Wednesday

One more "seize the day" moment. Warm, partly cloudy, lovely. Yesterday, we hit a record high of 70F (21C). Today, we're just a few degrees less than that. (Tomorrow we return to what is properly ours in March: cool, wet, cool, dry, cool wet and so on.) Ed thinks we should aim big today, but I resist anything that has us rushing like kids chasing an ice cream truck. Better to go local, moving gently from one thing to the next. Rushing belongs to those under 70!

The hens are in a good routine. All are back to treating the coop as a home base. 

And the older girls are laying again. Weirdly, one lays huge monster eggs, the other -- small and rather oblong. Same breed, same age, same diet. Different... what? Temperament? We have no idea. The younger foursome spend the day moving between barn and the nearby fir trees. For all that crazy, wild run in every direction on their first free day here, they now seem completely disinterested in venturing out beyond this tiny stretch of land. That's just fine with me. Hiding under the firs is a great way to protect yourself from hawks. 

Walk back from barn: the crocuses! Oh, the crocuses! 

 

 

 

 

 

It's been a stellar year for them. It could be that I planted a good batch of bulbs at the right depth, but honestly, I think it's just the luck of the weather. Crocuses come out early. They'll survive the cold, but their blooms are fragile. We've had no snow, no big storms and rainfalls to topple these guys. Best crocus year ever!

I have more appointments, more errands for this morning. Indeed, I decide that I can lump everything into one neat stack and do it even before breakfast. Including the week's grocery shopping! The reward? I have fresh (grocery store) flowers for the table for our morning meal.

And now for out light walk in the local park.

We choose the longer trail through the woods, which promises a ton of birdsong! Robins, song sparrows, chickadees. Heavenly!

And that's how you quickly move from morning til school pick up time.

 

The kids never play outside during the school year. (They do at home, with neighborhood friends, but not at the farmette.) Still, on great weather days, there's that temptation to do at least a quick run in a field...

Before hurrying inside. 

 

 

 

For the food. And the book. (We're currently reading Greenglass House -- a mystery, a spooky story, with bits of the unreal sprinkled throughout. Even Sparrow, who cannot possibly understand the plot's twists and turns, kept repeating -- this is such a good book!)

 

(All the cats stay outside when the kids come. Too much energy in the house!)

 

 

Evening. A light rain. More to come. 

Soup's on! Feet up. Exhale...

Tuesday

Still warm, still spring-like, still beautiful out there. Uff! The pressure to seize the day is on!

 

 

 

But of course, life throws its own agenda. Chickens, cats, appointments, errands. A trip to the bakery. A morning of all the above.

And yet, how special it is to end up at the tail end of it all, at the breakfast table, with croissants and cinnamon rolls to boot, enjoying the calm of a stunning spring-like day.

 

 

 

We do go out for a walk in our local park. Nothing unusual, nothing too long. The sun is hazy, but the breezes (and there are breezes) are soothing and absolutely delightful, especially since we are not pedaling against their force! Walking into a stiff wind merely pushes the hair out of your face.

More errands, more quick runs, stops, drop offs. Tons of email messages. More appointments to make. Phew! [Here's a tip for you: never, ever schedule a routine CK total blood screening after you've just spent the day biking to and from Paoli. Why? You may walk away convinced that you have a muscle wasting autoimmune disease. At the very least, you'll be told -- let's do some more tests. Far easier to just sit on your butt on the day before. You'll thank me for it!]

And now finally the kids.

On this most splendid day, their moods match the moment.

(I have never said no to a grandchild who wants to pick "just one" flower...)

(never...)

Both kids (and too, their elementary school cousin in Chicago) are having stellar runs this school year. Will it always be thus? One can hope. But it's greatly wonderful to hear from teachers that these kids are okay! And kind. Good people, learning to exist in this complicated world of ours.

Dinner? Eggs! For sure eggs. The hens are starting to produce very very large eggs. Delicious and deliciously abundant. Throw in some CSA spinach, some mushrooms, maybe a bit of garlic, cheese, tomatoes, and you've got yourself a farmhouse supper. With a side salad. And with love...

Monday

So, you think you've got troubles? How would you like to be a living being with radiant feathers, virtually announcing to all who want to eat you that you are there, available for consumption? Or, how would you like to be a black and white cat (aka Pancake), who has to fight to get close to a food force (us)? So that you show up for your meal not all neat and pretty, but with gashes to your face and blood dripping into the dish? 

We live in the country and we see plenty of this -- the fighting spirit that keeps animals alive, mostly, but not always. A cold day for you means you have to reach for an extra scarf as you walk to the bus stop or your car. A cold day for Pancake means that there's little escape from it. You just have to be cold. 

Spring is the season of birth, which means that predators are especially aggressive as they strive to feed their new families. I get it. It's the way life continues on this planet. Every nature film we watch is filled with the challenge and horror of survival (or not). Still, as the hawks once again circle overhead, and our new young chickens display their innocence as they strut into the open field (so visible!), I have to say, it can be a very scary time for so many animals! 

At the same time, spring is most assuredly a time of joy. In my walk to the barn, I hear the song of house sparrows, American robins, blue jays, European starlings, and northern cardinals. Red-winged blackbird, black-capped chickadee. All that, on one morning walk!

(out they go, the three youngest -- always on the run!)

(ever expanding patches of flowering crocuses, as well as the beginning of Lenten Rose blooms)

Breakfast is late. Maybe it's the time gallop, maybe it's a Zoom call with my Polish pal, maybe it's that Ed is feeling sleepy this morning. No matter. Eventually, we eat.

Today turns out to be a Zero day. Meaning -- no grandchild duty. Their school is closed, their parents have taken charge. Add to that the most beautiful weather day yet -- mostly sunny, with a high of 63F (17C). I propose we seize the day and do a bike ride. A longer one, to Paoli. Google tells me that's an hour and five minutes on the bike trails. We're pretty good to keeping close to Google estimates. 

However...

The wind. Oh, the wind!

The ride is lovely, but even on my electric bike, it is brutally tough -- into the wind! We go over the estimate by a full ten minutes, panting!

 

 

 

(Once there, we pause at Seven Acres Creamery for a pick-me-up.)

On the upside, the ride back has the wind on our backs. We cut the estimate by three minutes! Even with the pauses to, say, take a photo or two.

The leap into longer days does mess with your view of the world. You suddenly feel that much closer to all that's starting to grow outside. Winter weather may come screaming back at you (last year, we had a heavy snowfall in April), but still, it's a passing event. Underneath it all, there is new life. There is stuff that thrills you. A plateful, no, a world full of great loveliness to discover, in due time. 

daylight, saved

And just like that, Ed and I lost our window of opportunity to eat out in the evening. The clocks moved forward and therefore, so did the chicken lock up time -- now standing at 6:50 p.m. A bit earlier on dark days, a bit later on cloudless days. Maybe you think heading out to dinner afterwards, meaning after 7 is great. For us -- that's winding down time. By 7:15 I'm ready for my evening piece of chocolate, not for a server to hand me the menu and ask if I'd like a predinner drink. 

In thinking about this, I considered the possibility that we were getting to be caricatures of a senior duo. You remember the Seinfeld episode, where the parents are itching to go out to eat at 4:30? True, Ed and I typically eat between 6:45 and 7, but that means dinner is ready by 6:45 and 7. Were we to go out, then, to eat in our normal dinner window, 6 p.m. would be our target sit down time, which means we'd be heading out at 5:45. That seems awfully close to 4:30! Gulp!

Other changes brought about by the clock adjustment? Well, there's no reason for me to be up with the chickens now at 7:15, when to them it hardly matters what the clock says. I open the coop door and feed them when it's bright as can be outside, so that the predator danger is minimal. So today, that's closer to 8:30. It really doesn't matter when the magic moment of freedom comes for them, so long as it's not too early.

(teenagers, on the run!)

I notice that the bowls of water scattered in strategic places across farmette paths are frozen or empty. We do have warming dishes plugged in both in the garage and in the coop, but when the hens are out and about, they dont always remember where those are, so we supplement with these additional watering holes. These then become water sources for the hens, but also for cats, birds, raccoons -- you name it. And yes, we cornered another raccoon overnight. Our hens are in high demand!

(new chickens and fallen willow branches)

 

 

Breakfast, with just Ed. The cats are out enjoying the lovely sunshine.

And we are too! Eventually. When the crocuses open up for the day -- that's the time you want to head out. Before that? Too cold.

Okay, off we go. To the local park. We're not ambitious.

Prairie flowers and forest greens are still dormant, but you can almost sense their new buds forming. It's a wonderful time to be a gardener: you notice every detail of the plant world. The story of the growing season is about to unfold before our eyes!

(nearby...)

Back at home, it's time to get dinner ready for the young family.

(here comes the tail end!)

(dinner)

(and yes, we're Oscar fans! we sneaked in a quick viewing session! well, some of us!)

The day does feel shorter. That one hour did a fictional disappearance, of course. March 10th did not have 60 minutes sucked out of it. And yet, despite the sunlight streaming in at dinner time, despite the pleasure of having that longer spell of daylight, it feels like I lost some minutes in the course of the day.The mind works in weird ways.

Now, back to the Oscars. Mostly alone. The young family has long gone and Ed refuses to watch the endless thank-yous from those who won for films he never saw. Me, I watch as much as I can on long flights, but it hardly matters. Tuning in to the Oscars is a habit. Sort of like ending the day with a chocolate.

the benefits of having taught...

It seems that my years of teaching have come swinging right back at me these past days. There was that crazy set of mini classes I gave on International Day. Yeah, all those eager faces looking in my direction, waiting for me to say something that would draw them into the platform of learning. Then there was today. Call it a day of unexpected encounters.

It's Saturday. I had to laugh when my friend, who is spending time with her grandkids these winter months referred to days when she is without them as her zero days. Zero commitment. Time to herself. I'm adopting this into my jargon here -- Saturday is my Zero day! 

It starts the same as every other day -- I walk over to the coop to check on the hens, to feed them, to take stock. Things are settling down over in the barn area. True, the two old girls with the blue bands still venture out on their own, but the four new ones, and especially the eldest of the four, are testing the waters as well. A little bit at a time.

So, all good there.

Breakfast? Yes, I love Ed, I even like the cats that come down to be with us during our morning meal, but honestly, right now it's the blooms on the table that give me the biggest grin. So... of the season!

Then comes a Zoom call and a strategic planning session (well, the inception of a strategic planning session) of a retreat with my law school buds. So, the law school emerges just a little, early in the day.

 

(Outside, the cardinal in the budding lilac is not only beautiful to watch, but enormously awesome to listen to... Yes, I'm still into birds!)

 

 

Now, what's the plan for the rest of the Zero day, given that it is rather nippy outside? We got spoiled. Hiking in warmer weather makes you reluctant to be ambitious on less hospitable days. Still, I had an idea -- maybe we could tie in a hike to an outing -- a special outing, to a chocolate shop?

You know that Ed and I have our finger in a number of chocolatiers around town. But just this week I read something about a shop that is totally new to me. It's called CocoVaa and it's just about a fifteen minute drive for us. So, pretty close. But that's not its main virtue. The person who owns the place and makes all the chocolates just received notice that she is a James Beard Award semifinalist in the "oustanding pastry chef or baker" category for 2024. This nomination made the local press. I didn't pay attention to anything else in the article. I merely told Ed that we must visit the shop. I mean, for a chocolate maker to get that nomination? It has to be more than good!

CocoVaa is open for retail only on the weekends. (It does most of its business online.) Well, that's great! We can pop in this afternoon!

 

 

 

My brain did not put two and two together, or if it did, I did not come up with four. But as we entered the shop, my attention went not to the chocolate display, but to the woman who stood behind the counter. Nina? -- she asks. And then, because we live in a world of coincidences, the customer guy she was speaking with also said -- Nina?

Turns out I know both of them. Him -- I used to bake with him at L'Etoile Restaurant in town. Like twenty years ago. (I forgive myself for not remembering his name.) But the star player here is the chocolate maker herself -- Vata Edari (or Syovata as she is formally referred to). 

Vata used to be a student of mine, way back when (she'd practiced law for 15 years and studied chocolate making for several more and opened her business in 2018, so figure it out for yourself -- it's been a while). And one that I do very much remember. Because she was (and is) smart. And hardworking. And funny. And because she had a baby in the middle of going to school (sometimes bringing her newborn to class when all else failed). How well I know those struggles! (Both my girls were newborns while I was myself a law student.) 

(Here's Vata with her second child, who came along after she was already a lawyer and who helps out at the shop and makes very excellent tea, which we drank while chatting.)

There are some students you run into, where a mere "hi, how's it going" will do. Not so with Vata. She has a mountain of interesting tales to tell (I mean, how do you go from being a public defender to making exquisite, award winning chocolates? What? You got sued by Mars?? They lost? Ha!). And so Ed rested and we chatted and made plans to meet up soon.

In the meantime, there are her chocolates. Oh, her chocolates! Here's the box of my selections:

They're beautiful and intensely flavorful. (You can check out the flavor profiles here.) Vata uses white chocolate often, which can be a surprise as you bite into a confection. Hers aren't the chocolates you consume by the handful. They're perfect for my once per evening ritual!

From the chocolate shop, Ed and I head over to the nearby Olbrich Gardens, to check out what, if anything is blooming right now. 

We discover two surprise patches of flowers. These irises:

And delightful patches of Snowdrops.

I mean, it's not a lot, but darn it, we're not even in mid-March yet.

The day ends with all chickens, of their own volition, strutting into the coop for the night once more, and two very relaxed farmhouse humans sampling exquisite chocolates on the couch. 

with so much love...

Friday

When I was in the Galileo Museum of Science in Florence (last week), I ended my walk through it in the gift shop. I looked around for something that might interest the kids. A book on the astronomer. Okay, that. What else? I picked up a book that was I suppose deemed "scientific." It had number games and puzzles. Target age? Somewhere around Snowdrop's. Maybe a bit older, but not a lot. I leafed through the pages. I was, after all, an econometrics major for half my college years. Calculus? No problem! I wasn't a math whizz, but I was solid!

So why did the math puzzles suddenly seem.. not so easy? Doable, but with effort! A lot of effort! 

This morning, the NYTimes offered sample questions from the new reading comprehension SAT's. Those were reassuringly straightforward for a person who is 70 and reads and writes during very many of her waking hours. What's the takeaway here? Use it or lose it! Now if you'll excuse me, I'm retreating to do some math puzzles on the side. I didn't buy the book in the Galileo shop (I was afraid that I'd be stuck figuring them out with Snowdrop or Sparrow and I sooooo prefer reading with them!), but I am on the lookout for a book that would basically be for people-who-are-getting-older-and-are-afraid-of-losing-their-math-skills. If you know of one, send me a message! 

 

Chicken report: well, it's drizzling today. And we caught a racoon prowling around the coop. Neither of those are exactly cheer-inducing, but, on the other hand, the garden really needs rain and the racoon did not get into the coop so all's good so far. And the hens did go out. All of them. 

 (the four new ones, tentatively...)

At least for a short while. Turns out chickens don't really like rain. What a surprise.

(But hey, the rain is a boost to spring flowers. Just look at these budding daffodils!)

 

 

Breakfast. Yup. Always with the two of them these days...

A wet morning means that I don't have to feel guilty about staying inside. That's a good thing. I'm out of blueberry muffins for Snowdrop. Sparrow likes his M.Sourdough cookies, but the little girl way prefers my muffins. I aim to please both.

The rest of the morning is devoted to mom issues. You want to live a long life, you can expect to have issues. She tells me hers, I address them. The list is long.

And now it is time to pick up the kids. And rush them inside. Away from the rain.

(She "borrows" his computer to do a round of "the cat game.")

Friday winds up the week for us neatly. With lessons for the kids and scrambling to get them ready on time for me. But I like the idea of pulling together to accomplish a goal. When we make our timeline,  without issue, I shout out "on time performance!" and they cheer. A feeling of accomplishment prevails. 

And after I leave the last one to her dance lesson, I meander over to the grocery store for a late evening grocery shopping, because the store is close to the last lesson drop off, and because this then frees me for the weekend from food-related chores. As I walk up and down the aisles I think -- did I even remember that this is International Women's Day? Does it matter to me?

Sure it does. I am so quickly brought back in my thoughts to when I was just 15 and so sure that women's issues were history, an unsavory history but history nonetheless. Ha ha ha. My dad  had warned me -- the problem of pushing women aside, of managing their lives, of resenting their freedom wont go away in your generation. It will take longer.

He was so right.

Still, I live with a guy who has never wanted to be a dominant figure in anyone's life, male or female and though at this very minute I just finished opening his eyes to the mess around his couch space (to which he then points out the tchotchke in his line of vision, and I follow with a reminder that this is my space, or at least a space where my decorating preferences trump his...), Ed and I haven't the gender/dominance issues that are still so prevalent in the world around us. For this I am so grateful1

Reheat chili, open a celebratory bottle of Prosecco, smile.

With so much love...

Thursday

The chickens are a mere cartoon version of our own daily trajectory. Honestly, you think they're not thinking it through to structure for themselves a good life? Well, neither are we! Take this morning. I head out to open the coop for them. The two older girls -- Blue 9 and Blue 11 (these are the foot bands we slapped on their claws) -- meander toward the courtyard. Eventually one flies up to the garage rafters where she now retires at dusk, and lays eggs during the morning hours. Stupid for her to scale the walls and position herself in a tight, uncomfortable corner up there? Oh yeah! Just as dumb as falling asleep on the uncomfortable couch and staying there with a cramped neck all night. The other chicken, her buddy, ambles over to the hydrangea bush where she looks rather forlorn. Since the loss of her three compatriots,  and the garage laying habits of the other Blue hen, she is often walking the farmette lands on her own. Girl, there are four new chickens just waiting to be integrated into your fold! Hang with them! They need your guidance and worldly wisdom.

(The Yellow Brave one -- meaning the new one year old with the yellow band on her foot -- is off and running. Also alone. The three babes are too chicken to head out!)

In other words, the small things that would obviously improve their day are so within reach and yet they look elsewhere, choosing the colorful path, the immediate temptation. Just like humans!

Ed and I come back to oatmeal this morning.

Immediately after, I worked (not very hard) on preparing birthday greetings to my two sons-in-law. Fate would have it that they have birthdays within ten days of each other, which is rather a gift for me as it allows me to think, reflect and admire the both of them at the same time. What matters, of course, is that my girls love them and that they make them happy. Luck would have it that I like the both of them as well, but of course, it would be hard to imagine otherwise, given how good they are to and for my daughters. 

From there, I move to the flower fields, clippers in hand. I am very aware of the fact that I can do so much less at one haul this year than last year and even less than the year before. That's okay! Given the lovely weather of the past few days, I got a head start on the season. And I'm mindful of what Ed said -- we do as much as we can and as much as we want to (that, for me, is not necessarily the same thing, but it's close enough!). And then we pause. 

 

 

 

My pause is actually a bit of a rush -- to pick up the kids at school.

From there -- to the nearby pie place to pick up a pie for their dad (it's his day!).

And back to the farmhouse. We read, yes, that's a given. But, too, I have to snitch little moments -- to deal with the laundry, to tidy up the playroom, to peel tomatoes for tonight's chili. And in doing that last task, I glance outside, and what I see warms my heart: all six chickens, momentarily together.

Way to go, girls! Strength in numbers! 

Indeed, at dusk, they all go into the coop, even the garage girl. Wow. We are in a moment of total chicken calm and unity! And here I thought they were like us, drifting and confused.

We all have so much to learn.

Chili, chocolate, couch. The three c's of a beautiful evening. 

with so much love...

Wednesday

If you follow the CDC recommendations and get all your Covid vaccinations when they are made available for you, oh senior person, then you should be in line to get your 9th Covid shot now. I kid you not, I'm on my 9th today (as is Ed). The first was in January 2021. It feels no less wonderful to get this one. Freedom. It buys me a dose of it. Travel with less worry. Kids, at my house, daily, with less worry. Keeping the virus away from Ed (who has never had it). All of it, thanks to that miracle that kept so many of us out of hospitals and off the obit pages of our local newspaper.

And speaking of freedom, today is the day I walk over to the coop to grant all six girls their freedom.And of course, only the two older ones, along with a hesitant one year old strut out of the coop, dusting off their feathers and embarking on their day long bug and seed search. 

 

 

The three teenagers, bold that they were the first day, are not so sure that the wide and unencumbered world is such a fine place after all. They stay in the coop for the better part of the morning. Mission accomplished! They feel safe there! They will remember the warmth of the coop at the end of the day!

Wont they?

Meanwhile, Ed and I have our breakfast feeling at peace with the world, with the hens, with the cats too. 

No one is fighting, no one is destroying the flower beds. Yet. 

It's sunny and beautiful outside. A tad on the cool side, but lovely nonetheless. I do a spot weed pull and Ed mows down my trimmings so that they'd decompose faster and more evenly. In other words, we do some slight garden work at a very relaxed pace, all the way until lunchtime. (Well, my lunch is the usual protein cookie and coffee. Most everyone has a meal that they can do without. For me it's lunch. Still, I have to keep that energy level going strong, given my afternoon kid commitment, so I reach for my newest friend -- a Go Macro bar.

And speaking of kids...

A good day was had by all. Oh, sure, there's always a report on some skirmish between the usual suspects in class, but happily, nothing terribly troublesome, and nothing that made either child sad.

And in the evening Ed and I rolled up our sleeves (figuratively! It's cold outside!) and faced the chicken-into-the-coop-for-the-night project. Equipped with resolve and a flashlight (in case the hunt would take us late into the night), we picked up the hen that routinely hides in the garage and set off for the barn to deal with the rest.

You wont believe it! We hardly believed it! The remaining five were all snuggled together in the coop.

Ed turns to me -- that was brilliant! I respond -- it only shows that the human brain is slightly bigger than the pea sized brain of a chicken. Evolutionary advantage! The fact is, though, that we are enormously relieved. Until the next trauma sends the hens into obscure hiding spots, we have the coop issue in hand. Suddenly, chicken care seems like the easiest job in the world.

with love...