spring's little quirks

I love this next season. The one that comes the day after tomorrow. Lily person that I am (lilies are a summer flower), I nonetheless adore the colors of a blooming spring garden (dare I say it) best. True, my spring flower fields aren't as loaded as they could be. The daffodils should be dug up and spread out -- some of them have stopped blooming (though the new ones are magnificent!). The tulips have to be sprayed with a nasty hot pepper potion, or else the animals devour the flower heads. The lilac has been cut back and so it should enjoy a hefty bloom,  but it's getting old so the flowers, though profuse, are smaller. The peonies should be staked more, the irisis are often overwhelmed by their neighbors (false indigo comes to mind). And there's a period of about two or three weeks in mid June where the summer stuff is yet to make an appearance, but the spring flowers are finishing up their run. So the end of spring is actually not the best time to visit my garden. 

In short -- spring flowers pose their own challenges. And still, they are sublime. And thus the season that supports them is sublime. My favorite!

However...

Spring brings out the ticks and Ed-the-Pancake-petter, found two live and large ticks on him last night. You cannot forget this if you live in Wisconsin: March is officially the beginning of the tick season. Watch out for them!

It is also the allergy season and though I do not suffer much from these various pollens and puffs and whatnots that are in the air, I did wake up with teary red eyes today. This was particularly discombobulating because I had a very early (predawn) MRI scheduled (it's a head thing -- having once had a brain bleed slates you to check up on stuff every handful of years). Do you know how head MRIs work? You get strapped in tight, with a fencing like cage over your head to keep things in place, because the point is not to move for the 45 minute duration of the exam. Now I ask you -- how is it possible not to move when your eye is itching? I toughed it out but just barely, and then of course, the minute I left the clinic, my eye felt just fine. 

At home, I fed the animals in the barn, and in the sheep shed, and in the farmhouse, and on the porch...

(tulips are just barely poking through)

 

 

We ate an oatmeal breakfast...

 

And then I returned to thoughts of packing. I just cannot get a handle on this because the weather (of my forthcoming trip) is going to be so varied (as is the terrain) that it seems I ought to pack for all four seasons in my one medium suitcase. And dont even get me started on shoes. (And no, I don't think a nice scarf will transform a drab sporty outfit into something suitable for a big time capital of Europe.) Now, I love these kinds of problems. Really I do. They stay in my head and I bounce around ideas and it feels like such a treat to be thinking about travel rather than, say, the fact that our constitutional order is under attack. Or that so many people will support a floundering economy spinning toward a recession because it is a gift from him whom they love so much. Or something. You can see how wondering whether one pair of hiking shoes and one pair of sneakers will suffice for rain, snow, mud, and the occasional splash of sun, and a nice eating venue - that's a hell of a more pleasant stream of images to have bouncing around in your head than the ones I pick up from The News.

Switching focus now -- you know the large maple that fell down out front a couple of days ago? Well now, not only has our neighbor volunteered to chop it up and take it away as firewood, but Ed has also had a call from a guy who wants to build a stairwell out of it, and today another guy, a chef from Chicago who wants to make disc like plates to possibly use in his restaurant or at the very least give out as gifts to his friends. Ed told them that all three could be accommodated (the tree is that big) and he put them in touch with each other to work out details. The Chicago chef offered us breads or pastries as compensation. Sounds good to me!

Eventually I go out to continue work on the lavender field. It's boring and back-breaking work, but I do love a full lavender field and so I hack away until I'm, well, more done. Let's hope I at least half know what I am doing! 

And now it's time to pick up the kids. We switched ice cream day to this day because tomorrow we are slated to have a weather horror show here in south central Wisconsin.

Fine with me. I get a treat out of the deal: I always ask for a taste of a new and interesting flavor, though at some level it all just tastes like creamy sweet ice cream. Our American selections tend to combine vanilla and chocolate ice cream with cookies caramel salt crumble nuts peanut butter candy bits in endless combinations, giving them obscure and playful names, but really not going for a depth of flavor. To me the perfect ice cream is a perfectly executed pistachio (not green!), or perfectly done strawberry, or peach, or any of the fruits where you can actually taste the fruit. Nonetheless, the Chocolate Shoppe is creamy and tasty and nearby. Besides, no matter where we are, Snowdrop always picks some version of chocolate and Sparrow wont even try anything beyond vanilla.

In the evening I drop off the kids at the Middleton Library where the girl has Girl Scouts.  She had been an enthusiastic cookie seller initially, but now I feel she has "moved on" to other challenges. I think at least at this age, her entrepreneurial drive is... modest.

Is there daylight left at 6 pm? Yes there is! I'm back at the lavender field, trimming away. With the help of chickens this time.

At home, I make cabbage soup. With onion, garlic, carrot, corn, jerusalem artichokes, potatoes. And maybe cannellini beans. Haven't decided yet if that's overkill.

Ed comes over, we settle into our viewing of a sitcom that we've watched and liked before and we'll cycle through again, because frankly, we just want to laugh. And we do. And it feels so good....

with love....

 

Monday, busy Monday

Okay, so we're not totally out of the winter woods yet. Snow this Thursday, snow next Sunday -- that does not sound like happy spring blossom time to me. Fine. I agree -- we're not even officially into the next season yet. I'll be patient.

But the one thing I cannot do is slow down. It's a busy day and a busy week and none of it is mind blowing, or beyond the pale, or even slightly interesting but there you have it.

First, the animals. The ones I will never understand. For example -- Pancake, why do you escort me to the barn every morning? You get nothing out of it. And yet, you come. Or this: cats, why are you more afraid of our chickens than they are of you? So that if they are in your path, you give them plenty of space?

 

 

It's windy out there! Over breakfast, Ed and I discuss wind damage. We have big trees that lose limbs. Should we preemptively cut them back? (It would require a professional set of tree trimmers.) I say... well, guess what position I take. Of course! Trim them back already! Ed says... I need not finish this sentence. You know what he says.

 

 

 

Next, a short reading session: articles that can scare the daylights out of you and cause you to look at property prices in, say, Vancouver. Which I do. They are, um, high.

Next, I iron. This is a job I reserve for when I see my younger daughter and when I travel to places that I think require of you a certain amount of self care, or at least a pretense of it. [Why only for my younger daughter? Both my girls dress with absolute care and present themselves magnificently. However, since I see my older girl more frequently, I have long ago decided that she will just have to accept me in the way that I am these days -- unpressed and frankly, erring on the very casual end of things.]

Next -- order groceries on-line and refresh/click the page over and over and over again to get the time of delivery to be early. I need the yogurt!

Then -- I bake the World's Best Blueberry Muffins (which require yogurt). For the girl who loves them so much. And for Ed and me. (It bothers me that every photo I take appears to have two missing. What can I say -- it's a recipe for ten.)

And then I really have to trim the lavender -- both in the lavender field, and in the flower beds. I never feel confident doing it since you're supposed to chop off a third without disturbing the woodsy part of the stalk which I think is impossible. Still, I cut. And I get only about a third of the way through the field. Sigh...

Ed wanted very much to go for a walk, but I have to switch laundry loads. In other words -- I run out of time. It got to be grandkid pickup time very quickly.

(he says he is tired...)

(she's not!)

And our afternoon at the farmhouse suddenly gets very busy as well. Snowdrop has some extra credit math that she wants to plow through in the next month so we must fit that into our time together, in addition to her play time, their eating time, and our three chapters-a-day book time. 

Phew! Not done yet! After I drop off the kids, Ed and I scoot over for the very last available for the day appointment to get our Covid boosters. I didn't think we needed them just yet, given that we both had Covid early in January, but my clinic tells me that travel demands this extra protection and Ed and I have decided to march in step with our various preventive vaccinations -- it's much easier to keep track of them that way.

And now it's after 6. And Ed asks - want to go for a walk? 

I appreciate his earnestness. And his love of our local park walks. And I have that love for them too, even though time on the couch seems so very attractive to me at the end of this day. Still, I opt for. a thumbs up answer.  I have never regretted walks we have taken together. Ever. And this is no exception. The light is beautiful.

 

 

The park is quiet.

And I skipped my hour of evening news. For once, I think that's a good thing!

with so much love...

 

the one normal March Sunday

The first two Sundays of the month were packed with grandparent visits and Shakespeare shows that confounded the schedule. The following two Sundays will be even more confusing as I embark on a trip that is about as convoluted (in my opinion) as they come. But today? Today is normal! A Sunday, like all Sundays should be.

Albeit cold. Here's my prediction: this is the coldest we will be at until... next November! So on the one hand -- yes, cold. On the other -- it closes the pages on winter for us. Sure, we can have frosty nights all the way into May (don't I know it! All those pots of annuals that I have to bring inside then, because of a cold snap!). But today is the last day of daytime temps just above freezing. I don't often step into the the domain of meteorological predictions, but looking ahead I see that we are about to leave behind the cold windy chilly I-really-dont-want-to-go-outside days. Yeah!

Nonetheless, there are morning chores that require outdoor strolls and I do them rather late because who wants to get out of a warm comfy bed on a cold morning?!

(Despite the cold, there is spring birdsong, loud and compelling; a Blue Jay, a Black-capped Chickadee, outperforming each other, while the chickens march on, accompanied by Tuxie and Pancake)

It amazes me how long it takes: chicken feeding, Sunday indoor plant watering...

 (the orchids that I bring in for the winter have bloomed all season long)

 

 

... cat feeding in three places, drinking station resupplied outside, then indoors -- fruits to cut up, buns to reheat, coffee to make and finally -- breakfast to eat!

By the time I'm done with all that it is 11 am. I kid you not.

Ed goes out to work on trimming the fallen tree. We have two people who would take it off of our lot -- a neighbor who'll use it for firewood and someone else who would use it to build a staircase. We puzzle over this -- is there really enough wood for a whole staircase? We put off both offers for now, waiting to see if someone will surface with a more creative (artsy maybe?) idea.

I then concentrate on doing a bit of house clearing and cleaning and boom! It's time to get dinner ready for the young family. The regular Sunday dinner that hasn't been so regular lately. And it wont be, going forward. Our next regular Sunday dinner wont take place at the farmhouse until... Easter! 

And because everything has been so irregular in every respect, it feels all the more special when everything is just normal!

All kids healthy and accounted for! Parents too!

(Dinner, just before 7 p.m., in sunshine!)

 

 

On a normal Sunday of the past, I would have had little reason to come back to The News at the end of a post, or to cite to compelling articles that summarize an out of control spin into the unknown. And you know what -- I'll follow that tradition tonight! Yes, I read plenty in the course of the day. But late in the evening, after the last dish had been washed and the last cheese crumb swept from under the table, Ed and I put on a recent video clip about farming on Just a Few Acres. It's like a lullaby -- slow paced and soothing. Perfect for the end to a very plain and simple Sunday.

with love...

I remember when

If you have read Like a Swallow, you may remember that it starts with the theme of how a Polish child may have felt spending time in the U.S. during the Cold War. Not a Polish immigrant, because I wasn't that, but a child from Poland who would soon be returning to Poland. I remember always feeling uncomfortable with the question -- where are you from. And I was glad that I attained English fluency and so after a year or two, no one would ask. I hid my identity pretty well. 

It's not that I was embarrassed in revealing my Polishness. It's just that I felt that I would be ascribed traits that weren't necessarily mine. I believed that people would simplify the narrative: I was from Poland (true), Poland was communist (well, sort of...), therefore my parents were communists (it's complicated), wanting to dominate the world (not even close). I could almost see the thoughts rapidly forming in their heads -- you're Polish? Oh..... The best I could hope for (in my mind) would be -- you're very nice and normal, for being Polish.

In about a week I'll be traveling to countries of western Europe. I cannot believe that I have before me the same angst that stayed with me when I was a Polish child in America. Only now it's the flip side of it: I will get asked (because I always get asked) -- where are you from? (In one country I'm fairly fluent in their language so they wont immediately guess, but in a second one I can just hobble along, obviously a foreigner, and in the third -- I dont speak a work of their language so I have to flip to English. American English.) I'll answer -- United States, wishing I could add qualifiers to this pronouncement right away, to dispel assumptions. Or, maybe I should just wear this button? A preemptive announcement?

(I don't like buttons that say "he's not my president" because in fact, like it or not, he is legitimately my president.)

I have friends who are spending a year in Germany right now. They've been traveling around Europe a lot. I ask them today -- how has it been for you? Do people glare at you? (I am especially curious now, as it appears our leadership is in the process of banning or severely restricting tourism or any travel from countries "we don't like.") My friend (who was once a fellow blogger, so I'm sure he wont mind the cite) wrote back -- 

So far, we have gotten no flak, wry looks, or other disparaging behavior due to Trump. Nor have we found that people initiate conversations about Trump, though (my wife) often does, and the responses are supportive. In Germany, at least,...they probably have acculturated themselves to the idea that individuals can be different from their leaders.

Yes, I have to think people are polite, but were I in their place, knowing that 45% of Americans approve of the leadership at this point, I'd wonder -- are you one of those?

Storms passed through at night, pushing away the warm air, bringing with them winds and somewhat cooler readings. I walk to the barn, still on the lookout for emergent growth. It's still not very emergent! But, there are some greening tips breaking through the ground. And if you look carefully at the grassy fields, they are showing an ever so slight green color. New grass, definitely poking through. See it?

Since it's Saturday, I get in the car to head over to Madison Sourdough for our breakfast treats. And this is when I slam on the brakes and look at our front yard. Somehow we slept right through it! Half of a maple tree, downed by the winds.

Oh my. On the upside -- it seems to have fallen in a way that caused minimal damage. No crushed cars on the road. No downed wires. And the house is standing! It did fall on part of the front flower bed, but hey, it could have been so much worse.

(onto the bakery: the lakes are all thawed and there is a slight haze... kind of pretty actually)

 

 

I come back, we eat breakfast, a cardinal outside keeps us company...

Ed then gets to work on cutting up the tree. I'm thinking it will take him a while to clear that whole trunk, but he has other ideas: remember when I off-loaded the fallen box elder on Craigslist to a wood cutter? I'll see if anyone wants a whole sugar maple. 

 

 

In the meantime, I drive back to Madison Sourdough where I left behind one of my ordered items (a baguette). It's promising to be that kind of a day!

(back home now: he is still at it -- trimming the trunk, hauling away the sawed off lumber)

 

But, we break from adversity and face the pleasure of being in a warm house with good foods and great readings. I zoom with my friend, Ed goes off to play pool with his friend.

Eventually though I get back to reading The News. And I know you, being good humans out there, have read enough and have listened enough. I know you deserve a break from the onslaught of stories that break your heart. But I'm going to give you one anyway -- from today's New Yorker. An interview done by that publication's longstanding  editor, David Remnick of Atul Gawande a brilliant physician who worked as an administrator for the Bureau of Global Health at USAID. I'm giving you the link and I do hope you read it. Because our hearts must be broken in order to pull ourselves out of the cruelty of this moment. 

Cheeper egg supper. Evening visitors:

 

 

 

Let me end this post with a picture of a wall mural which I noticed on my walk up to the entrance of Madison Sourdough. It stood out for me...

with so much love...

too much of a good thing?

Red-winged Blackbird, Northern Cardinal, Brown-headed Cowbird, Killdeer, House Sparrow, Dark-eyed Junco, Song Sparrow. Oh, and a Canadian Goose. Canada's retaliatory gift to us (such a mean bird!). These are the birds I hear this morning as I walk to the barn to feed the animals.

 But, but -- what about the lunar eclipse? Did I get up for it -- you may be asking.

I did. I walked out onto the driveway about 2:30 a.m., when the moon was mostly eclipsed. Was it worth it? Eh. I expected radiant color. There was none. Still, I took a picture, then went back to sleep.

Now back to the morning: it'll be warm today. Perhaps not record breaking, but still -- a high of 75F/24C. How to treat this day that is showing its best face... Well, let me bike to Tati's neighborhood coffee shop and pick up something for breakfast. Cinnamon roll to share... yum! (And absentee ballots to fill out and mail in.)
 

Ed has a busy early afternoon and I have a busy late afternoon, but we have a short window in the morning and we use it to prune the fruit trees in the new orchard. 

(and the cat watched...)

(and the chickens came to see what's up...)

 

 

Ed keeps saying he doesn't really know how to do a good pruning job. And he is correct -- we were clumsy at the outset and the trees grew in ways that an experienced fruit tree farmer would laugh at. Still, there are basic ideas that I follow: trim out the new runners, the inside branches, and the ones that bump into others. Create air flow. And so we proceed.

 

After Ed goes off for his work, I continue working in the yard. More trimming, clearing, pruning. And pulling out creeping charlie! The nuisance plant! I can't believe that my crocuses and snowdrops and daffodils are still underground, but the creeping charlie is starting to assert itself! (Big groan...)

 

From there -- to the grocery store and back home again for a quick unpack -- no time for lunch today! -- I'm off again, to do a hiking shoe exchange, and finally -- I get in line to pick up the kids at school. 

Now, how do you handle the treat situation? The once a week french fries and once a week ice cream promise fails when you have only one day this week to do anything at all. Easy! You do both.

And now we are home, reading, playing, eating. 

Yes, it's a rushed day -- I fit a lot into it. But I'm up for it. I had a gentler pace going earlier in the week. I can shift gears for a while. Reminds me of younger years, when this kind of day was my everyday. 

It would have been a calm evening, except that I choked on a piece of food. No kidding! Wedged piece of radicchio!  Would that ever be a dumb way to die or what?? I can hear it now: she lived a full life, only to give it up to radicchio... The jokes would have to fly! Ed was home and kept telling me that since I was breathing, I was not in danger. Nonetheless, two minutes into this drama and we were on our way to the ER. He was enough flustered that he backed my car into a tree stump. Good fortune then came our way as I managed to expel the chunk out before I had to embarrass myself by stumbling into a hospital choked up over... radicchio. 

There is a lesson to this: rush if you have to, but do eat slowly and with care.

with so much love ...

 

still climbing

Ed does not shy away from the difficult. And he will never shy away from helping an animal in distress. These are my morning thoughts. 

In my previous life (the one before Ed came onto the scene 19.5 years ago), I was the go-to person when a crisis struck at home. Leaky ceiling, raccoons nesting on the roof, gutters overflowing, woodpeckers making holes in the wooden siding. But even then, some of my interventions were of the kind where I had to call someone else to solve the problem (the raccoons nesting on the roof come to mind). I know my limits and dealing with invading wild animals is something I'll leave to others.

Not so Ed. And this morning, I was very thankful for that.

The day started off beautifully: more sunshine, and even warmer temps. (High of 65F/18C.) True, those early spring flowers remain buried, so I avoid looking down. No need to feel disappointment on a day like this! And oh, the northern cardinal is singing so beautifully, and the skies are so blue...

I walk to the barn, animals all around me. Shed cats, Pancake, chickens. 

I reach the barn and there I see him -- a huge possum. The thing is, he'd gotten into the cage we leave open -- to scare off predators (on our own trap and release system that sort of works) and occasionally, for the persistent ones, to take them to a place far away, where we are allowed to release. But this guy took it upon himself to gnaw at the cage wires and his entire mouth got trapped in the wire rims. Wide open, teeth showing. (Some slight scratches  to mouth, but basically just stuck.)

What would you do? 

My first thought was to take him to an animal hospital where he would surely be euthanized. That was not Ed's first thought. I call him, he comes out, gloves on, pliers in hand. 

I can't even watch this -- prying a possum's sharp jaws and stuck nose out of the cage grid. (The chickens, however, walk by nonchalantly, as if it wasn't their Darth Vader staring from behind bars, with killer teeth on full display.)

In the end, Ed was successful, the possum was saved and released far from the coop and I doubt that he'll return, unless he's one of those who likes to come back to taunt his enemies. We know the type, right?

 

Breakfast, calm. 

We discuss the day's possibilities. Childcare is postponed again until tomorrow, so we have time for a more ambitious hike. Since it's been so dry, maybe we should give the longer Ice Age trail at Brooklyn Wildlife Area a try? 

Yeah!

 

True, I wish we'd find a spec of green. It is always the groan about March in Wisconsin -- that it doesn't deliver fast enough! We want lightning speed changes. Right now, when we're just days away from calendar spring.

Still, it sure is lovely to be outside, with just a light hoodie. Take in that warm air! Indulge yourself in thoughts of what's just around the corner.

It's like the day before Christmas Eve -- the excitement is there. Soon the gifts of the growing season will be heaped upon us. Soon.

Tonight we'll have a total lunar eclipse. A blood worm moon -- tinted red and symbolizing the movement of worms with the coming of spring. Will I see it? That would require me getting up in the middle of the night and going out onto the road for a good view. Small likelihood. For now, just enjoy the fullness of the moon. It shines brightly on all of us tonight...

with love...

climbing up, at least weather wise

Weather wise, we are late (almost no bulb tips are visible, and there are no blooms at all, anywhere on farmette lands), but we are climbing up today. Back to sunshine with warming temperatures.

Health wise, the girl is back in school, though I'm giving it a 24 hour wait, as per guidelines, before I return to childcare.

Farmette life is good, Ed and I are happily anticipating spring.

But the country is in trouble and because we are who we are (simply put, a big country with heretofore unmatched influence in this world), the world is in trouble. You don't buy it? I'm gifting you not one but two articles from the NYTimes today -- one from their conservative  columnist and one from a centrist guy. I'm not even pointing you to liberal news feeds. There's no need to go there to feel the utter weight and gravity of our political and economic situation right now. The day we let Musk buy his way into every corner of American governance, the day Poland has to contemplate (as it is doing) equipping itself with nuclear weapons, I can confidently say America has lost her way.

Are you despondent yet? 

I said to Ed this morning as we were picking and choosing stories to read from our news feeds -- don't you miss those days (not so long ago!) when reading the morning paper was boring? 

 

(brown landscape)

 

In animal news -- the cats are squabbling again. This time it's the sheep shed bunch. Pancake, the one who got quite the beating from an outsider a few days ago, seems fine, with just a few scabs remaining. (Feral cats have incredible immunity systems! Yes, they have a shorter life span -- that's because they do lose some wars, mostly to cars.) The threesome in the sheep shed? My god. The ruckus! The snarling and spinning in what can only be described as a cat ball of fire! Tuxie finally ran away. I yelled at the remaining two. Pancake stood outside, peering in fascination. And five minutes later, Tuxie came back, resumed her position on a shed cushion in the sun, as if nothing had happened. Did I tell you that we do not understand cat dynamics?

Breakfast, with tulips inside because there sure as hell aren't any outside.

Topic for this morning? Religion! There is an article in the paper today with the intriguing title "The Share of Religious Americans Will Continue to Decline." (No gift! I'm running out of them this month!) It's intriguing because I had just read last week that the comprehensive and very recent Pew Research Landscape Study documented a leveling off of religion abandoners in recent years. So what gives?

It turns out that boomers (my generation) is actually holding steady in their affiliation with religion. (Nonreligious people in my demographic are currently at 20%.) However, the trends are entirely different for the Millennials (my daughters' generation) and even stronger in the opposite direction (abandoning religion) among the Gen Z groups. There, more than 40% consider themselves "nones" (no religion). As the Silent Generation (the one before me) and the Boomers (me!) fade out of the picture, these "nones" will replace them. And their numbers are growing: for every 6 who leave religion, one joins. And for every one who leaves the ranks of the "nones," 6 join.

I see now why those who remain close to their church have toughened their stance in matters of faith. The threat of extinction always hardens the fight for those who remain. 

Having grown up in a very, very, very Catholic country (my brief life among the one per centers! In postwar Poland, those who weren't Catholic were in that kind of a minority position), and having moved to a country with a greater diversity of faiths, I can say with confidence that I prefer diversity and tolerance over homogeneity and fanaticism. I can only hope that even as we lose our democracy and global leadership position here in America, we will remain diverse and tolerant of our fellow women and men's approach to faith. (Or lack thereof.)

 

In the afternoon, I bike to do errands. The pharmacy is a mere 35 minutes away. UPS -- just a few more. And it is a beautiful ride!

There is a mismatch between the weather (warming up!) and the landscape, but that's okay. Flora will catch up after a good feeding of sun and rain.

In the evening, Ed goes off to do his Wednesday night bike ride -- the first of the year! I know the grill: he'll come back stiff and exhausted. Nonetheless, it is thrilling to be on a spring schedule already. Totally thrilling.

Me, I revel in my new arrival: a medium suitcase! Perhaps you can't appreciate the thrill I have in working the locks, peering inside it's cavernous insides. Having traveled with only a carry-on for decades now (expandable to be sure, but still -- small!), I am imagining all the squeezing that I do not have to do with this new one. And, no more lifting up an overstuffed bag into the overhead compartment, pretending that it's not too heavy at all! Will I ever go back to just a carry-on? Sure. But not when the trip is more than 10 days long. I mean, I'm not an Ed, who'll never take more than a duffel bag with him anywhere ("just rinse the stuff out of you think it's over the top dirty!"). Though I have to admit, I sneaked the case upstairs while he was out biking. I will have let him down with my expansionist view of "travel with more" rather than the old "travel with less." Even if it is just a medium suitcase. Not a large. Medium!

 with love...

March pause

So far, one grandchild is down with the flu. This means that a parent must stay home with her and it also means that I cannot babysit today. Influenza type A has been spreading wildly and savagely here, in Wisconsin (we are among the dozen states with the highest reported cases according to the still functioning CDC). I am working hard to avoid viruses, masking at the theater, masking at the clinic, and, most importantly, avoiding contact with those infected. It pretty much means that Ed and I are in a pseudo isolation mode right now. Which, honestly, sort of describes our daily life anyway, with the exception of family and the occasional friend encounters. Some people would shake their heads in dismay at this retreat into our farmette bubble, but the truth is -- we like it! (Again, with the caveat that we love my family, the occasional friend encounters, and of course, for me -- travel, which rips me out of my isolation completely.)

This morning we do have the expected cool down. Forgivable! We're not even halfway through March (at the same time that March is speeding by so quickly, don't you think?). 

We're coming around to a more normal schedule. Breakfast is only a little bit late.

Because yesterday's outing was more physically challenging than, say, a walk around the farmette lands, we decided to go easy today. No biking. A simple half hour walk in our local park. 

And despite the chill in the air, the sun felt warm on our faces! Gloriously warm

Back at home, I got a message that Snowdrop wants to Zoom. Great idea! We can finish the book we were reading at the farmhouse.)

And we do. And I think to myself -- wow, how times have changed. When Covid struck, Snowdrop was just five and Sparrow was one and a half. We stopped our visits in the fall when parents needed to reintegrate into society. Zoom wasn't handy then. I continued to read with Snowdrop, but outside, at a distance. Fast forward  to this day and here we are, perhaps not loving the remote reading as much as a couch moment, but still, it feels effortless and almost normal. Yeah, how much we've changed in these post Covid years!

In the evening I make a pot of chicken noodle soup. It isn't that the day demands it -- we're not sick. The weather, if not balmy, is certainly bouncing in positive territory. And yet there's so much going on right now, on the world stage, and especially in this country, that the head spins and the soul shakes. Yeah, I think chicken noodle soup is a fine idea.

with so much love...