farmette Sunday

To work the farmette lands -- just the two of us, no help coming in from anyone -- to plant, cultivate, maintain fertile growing spaces, to create flower fields -- all this requires enormous amounts of patience. You can mind the destructive force of a late frost or a storm or a dry spell, you can groan when you spot powdery mildew on phlox, or tiny red bugs covering your heliopsis stems, but you cannot despair. In growing things, you meet the challenge, adjust your strategy, and continue.

This is what I told myself when I went out to survey the fields looking for a place for the additional lavender that arrived last week (as an "oops, we're sorry" gift from the nursery for sending us a bunch of dried up and mostly dead lavender back in April). I checked on the lilies that I planted yesterday. Hey wait, where are they? Oh! Some animal dug each one, carried it off, dumped it on the driveway, and went on to do the same for the remaining two. What nerve!

But, you cannot despair. You take out the shovel and replant the lilies and think of ways to protect them from the devilish pranks of whatever nocturnal beast came this way by the light of the moon.

It is a gorgeous if cool day! Good morning, world! 

Good morning, Happy!

Good morning, Dance!

Ed and I both have a list of projects to attend to outside and we get to them right away. After a quick breakfast.

Just saying the names of what I have to put into the ground makes me smile: lilies, strawberries, lavender. Lots and lots of lavender (this batch looking somewhat better than the last, but still, it's not 100% strong and healthy. We'll see what comes of it).

We work hard, all day long.

In the evening, the young family is here for dinner. 

(Girl in tree? How could that be!)

 (boy with his favorite d'Affinois cheese)

Mom, dad, Snowdrop, Sparrow, and Sandpiper. It's a challenge to pay attention to all. There are Sunday dinners where I hardly say a word to one, because number two and number three are chatting away to me in the kitchen, or I want to exchange a few sentences with my daughter.  Today, Snowdrop and Sparrow go off to play and Sandpiper shows off his recent accomplishment: confident walking. Not just a step or two, but a real saunter that makes your pulse quicken as you try to keep him within a safe space.

(And finally -- dinner.)

And the world outside is beautiful and inside -- pretty special too.

the return

It's never fun to leave Chicago. I mean, I can't really gripe -- it took me all of two hours and twenty minutes to drive from my daughter's home to the farmette. Obviously a hiccup of a moment in the scheme of things. But to me, it's far enough that you can't just pop over for a meal together. Or a drink, or cup of coffee. Or an evening of sitting around and poking fun at the ridiculousness of life. Or to put one child or the other to bed while parents move about their tasks in a more relaxed mode. 

Still, I'm there lots of times and, too, they like to drive up to Madison, so our paths do cross and we do have many many wonderful meals and evenings and mornings together. So, once again, I think of myself as exceptionally lucky: two young families, within a reasonable drive of where I live. 

Still, it's never fun to leave Chicago.

This morning for breakfast, my daughter sliced for us two wonderful bakery treats -- a challah bread and a chocolate babka. I love both. I ate both. I savored the moment!

("me too! I savored the smell!")

Of course, Primrose was there, right by my side at the table.

But soon after, I had to leave. A few more words, hugs, and photos, this time not on a timed release, but with the photographic help of my daughter.

She of me, me of her!

Oh yes -- how quickly they all grow...

And now I'm back at the farmette. In my absence, it surely turned lush and yes, very much in need of a "haircut!"

I work all afternoon in the flower fields. Plants, waiting to go in, weeds, always the weeds, encroaching. And as I dig, I think about my daughters: they're such good people, fine moms, and, too, they work hard at finding a professional balance so that they can feel connected to both family life and their work. They manage this better than I did. In fact, they do lots of things better than I did, which is exactly what you want from your grown up kids. It makes me very very proud. 

Evening: it is true that I'm still tracking the day as if I were in Chicago. Seven o'clock? Juniper eats, Primrose squeezes in last minutes of play. I'm wondering what books she'll pick for bedtime reading... 

Transitions take time. Still, Ed is here and we walk the farmette lands, reviewing the trees, the tomatoes, the methods of planting a few strawberries so that no animal can get to them. I scramble cheeper eggs and steam some local asparagus for supper.

And the lilac is still blooming and the clematis flowers are exploding and all's right with our little world.

With so much love...

Chicago week

Good Morning, Chicagoland! So, you're promising storms today? I can't be surprised. First comes the hot air, then come the winds and with them storms.

I'm off to a late start because I am moving: from the lovely pied a terre, to the beautiful home of my daughter. Too, Juniper has a morning date with her working dad (who is taking her to a meeting -- she is much in demand) so that I don't quite have to be there before the school bell rings. We make complicated plans, don't you think?

Other changes, or rather additions to note here: you can still preorder my book, Like a Swallow,  directly from Little Creek Press, following my link at the side bar. Or, if you prefer to stay with Amazon, you can now order it there. I will write a tiny bit more about the book on its official release date (June 3rd), but of course, the best way to understand what went into the writing of it is to pick it up and dig in! (Insert cartoon here of girl digging a whole into which she drops book with a smug smile.)

Okay, I'm out of my pied a terre, out of the interesting Lincoln Park/Sheffield neighborhood...

... and back with little Juniper. Hello, Juniper!

As I bathe her, play with her, feed her (we eat breakfast together, albeit it is my first and her second), I think back to an awful dream I had last night. It was so bad that I asked all those around me (dream people, all of them) if maybe this could please be a dream from which I could wake up. Pinch me! Nothing happened. Dream continued. For however long dreams last. And I thought -- my reality is so wonderful, but the dream, too felt real. I suppose the only perceived difference was in the length of time it took to bring an end to it. The greatest luck belongs to those of us whose reality is so good that we don't want to switch it with whatever dreams come our way. Ever. Of course, there are people like Ed who rarely have bad dreams. His reality may be better, but his dreams are not so bad either. How fair is that?! Still, you need only imagine how many people have nightmares that are the real deal. That's tough to accept. Everyone should have the joy of waking up to the promise of something good.

Okay, Juniper: splash, read, bounce.

Eat, play, nap. A baby's good life.

And I get my last selfie of the trip. I'm returning to the farmette tomorrow and this is my last solo day with Juniper. Happy break for me: she loves our camera games!

In the late afternoon, Juniper and I take a short walk to the small grocery store that happens to also sell flowers. The young family has been feeding me and attending to my whims and needs -- surely I should leave some bunches of blooms behind. Tulips and sweet peas! 

Flowers are my balm -- perfection, even with all their rough edges, bent stalks and faded petals. I suppose it's trendy to discover your own thirst for a connection to the natural world. Me -- I've been lucky to have been immersed in that world before I could even walk. Sure, I had some city years -- rough going for me! -- but good parks were always within walking distance. And my daughters -- both are lucky that their homes, even though near urban centers, have plenty of sprouting things and leafy trees everywhere. Just from my brief walk with Juniper, I could admire this:

(Juniper loves looking up at trees! I can't blame her -- they're all magnificent.)

The Chicago neighborhood where the young family lives is mixed -- some very old and very modest homes, some apartments, new condos, old condos (theirs is that), and then of course, the expensive homes that belong on the Netflix series I've been watching -- The World's Most Extraordinary Homes.  One can only hope that these blocks will retain a mix, so that these trees -- some of them quite ancient -- can always provide shade for you and me and that old lady sitting on her porch in her plastic chair, taking sips from a chipped cup that must be as ancient as the trees towering above her.

Toward evening, we pick up Primrose from school: it's a super windy day! Can you tell?

So here I am, siting at the dinner table with this wonderful young family and thinking -- I hope my life isn't one big dream. It's nothing I would want to wake up from. 

(Primrose works on her art, parents cook up a fantastic dinner, we eat.)

How good it is to spend this time with all of them!

Don't you just find yourself wishing that good fortune, as measured by the peace in your community and the deliciousness of fresh meals eaten with those we love wouldn't be so concentrated in so few pockets in this beautiful yet complicated world? 

With love...

Chicago week

And back we are to feeling warmish, well, more than that: we are hot hot hot. I turned off the heat in my pied a terre and were it not for the fact that the unit is half underground (isn't it cool down there?) I'd expect the AC would have to come on by sunset. Hot, sticky hot. 

But only for two days! Afterwards, we'll again chill ourselves with temperatures that are downright hostile to young tomato plants.

What's with the weather bounce this year? Cold cold cold, hot hot, cold cold cold, hot hot, cold cold cold. I mean, it's as if we are on a treasure hunt and haven't a clue as to its location: No, not there! Cold! Really cold. Oh, you're close now! Hot! Nope, cold again.

I want the treasure!

Here in Chicago, I join the early rush of those heading for work. 

(Things you notice when you really do full stops at stop signs!)

Except it's not really a rush. There are speed cameras everywhere so when the sign says 25 MPH everyone goes 23, leaving no room for error. Last time I was here, I got a ticket for not making it across an intersection during the yellow light. It may have turned red by the time I got to the other side -- I can't remember! I watched their video of my car a million times -- it demonstrates nothing except that I was there, passing through. Go fight that in court. So we slog along because no one wants to dish out $100 for a camera's mean gaze.

At my daughter's home, everyone is getting ready to head out.

Well, everyone except for me and her.

The two stay-at-homes. (I give my delayed timed release camera function a real workout today!)

But we will go too: you can bet your sweet snow booties that we will take out the stroller and stroll. The sooner the better (before the heat sets in).

Want to go now?

She does.

My daughter suggested that we walk over to Bang Bang Pie and Biscuits. It is about 40 minutes if you take the lovely greenway, but I could use that walk there and back to nap her.

Sounds good to me! And her.

Unfortunately, once the stroller stops, she is wide eyed and curious. 

At some point her hand slips into my sandwich and try as I will, I cannot get all the goat cheese off of her sticky fingers. 

Ah well. She enjoys sucking on her fist for a good part of the walk home.

Home at last. 

Shed the sticky damp clothes, start again!

Wait, what did I forget?

The photo with the smile!

Okay?!

Today I take a pause in hanging out at my girl's home. It's tempting to just linger there into the late evening, but I need to catch up on stuff and I'm sure they do as well. I pick up Primrose at school and spend a little time with her on our circuitous walk home...

Then I return to my pied a terre and pick up a seafood roll in one of the many restaurants nearby (to be eaten at home).

All this time with the littlest granddaughter has given my a lot of hours to think. About writing. About describing something. About growing things. About our responsibilities to each other. About being kind. It's all there in your play with someone so young who depends on you for everything. Everything.

Lots of walking today though means that I am sleepy tired.

In the best of ways.

With love...

Chicago week

I feel like by the third day I've shaken off my farmette habits completely and taken on the Chicago routines as if they were mine all along. I leave my pied a terre, joining the crush of morning commuters, being ever so careful because there are kids everywhere, trying to beat the clock (I'm staying just across the road from Chicago's Lincoln Park High School). I pull into the flow of cars, crawling west, listening to the radio person tell me the highways are  standing still with congestion today. It's cloudy, with rain, Good morning Chicago!

At my daughter's house, Primrose is there at the top of the stairs, waiting to greet me...

And now there is a series of photos where Primrose leans. The girl definitely has creative ideas on how to set an image.

Once everyone has left and the youngest babe is fed and napped, I take on the project o giving her a bath. Easy peasy with a girl who loves water. And the fluffy towel wrap after. 

And speaking of leaning! Juniper!

There, that's better. I think.

Smiley picture for today, because really, it's not fair to not include at least one little grin when she offers so many!

All routine by now. Play, sleep, feed. And repeat. Many times.

Despite the really cool air today, I bundle her up and we go for a walk. I don't dare go far. There is a persistent threat of rain. Still, the routine to take that walk is as solid as a morning walk to the barn back home. So we walk. For the lilacs! And for all that's growing and good outside. 

In the evening, I once again stay for dinner at my daughter's home. For Primrose, but really for me as well.

So much for giving them space to settle into their own now back-to-work routines! Ah well, they don't have to twist my arm hard for me to stay. The food is always great, the company -- exquisite.

(a toast!)

And as before, I return to my pied a terre very late. I flick on the TV which actually has no TV channels at all, even as it does seem to have Netflix and possibly a bunch of other streaming services. I mention this to my daughter and she surprises me by saying -- oh, we don't have any TV on our set either. How could you possibly schedule your evening around TV shows! You stream them if and when you can find the time. 

In fact, Ed and I aren't TV hounds either, but still, it's there and we've been known to pick up a PBS documentary in its regularly scheduled time slot. I knew this was rather quaint -- my older daughter also never watches any "television" -- but I did not know that this generation just doesn't bother to even hook up TV channels. I remember being surprised when they gave up on phone landlines. It took me several years to give up on mine (and Ed even longer, but that's because he doesn't have cell service). Adopting new technologies is way easier than giving up on old ones. 

So tonight I half watch another one of those British architectural shows as I finish up my Ocean work and I think -- it took me a while to reconnect with Chicago in any meaningful way. But these repeated immersions into the neighborhoods where my daughter hangs out is much the same as my immersions in my older girl's neighborhood back in Wisconsin. Their neighborhoods have become mine as well. And that's a good thing if you believe, as I do, that stepping out of your own bubble and slipping into someone else's is good for you. 

With love, for all that's good here and in all peaceful neighborhoods the world over...