Friday

Yesterday felt weird, schedule wise. No routine to follow, no child to pick up, no afternoon walk in the county park. So what happens the day after a weird day? I'm happy to say that we return to a normality of sorts. True, yesterday's pileup of slushy snow has now turned into a thick cover of ice, but it will melt soon, so we don't worry about it. Too much. I had urged (okay, nagged) Ed to clear a path for essential movement to and from the barn, but that was a huge mistake. Icy snow would have been easier to navigate than what remains -- a ribbon of rippled ice.

If we are to break bones this winter, it is likely to be today.

The sun is brilliant, the chickens mistakenly think it's spring, life is good.

Breakfast -- still with beautiful flowers. I mean, really beautiful flowers! Makes you want to build a greenhouse and grow your own winter blossoms. (That's been on my list of suggestions for a while. But it's a huge project, so the likelihood of it moving forward is, well, near zero.)

Despite the pretty sunshine and not too cold temperatures, we know a walk in the park is not an option for us. Too much ice. We will have to give that a pause until it all melts. And skiing? Honestly, I think we are done for the year.

Still, there's stuff to do! City stuff. Since I moved to the farmette, I turned my back on much of Madison. I have become one of those retired faculty persons who never ventures to campus, and who rarely hangs out in the blocks surrounding the university. As so often in my life, I flipped from one environment to the next and I haven't looked back.

But today I reclaim some parking passes (retired faculty can park on campus several times each month), I peek at the lake by the university...

... I glance at the street that links the campus with the Capitol...

And I let my memories take hold as I drove along streets that were once my everyday stomping ground. 

Even in the short while that I've been (mostly) away -- oh, about a dozen years -- things have changed. Robots now scoot along the sidewalk making food deliveries. New building go up, new facilities are developed to aid in the learning process, new housing units appear in fancy high rise buildings -- so different than the rentals you'll get in neglected old houses with tattered couches on the porch that announce to the world "students live here!"

I drive a little aimlessly, remembering my more rushed existence, liking my slower pace. Somehow I wind up by a bakery -- Bloom, on Monroe Street. I cannot resist the breads, the cookies...

All this is quite lovely really. I tell myself I should feel the urban pulse more often. I live right by a very nice city. I should remember that.

[And as if to add an exclamation point to that remark, I read in the NYTimes today that Madison is in the top five in the country in terms of "best places to live for minimalists!" Wonder what that means? Read about it here.]

Just after noon, Ed and I go out for a walk -- along a built up road, this one hugging the shores of Lake Waubesa. Not quite urban, but still, not our usual forest walk!

And then I pick up Snowdrop.

I am dismayed that at the farmhouse, she wants to read a DogMan book (one that has been read here way too much, if you ask me). 

She thinks I don't like it for its references to pooping, peeing and all those other supposedly irreverent functions. Not true. I don't like it because it's repetitive and dumb. Still, I get her reluctance to pick up the Penderwicks books again (the children in it lost their mother to cancer). She has a firm line drawn between novels she willingly reads and those she resists: if someone dies in it, she'll avoid it. Indeed, today in the car, we were talking about my book again. Our neighbor had just borrowed it from the library and mentioned it in his visit today (he came to tell us that one of our trees was about to fall on top of his house.... fair point! It's kind of leaning in that direction). I mumbled something to her about someday reading it and she asked -- does anyone die in it? A minute later, she takes it in another direction:  do you love (insert her nickname for Ed here) more than anyone? 

I reply -- I love him tons, but I also love other people tons. My daughters and grandkids come to mind. 

So why did you say he was the one who helped you most in writing the book? (She, like so many others, read the acknowledgement section ever so carefully!)

Because he did. He was there, every day, encouraging, supporting. I'm sure your mommy and your aunt would have done that too, had they spent as much time with me, every day, as he did.

Well I spend time with you every day and I would have encouraged and helped you too if you had just told me that you were writing it! She cannot forget that she found out about the book after it was already published. It's up there with telling her Groundhog Day was just a made-up story. A real error of judgement on the part of her gaga!

Because it is a beautiful, if a bit nippy day, I ask her if she wants to check out the skating rink Ed and I discovered downtown last Sunday. I am surprised to hear her say yes. Typically she is too tired to do something that active late in the afternoon.

We are in a bit of a hurry, because I am to drop her off with her dad and brothers by 5:30. Still, despite the drive and the slight rush, she is absolutely enthralled with the set up! An inside space (warm!) to put on skates! One that serves snacks! A fire pit outside! Trees with twinkling lights! A rail to hold on to! 

The big grin never left her face!

We didn't have time to go down to the lake to watch them raise the Statue of Liberty from the ice, but hey, I pointed it out in the distance and Snowdrop recognized the torch. Can you spot it?

And there you have it! A day with a lot of bells and whistles. And slippery spots. And love...

Thursday

Wet, gloppy, heavy snow. A lot of it, too.  It is such a burden for those having to drive, that schools closed today. At the last minute.

The snowfall began (switching over from a night of rain) just as I set out to feed the animals.

And very quickly it piled up on the walkway, and clung to the tree branches. We watched it come down over breakfast, grateful that we were in no hurry to go out in it.

I'd ordered a grocery delivery for late this morning and so I felt compelled to shovel a path for the poor delivery person who's forced to navigate a slushy slippery mess out there. Heavy as it is to clear, I have to say, it is awfully pretty to look at!

From all sides!

(down the driveway...)

But wet and slippery. The kids are home and I promised that if the roads were drivable, I would come out for a short visit. To give the parent on duty a reprieve for a bit.

I set out, crawling and sliding along a messy highway. But, it's worth it! I get to spend time with all three today!

(studying his book about Number Blocks... what else?)

(stealing the book I finished reading with Snowdrop...)

(settling in to tell her own stories...)

(the brothers descend... Gaga, can you maybe read a book to them so that they would leave my set up alone?)

(the thing is that once I start reading to Sparrow, Snowdrop decides she wants to listen in, and once the two of them are in my lap, Sandpiper is not far behind...)

(photo gratias my daughter)

And in the afternoon I come back home. Lovely views at every turn! 

(At the farmhouse, the quintessentially cosy snack: warmed up half of a croissant with milky coffee)

The snow will be with us for a day or two and then boom! It will melt once again. Typical early spring weather, even if we are still in early February!

Wednesday

It's been said by many:  if you want to stay sharp and avoid the sclerotic thinking so often associated with older age, engage the younger world. Listen to their take on things. Laugh at their humor, be open to their ideas. 

My day was delightfully filled with younger people's stories and perspectives. Not bad, for a middle of the week February day that so many would associate with dreariness and stagnation.

First, though, the usual.

(all hens are now moving around despite the occasional snowy ice patch)

This morning, I see that we have a visit by Pancake. We still do not know if she is feral, but she is here a lot, at the same time that she is terribly afraid of humans. We try to feed her, but most often she runs at the sight of us.

Breakfast, but very very "lite," because we have an early lunch before us. Old people can only eat so much!

I have a haircut then. It has been half a year and I need a trim. The woman who cuts my hair is my daughters' age and she is full of bounce and stories today. She's a mother of a young one, I'm a grandmother of several young ones and some of them happen to go to the same school as her child. Common ground, despite the age difference: there is much to share and compare. And I learn a lot on yet another person's honest and oftentimes amusing take on the whole job of raising a little one. 

Okay, hair is cut...

I drive to pick up Ed and we head out for a lunch at the Weary Traveler. We are a foursome -- with two people from Tormach in addition to the two of us. All those machine designers and software people! Why was I included? Well,  because one of them, a newbie, is (freshly) from Poland.

I sometimes get frustrated with Poles from my generation, but young people so often leave me reeling with hope --  with their determination, their vision for their lives, their almost poetic connection to nature, family, their respect for age -- all of it. So lunch is a total delight.

And then I quickly drop Ed at home and go off to pick up Snowdrop. On the ride home, we review our days and then settled comfortably into a discussion of the sunshine, the lovely warm air outside, the coming of spring. And then she tells me -- but of course, the Groundhog saw his shadow so...

I say the first thing that comes to my head -- you know that that's just a fun saying we tell ourselves? The groundhog's shadow doesn't really predict the coming of spring, right?

She looks at me with that reproachful look that kids are capable of throwing your way: Gaga, I know about the tooth fairy, about the Easter Bunny, but this? You ruined the Groundhog for me!

Really? Oh oh... I'm so sorry! Who knew that the Groundhog story mattered!

Yep, ruined it!

Thinking back, I'm wondering if maybe I did her a favor: if she thought the groundhog was going into hiding for the next six weeks, she should be relieved to know that actually spring may come before that, our February 2nd sunshine to the contrary, notwithstanding. Still feeling apologetic, I promised her compensation in the form of a whole half of my coveted fresh croissant, which I'd picked up earlier on our drive home from lunch.

Perhaps you'll have noticed the bouquet? Flowers arrived today for Valentine's Day! Well, that's not totally true -- they are in anticipation of Valentine's Day because I picked this time to have them here. They are a free gift from the flower company that had sent me a bouquet I had ordered for my holiday table way back in December, when the Amaryllis refused to grow. I dont know if you remember our December, but it was in fact one long Arctic blast. It killed half the flowers in the bunch that was delivered, and the company promised me a freebie at the date of my choice. And so once again, I have a free and beautiful spray of roses on the kitchen table!

Except for a brief check in with Ed...

... Snowdrop and I spend the afternoon reading almost to the end of the book that has held us both captive to its story line for several days (The Penderwicks). I remember being equally enthralled reading some books to my daughters at this age. Excellent stuff that made me feel so grateful that my daughters indulged my love of reading out loud to them. It's hugely wonderful to have a chance to do this all over again with the grandkids.

To be old, yet still a friend to those half, or a third or a tenth of your age is truly fantastic.

I am so very appreciative!

with love...

Tuesday

This is when spring weather can turn ugly: pelting rain, with periods of sleet. The snow melts, but patches of slick ice remain. In case you'd like to avoid sliding on one, say because you value your neck and would like to keep bones in working order, you have the option of squishing your shoe instead into wet mud. At the farmette, that mud can run deep. We have no poured asphalt anywhere. Our walkway to the house is made of laid bricks on soft soil. Our driveway starts off with a short stretch of gravel but then rapidly deteriorates into a cover of wood chips which, for the most part, have decomposed, so -- more mud. Ed has promised to take out most of that muddy dirt come spring and replace it with freshly poured chips, but for now, we will have a late winter and an early spring of a heck of a lot of mud.

We are only a few days into February, but it sure does feel like we are moving in the direction of spring. There was a significant melting of the snow base overnight (with periods of rain) and this process will continue all week. I mean, I like early spring, but honestly, all this seems a little premature. 

(morning walk: oh, hi girls! back to leaving droppings our walkway, are you?)

Still, the smell of wet soil is potent and the markers of early spring are never anything but grand. The animals are happy. I'm happy.

But breakfast is quick and squeezed in between two long Zoom meetings that keep Ed busy from before sunrise until noon. 

I do house chores. Believe me, there are many.

In the afternoon, Snowdrop is here, briefly.

We get so lost in our book that I have us panting to make up the time afterwards to get ready for ballet. It is infuriatingly disconcerting not to know how the story will unfold and Snowdrop and I spend the car ride to ballet speculating what ending to the family saga would be appropriate. (There are five books in the series and so it will be a while before we find out.) We are not allowed to cheat and look ahead, though we can give ourselves hints by peaking at the back covers. She peaked at one, I "innocently glanced" at another and so between the two of us we have hints and then plenty of imagination to take the story in wild directions.

Ballet class: putting on her ballet slippers as only a young kid can do it -- in midair.

I have been watching kids do ballet for more than 15 years. Typically I track daughters' and now grandkids' progress with some care. But Covid interrupted that. First dancing was interrupted, then, when it resumed, the waiting room with the one-way  viewing window was too crowded, so I retreated. I'm still a bit in retreat. I spend most of the time on a bench in a hallway reading. But today I peeked and I had my camera and so I'll include two pics from class. I'll say this much -- Snowdrop surely looks serious about whatever it is that she is reenacting. 

Evening: Ed and I eat eggs (there are so many! the Bresse girls are such solid layers, even in the winter!) and then catch up on news of the day, wishing there was some way to make easier the lives of those in the Ukraine, in Turkey, in Syria. All we can do is take out our credit cards and keep giving. Places that I found easy to work with today: Oxfam (works with local partner organizations providing water, food, shelter and eventually reconstruction), and GlobalGiving (medicine, food, shelter, mental health support). 

With love...

Monday

Sometime in mid August you realize that the summer season is coming to an end. Oh, it'll be hot as hell for a few more weeks, maybe longer. And there are blooms still before us, and we'll eat breakfast on the porch for at least another month, but still, the summer is wrapping up, looking around for suitcases to start packing, because soon it will be time to move on.

We are nearing that time in February, when winter is cresting and small signals begin to appear, telling us that winter is looking for its own suitcases! 

More songbirds in the yard.

More days when the chickens are on the march.

(hey, I already laid my egg in the garage!)

(2 sisters...)

And soon, we'll hear the cranes, returning from their snow bunny days in Alabama. (Read a beautiful piece about their migration in today's paper here!). One of only two crane species native to North America, the sandhill crane, is our Constant Spring and summer companion. Our wetlands are their playground. Our cornfields their dinner party. Poor is an afternoon when we don't see them, rare is the morning when we don't hear their gargled cry. Soon, I can feel it in the air: they're coming home soon.

Breakfast is again with unusual blooms: I had purchased an amaryllis bulb in mid November. Holiday blooms for our family gatherings! Or so I thought. The bulb stayed dormant. Looked dead, to be honest. Still, I watered it weekly, mostly because it was there, on the sill, next to other plants. May as well.

Three months later it sprouts and very quickly produces beautiful flowers! A little late for Christmas, but perfect for Valentine's Day!

And speaking of Valentine's Day, Ed and I finally set out to our favorite local chocolatier for a box of yummy chocolates. Happy Valentine's Day, Ed! Happy Valentine's Day, gorgeous. No new cards this year -- Ed is very big on recycling old ones. Same message after all!

Not too far from the chocolate making place, there is a segment of the Ice Age Trail. We'd never hiked it before, perhaps because it isn't exactly a stunning segment of the trail. Still, it's good enough. Fields and forests and a rapidly encroaching new development to the side.

In the afternoon, I bring Snowdrop to the farmhouse.

Shoes off, socks off (she has her habits!)...

A glance over to see what Ed is up to...

And then we read. The book is a fantastic read-aloud story (actually there are five volumes, so we'll be at it for a while), because there are so many great characters to give voice to, and so we lose ourselves in it for the entire afternoon.

Evening. Time to take her back to her family. Such a beautiful sunset!

And it continues, even after I turn around to drive home.

Can you blame me for pulling over, just to watch?

Each season has its fantastic finale. This one belongs to winter: a grand string of sunsets, one day at a time.

P.S. Here are a few links I found useful for helping those in both Turkey and Syria: Doctors Without Borders, CARE, UNICEF -- targeting Syrian children right now.

With love....