Sunday at home

Even if it would snow again, even if frost covers our fields at night, even if we're still coasting through the iffy month of March, it no longer feels like winter. I step outside in the morning, feel the squishy mud of a ground that's no longer deeply frozen and smell the wonderful smells of fresh growth -- still mostly hidden from view, but the juices are flowing. You can feel it! And sometimes even see it.






Our day is very calm. I take care of the animals in the morning and that's really not a chore -- just a pleasant romp from one place to the next, watching the kitties venture out just a little...






... and the cheepers venture out somewhat more bravely.






Happy, the rooster is crowing now and we love his emerging voice! So far, we feel his temperament matches that of our girls. He's pretty mellow and he seems to fit in with the pack well. Pecking by anyone of anyone has mostly gone by the wayside.

Breakfast, lovely, because I had done the shopping and so everything was as we like it to be. (Well, as I like it to be. I'm sure Ed did not eat a single breakfast meal while I was away!)





We talk like real seniors! In going through our basement stuff (discarding most anything and everything that seems unnecessary), I came across an old cooler. Out it goes! -- I say. After all, when was the last time either of us wanted to drive great distances for a picnic? Still, a few hours later Ed asks -- do you want to pack a lunch and go out to our favorite Ice Age Trail segment when the weather warms up? We could take some bread and cheese...

He has sensed far longer than I have that our orbit of pleasures, with age, rests increasingly closer to home. And that making time to do something magnificent, something that we would have done when we were, say, in France, but have made little effort to do here (picnic with bread and cheese...) is important, especially when you've passed 65 and are by any measure a senior.


In the evening, the young family comes for dinner. They arrive straight from the airport, having spent a handful of days in D.C.  Snowdrop is at an age where a family trip somewhere far is nothing short of exhilarating. (She is so excited to come and tell me about it!)






(... and to tell Ed about her various museum trips)







Sparrow liked the excitement too, though I am told he missed his jumparoo! Too, he is at a squirmy age and I'm sure both parents are happy to be done with the travel portion of their mini vacation.

Dinner, of course, is lovely, just because all family dinners are lovely.






(oh how fast they grow!)











The routines of farmette life: I'm not the only one who loves them. Snowdrop is excited to help Ed put away the cheepers.... Here she is, running back and forth, wanting to tell me that they're resisting going to sleep tonight --  possibly because her lovely voice carries them right out of a dozy state straight into total wakefulness.






(Sparrow is amused. I should note that he is, these days, very much amused about any of life's perturbations and peculiarities.)





The evening ends in the way it so often does for me these days: my eyes close far too soon... You want to linger, even as your whole being tells you it's time to go to sleep.

back at the farmette...

There's art in figuring out what should be the right time to leave. Optimize your happy enjoyment, but don't push it to a point where you'll say -- I should have left when the going was good. On the other hand, you don't want to take off and then look back with regrets -- it was so nice! I should have stayed...

I don't think feeling regretful is healthy. Of course, if you hurt someone, do feel sorry! But having deep regrets at every turn seems to me pointless. Learn from mistakes, do better next time and don't think too much about what could have been. And don't ever fret about the turns you took and paths you followed.

For instance, I did not for a moment fret about leaving Paris too early.

I needed time at home. True, I was robbed of some of that extra time yesterday, as I was stuck in Minneapolis for five hours while the airline tried  (unsuccessfully in the end) to fix a mechanical problem on the little plane that was to take us to Madison.

I was tired and I was watching minutes that I hoped to have at home slip right through my fingers, but  there were some stellar moments in that wait: everyone was cooperative and maintained a healthy attitude toward the delay. (Because of great weather, it was the only delay out of hundreds of flights that took off from MSP that day. Rotten luck!) No anger, no manifest frustration, not even resignation. A collective -- "oh well, these things happen."

There was a family of seven -- five very young kids plus parents -- who'd already been traveling for a several hours that day. The kids were restless, so they scurried and tumbled and figured ways to take apart the gates and climb over each other. Not one passenger rolled his or her eyes, grumbled, winced. We were entertained! And the parents rolled with the punches and eventually we all boarded another plane at the other side of the airport and life moved on.

If you're lucky, life always moves on.

One goal I did want to accomplish with the earlier return was finishing my check up -- you know, the one I had undertaken just hours before my flight took off. Travel, marked by these odd bookmarks!  Despite the delays and despite a very busy clinic, I checked it off: done! (I have to say,  for all the complaints that are rightly levied against the health care system, there are aspects of it that are truly extraordinary. I was impressed at how smoothly things functioned given a sudden rush of patients with various needs and medical issues that seemed to pop up at the end of the day. Now if we can only figure out how to give everyone access to these talented, hardworking, compassionate health care professionals, how good would that be!)

I did not get back to the farmhouse until late, very very late but that was just fine. Ed had done his best to maintain the place up to my standards and in fact was eager to show off that he had begun the onerous task of cleaning both the garage and the basement. I was impressed, though terribly sleepy. But this morning, I continued to be impressed!


I never have any problems with jet lag on the return. Typically I just want to get up a little earlier -- well big deal! These early minutes of the day are great for unpacking the suitcase, making grocery shopping lists, catching up with daughters.

Ed sleeps in while I take stock of what has changed in the week that I've been away. Most importantly, most of the snow and ice are gone!






Indeed, it's a beautiful day! I may have missed a gorgeous sunny day in Paris, but I gained a gorgeous sunny day at the farmette.

As for the animals: there has been a reshuffling. Stop Sign, the mother cat, is mostly on the prowl. She comes over sometime during the day, eats a little, lingers for a short while and then disappears again. Whiskers, the Maine Coon hasn't been coming back, to the best of our knowledge. As for the little guys -- Dance and Jacket -- oh, they are there and waiting for me!






Still a little shy, but they are now hanging out in two places -- garage, just a little, and then under and around the writer's shed.





Ed says he spooked them when he was working on cleaning out the garage, but I think they're just happy to go wherever there is lots of sunshine all day long, at the same time that they can beat a hasty retreat (under the shed) if they need to.

The cheepers are under the good care of this guy:






Unlike during the winter months, when hawks patrolled the farmette constantly, we have had few recent sightings of these predators. And the hens are laying like crazy so we are now flush with eggs.

Okay, Ed! It's late enough! Breakfast!
Yes, gorgeous. Yawn. You have to wonder if he missed this intrusion of this morning meal!






After grocery shopping, I take care of all that needs my attention. But I'm not so crazy busy that I do not notice the coming of spring here. Maybe we're not flush with blooming flowers, but remember -- a week ago there was a solid layer of ice and snow. Today, I find this:






The first tulips are always so welcome and they are also quickly devoured by our resident groundhog and bunny rabbit population. Still, seeing those buds, in addition to the scores of daffodil stalks pushing through the ground is truly joyous. Indeed, everything seems pretty joyous right now: recalling the wonderful week away, and loving so much being back.





I spend a good three afternoon hours clearing the flower fields. At one point, I glance at my watch and notice it's 4 pm. I would just be coming in for a landing now, had I traveled according to my original schedule. And here I am, medical appointments checked off, laundry done, shopping for the week -- accomplished, flower beds raked.

Sweet sweet memories of beautiful encounters in Warsaw. Of strolls along Lake Como. Of the Luxembourg Gardens in Paris. And such happy, happy thoughts about being back.

leaving Paris

Sometime in the middle of last night's dinner, I decided to cut my trip short by one day and come back on Friday rather than Saturday.

This was one of the toughest travel decisions I've had to make. Fact is, I need to be home right now. So, in the middle of my risotto with artichokes and who knows what else, I asked for the check, walked back to my beloved hotel, called Delta and booked an early morning flight out of Paris.

By early, I mean early! Predawn. The walk to the commuter train is by the light of the moon, with an added eerie glow from street lamps and the occasional neon.





... or traffic light.






I'm leaving a city in full bloom. Chestnut leaves unfurled...






Primroses and hyacinths charming and coaxing daylight out of a night sky.





Breakfast, at the airport, is as uninteresting as it was yesterday, though I suppose I'm measuring by standards of what could have been. It surely is good enough!





And then I'm off, to Minneapolis, where the weather is also sunny, if a bit chillier. Back to farmette breakfasts tomorrow!

light

Paris is having a courtship with the most perfect spring weather imaginable. Like all flings and flirtations, it will pass. But the days I am here are incredible! Highs in the low 60F (about 16C), brilliant sunshine -- what more could you possibly ask for?!

I have two full days in the city and though I will surely get my share of walks, I don't want to walk myself to pieces. That was December's mistake. Ed's advice to take cafe breaks seems like a good idea.

For once, I also have a list of expositions that I want to see. Usually I hesitate. One per trip suffices. But this time -- there's stuff worth for which I'm willing to make an extra effort.

So how should I proceed? Well, breakfast first. Unfortunately, my sweet hotel has instituted a frequent stayer program: free breakfast. On the one hand, this is a good thing: it's easy to eat in the same place where you sleep. And of course, there is a savings. But the croissants -- they're good but not exceptionally good.

Tomorrow, I am seriously thinking of sneaking one in from a bakery not too far from here. For today -- I "suffer" with what's here.





After breakfast, I set out on my usual stroll. It always, always starts with the park and this time, there's no question -- Le Jardin du Luxembourg has top priority. It is without doubt my favorite spot in all of Paris.

Walk with me!

(Past the Senate, with an abundance of tulips...)





(Your one view of the Eiffel Tower on this trip...)






(Pink primroses!)






(Quiet paths...)






(Daffodils, past their peak even as in Wisconsin, we haven't even seen the green tip of the emerging stalks...)






(Do they call these California poppies, even though they're in Paris? In a field of yellow primroses...)






I crisscross the park and emerge (as always) right next to the bee hives. They warn you not to walk on the grass here. There are lots and lots of bees!






From here I take the western exit and head to a shop that has enchanting stuff for children and adults. It's sort of eclectic and it's tiny! But it's a great place to poke into because it's at once French and a touch exotic (It's called Le Petit Souk).

And from there, I turn back toward the river. Again, so typical. A route that I repeat again and again. I can't explain why. It just feels good, offering variety, a few "poke in" stores to see what's cookin' in the city, plenty of flower shops to admire...






Lovely streets, so Parisian, each with its own character.






As I get closer to the posh Left Bank department store (which this time I do not enter), I cross paths with many posh looking Parisians. I want you to look carefully at their feet (in the two pics below).










That's right! After decades of poking fun at Americans and their shoes, Parisians have quietly come around: athletic shoes are now accepted attire even among the most carefully groomed. (Of course, not just any athletic shoes. But still, what a turnaround!)

And the sun keeps on shining. There's a lift in spirits, a bounce in the step.

It's all heavenly. Simply put -- heavenly.

By the time I'm ready to close the loop, I notice that it's lunch time and lo! I happen to be in the neighborhood of my favorite lunch place! What a surprise.

I know I promised a new eatery for today, but it wont be at lunch timne. I mean, I'm right by the Cafe Varenne and though it's more crowded than I have ever seen it, the genial waiter finds me a tiny table by the window.

I don't even look at the menu: when he tells me the day's special, I know I'm set. White asparagus with prosciutto and slivers of parmesan. It's spring pickings in the city!






And of course, they do have the world's best lemon tart. So I take that as well.





A few more pokes into familiar shops and then I head back to my hotel. I dump any purchases, drink many gulps of water and head out again. I bought a ticket for a 3:30 entrance to an art event (you can buy it for any hour on the half hour). It's for the Atelier Lumieres presentation of Van Gogh's work, through floor to ceiling images that move and grow and quiver and float, all this is set to music. It is intense!

The goal is to immerse you in the paintings in such a way that you begin to feel the artist's pain and effort and talent from within.






It's crowded, but the space is huge and people settle in everywhere to watch -- on the floor, on steps, standing, sitting, leaning -- however it is that you want to do it.





Typically, I like art in serene settings. And honestly, I can't say that I loved the hour that I spent with Van Gogh. It was a little too intense.

Yet I did not want to leave. I sat through a whole cycle and then a few minutes into its repeat in this dark space, despite the gorgeous weather outside. I've loved Van Gogh's paintings all my life and I suppose I felt this was a good way to add another dimension to my viewing of his art.

I'm no longer feeling like I must walk everywhere in Paris. Since the Van Gogh presentation was a bit of a distance from the center of the city, I took a couple of metros. Hey, I broke out of my habit of staying only on the Left Bank!


In the evening, I do indeed try a new place -- one recommended by the person at my hotel who likes to write restaurant reviews. Here's a twist -- it is completely vegetarian and it views itself also as mildly Italian, so I'm on a roll! (It's called Sense Eat.)

Though Ed and I almost never eat meat, I am not a vegetarian and when I travel and trust the kitchen to source its meats and seafood well, I love to try out dishes that I normally would not serve at home. Still, I'm curious to see if the Italian-French chef can pull off an exciting menu. (Surely the main courses sound original!)

Verdict? I'll let you know tomorrow!

springtime in Paris

When I was much younger, in travel, I never worried much about anything. I planned overnights in advance (I wasn't as free spirited as some of you are!) and assumed I would somehow get to them. Without the internet, I could not look at local train departure times, though I did become friends with a travel agent who had the train bible: the German edition of European train schedules, updated every half year. Still, there was only so much I could hound him. Typically I made decisions as I moved along. Rarely did I get stuck somewhere without a way to get to my final destinations. Well,  except famously twice, with my sister, on the same trip: in the middle of the night in Turkey and in the middle of nowhere in Sicily. I was the one who had planned the trip and she was a good sport about my oversights. We begged rides and we got them.

These days, there is a heck of a lot of information online and so I coordinate travel in advance. It does save time and worry. Except when it doesn't. It turns out that you can still make mistakes, delays are always possible (and in some countries probable), strikes can wipe out needed connections.

So what are you gonna do, stay home? You roll with it. Despite it all, I have never had to sleep in the gutter overnight. (Ed has done it, but in his case it was by choice.)

*     *     *

Today is a half day of travel. It should be fairly easy. I wake up after a good night's sleep. Yes, really! A full seven hours of it! It's a beautiful day again. I look outside and see... Whiskers?? They have Maine Coons here, in Italy??






I go down to breakfast. I start in on the sidekick plate of Italian goodies, including their ubiquitous croissant with creme patisserie.





Do I want an avocado toast with bread again? Well, okay, though I have to leave in twenty minutes.
Okay, no problem.

You should always exaggerate time for the Italians. Unfortunately, I only exaggerated by five minutes. I love the staff of this B&B, but they are not ones to be rushed. After a nearly twenty minute wait, I excuse myself.
Oh, but here it is!
I take a bite, confirm the credit card payment and once again ask for assurance that the station on my train ticket is the same she points to on the map. (I move through a travel day confirming this, confirming that...)
But the name is different! 
Don't worry, it's the same. 

I leave, with no time to spare.

(In case you ever want to find the incredibly beautiful, hospitable, artsy-funky and totally hidden Palazzo Albricci Pelegrini in Como -- this is the entrance. No sign, no indication of what lies within.)






I walk very very briskly (there's always time for a photo, no?)...






Admiring the primroses once more, though these are potted.






And I turn to the station and it is the correct one! Though unfortunately, it's up a long flight of stairs.

All this to say I get on the train with only one minute to spare.

I exhale and watch the typical Italian countryside whizz by outside the window.






It's true that I still may have made my flight had I missed the train. But it would have required combining, spinning around other connections, possibly spending money.  It's a reminder that in travel, you really cannot count on a smooth transition from point A to point B. I remember when my son-in-law wondered why we got to the Paris airport so very, very early on our last trip there together. Because! With kids, you have to put up with boring waits in order to avoid to the best of your ability anxious runs.

*     *     *

If I imagined myself to be a mountain goat last time we flew over the Alps, this time I felt like a proper chamois -- we were that close to the rocky summits. (I would guess this is because the Alps come so quickly after take off from Milan.)




I'm sure that's the Matterhorn, with it's pronounced peak. Italy to the south, Switzerland to the north.




It was one of those highly uneventful flights. The tricky part was the ever unpredictable Paris airport. We were, upon arrival, redirected to passport control, where we waited a good half hour. Perhaps longer. This was especially irritating to people who hop back and forth between Paris and Milan with some frequency. Both Italy and France are Schengen countries and so people are used to having had these protocols be a thing of the past. Still, immigration issues and terrorism concerns occasionally close some borders between some countries within the EU. It's as if someone threw a fence right in front of a herd of sheep used to moving at a trot through the fields. 

The populace was not happy.

The airport staff did not exactly pull off a smooth process and tempers were thus inflamed on both sides. "Take it up with the Minister of the Interior!" "Just wait until Brexit, if you want to see real delays!" "France does not like Italy!" -- all were heard, all were expressed with some passion.

Followed by laughter. You have to hand it to the French -- oftentimes, after the hiss of steam comes the laughter.


*     *     *

I cannot recall a time when, upon alighting from the commuter train station in Paris, right there in front of the gate to the Luxembourg Gardens, I would not sport a smile! In March, there are always some signs of spring in this city, but this year, after an especially mild winter, spring has really sprung. I am just delighted!

I cut through the park, suitcase and all.






It's thrilling to see this burst of rhapsodic color! Green grasses, sprouted buds, flowers -- this is what awaits us all! And I have this preview, and the weather is just fine. It's a good time to be in Paris.






At my beloved little hotel, I am offered a room with a balcony. I doubt that one can do much of anything there right now (hence the room's availability, I'm sure), but still, the possibility is enchanting.

(View from balcony)






(View from bed)





In the evening, I'd booked a dinner at Cucina Mutualite. Yes, it's a funny choice, coming as I am from Italy. But, when I made the booking I was looking for something close (its a 13 minute walk), reliably good, and not too fussy. Cucina gets a check mark on all counts. Yes, it's a repeat for me, but I will try a new place tomorrow. I promise!

In the mean time, I love my pasta, my fish, and I admit it -- my negroni cocktail to start the whole meal.

I walk back with a bounce. No one loves the season that begins today more than I do. No one.

Happy, happy spring! (And to friends from down under -- just six more months to go! It's worth waiting for.)