp). Even though I found out afterwards that she had read the book before.

And finally, I'd tell you that Sandpiper was his usual happy, happy self, moving now through the house like a little rocket. One minute out of sight and you'll catch him munching on a shoe. Sandpiperr!!

So, again, with apologies I'm going to sign off quickly and get back to my manuscript. Remember, you promised to be patient!

With thanks, from your hunkered down friend here at the farmhouse while the winds howl and the icy snow swirls wickedly around us.

 

let's make a deal!

Could I interest you in the following bargain: starting Saturday, I will write posts that are, if not inspired, then at least unusual for this time and this age. They will be illustrated, coddled and packed with new material. In exchange -- let me off easy today, and in fact, maybe the next two days. 

Here's what's happening (in addition to the fact that the skies are blue and life is looking remarkably okay, though perhaps only on this side of the ocean... not so good  if you pay attention to what's happening at my home country's eastern border): I am on a deadline. My Great Writing Project is at long last moving toward completion and I need to send out the file, with what I consider to be my final copy, to the butcher shop for a final edit before it rolls off to the publisher. Indeed, after feeding the animals...

(it is so pretty out there today!)

... and eating breakfast...

... I sit down and read through the damn thing. This is my hundredth read-through but it is also the most important one. There are many pages. It takes time. Lots of time.

So, stay with me, okay? I tell you, Saturday is going to be magnificent here, on Ocean. Today? Well, there's just this tiny post begging for your patience.

Thank you! I knew you would understand.

ice

Have I ever really complained here about the weather? What? I have? Oh fine: at the edges. About the absence of snow. About an absence of rain for my gardens. About a frost that comes in mid May and kills off fruit flowers and delicate annuals. About a tornado that swept through here and made a mess of the farmette lands just a handful of days before my daughter's wedding was to take place here. But for the most part I do accept what comes our way. In the winter it's cold and in the summer it's hot and in between we get a little bit of everything.

But today -- oh my. I do not have anything good to say about our weather. Indeed, I dislike every aspect of it intensely. 

It's cold. Fine. No problem. It's February. It's going to be cold. (We will reach a high of 22F, or -6C.) It's windy. Fine. I understand. With the cold comes the wind sometimes. But it's the third point that puts this into the category of awful: we have a morning-long ice storm. All the schools are closed for the day as well they should be. Most roads are impassable. Everything is crusted over with a layer of ice and the stuff just keeps on falling. 

An ice storm is never safe, but it can be pretty. Trees with a shimmering clear layer of ice can look rather enchanting (even though ice can damage the limbs and knock down healthy growth). But this ice storm doesn't even have visual appeal. The ice pellets fall to the ground and make it impossible to move around outside with any degree of safety.

The day's schedule is a mess. Parents need help with childcare, but I don't feel confident in being out on the roads. Their dad, who has actually taken special courses on how to race a car on ice, drives them over and I cross my fingers that 1. we wont lose electricity and 2. that I will be able to drive them back home. This mess is supposed to end. At some point.

(Can I give you some eye candy amidst all these weather complaints? How about this bunch of tulips at our breakfast table?)

Even before the two older kids come, I have a Zoom call with my Polish friends. When we planned for this call, I had thought we'd be entering a period of calm and stability. And we are, in terms of Covid, in a period of relative calm. But of course there is now suddenly (except really not so suddenly at all! just ask any Pole) the problem of the Ukraine.

There is nothing good to be said about this crisis. As one of my Zoom friends said -- the joke goes that no one knows what's in Putin's head, including Putin himself.

 

Okay, let's go back to the reliably sweet topic of grandkids. Today, it's all about these guys:

When I move so quickly from one set of kids (in Chicago!)  to the next (in Madison), I am always astonished how there can be so many different variations on a good theme. As I've said before, all my grandkids are wonderful, at the same time that they are wonderful in different ways.

 

(there's a story in that girl's head)

(she tells him - Sparrow, make your sweet guy face; he does it)

(pretending to be a cat)

(man on the go)

(loves books... in his own way!)

And outside, the ice grips our corner of south central Wisconsin and the air feels so very cold -- a high of 22F -- and you just have to shrug it off -- what can you expect, it's February. (As my grandgirl will say -- the day of the many twos on Tuesday!)

I hope you had a good 2 22 22. And that you found reason to smile at the ridiculousness of it all.

With love.

my kids

I know that everyone assumes a grandparent has unbounded and unconditional love for a grandkid. It's just the way it is. But is it possible that we also love our kids, our adult kids more and more as the years progress and we all get (much) older? I'm going to say yes. I love my two grown girls more with each day, each year, even as I stand back a little, and watch them work out their own lives, plan their own family life, develop their own adult interests. Much of childhood moves forward with reserves of untapped potential festering within, waiting for a breakout moment. And then it explodes and you see not the bud but the full bloom and it is magnificent, and you are in awe of what has become of those squirts who fussed about too much tomato sauce on their spaghetti. 

Today, I tracked another day in the lives of my Chicago daughter and her family. Magnificent blooms, all of them!

Primrose is off to school in the morning and she asks me to walk her over.

 

It's maybe a 10-15 minute walk and she wants me to continue the story I plunged into at lunchtime yesterday. A never ending story about a grandma and a bird who ate chocolate cake and a little girl who never told lies.

(Snowdrop has her own never ending story request in the car -- in her case it's about a penguin family with a baby penguin who has never been to a fair before. She has a little outgrowing it these days, but sometimes she'll still ask for it.)

I meet Primrose's teachers who say exactly the right thing ("you look just like your daughter!"). Primrose runs in with great spirit, turning back for one last affectionate word, because that's the way she is.

Back at home, Juniper is about to have her first tub bath.

You know,  the kind where you put the little tub in the kitchen sink. Many babies are dumbfounded and upset by this abrupt encounter with an endless stream of water, but Juniper appears to me to be a rather fearless baby. She's fine with every aspect of this new experience. Of course, the best part is the towel snuggle after.

All dressed and ready for life!

Well, at two months the choices are rather limited. Still, she's ready!

But first -- a nap. And in that time I go and get a haircut. I feel a little ridiculous getting that done in Chicago, but the thing is, if you follow my girl's lead in such stuff as haircut places, lunch takeout and good shoes for your feet, you wont ever go wrong. So I go to her haircut place and it feels oh so fine to be sitting in this chair and gossiping with this very very talented hair cut person about my daughter's awesomeness. Honestly, a morning doesn't get any better than that!

(Back at her home, for lunch and a bunch of last snuggles with Juniper.)

(Lunch is take out from Little Goat Diner. If you follow the food scene in Chicago, you'll know the Little Goat Diner.)

And now comes the tough part: saying good bye.

Here's the thing: my girls are so nice to me that it's always hard to pull away. I notice that in the evenings when I drop off Snowdrop at my older girl's home: I linger. And I linger.  And I surely noticed that today as I lingered at my Chicago girl's home. Jacket on and still I linger...  One last story, one last exchange,  one last reflection...

Such good people. I know there are many many wonderful adult kids in this world and I'm not the first to feel this, but still I'm always so awed by my girls, their husbands, their families. Such really good people!

With infinite amounts of love...

Sunday

An unusual Sunday. Amazing and full, with terrific moments creating poignant memories to fill me up for the next few weeks.

I'm in Chicago. No animals to feed, no plans to hatch for the day. I'm with my younger girl's family in and I follow in their Sunday footsteps.

There is breakfast of course and a quick hold, or was it hug, or was it hold and hug of little Juniper, but really, the rush was to get her big sister ready for class.

 

 

 

Ballet, at the Old Town School of Music. In person finally this month. I went along to watch.

"I don't need any help" is a recurring theme. The girl is growing up.

Observing her dance was like watching her mom dance. I don't think I missed a class with my daughter, peering through one way windows or cracks in the door, or sometimes, when a teacher felt like indulging my curiosity, I'd be invited inside. Studying a dance teacher's way of conveying ballet movements to young dancers is fascinating. You learn a lot about how young people move and how dance helps them control and organize their movements in good ways. Each teacher is different of course, but the more old school ballet teachers follow similar patterns. I got to see that again today.

At home, Juniper was napping and so I retreated with Primrose to her room and we resumed the game we set in place back in December. With new twists and turns of course.

Oh, look who's up??

I would say (knock on wood) all five of my grandkids have been great babies. No colic, pretty good sleeping habits relatively early on. It's the parents of course. They are that much more attuned to the science of sleep, of eating, of movement. Science, good parenting, and of course -- a heap of good luck.

(Juniper still needs a shoulder to lean on.)

Meals: so many good meals! I always eat very well in Chicago. From a favorite bakery for lunch, to take out from a terrific taco house for dinner. It's all really really good.

(Soon, Juniper! You'll join us at the table soon!)

In the evening, the parents go out to listen to some music. It's their first night out since Juniper came along. They had some trepidation. Sure, Primrose was also about two months old when they finally trusted that I could care for her while they scooted out, but now there are two kids and each has her idiosyncratic demands at bedtime. Still, if I can't handle a couple of grandkids, then what good am I anyway? Go, go! They'll be fine!

Of course, Juniper had the last laugh. Parents out? Let's play! (Photo on self timer here)

But, her breakout play didn't last. The fact is, eventually all children do fall asleep! When anxious parents texted "is everyone good?" I could honestly say -- yes. Just wonderful. 

And really, they were just wonderful. The older I get the more I shrug off inconsequential hiccups in anyone's day. They don't matter. They're hardly observable. What counts is that the evening was smooth and wonderful and the kids adapted and we ended the day with big grins of happiness and satisfaction. 

Goodnight little ones! Here, up north, and everywhere. Sleep well, wake up ready for another beautiful day!

Saturday, to Chicago

Well if you can't see your kids and grandkids all at the same time, the next best thing is to see some of them in the morning and the others in the afternoon.

I'm in Chicago tonight and time is precious. January was such a bust in terms of my visits here. Yes, of course, I can blame it on Covid. Keeping things safe around a newborn took priority, even as the virus was being passed from one child to the next in Madison. Ah well, that's behind us and now I am here.

But to be chronological, first I was at home, lingering over breakfast with Ed.

 

Yesterday's snow squall didn't give us much in terms of real snow, but it did prettify the landscape a bit. (The cheepers would not agree. They hate all snow.)

And then I was in a bookstore with the three Madison grandkids and their mom...

And finally, I steered Blue Moon south to the city that got maybe twenty times as much snow this winter as we did. So wasted on a city street, don;t you think?

It's great to see everyone of course. I arrived when one was napping (not for long!), another was prepping dinner and yet another was all ready for play!

 

 

 

 

 

 

My ears are tuned to Primrose, and my eyes flit between her and Juniper -- the girl who was not even a week old when I last held her. (Dad and mom are the photo takers in all pics with any part of me in them.)

She is two months old now. Practically a toddler!

Well, maybe not quite that.

It's all too easy to be drawn to Jupiter's stunning gaze, but Primorse, too, is a compelling distraction. She's grown a lot in the months since her sister has arrived. Toddler days are long behind her. Indeed, these are the last wisps of little girl-hood.

Man oh man, everyone is just growing and getting bigger and moving on in life! Good thing us older guys are standing still! Or are we? Isn't it true that kids energize us?

I'm energized!

But I force myself to bail out and get to sleep before midnight. Tomorrow is full of good stuff. I need to be peppy. Good night, from Chicago...

with so much love...

Friday

Well, I got busy again. I woke up in the middle of the night and wrote an intro to my Great Writing Project. First in my head and then on my iPhone. And after that, the wheels of the brain began to spin and there was no way I could easily drift back to sleep. Nor were the cats going to make it any easier. Ed was babysitting them downstairs (they are NOT allowed to stay inside overnight while we sleep upstairs) except that he had dozed off, so one feline beast was meowing by the bedroom door -- whether to play, to be a pest, or to ask for a hand in opening the door so he could relieve himself -- this I do not know. I grumbled my way downstairs and chased him out the door.

As I was fixing breakfast, I noticed that my candle had given us its final glow, so I reached for a replacement. I have abandoned pines and firs in favor of grasses and flowers. Last night it was roses and wild ferns, and today we are onto "The Gardener" (with hints of tomato, white tea and honeysuckle, by Boy Smells).

In other words, we have transitioned to an eager anticipation of the next season. 

During the morning hours I rewrote what had been my nighttime fancy. I have to say, I didn't change much. I'm feeling a bit wild right now.

Maybe it's the wind.

In the afternoon -- it's Snowdrop time! The sun is brilliant but the wind stays strong. We go inside. And we bargain. Please bring in my valentines and my backpack, please! I'll let you take as many pictures as you want! (Since school was on winter recess on the true Valentine's Day, they celebrated today. A chance for the kids to write their name twenty times. Plus one for the teacher.)

It's a deal. (I don't abuse my privileges. just two.)

As I head back after dropping the girl off at home, I get a snow squall warning on my phone. Be prepared for zero visibility! (How do you drive in zero visibility?) And isn't that a wintry slap for you?! Enough snow to cause you to wind up in the ditch, but not enough to ski the next day. 

I dont end up in the ditch. But the night work is catching up with me. I lumber in tired as an old dish rag and Ed asks -- should we order a pizza delivery?

How luxurious! 

So luxurious.

Today -- pizza at your door. Tomorrow -- well, I don't know. The world?