arriving in Toulouse

Well that was funny! I had just finished typing (yesterday, at the Madison airport) how I was aiming for everything to be completely calm, unrushed, and here I was in Detroit, less than an hour later, dashing to the gate of an earlier flight to Amsterdam, working my best smile to get them to put me on it. Since I have only a carryon, they let me do it. Whoa, I suddenly needed to quickly wind up the day's Ocean post and send it flying before my own takeoff!

The flight to Amsterdam was especially lovely because I was so pleased to be on it. And it was fast. Good winds and all that. But sleep was not going to come easily (try: at all), given the fact that by my Madison clock, we took off at five and arrived in Amsterdam shortly after midnight. You want a chance at sleep, stick with the later flight.

In Amsterdam things came to a grinding halt. Yes there is an earlier flight to Toulouse. No they wont put me on it. "It's overbooked" -- says the agent. I get out my computer, go to the KLM airline website and show that I could purchase a seat on that flight right now. So how can it be overbooked? Blah blah blah, catching up with things post Covid blah blah blah. Had I been on the phone, I would have hung up and tried for another agent. At the airport, this was not possible.

So the question is, should I sit and wait the now six remaining hours? (It took an hour to figure out that I can't fly out earlier.) Or should I go into town? In younger years, I would have chosen the latter. Indeed, I have gone into town here, just under these circumstances many decades ago. Those were days when dragging a suitcase through a city was nothing to me. When jumping on a tram was a breeze. Days when you didn't have to go through a tedious security check before reentering the gate area. 

Still, six hours? All those lovely museums, canals, coffee shops...

No, I stay put. Masked. Nearly the only one at a very busy airport hiding behind a KN95. Reassuringly, the agent tells me -- you're not the only one stuck here for a very long time. Well fine, but you could have had one less person at the busy airport had you let me get on that flight.

(busy airport)

In the afternoon I'm on the plane and I think how grateful I am that everything has been so uncomplicated. Early arrivals, departures, no line at passport control -- all this would have been golden for anyone passing through Amsterdam this summer (I have read that the chaos here was.. remarkable). So, I sit back in my comfy seat and look out the window and in the space of an hour we fly over the Netherlands, Belgium, and finally France, and l'Occitane.

(It's hazy to the south, but still, I see that band on the horizon: the Pyrenees, touching the clouds with their jagged peaks.)

Toulouse. Time to say a few words about the city. First impressions are always important and Toulouse is easy to warm up to because for one thing, it's toasty warm here (and it will remain thus til the end of the month). 80F plus (28C). I take a taxi to my hotel (a very short and very inexpensive ride). I'm staying at the Soclo. It's a fairly new place (in an 18th century building)...

... and I've been curious about it ever since I decided to come here. The people I've been corresponding with seem super enthusiastic. They offer their favorite eating suggestions which honestly sound a lot better than what you're likely to find yourself, doing internet searches. And the hotel itself? Lovely. Very understated...

(my room)

(my view...)

... but with stunning public spaces. Including a garden in the back with lights and tables and a calm that you would not expect in a city this big. 

The hotel person tells me -- you can swim. Our pool is still open. I didn't bother even bringing a bathing suit because normally the pool closes in September.

So, it's not typically this warm in October?

No! This is a first. It's scary.

I take a brief walk to the Capitole. I want to ask a few questions at the tourist office there. So, a few pictures of the heart of older Toulouse. (There is definitely also a new Toulouse -- the city is home to France's aerospace industry and Boeing's competitor, the Airbus.)

Initially I think -- my, but the old town sort of looks like Krakow. 

Until it doesn't look like it at all.

There are such crowds on the main square that I give up on taking pictures. Can't be done. Besides, there is a wine fair right smack in the center and so much of the open space is taken up with makeshift tents. For now, let's just look at the side streets.

I head then to the river. I'm definitely hitting the hot spots here for Saturday afternoon strolls. Everyone is taking in the unusually warm sunshine.

It's really getting close to dusk by the time I get back to my hotel. This brief walk is all I can afford to do today. But, I'm here for three nights. And I may do a side trip out of town. Or not. Toulouse itself offers great walking possibilities, including by the River Garonne and (this is definitely a bonus in my eyes) along my beloved Canal du Midi. (It's not really mine, but I fell in love with it the first time I set foot in Languedoc, excuse me, in l'Occitane now 16 years ago.) I'll decide tomorrow. 

For now, I  go out to the garden and have a Negroni. Not exactly a L'Occitane special but close enough.

And I exhale. It was a very long trip!

At 7:30, I make my way to Franquette, where I eat my first Toulousian dinner. The restaurant describes itself as a restaurant locavore et sans chichi: for locavores and without frills. Tables, packed solid, spill out onto a small square. I notice mostly young people. Like, half my age or less. Of course. The university is nearby. And maybe the oldsters are all tucked in for the night.

It goes without saying that, after a yummy appetizer of an onion tatin, I'm going to choose a very regional dish. It reads on the menu thus: Côtelettes d'agneau de mon ami Gérard Rispal, persillade, salade tiède de haricots Tarbais aux herbes et crème d'ail. In translation: lamb chops (sorry, lambs!) from my friend Gerard, a warm salad of Tarbais beans (these are the delicately thin skinned white beans from France that are traditionally used in a cassoulet) in garlic cream.

Dessert? A raspberry mousse with a Breton cookie and a basil coulis. All this glorious food  -- three full courses -- comes to you for 35 Euro, which at current fabulous for Americans rates of exchange is an utter steal.

And now if you'll excuse me, I'll read myself to sleep. I'm in the middle of a very good mystery story that takes place in... southern France where they eat cassoulet and foie gras and and drink good local wines and ... yawn!

Good night!

to Toulouse

People are traveling a lot this Fall. I see it on social media, I read about it in the press. I suppose I'm part of that crowd: October still seems relatively safe. Who knows what the winter will bring. Spring is far away, the years are ticking by, the pandemic gave us all a lot to think about.

So quite a while back, I planned to take a week off and to fly back to Europe toward the end of October. The only question was -- where to?

I have funny post Covid (insofar as you can call this post Covid) criteria: somewhere warm-ish. Somewhere where if I got sick, I could hope for decent care. Somewhere pretty, where I can walk, with good coffee shops, where I can pause. Even with all that in mind, I doubt that you would have guessed that I would start my week away in Toulouse. 

Toulouse is the fourth largest city in France (a mark against it in my book!), but it is its location that pulls me like a magnet. It's in the Occitane region -- so, to the south of France. This in itself can be very confusing, since until some five years ago, I would have said it's in my beloved Languedoc. Indeed, as you can see from my sidebar, Languedoc has beed a big draw for me for a long time. But no one calls it Languedoc now. Along with Midi-Pyrenees, it's now part of L'Occitane -- a nod to history. But let's get back to Toulouse: from this city, go for an hour and a half south, and you're at the foot of the Pyrenees. Same amount of time to the east and you're by the Mediterranean. But I don't want to sidestep into either of those places. I want to see Toulouse, affectionately called La Ville Rose (the pink city) because it has a predominance of the pink brick architecture of the region. (So not really pinkie pink, but more like ochre rose.) And I want to eat its foods. They're not delicate. This is the land of cassoulet (basically meat and beans, slowly cooked), of foie gras, of cabbage soups. But also of candied violets and chocolates and cream puffs. 

The trip there is a little complicated because my penny watching side had me pick flights that don't make this an easy journey. Long layovers: four hours in Detroit, then four in Amsterdam. But, if you knew my goal for the week, you'd understand that this is okay for me. I'm thinking that I have before me a week where I will turn off all concerns and strategizing and scheduling. I wont worry about being one place or the next. I will look deeply at all that is around me. I will learn stuff. Layovers? No problem. I hope to use them well.

All that begins this afternoon. In the morning, I do the usual morning animal care. It's really warm today in south central Wisconsin! Can you tell? Brittle air with gusty hot winds. An interesting way to bring in the tail end of October.

Ed and I have our last breakfast together for a good many days. I give him a list of things he cannot forget to do before he leaves. I've done my bit, now he has to work through his.

Oh, how I do love this guy! 

Just before loading up the car with my carryon, I ask him to help me with an eye drop. I dont really need his assistance with it at all, but I'd rather not trudge upstairs to our bathroom mirror. So I tilt my head up for him and in doing this, I see brown patches on the kitchen ceiling.

Damn. We have a leak. Looks like it's from the shower. 

And this is where I say -- sorry, I have this flight to catch, while he scrambles to figure out what's going on. All I can say is that I'm glad I noticed it today and not in a week or two.

I arrive in Detroit early. So... a 4.5 hour wait for my connection. Wait, there's an earlier flight to Amsterdam. Can you switch me to it? Yes? True, this will give me seven hours at the Amsterdam airport, but hey, an adventure is an adventure! See you then and there!

With so much love for all those beloveds at home, for all of you!

Happy both days to you

He is 72. We have been together for 17 years. Today marks the day for both -- the birthday, the anniversary. Today is also the last day we have, to be in each others company. For a while anyway.

In thinking about all this, I was tempted to plan nothing special at all. Indeed, in glancing back at the last handful of years, I see that it became almost routine to do nothing much. We seem to have always gone for a walk in our local park (something that we do maybe 200 days out of the year). And oftentimes on October 20th we'll make a point of eating take-out, to free me from planning and preparing a dinner. And that's it!

So maybe this year we can just say happy birthday, happy anniversary and return to our regularly scheduled programing?

No, this year, Ed nudges us into something else. Let's do some trail clearing. And then grab a lunch. And maybe take-out for dinner? And pick up some chocolates at Candinas and maybe I'll make flan for dessert. I've been looking at recipes...

That's a lot of initiative and ideas from someone who doesn't really plan out our days! Any one of these things might be found in our possible repertoire, but doing all, in one day, on his suggestion? Incredible.

The fact is, we are getting older and we find time to be precious. We are way more thoughtful toward the other than we were 17 years ago. We pay attention to feelings and sensitivities in new ways. Ed knows that I wont let October 20th slip by without some expression of gratitude for all that we now share. 

We make it special.

(the sheepshead, where he lived before I agreed to move to the farmhouse; these days it's mostly home to the cats)

(our cheepers)

Breakfast, with a time-release selfie. 17 years of breakfasts. And dinners. And all those hours in-between.

And now we join up with the guy at Brooklyn Wildlife Area who does much of the trail maintenance and prairie restoration in and around that particular segment of the Ice Age Trail. He's doing a fire break so that the DNR can burn the adjacent prairie. This means saplings and dead branches must be removed from a swath of land. We help in this. 

From there, it is but a short drive to the chocolate shop. We wont be sharing the chocolates until he and I are both back from our travels, but still, picking up chocolates here is quite the intimate act for us! Our box will be waiting for us.

Now onto Paul's Cafe for lunch. Oh, but it's been a long time!

As usual, he reads the paper, I read whatever I have on me. And in this too we find our intimacy. 

And now it's time for me to pick up Snowdrop.

Tired girl! We take it easy, concentrating on favorite books and lots of snacks.

Finally, much later, I pick up take-out Thai and Ed and I settle in for a meal on the couch. How I love these evenings where we eat, read, watch together, knowing that we come from such different starting points and yet, here we are -- completely at peace with the world we have created here at the farmette.

Happy Birthday, Ed. Happy Anniversary to us.

With so much love...

Wednesday

This morning, while the air outside crackled with cold, Ed and I went over the information he will be providing with the registry of the emergency beacons that he's taking on board the sailboat he'll be sailing (along with three other less experienced sailors) out into the Atlantic. He's not going until just before I return from my own travels (so in about ten days), but we need to coordinate everything now, while he and I still overlap here at the farmette.

I tell him that by the time they search and rescue his capsized or disintegrating boat, he'll be long gone from hypothermia in what must be chilly waters of a November Atlantic. How little I know. It's between 70F and 80F in the water along our route! -- he laughs at me. Well alright then. Just keep yourself afloat until someone finds you. With Ed, it's not hard to imagine that he would do just that. The guy's not prone to panic or hysteria.

But secretly, I do have to smile at him. He has long accused me of over-planning my travels. (Meaning I think about where I'm going to sleep and where I might eat before I leave.) But here he is, for weeks now preparing the navigational technologies for his own trip. Talk about advance planning! All to minimize unfortunate situations while en route to the southern seas. Well now, doesn't that sound familiar! Travel without the headache of constant stumbles and misfires. Yep, we all aim for that.

(Breakfast, with the last of the farmette nasturtium, lilies and phlox)

I do eventually go out to get most of those bulbs in, the chilly weather notwithstanding (35F, or 1.5C out there!) but it's getting tougher because I've blistered my digging hand from pounding that shovel into tough soil. Nevertheless, I have to do this. It's my last solid day for gardening work. 

And I get it done! All bulbs, 150 of them, jonquils and crocuses, in the ground! There will be one more shipment of bulbs coming in, but it will be small (just two dozen) and working them into the ground will have to wait until after I come back from my own trip.

More stuff to check off my to-do list: mow down the meadows. I'm never sure when the right moment for this is, but I think now, after the first deep frost, is as good as ever. So I get on the big mower tractor and plow through a season of tall grasses and now spent meadow flowers. I wish I had thought to wear gloves. My hands are freezing!

(the last of the tub blooms...)

And then I go down to my daughter's house where I spend a few hours with various members of the family: Snowdrop, Sandpiper, eventually their mom. (The kids had a flu shot after school and it made no sense to then bring Snowdrop to the farmhouse for a short while only.)

("hey Snowdrop! I have your brush!")

(oh, kids...)

I can't say that I'm rapidly shortening the list of things that MUST be done before the end of the week, but the big jobs I think are behind me. The farmette lands are more or less ready for their winter rest. (And I am too!)

At home -- reheated chili on the couch, with a candle, and a movie, and a shared bar of chocolate to end the day.

With love...

Tuesday

I'm never going to get anywhere (in my tres busy week, or in life in general!) if I let myself be carried away by such time-sucks as searching out interesting Advent calendars on the Internet.

For many years now, I took it upon myself to pick up pretty Advent calendars for the kids. Initially they were merely pictures, where you opened tabs to reveal a cute addition to a holiday scene. Perfectly satisfying and very evocative. But then one year I added the sweet element. So now the kids would open up little boxes and a chocolate or caramel would pop out. At least one set of parents shook their heads in dismay. A child does not need another source of sweet stuff around the holiday season where sugar seems to pour out of every nook and cranny from Halloween onwards. Still, they were so priceless, those little treats! And what's a grandma for, right??

Now there are five grandkids and at least four of them would enjoy an advent calendar. Well, one of the four would probably deconstruct the thing by the end of December 1st, but still, should I find something that would really tickle a child's sense of wonder? Should it be sweet or playful?

I plunge into a search of what's out there this year.

And I am somewhat shocked at how this market here has exploded. Every company appears to do an advent calendar! There are calendars for cats. There are calendars for whiskey lovers. Chocolatoholics have many choices! Playful legos abound. Cosmetics, candles, cookies, cooking utensils even (from William Sonoma)! All tucked into 24 little containers for kids and grownups to open on the days leading up to Christmas.

I did not come to any decision. There's too much out there. The beautiful winter village pictures that I used to pick up in French bookstores seem so... quaintly dated. The chocolate ones? Too sweet. The toys -- too much stuff. I am overwhelmed and the holiday season hasn't even begun.

*     *     *

It was cold at night. The water in the animal drinking dish underneath the crab apple froze (chickens and cats share in this so it must be filled) and so when I step outside this morning to feed the animals, I have some trepidation about plunging into planting bulbs.

(Our oldest cheeper Peach has gone through so many winters!)

Nonetheless, I give myself a stern lecture and before returning to the farmhouse, I put in 30 bulbs. I have maybe 100 more to go, but I call this progress.

As Ed and I review all that we have to do before we each take off on our successive trips this month, my guy shakes his head and says -- we are farmers. We have a list of farm projects and that list never ends and it includes a lot of planting and animal care.

I haven't been calling this place a "farmette" for nothing.

(Breakfast, where he decides to add more foods to the fruits and croissant I put out. He makes an egg salad, stuffs it into a tortilla and takes out my opened bottle of Prosecco for a few swigs. A champagne breakfast! -- he tells me. Who says Ed is predictable!)

*     *     *

I return to bulb planting in the early afternoon. I must. 30 more go in. The bag with bulbs grows lighter, but there are still too many in there. Uff!

*     *     *

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. Yesterday she seemed to be fighting a bug, but I think she prevailed because today she is full of energy and enthusiasm. 

It is ballet day, but getting kids to their scheduled places is becoming a talent of mine and so I am feeling a bit smug about getting her to class on time. Until she says -- Gaga, can we get there like ten minutes earlier?  Say what??? Ah, she wants to have time to hang with a friend in class. I turn on my full speed ahead motor, but even so, I can only manage three minutes earlier.

*     *     *

And in the evening I make my daughter's chili, modified only to reflect our over abundant storehouse of farmette tomatoes.  An orange rhubarb candle glows, giving that hygge feeling to the farmhouse that I love so much.

With a smile and with love...

Monday

With the three Madison grandkids, I had three tries to get school drop-off to work perfectly smoothly. It was hugely more complicated because I was dealing with three kids, two different schools and three lunches and snacks to send with them. Here, in Chicago, I am charged with taking only one child to school and she takes school lunch so there's not much prep to worry about.

However.

It's Chicago! Her school borders on the downtown area. There is rush hour traffic. And the parents aren't out on vacation, they're stressing over their younger one's ears, so I don't need to add to their worries by getting any drop-off details wrong.

The solution? Go over the plan in your head, especially the routing, many times, and do this in the middle of the night so it stays fresh, and get up just after five to give yourself a whole hour before the girl herself has to be up. 

Talk about over-preparedness!

Still, as a result of excessive planning, it all goes smoothly.

Breakfast, brief play, all of it.

It is freezing cold outside (in Wisconsin we had a dusting of wet snow) so it's time to take out the winter jacket and winter cap.

Primrose is agreeable, tho she notices the utter silence in her house without little Juniper (or her parents) in it. I shake things up by pretending to be traveling granola. She laughs all the way to school.

And now it's time for me to drive back home. 

(With a pause for a Chicago morning coffee at La Colombe)

Turns out that Snowdrop has another school-free day (who knows why) and so she (and working parents) is waiting for me to get back to the farmhouse so that she can come over for a visit. I tell her that can happen as soon as I get home, but only if can plant bulbs in the early evening. Those bulbs HAVE to go in today and tomorrow!

But in the end, I put in zero bulbs. The wind is blustery and the occasional snow squalls are enough to send you inside. 

Okay then, tomorrow for sure! In the mean time, she and I do our read-play-eat routine in the comfort of the warm farmhouse.

And so it's a full day. Beautiful in all ways, though as always, it's hard to leave behind the Chicago bunch. Primrose had asked if after I'm with Snowdrop today, I could come back and do a pick-up there, back in Chicago. She wasn't totally serious, but there was a wistfulness in hearing her muse like this, certainly on my part. It's not easy to leave those you love, even for short periods of time.

Still, I have before me a few days with Ed (before we go off on our own adventures later in the month) and there's no doubt that this is wonderful. I'm not allowed popcorn yet, but we have our shared time in the evenings and it, too, is priceless.

With so much love....

in Chicago

I always eat so well when I come to this city! This visit is no different.

Of course, I relish my breakfasts here with Primrose. Or, like today, with the whole gang. We always have granola with yogurt and fruits.

But it goes way beyond that. For instance, after a morning of play, the four of us go out for brunch. Wait, did someone say morning play? Who is playing and what are the fav games?

Let's look. (Dress up!)

Well that seems lively! So, what about brunch? Where to? A family favorite: Middle Brow. It's one neighborhood over. But we are game for a brisk walk. About 45 minutes each way. Such a beautiful fall day!

The food here is so delicious -- breads, salads, eggs, all of it -- that it calls for a small beer, or in my case, a beer touched with an aperitivo. I'd never had that before! 

The girls love their pizza, the grownup girls are thrilled with their brunch dishes. Totally thrilled.

We walk back.

We nap. Well, kids do and grownups drink coffee to keep from napping.

And when everyone is awake and aware, we take out paints (again, a general "we").

And now we have another task: trying on the costumes for Halloween. Primrose very much wanted to be Maid Marian form an older Robin Hood movie she'd seen (where the characters were actually foxes, playing out the roles of the storybook characters). That called for giving Juniper the part of a foxy Robin Hood. Here they are!

And now it's getting late.  Sunday evening asks of us that we get ready for the week ahead.  Baths, a review of schedules, calm moments before bedtime. Dinner, with a plate of charcuterie and dishes of pasta.

And so ends a beautiful weekend. 

A few more hours with my daughter and then my son-in-law is home and we put aside more visiting because it's going to be a very early morning for all of us. Juniper is to have an ear procedure in predawn hours and I'm to get Primrose up and off to school. Then home to the farmhouse, to pick up another granddaughter at her school!

But all that's tomorrow. Tonight I go to sleep with that deep satisfaction of having behind me a set of beautiful, delicious days. 

With so much love...