going around in circles

Circles... Figuring out the ratio of the circumference to the diameter... In other words, Pi, or our modern holiday for this day -- 3/14, which only makes sense in America, as only here do we list the month before the day. (March 14th in Europe is 14/3.) I've been getting emails from one of our favorite bakeries how they'll be out of pies quickly today because, you know, it's Pi Day! 

Me, I'm not thinking about Pi or pies, I'm thinking about the fact that I really delayed this year in ordering seeds for planting. Somehow I had in my head that we plant tomatoes on April 1st. And that we still had plenty of leftover seeds from previous years. None of this is true. I checked on Ocean and found out to my horror that we actually planted on the second day of spring, meaning on March 21st. Then I remembered that we ran out of tomato seeds last year. And that I dumped all my annuals into the meadows, leaving none to plant this spring. And that we are about to expand our meadow to surround the new peach orchard. Gulp. I'm in need of not pie, but seeds.

I've worked with many seed companies in the past and still I do not have a favorite one. Browsing today, I settled on Johnny's Selected Seeds. I put all my eggs into this basket (sort of like putting all your money in one unknown bank...) and ordered seeds. Annuals. Nasturtium, cosmos, sweet williams, sunflowers. Meadow mixes. Tomatoes, of course. Cherry, early ones, disease resistant, San Marzano, Brnadywine. Organic where possible. Watermelon. Peas. I will plant it all!

But wait, if the seeds come soon (rush shipping required) and we want to plant them, say, on the first day of spring, where will we get the dirt, given that our compost pile is frozen and buried under snow? No problem! -- says Ed. I click the "place order" button. If all goes well, we will have our hands full (of seeds) this weekend!

It's a sunny but cold day. Signs of spring? All the cats are outside All the birds are avoiding all the cats outside.

My morning routines are usually straightforward: collect missed eggs, feed chickens, check on water, feed cats -- some in the sheep shed, some at home. But now we have the addition of Pancake. She (I'm guessing here -- we really have no idea what the gender is) came at night. Ed fed her. She came again to the porch this morning. I fed her. The cats stare at her, but they let her come and go without confrontation. Why this tolerance for an outsider? I'm again guessing here, but I honestly think she is pregnant. She eats voraciously, all the time, and she is growing sizable in her underbelly. Ed wants us to catch her and take her in to be spayed (if she is not pregnant) but I think we need to hang back until it warms up. For now, we keep giving her food, distracting the other cats while she eats.

Breakfast, for us.

In the early afternoon, Ed attempts to walk with me. I mean, it's gorgeous outside -- irresistible! It's slow going for him, but he makes the loop and seems only slightly disabled afterwards. 

(today's quick look at cranes...)

And since it is Tuesday, Snowdrop has ballet after school, so we go through that routine.

(Here she is, notably without a hoodie tied around her waist!)

(And here she is, right after she heard a report that her parents had a good parent/teacher conference; she brushed over the academic praise though and asked anxiously -- yes, but did my teacher say that I was kind?)

All this brings us quickly to evening time. Ed and I are awash with eggs and so supper is easy -- eggs, some Brussel sprouts and a salad. Ed claims I overcooked the sprouts. He is correct, even though I think someone who cooks none of the meals should not mind uncrisp veggies. 

Yes, it's our light hearted Pi Day, and yes, I like even made up holidays, but there will be no pie for supper. In the end, garden planning trumped pie baking. And perhaps that's a good thing: Ed's as fussy about pies as he is about the tenderness of veggies.

(Deer, getting ready to eat anything that I plant...)

Monday

Good morning, early spring!

At the farmhouse kitchen table, I do my annual switch of placemats: from wintry scenes to flowers under our breakfast plates.

What a lovely season we are approaching!

Okay, so there is one aspect of spring that I dislike immensely. I, along with perhaps 99% of Americans (the 1% of outliers being either employed in the business of preparing other people's taxes, or being so wealthy that they just dont care about any of it) -- we all hate April 15th, the date you have to file your tax returns. The relief after this chore is behind you knows no bounds, tempered only by the agony of having to fork over more than you think you owed (perhaps 50% fall into this category). Despite what TurboTax and other online tax prep software want you to believe, the surprise is rarely in your favor. 

I cant decide if I have made life more miserable for myself by abandoning online services such as Turbo Tax and doing it all myself. I feel that as a lawyer, I should be able to navigate the forms on my own without having to spend several hundred on aids and services. And I always believe that my own tax situation could not be easier! Until I remember that I made a withdrawal from my IRA to fund a trip and then all hell breaks loose as I try to navigate that little glitch in my otherwise fairly straightforward accounting. And last year? I sold my Warsaw apartment. Boom! More complexity. And this year we bought short term bonds because we are getting old and long term investments suddenly seem inopportune. Not a lot, mind you, but now there are more figures to plug into some supplemental form or other. Even more complexity. 

People say that it's all about the math of it -- that the average person needs help because they haven't the math skills to do a good job of it, but that's just nonsense. All you need in terms of math skills is a dexterous finger that can type in sums into a calculator. Straight addition. Not in the least bit hard. The horror comes from not knowing what forms to fill out for what purpose and what adjustments to make and and and... well you know the procedure -- it's hell! Or at the very least it's a sizable bite out of your free time. 

I realized this weekend that I should get started on my taxes (and my mother's, because even a super senior's forms need work) because spring break is coming up and after that's over, it's a mere hop skip to April 15th. So I took out my notepad and started in on the calculations and none of it looked good, nor did I appreciate how shrunken my IRA looked (all those trips!). I was heading to total doom and gloom.

Of course, it's not just about the forms and figures. It's also about reviewing the choices you made and options that remain going forward. All my friends who are at or above 70 are thinking about travel in very different ways now. All raise the question -- how long will we be able to continue? How long will our stiffened bodies and dwindling energies tolerate a long haul trip? And just how much should a prudent middle class person put away for senior needs? This is all a bundle of unknowns. April 15th brings no answers, only sums of moneys spent, levied against pensions and social security, trickling in, keeping you solvent (hopefully), as you march through this complicated process of accounting for your life in the previous year.

Luckily, cheering me on, I have Ed, who thinks the whole IRS reporting thing is a time waste, but so long as you have to face it, you may as well challenge yourself to come up with some credible strategy to do it well. So with my peanut gallery egging me on, I forge ahead. And then I throw it all down, patting myself on the back for making a good effort to get started, and turn to welcoming my granddaughter, who gets dropped off a bit earlier today because once again, for reasons known only to the educational gods out there, schools are closed for the day.

Because the girl has more time at the farmhouse, her play extends beyond just our usual reading. Yes, there are the scuffles with Ed...

But, too, she's there while I deal with groceries...

And she is there to revisit the art room...

And she's there to take on some jigsaw puzzles that I was going to scrap for their underuse. Suddenly, she is interested!

(this is before I spilled coffee over the loose pieces...)

In doing puzzles, we fall into a back and forth that is similar to what we might have in the car. She'll tell me -- without challenge, you can never get better. And -- if you're not afraid, you can't ever be brave. I'm thinking -- she's been reading some good stuff, or listening to some inspiring people lately, but no, when questioned, she says -- oh I just made that up.

And eventually she leaves, and again I marvel that it is so light when I start in on creating something out of leftover crunchy chicken for supper. Yes, early spring is special and singularly full of good signs of grand stuff everywhere, April 15th to the contrary, not withstanding.

Sunday

Another wet, heavy snow falls overnight and once more the landscape is transformed.

How can you not love a spring snow storm!

(our cats have a different perspective on this)

Ed is once again trying to move around using both legs (!) and he plows us out nicely as I tend to the animals and admire the splendid snow cover.

Breakfast is totally cosy. As it should be. Leftover croissants, reheated.

Now comes the big debate: should we ski? Ed's a no on this one. Not today, which effectively means not for the next 10 months and then only if we are lucky. Me -- I waffle. It's above freezing, so the snow will be clumpy, the trails will be ungroomed, the glide will be crunchy -- like getting peanuts in your peanut butter when you were wanting a jar of the smooth stuff. But in the end I go for it (passing, as every day now, cranes). 

I do a fast run alone. (When he skis with me, Ed tends to be poky.) And I like it, though it feels a little out of whack to be skiing in this weather. I know last year we did a run even in April after an unexpected late snowfall, but without that cold bite on your face, you feel a bit off kilter. Still, it's a beautiful snowfall and I'm glad I had this last chance to be out in the thick of it.

In the evening the young family is here for supper. 

It's been a while since anyone has done any art around here. Sparrow decided to go for it and this sparked Sandpiper's curiosity.

Of course, he had to join in! 

...while their sister munched on roasted beets.

Dinner.

What's remarkable and wonderful is that a streak of sunlight comes through and hits the kids faces, even though it is 6:30. The last time that happened was... in October!

Yes, I'm one of those people who is happy as can be with Daylight Savings Time. And with the coming of spring.

Saturday

Oh, my non-grumpy, never hysterical, even tempered Ed! Always living up to his image of himself -- steady, unbothered, unruffled. But in this calm person, I can recognize twitches of exasperation. Like, maybe once every year or two. You have to know him really really well to even spot it. There is no raised voice, there is no stream of commentary. He merely locks himself up in his thoughts and you're better off letting him stay in that space until he works out whatever issue is nagging at him. I had seen this during the pre-Christmas season of 2021, when too many Amazon boxes arrived in one day. Twitch, silence, retreat. A day later he was himself again (which isn't a heck of a lot different!). And now I see it again, as he attempts to come to a good solution for a relatively new farmhouse problem: a leak in the shower, which announced itself on our wet kitchen ceiling. And has grown bigger at a rather alarming speed. Which means it's a real problem.

Ed has no confidence in construction experts. He'll take a guy advertising his building/dry-walling/tree cutting/roofing etc services on Craigslist over a so called professional any day. Why, I asked him. I can stand over the Craigslist guy and watch him do his job. And now here we are with a pipe joint that has probably failed, confirming for him that if you hand it to a pro (the bathroom fixtures were installed by a professional plumber) it is likely to fail. What's churning in his mind is the notion that he should have done it himself. And indeed, now that we need to tear the ceiling in the kitchen down to get at the shower piping, he is going to do it himself. But first comes this period of quiet contemplation.

Last night, after we watched our dose of TV, I let him stew on the couch. By this morning he was fine. Even as the big wet spot on the kitchen ceiling grows every time anyone takes a shower.

I had little time to pay attention to any of this actually, because immediately after feeding the animals (who is afraid of whom? oh, the cats are wary of the chickens!) ...

... at the moment of their opening, I drive to get the very excellent cinnamon croissants and baguette from Madison Sourdough (from this abundant lot!)

... and then I hurry over to the kids' dance school (Storybook Ballet) to watch Sparrow's class!

I think it is a surprise to all of us that he takes to this class so easily, considering his resistance to going to any classes anywhere anytime. 

Watching him is a treat: such a happy kid! So delighted in this week's costuming (some Raggedy Ann and Andy story)!

At the time of his dance class, Snowdrop has her violin lesson, but afterwards, her father brings the girl and her youngest brother over to the dance studio, so that in fact, I get to see all three kids.

Tumbling. Sandpiper loves this kind of play. Sparrow is more cautious. Snowdrop will tumble with any brother who'll let her roll around with him.

(Sandpiper -- hey, how about me??)

And then the mom and the three kids go off (actually just upstairs, above the dance school) to do their weekly grocery shopping. I have to hand it to my daughter -- shopping with the lively threesome is ... lively!

Only then do I come home to breakfast with Ed. And Dance.

Sometime in the afternoon, the two of us head out to the park. We take our ski equipment, but neither of us is enthusiastic about skiing. The snow is wet and shallow by now. So we walk. 

Not for long.

Ed's knee gives out. It takes us forever to walk the quarter of a mile back to the car. Should he have it examined? Of course! -- says me. Let's wait and see if it "pops back in" -- says him.

Much of the evening is spent on me pulling his leg -- somehow he feels that helps. Oh, and, too on me wondering what to do with the dozen strawberry plants that arrived today. No Dance, not for you.

I do animal duty tonight. Ed's immobilized for now. Cats are wondering why the change in routines.

(Unfriendly-Snowflake, the half sister to Dance)

A bit of an unusual day, don't you think? But sweetly ending on the couch. A movie, chocolates, a glass of wine (for me). Total pleasure! 

Friday

The day always seems weird when there are no kids in its schedule. More like a weekend than a weekday. It throws you off!

Today there were no kids here, nor did I see them elsewhere. Schools closed yet again for snow. You would think we have had a winter of mountainous pileups of snow, but no! Honestly, it's been a modest year for the white stuff. Not totally dry, but certainly no great heaps of it either. But, when snow falls at night, or when it's mixed with ice, the schools have no choice but to shut down to minimize morning commuting issues. At the same time, of course, parents must scramble to come up with childcare at the last minute, because work places rarely shut down.

You may think I'm on board with childcare help during a snow crisis! In fact, we tried to imagine how I could fit in some child-sitting, given various constraints in the schedule -- theirs and mine. In the end it proved to be too complicated, so I stayed to the side, promising to be on call if emergencies arose. But none did and the kids trudged from one parent's place, to various appointments and meetings along with them, and in the end I saw none of them.

So what was the day like? Well, very pretty, that's for sure! 

(looking out the front window)

The snow was wet and heavy, but it did dump somewhere between 8 and 10 inches of the stuff on farmette lands.

Enough to keep the chickens in the barn (except for one who insisted on trudging to the garage to lay her egg and then got stuck there)...

Enough to keep the cats in their various indoor spaces, except when absolutely forced to go out.

Ed and I both remarked how absolutely cozy it felt inside! Breakfast? Oatmeal of course!

And now here's a surprise: we both decided that we are fit enough to go skiing, despite our various knee issues. I'd already put the skis away for the season. Up they come now, into the car. 

We drive to our local park and pause on the way to admire the return of the cranes. I dont think they mind spring snow. They certainly know to expect it in March.

Ed's knee issues, unlike mine, are the result of an injury (so he tells me) and thus he is a little more timid in skiing today, but still, we do our loop and it is gorgeous!

Afterwards? Well, there was this snafu which I have to take the blame for: I'd been reading Wash Post's analysis of who should consider getting a second Covid bivalent booster. Ed and I are probably included in that list. However, just because some experts have opined that this should happen, doesn't mean that it can happen. And so, even though I had signed us up for it, the pharmacy in the end decided its hands were tied, because the CDC hadn't yet issued guidelines allowing for this to go forward. Thanks, CDC.

I know it's not a huge deal -- the CDC is much more concerned right now with the fact that most Americans have yet to get their first bivalent booster. Nonetheless, us compliant types should not be ignored, especially since the world is now unmasked and moving around whether or not they are sick. (I was, for example, surprised to hear that my former colleague, with whom I had dinner this week, had traveled back from a trip to the Middle East while she had Covid. She said testing was no longer required, so she felt free to return. On a long, overseas flight home. Okay...)

Ah well. We've stayed away from the virus thus far! We will continue with our usual moderate level of precautions.

Much of the rest of our afternoon is spent on reading, researching, and watching the snow melt outside. We're to get some more -- a less copious amount of it -- but of course, this is typical for March: snow, sunshine, rain, and then the cycle repeats itself until it runs out of steam, sometime toward the end of April!

Tomorrow is the last day of dark dinner hours. Daylight Savings time, here we come! Now do you agree that we are on the heels of spring?!

Thursday

You know the saying -- never do your grocery shopping on an empty stomach. I'll add to it -- never do online grocery shopping when you wake up at 4 in the morning and think it would be cool to have bake-yourself-croissants delivered to your door by 9. Why? Because that is a lazy way of assuring that you have fresh baked goods for breakfast. You want to spoil yourself with buttery and flakey Viennoiserie pastries? Get up and get going to your local bakery (if there is one within a handful of miles). Skip the frozen stuff from your market.

So now you know how my morning began: very early, very hungrily, with visions of good stuff for the breakfast table. I swear, I'll never take that short cut again. The croissants came. I baked them. They were... indifferent.

Ed was kind: they're not bad! They have a Midwest taste to them.

How so?

Lots of butter and indifferent flour.

*     *     *

Outside, we have one more day where I can admire sprouting daffodil stems!

Why only one more day? Well, because of what follows in the afternoon and evening -- a sizable snowstorm. 

I don't mind March snow, really I don't. It's really satisfying to see it melt a few days after it piles up on your flower beds. It never harms what little is growing out there. Nonetheless, this year I am mindful that flowers will be arriving within a day or two from the Nursery. Last night I got another email telling me that my strawberry plants are on the way! What the heck am I going to do with strawberry plants in March?

*     *     *

In the afternoon, I talk to Snowdrop about a particular mean girl in her class. I'm tossing around ideas on how one might shut down a bully, but none of these strategies appeal to Snowdrop, who is adamant that one does not respond to meanness with meanness. To her, even a slight critical stance is mean. So what's left?

Her mom reminds me that the absolute best response to irrelevant criticism is to be like Ed and not care. To give your attention to more important things in life. To be resilient. To know how to pivot in light of adversity.

Yep, this guy can be an effective role model to a kid with a bully in class. 

(In tussling with him, she sometimes forgets what she's up against here...)

*     *     *

And the snow comes down hard. I drop Snowdrop off at her brothers' school and slowly come back to the farmhouse. Slowly because it is so enjoyable to drive through these last snows of the season. 

At home, I unpack the first box of perennials (arrived today) and I have to smile. Ridiculous timing! But somehow magical too. Snow and flowers to plant -- a truly amusing combination.