Chicago Getaway

So it isn't a weekend in the Caribbean. Not even in Arizona or wherever else they have luxurious spas where people think peaceful thoughts and wear cucumber slices over their eyes all day. But it's ours and it's glorious! A slightly attenuated (but we don't mind!) weekend with my daughters!

*     *     *

I do a quick run through morning chores, not bothering to check for buds (no time!), but loving the March feel to the air anyway...

We eat a rather early for us breakfast...

And then I'm off to pick up my older girl. Let's put on the music and get going, to Chicago!

*     *     *

We arrive just in time for lunch.

Though one goal for us big girls is to spend time together, as a threesome, an equally important purpose of being here is to check in on the two granddaughters (or nieces). My March visit with them! 

It feels like I haven't seem them for ages, though they all smile at that -- I was just here three weeks ago. Still! Ages!

But in the later afternoon, the kids retreat for their naps, and my daughters and I head out. It's spa time!

We allow ourselves to be pounded all over with super restorative massages and once again I tell myself that if I were infinitely wealthy, I'd pick weekly massages over getting a cleaning service for the farmhouse -- that's how good I think these kneading and rubbings are! 

My back pounder was a guy named Bill and he seemed so competent that I had to ask toward the end -- have you been doing this for a long time? Oh, years and years! And in fact, last year, I did a total of 1253 massages! Impressive.

*     *     *

My older girl and I booked a room at a downtown hotel. Just to make it feel even more like a getaway to some distant place. (We're at the Sofitel.) The three of us go there now -- to check in, to freshen up, to get ready for dinner, to look out at the view.

And since we have a short while before our dinner reservation, we go down to the lounge  and have a drink. Yes, right, it's all rather a blur now!

*     *     *

And now we Uber over for dinner. My two daughters and me, at Elske Restaurant, which describes itself as "a low key spot ... offering menus of creative American fare with Danish influences" focusing on "simplistic fare, seasonal ingredients and energetic hospitality."  (Elske in Danish means "to love" --- how incredibly appropriate!) David and Anna Posey are the chefs -- she is in charge of pastry. Both have racketed up the awards over the years for their incredible talents.

One is tempted to do the tasting menu when one eats in special places. You needn't stress then about what to order -- the best of the best is presented to you.

It's all great. The flavors are uniquely subtle and exotic, all at the same time.

Every dish is creative and wonderful.

Indeed, the whole evening is superb, as of course it was going to be. The three of us together -- it feels like we are all just starting out on life and yet, he we are established and secure and happy in our families, partnerships, love. 

We spend a long time bringing up childhood memories for review and reconsideration. "And remember when" -- these were common words for us today. And we did remember. Poignantly, and with a great deal of affection. And laughter.

*     *     *

From there, my younger girl returns home and my older girl and I return to a downtown hotel. The room with a view, more or less (I did not splurge here. We're not here long enough to gaze out and admire much of anything.)

Such a day! Among the best. Yes, yes, the best of the best is when all your beloveds are around the same table, but this moment in time felt downright superb!

And with so much love!

weekend away?

A few months ago I had a terrific idea. Well, a theoretically terrific idea: I asked my daughters -- how about if us three grown girls go away somewhere together, so that we're not always trying to catch up with everything while kids are in our midst?

Theoretically a gem of an idea! If only they didn't work and have family to think about and commitments spilling left and right. When we got down to actually imagining how this might work, everything became very muddled and complicated. A getaway would add stress rather than taking away some of it.

But then we came up with something else: what if my older girl and I came down to Chicago for the weekend and we would do some family stuff with the Chicago young family, and, too, some "just me and my daughters" stuff throughout. 

We agreed on the date (this weekend), the Chicago girl came up with our meal plan, I found some massages that would almost make us feel as we'd gone to some spa in Arizona, the dads would hold down the fort with the kids -- we were set!

Then came the weather forecast.

Winter storm to hit Chicago today, at exactly the time we are to drive down. Is that bad luck or what???

Last night I made the decision to postpone our departure by a day. It's one thing to drive myself into a storm, it's another to take my daughter along with me. Ah well: we lose a day. We will adjust: we'll go early tomorrow and squeeze everything into a 24 hour period! Still, as I write this, I am hugely aware of the fact that we should be in Chicago. Right now. Darn it.

Up here in the Madison, Wisconsin area, we're not getting any of that storm. It's basically cool, brown and cloudy and it will be thus for the next bunch of days. Nothing to write home about, but not too bad either, considering it's only early March. And every day now, I am on the prowl for signs of emergent life on farmette lands. Here's today's find: crocus tips!

To cheer myself up this morning, I pick up some baked goods at Madison Sourdough.

For breakfast. With Ed.

And then we roll through a very normal weekday at the farmette, except that I do include a swing over to the playground, so I can practice some hanging. No, I'm not suddenly more powerful than a locomotive, but I'm sure my upper body has roused itself from the stupor of older age and is getting ready for action. Maybe.

And speaking of hanging -- Ed hired someone to bring down some tree limbs that are hanging over our neighbor's house. They came today to do the job.

That's fine, but I am so sorry that tree trimming did not include removing limbs hanging over my Big Bed. With each year, the flowers there are less abundant since they are no longer picking up their requisite 6 hours of sunlight. Ed knows this, but getting him to agree to clear the overhang is another matter. Even threats that I will abandon flower growing altogether (said emnphatically!) don't work. He hates cutting down trees or branches. Somewhere in his head is the notion that trees have feelings. Or some plant life aspirations. Or something.

And in the afternoon Snowdrop is here...

On the ride home, we talk about friends. Ones who wont allow you to express hurt. Snowdrop is rapidly getting to the age where you need your smarts more than your physical strength to help her navigate life's hurdles. She is also at an age where she welcomes helpful advice. So I give her some. One thing you might try is phrasing things in terms of yourself and not the other person. She sighs. Gaga, I know that! And it doesn't work! She just retorts that if I don't like what she does then I can find another friend to play with.

Wow. I'm out of suggestions and I'm dealing with an eight year old! I suddenly remember that moment in my daughter's lives when they presented me with unsolvable problems and I thought -- why did I ever think it would be easier once they slept through the night and knew how to cut their own food?

(Pajama day at school)

And in the evening, I pack my bag for tomorrow's overnight trip. And I'll tell you what else will be packed to the hilt: my day tomorrow! Expect a very abbreviated post!

with love...

Thursday

I ask Ed -- do you think we could install a hanging bar? They're only $20 and the article on aging and fitness says that they are monumentally effective in building and maintaining upper body strength!

Ed, who has been struggling with his own knee issues looks over his computer screen skeptically. Cant you just walk over to the monkey bars at the playground and hang there? 

That's a ten minute walk! Each way. You need to do this regularly!

You want one up in the barn? 

I feel like if I hang from a barn beam, I'll bring the whole structure down. That place looks to me like it's ready to topple any day now. Besides, the air there is polluted with chicken dust. I share my wisdoms on this with Ed. He grunts and goes back to his computer work.

The fact it that we are always innovating in the way we move in the course of our daily routines. Come summer time, my flower fields keep me busy: squatting, heaving dirt, and pulling weeds uses muscle groups I didn't even know existed. But in the non growing seasons, we need to get creative. Neither of us likes tedious repetition. Boredom is a horrible partner to most forms of exercise. Doing pool laps? Yawn... Treadmill? Done that, hated it. But hanging seems fun! I decide to give it a whirl, over at the playground, today.

But first, there are the animals to feed. On the upside, the snow on the paths is gone! I mean, it does look dreadfully dismal right now, but you have to remember that these weeks are like Christmas Eve: grand because of the anticipation of what's to come.

On the downside, I see that there has been some fighting here, and I have a terrible feeling it involved an attempt by Pancake to enter the sheep shed. I spot traces of blood at the indoor exit ramp. Darn those territorial cats. Live and let live, you beasts! You all get more than enough food!

Discouraged, I fix breakfast for the two of us. Oatmeal, so long as we're on a day of fitness preoccupation.

And then the monkey bars. The same ones that Snowdrop loves to navigate with alacrity. Me, I hang on for dear life! I can do all of ten seconds on the first try and it goes down to five seconds on the next attempts. I clearly need to dangle more often!

Feeling monumentally stronger, I return home and get back to my computer.

And in the afternoon, Snowdrop is here again.

She has her own ideas as to what photos I should take.

But the very last one, at drop off by her brothers' school, is a real prize and surprise. It is in the city, so the temps are slightly warmer here, but still, it's March 2nd and we have... Snowdrop by snowdrops!

And there you have it -- beauty, in a field of more somber colors. There, if you look for it.

March forward

Yesterday I gave you (those nearing retirement) a sample of a retiree's day. An average one for us, though of course, there's no such thing as average across all demographic categories. People have lifelong issues that they struggle with and they don't magically disappear once you start receiving Medicare or Social Security (for those living in the US).  Today, I think I'll go inside our heads. Because one thing I did not realize before retirement is how much opportunity you have, now that you're not constantly fretting about your job or putting the kids through college, to reinvigorate, or even reshape your mindset. This was a stunning and wonderful realization for me.  To work on becoming more like the person you always wanted to be, but hadn't the time or patience for it. At retirement, both time and patience are there for you. (Well, mostly so.) 

Here's just one domain where you can take some steps: I have read (in a reliable news source, though I dont remember which one) that older people are of two types -- those who feel a burning need to share their accumulated wisdom with those in their purview (these are seniors with a shattering amount of commentary, advice and judgment on the life of another), and then there are those who don't feel that compulsion. And I read that it is a compulsion. If you're in that first camp, you just can't help yourself: every encounter is a new window for you to instruct, to convey events from your life that you believe will inform the next generation (or your peers!) in some fashion on how they should proceed. 

So you have a path to choose right away: will you be in the first camp, or will you concentrate on your own life and spew forth your emergent wisdom only when someone asks you for it? 

I can't say that it moves along a straight line. You may want to share wisdoms but aren't good at it and so you constantly seek to up your advice giving on the theory that the more you talk, the more they'll listen. Or, you may be wanting to stay focused on your own life, but find yourself wondering if sometimes someone is hinting at you to step in and give them some guidance. So it's not an all or nothing deal. But, here's the key for me: I know I am like Ed in at least this one regard: we both like to stay away from reflecting on choices made by friends, family, colleagues. He wont do it even when asked. I'm not so absolute in that regard, but I'm fully aligned with this idea, our idea -- that people's lives are complicated and we, even as older wiser types, are in no position to judge choices made by others. So we don't. And this really feels right for us. How great that we have this choice on how to proceed. And you will have it too. And I'm not going to tell you which is right or wrong, just that you will have that choice!

From there flow any number of consequences: you can choose your focus, too! On the joys in your life, on the aches and pains that are sure to visit you every day, on the seasonal wonders, on anything! And you will be remembered for it: there goes that woman who was obsessed with lupines and liked to plant them every spring! (Remember that kids' book?) Or -- there is that smell of baking blueberry muffins that we so associate it with my grandma's constant baking of blueberry muffins! And how about those pillow fights! (That would be Ed's domain.) I didn't think much about it until I became an older person, but it's true -- the memories you leave behind are ones that you make now. And you have a wide variety of options on what kind you want to construct. 

All this of course is in your head. But there's the beauty of it --you can be creative! It's a new opportunity and I love that it comes late in life and that it is completely yours and there are no rights or wrongs -- you are in charge!

I was thinking about this even before I got up this morning. Ed had come up for a few minutes, but then went right back down, because he is just spinning right now about the steps needed to put his newest design into production mode. Me, I go outside. And now the ratio of ice to mud has shifted! 80% mud and 20% ice! A huge March step forward!

Breakfast: I make blueberry muffins (because lupines do not do that well in our soil). And we devour them at breakfast.

Both Ed and I are still managing knee issues, nonetheless, we put ourselves to the challenge of a short-ish walk. In back of farmette lands.

And coming back, I glance at the road-side bed and I see this:

Wow. Daffodil buds. And it's jut March 1st! Awesome and scary all at the same time!

In the afternoon, Snowdrop is here. She is back to her tree love.

And she is back to her blueberry muffin love. 

And eventually, when I drop her off, and after I pick up our spinach from our winter spinach farmers, I pause to take in the sunset. It's not the most spectacular sunset we've had this winter, but it's a beautiful March 1st sunset and it makes me happy.

Frittata for dinner, with the spinach of course. And lots of eggs, because we have too many eggs! The hens are out of control with their laying. 

What a beautiful beginning to a month that will bring with it spring! Absolutely beautiful!

Tuesday

Some of you may be inching toward retirement. Possibly you may be curious what that stage of your life will look like. Here's a sample day, from the perspective of two average old-ish people:

Morning. Ed and I are lost in our thoughts in bed at sunrise. I'm trying to estimate when I should get going with my farmette chores. He's probably thinking about his machine design. We say, almost simultaneously, "I have an 8:30 appointment." His is a dental one, mine is a regular old doc. I suggest we eat breakfast after all that. He is agreeable.

He tells me -- look out there, isn't that a perfect photo? It is. I take it. It's not perfect. It's not even good. But, so long as I am dangling my camera around my neck (yes, always the heavy one! oh! you think that's why I have a sore neck sometimes? now there's an idea!), I may as well go out to feed the animals. No jacket, wet hair. Brrr! And slippery still! And oh that knee! Time to put on the brace once more!

Back inside, he's off, I'm off, I'm back, he's back. Would you like oatmeal? Yes! One cat comes in, another goes out. This happens over and over again. You cannot sit still with these monsters pestering you to open the door for them.

I have my next appointment then. I timed grocery delivery for just after, except they deliver the bags early. He's on a Zoom meeting with his machine design. I unpack the perishables and then go off. I see that there is no way in hell that I can now make my 10:30, so I call them to apologize. I will be ten minutes late! 

No you wont, she tells me. Your appointment is at 11:30. 

Damn. I wrote it in incorrectly. Or she wrote it in incorrectly. I'm not going to probe into that. I spin the car around and go home. And then set out again.

Just before I go off (again), I notice  a big stain on the ceiling of the art room. Ed, his back and knee not withstanding, climbs up on the roof (in my absence) and finds... actually not a whole lot, since the roof is still iced over. We put it off for another inspection later.

Snowdrop has a different schedule today: I pick her up earlier, at her doc's appointment. No problem! I can bring her to the farmhouse earlier! 

We'll have more time to read. 

And then I set myself up to do her hair for ballet. Off we go!

I dare dash out during her class to do some errands in the neighborhood. What the heck. Live dangerously! And after class I take her home.

Evening. I pull into our super muddy driveway (I mean, you could not possibly believe how deep and squishy the mud is! Ed promises he will fix it come real springtime) and I come in, relieved that I have leftover soup from Saturday's prep for supper. All I need to add is a salad.

Day is done! So, you think you can handle that? Sure you can! And if I can offer a suggestion: bookmark your days with a calm breakfast and a supper filled with veggies and gratitude. For all that keeps you busy. For all the help you can offer to those who need it. And perhaps for the cheer that you can bring into someone else's life. 

With love...

Monday

At night the rain pounded windows from all directions. Lightening flashed, the wind howled. We had one thought -- surely the ice outside will melt!

Stubborn ice: it did not melt. The landscape is a Dalmation pattern of mud and ice. The paths are slippery, even as the rain keeps coming down.

This, of course, is what early spring looks like. I keep lighting candles and thinking up ways to make breakfast even more cozy. Today, for example, though we have reheated croissants, I bring out my tiny jar of jam made from Savoie wild blueberries. Heaven!

We talk about Pancake. She (he?) appears to be now a farmette fixture. Here every day, hanging out in the barn in bad weather, meowing by our door when hungry (then scampering away when we move toward her). Clearly we have got ourselves a seventh cat.

The issue is of course whether we should try to trap her and spay her. She is far more skittish than the others. Too, how do we set the trap for just her, without luring the others into it? Moreover, are we sure she isn't somebody's cat? We now have a whole development of houses nearby. She could be hanging here for the excitement and some additional food. The more we see her, the more we doubt that she has owners. Still, we need to spend some time observing and figuring out the next step. The other cats aren't fighting her, but nor are they thrilled with her now constant presence. We'll see where this all takes us.

The rain is breaking up my string of high energy walking days, but this is probably a good thing. The knee right now is very unhappy. Ed says it just needs a rest. The doc had said "do as much as feels right." None of this provides clear answers as to how much I can use it, but I have to say, the rainy pause is a welcome event. 

I pick up a radiant Snowdrop: I love this rainy weather! -- she proclaims. Sweet child always punches away at the roadblocks to happiness.

I ask her about her day. About the recesses. About the boy she sits next to. He's been dueling with her (playfully) for months now. 

Oh, we got a new seating chart today. Now I'm sitting next to R (a boy) and across from A (another boy).

You're surrounded by boys!

Turns out this is a good thing, in her estimation. She likes them, they like her. It's a more straightforward relationship than with many of the girls, who are already jockeying toward establishing their territorial spaces. I mumble something about her having experience with boys, what with two brothers at home. 

She pipes in -- And (insert nickname for Ed) at the farmette! 

Considering that they often play punching games or worse, I'm not sure I'd view him as an inspiring model on how to treat boys, but to her, he is a confidence builder. If she can handle big strong Ed at the farmhouse, she can certainly manage little A and R back in her classroom.

This afternoon though, we don't have him here to mess with. He's picking up fifty pound bags of cracked corn at Farm and Fleet for the cheepers. You'd think this would be a bit much for a guy who's just come off of some knee and back issues. You would be wrong.

Sunday

I came downstairs at my usual morning hour and found Ed sprawled on the floor with a pillow under his back. It's not unusual for him to spend the better part of the night downstairs, working, napping, working some more until he feels he's done enough. Sometimes he'll come up to bed at dawn. He's not a guy driven by what the clock expects from the rest of us: he is his own scheduler. But on the floor? With that telltale pillow? That's unusual.

Turns out he had done something to his knee while I was away and somehow that injury lead to a back problem and though he thought he'd put it behind him, his injuries, or sprains, or old age had other ideas. Basically, at the moment, the guy's a mess.

Well okay. He can rest. Unless there's a problem, the house is basically my responsibility. While he huddles under the quilt, I can go about my business.

Except there's a problem.

It's a beautiful morning and I'm feeling light hearted and bouncy going to the barn. But wait -- what's that big object in our animal trap? A raccoon? The size of a bear?? Oh boy.

We have a place where we can transport animals to, but it's far. More importantly, I hate getting near these large snarling beasts. I know that they can't get at me through the cage, but still...

I come back to review with him the options. If he can get himself to the car, I can wheel the monster over and we can both drive to the release point. Then he can open the door while I hide inside the car. Or, in the alternative, I suppose we can go to our neighbor's who likes to shoot invaders and have him blast the raccoon to smithereens. Those appear to be our choices.

While Ed assesses his movement capabilities, I drive over to Madison Sourdough. Surely this morning deserves a breakfast of delicious pastries!

Just as good as those in France!

When I pull into our driveway, loaded down with croissants, cinnamon rolls and a baguette, I see that Ed's car is gone. He clearly is not one to take his aches and pains seriously. Somehow he managed to load the dinosaur into the car. I can't say that I am disappointed!

That and breakfast are about all the effort he can put forth...

(Dance does a photo bomb...)

He spends the day resting, I do the stuff that needs to be done today, which includes opening my suitcase! It arrived this morning with gracious apologies for its errant behavior!

In the afternoon, I go for a solo walk. It's stunningly gorgeous outside -- just above freezing, plenty of sunshine. The ice on farmette paths is melting beautifully. Life is good! Well, except for the fact that now two people living in the farmhouse have wounded knees! Must be something we ate.

Dinner at the farmette is with the young family. 

(arriving)

(a rare moment where the three find a common interest n a toy)

(hug)

Lovely to have them all here again!

By night time, Ed swears that he is on the mend (ha! I've heard that one before from my own knee discussions!). We happily watch our Clarkson series and munch on chocolates - Valentine's Day, now supplemented by Toblerone squares, since we're mindful of the latest buzz about dark chocolate additives. It's nostalgic for us because we began our life together nearly 18 years ago munching on Toblerone squares in the evening. We've come full circle! Only we're a little bit older and, one hopes, a little bit wiser.

with love...

Saturday

My suitcase decided to have a fling with Paris, partying there for the third day now, showing no intention of hopping on a plane to return home. The beleaguered airline personnel, like parents of a petulant child, offer apologies and even financial payment (all of $100) for their charge's malfeasance, but that does little to bring the kid home where she belongs. I'm hoping that the French will have enough of her defiant stance and send her on her way. I'll keep you posted!

In the meantime, I know I am entitled to additional compensation for articles that I need in the days before our reconciliation and reunion. Of course, I don't really need anything. We none of us really need fresh pairs of pants and shirts every day, but might this be an opportunity to replace some stuff and charge the airline for it? So often in life we are faced with these choices: do we follow the path laid out for us, do we take what's handed out freely, even though we know that we don't actually need the gifted items?  Sigh... I guess I'll stick with my old underwear and ratty corduroy pants when they finally decide they've had enough of the good life in Paris.

Waking up to a weekend, I got hungry for a baked goods breakfast. I asked Ed if I should maybe head out to our old favorite for baguettes and croissants. No, dont bother driving out... But, but... Why dont you bake something?

There's an idea. After feeding the animals...

... and experiencing that joy of a special bird sighting...

... I take out a book I purchased 3 or 4 years ago and never used. This one:

It's a beautiful compilation of stories, photos and recipes and yes, it does have a good number of pages on Savoie cooking. And I see there's a recipe for a Savoie cake. With a suggestion to sprinkle it with blueberries. Well that sounds good!

I'll say this much: it took forever to bake (twice as long as called for, though this may be the fault of using Bresse chicken eggs, which are very very large!), and in the end, it looked way better than it tasted. 

A definite Meh.... Not terrible, but not worth the effort. I'd be better off baking a traditional bundt cake, and yes, I did see bundt cakes -- both in Chamonix and Morzine. I'm sure they were delicious. This one was about as indifferent as you could imagine. (I am a harsh baked goods critic. I'm way too old to put up with indifferent pastries and breads.)

And now the sun comes out and I am reminded of... Chamonix! Sunshine, icy surfaces, temps rising to just above freezing -- the most perfect weather to put yourself outside.

We go for a walk.

The wind picks up a bit, but still, it really is beautiful outside. Lake Waubesa is not completely frozen and we climb onto the pedestrian bridge to watch the swans do their graceful sail across the river that links one lake with the next. Trumpeters probably. Migrating now to Minnesota. 

We hike a bigger loop than usual, just because it feels so good to be walking in this pre-spring weather! I dont know how many dozens, possibly hundreds of times we've walked the trails of this park of ours. It never gets old.

Pre-spring, but nippy out over the lake! We turn in and walk briskly back to the car. 

I'm telling myself that it may be lusciously sunny and bright, but it's still winter. A good day to cook up a pot of soup. All our winter veggies -- onion, carrots and spinach from our winter farmers, squash and tomatoes from our garden, garlic, and the world's best local corn. For dessert? A split chocolate from our Valentine's Day box. 

Who says February doesn't deliver perfect days?!

farmette days

Yep, it was that kind of a return. Once we hit airspace over the US, we got tangled in the delays that sprouted in the days when the weather here was vicious. The plan had been to land in Madison at 8:25. In the end, I landed after midnight and then I had to spend some time waiting in line to file a lost luggage claim. My suitcase appears to have a different opinion as to what constitutes a good solution to air travel this week: it chose to overnight in Paris. 

I did have one piece of luck: I had decided to park in the airport garage. It's $2 more per day and usually it makes absolutely no sense to pay that amount for a roof over your car. Except in the winter. My car was without snow or ice and required no scarping. I was grateful.

When I pulled into the farmette driveway, I recognized the problem: everything is frozen solid. The ice storm did its work!

Ed was alseep. Like the good soul that he is, he did bring in the groceries that had been delivered earlier, but everything was in the wrong place, so I spent a good hour reorganizing my kitchen spaces, while he lay dead to the world on the couch. Dance, happy to see me, kept me company.

By 1:30 am, I finally let go of everything and went to bed.

This morning, my regular routines quickly took charge. It's sunny but very cold and so no melting will take place until later in the weekend. Hello, farmette lands! Hello chickens!

(where have you been?!)

Breakfast: I must say, it feels good to return to oatmeal! And to this guy!

I surely can't do a mountain hike today, but I do want to keep the walking momentum going. There's always that resolve that you bring home after a very active vacation. You dont want to lose that pace, even though eventually you inevitably will slow down. But today, despite the absence of sleep, I want to keep going. 

We go to our park, somewhat apprehensively: ice and snow, mixed together, are a powerful combination and my boot cleats are in the suitcase, probably having a hell of a good time in Paris.

But we manage! On one of the hillier segments Ed sits down and tries sliding down the hill. Not worth it -- he tells me. We continue our careful pace and we make it back without a single broken or twisted limb! Amazing!

And in the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. The girl has had three snow days and two vacation days (for Presidents Day) in the time I've been away, so I have to think a return to some kind of a normal routine is good news for her and for her working parents, whose jobs don't allow for time off for either snow or presidential birthdays.

I surely am happy to see her her again.

She is chatty and downright effervescent. Eventually I remember to ask her about her school day. What subject did you like best today? There is no hesitation in her answer: reading. Not unexpected. I tell her -- I can understand that. We usually like subjects we are good at. She shakes her head -- no gaga, that's not true. I am clever at phonics. I hate it when we do phonics. You like subjects where your whole heart is in them. I stand corrected.

I picked out some Alpine animals for the grandkids. I carried these with me, thinking (oh so correctly, it appears!) that if the suitcase got lost, I'd still have something to hand over to them when I first saw them. I thought she might like a chamois.  I showed her the marmot I got for her older brother. Oh, I love them both! Maybe you could give him one of the animals from the farmhouse pile of stuffies?? No, Snowdrop. He gets the marmot. Can I at least hold both for one minute? Of course.

She and Ed look up the chamois on the Internet to see a realistic depiction.

Toward evening, I drop her off at the Thirsty Goat, where her family often eats dinner on Fridays. It gives me a chance to say hi to her brothers too!

And now I am home. After eating deliciously fresh and mostly creative foods for a whole week, I do nudge myself to veer off the same track of dinner staples. But not today. I need to recover some of those lost sleep hours from the crazy travel delays and early morning departures. I bake fish, whip up a sauce for it, steam asparagus, toss a salad and call it a day.

Yes, it takes no time at all to fall back into all your habits and patterns after you return. Yet I have a bit of Chamonix running through my head and that tells me a lot: it was an important trip. Maybe I should return there someday soon. Maybe I haven't finished the work of getting close to the mountains and the communities that inhabit them. Maybe.

with love...