Zurich

First, the basics: you think of Zurich, you likely think of banks and financial institutions. And mountains, watches, and chocolates. You'd be correct on all counts. Zurich is the largest city in Switzerland (about half a million people). It's not the capital of the country (Bern is that), but it is a sort of cultural capital. It has good museums, including one dedicated to "nothing" (read about it here.) I was surprised to read that Zurich ranks high on the "happy cities" list. Switzerland is also "happy," though only in the 13th world spot. Before you poo-poo Swiss happiness, do remember that we, in the U.S., do not even make it into the top twenty. Richest country, but pretty miserable. As the elections have shown us. Maybe it's all that Muesli that gets the Swiss off to a good start each day. Zurich is synonymous with Muesli (you can actually ask for a bowl of Zurich in the morning and they'll know what you want -- oats, grated apple, nuts, seeds and milk.

Zurich is attractive. And because it is a visually interesting city, I booked a room at a hotel that capitalizes on its location by the Limmat -- a waterway that starts out at the tip of the Zurichsee. (Not a sea, people! Switzerland is land-locked! It's a lake.)

My hotel is called Storchen, which translates as "storks." The imagery for me is  delightful.

But I am ahead of myself. First, the flights -- all three on time, all without issue. I'm still in my post-illness phase where I'm pretty tired, so I actually (hold on to your horses! this is a rare one!) slept on the overseas leg. For about an hour.

(waking up to sunrise over Paris environs as we land: lovely colors, mists...)

At the Paris airport I had just enough time to bite into my first French croissant of the trip.

 

 

And then I board the very quick flight to Zurich. This Swiss city is about 400 miles from Paris so you would only fly if you're connecting from another flight. Otherwise you'd take the train -- it's only three hours from Paris center to Zurich center.  Having recently read a lengthy article about how and why the project of building a high speed rail between LA and SF ran into trouble, I'm less inclined to point fingers at political failures. We've boxed ourselves in in the U.S., so that it's unlikely that we'll be able to build tracks for these trains in my lifetime. The opportunity has long passed. I'm afraid it's one of those things like universal health care and paid family leave -- we as a nation are not united on the need for any of these and so we stumble along with half measures. And remain unhappy.

 

(Landing in Zurich: a very different landscape)

 

Zurich airport is close to town. I could take a train, but it really is a relatively un-pricey taxi ride (nothing is cheap here -- it's all "relative") and I have a medium suitcase that is more awkward, and I am old, so there you have it: I cab to my hotel. Well, almost to my hotel. The road chosen by the cabbie is under construction toward the end and so he shrugged and let me out a few blocks away. My new medium suitcase had her first experience with European cobble stones. 

It's early. The room is ready only because we are in the low low season. (It doesn't get any lower: many Swiss hotels close at the end of March through all of April. This alone should have prompted me to think twice about booking a stay here now. I mean, why is it that no one wants to travel to the mountains at the end of March?), but as I've said I am only a little troubled by poor weather. 

I always want to set out right away once I arrive in a new place, but today I go easy: I want to rest just a little. I imagined myself in this room, looking out at this view many times in the course of the winter and it feels good to be finally doing it.

(with a stork motif)

(looking to the right...)

(to the left...)

 

I have to be pleased with the weather: there was rain earlier, but now you can actually see an occasional blue wisp of sky. And it feels warm -- in the mid 50sF (so low teens C). Shortly after noon, I pick a walk and set out. [Picking a walk these days is so easy as compared to the "olden days." No need to visit a tourist office, no need to follow everyone's tracks. A few minutes on the internet will give you a lot of information. One site (this one) was especially helpful: six walks, many of them weaving through parks or green spaces. I pick the first one on the list -- "Zurich Lake Walk West." And I'm determined to stop at a cafe early on.]

I wrote out names of possible coffee houses, ones that had "good coffee," months ago. Honestly, on this one I would have been better off eyeballing a few along my route, preferably those attached to bakeries. But I didn't do that. European cafes can have shockingly bad coffee (I'm lookin' at you, Paris!), and while I'm not terribly fussy, still, I thought I'd get a better sense of Swiss cafe life if I picked a place with a good reputation.

So first stop? Cafe Odeon, which calls itself a "Viennese style coffee house." 

 

 

It's been around for over a hundred years and the list of famous coffee drinkers who came here is long. Einstein. Lenin. James Joyce. Mata Hari. Mussolini. All fussy people! 

But it's not a bakery. Indeed, there was only one baked item on the menu -- an apple strudel, which actually was more like an apple cake. No matter, I like apple cakes and strudels. Seems a Swiss kind of a dessert, doesn't it?

You can see the problem: sweetness overload! 

I learned something: cream is a popular ingredient here.

The walk along the lake convinced me of something I already suspected -- Zurich is in a different climate zone, one that does not overlap with what we have in south central Wisconsin.

Spring has sprung here. And how! 

When you are alone, you listen to the voices all around you and I must say, it's disconcerting to hear German, a language I do not understand.  I rarely encounter German  in my travels (and I know only about 20 words of it). My delicate avoidance of Germany had been a holdover from having spent my childhood in postwar Poland. May that be a lesson to us! You don't easily grow out of your distrust toward those who harmed you. I've surely spent time in Switzerland in the past, but by chance it would be in their French speaking Cantons. And now here I am, in the Zurich Canton -- all German, traveling soon to the Bernese Oberland -- the Canton of Bern, where they also speak German (with French as a back-up plan!).

(to the south -- the Alps)

In the evening, I booked a table at Kindli Restaurant -- I'm told it's the oldest eatery in Zurich. Now, what would you consider to be Zurich food? What do people eat here?  Well, you already know about Muesli, but what else? I think most would agree that the dish closely associated with the city is Zürcher Geschnetzelte  -- basically it's a plate of thin strips of veal in a mushroom cream sauce, with a side of Rösti potatoes. I used to cook both the veal in cream and Rösti in my former life, but these days I avoid meats and especially ones that come from a young animal that was never given a chance to grow up, and, too, I avoid recipes with creamy sauces, but I'm not a purist by any means. When in Zurich, I do want to pay attention to what people here regard as their own. Kindli serves this dish, I order it. (And as a special bonus -- I see they have white asparagus in season! It brings back memories of when I was in Germany briefly with Ed -- he had a machining friend there and we paid him a visit. In April of 2006. When we found white asparagus on a lunch menu, we could not get enough of it!)

 

 

I have to admit it -- the veal in mushroom sauce is fabulous! It may be the last veal I ever eat. The guilt is strong and I know I can't ever top this dish!

I almost said no to dessert. All the items on the menu seemed rich. But the waiter -- so professional, tolerating my German reading of my food choices -- merely said -- I 'll have them make something special for you. Light. With fruit.

 

 

It wasn't exactly light, of course. Bavarian cream, gelato... Still, it was, in fact, perfect.

 

The walk back to the Storchen is short. The view from my window at night -- beautiful. Now all I need is a good night's sleep!

 

 

with love....

 

first stop: Switzerland

Late in the evening, yesterday, there was a knock on the farmhouse door. What the heck? We do not get night visitors. Ever. Turns out it was a person from the new development. A huge parcel had been mistakenly delivered to her house. It's for you, she said, and it looks sort of urgent. 

Trees. Large persimmon trees, ready for planting.

Did we order persimmon trees?

I dont remember...

We go through our various emails -- yes. There it is, an exchange between Ed and the tree nursery many months ago. Apparently we'd already planted persimmon trees (we've planted so many trees! who can remember!), but none survived. These are our warrantied replacements. 

Guess what I cannot help you with? Planting trees! There's more: I can't help with the planting of tomato seeds either. Sometimes we do it in late March, sometimes in the early days of April. I'm not here on either. It's Spring break.

Spring break travel: you love it and you struggle with it: is late March really a great time for a trip to Europe? The south is warm -- ish. The entire continent can rest under a cloud of rain. For days on end. The north? Well, if you like drizzle and cold all in one. The mountains? The snow has melted, but spring hasn't fully arrived. Try again in June.

And yet, I love it for what it is: a break. From the routines of a long winter. Before your spring planting duties mount. 

In recent years, I've taken Snowdrop, the oldest of the grandkids with me on spring break trips. I planned the destinations with her in mind: where will she learn the most without it seeming like an educational plod through endless museum rooms? But this year I moved things around a bit for reasons of convenience. So spring break travel is going to be not with her but by myself.

Well, kind of by myself. A few months ago, my younger daughter asked if I'd like to meet up with her and her family in early April, in France. Well of course I would! But wait -- I'd planned this solo trip at the end of March. What to do? The obvious and the easiest and the most pleasurable solution is to combine the two, staying in Europe after my "spring break," and joining up with them for part two of the trip: en famille.

The question that remained for me was how to structure the solo part of my trip. I'd already booked a handful of days in a mountainous spot in Switzerland and I decided to stay with that idea. I'd corresponded with the owners of the small hotel I'd picked for my trip and we had a plan going. Sure, March can still be cold, but the scenery promises to be splendid and an occasional muddy walk is still going to be invigorating and lovely. Afterwards? Oh, did I waver on those days! I booked one idea. I changed my mind. A few days later I canceled and booked something else. Honestly, I spent a good deal of my free time this winter jumping around from one plan to the next. It was not an unpleasant distraction from the chaos in America right now! I'll tell you about that part of my now extended spring break later.

Okay, so Switzerland is first on my list of travel destinations. I fly into Zurich tomorrow morning.

Ha! I should have remembered by last (and only) visit to Zurich: it rained. All the time. Never saw a single mountain in this city known for its stellar mountain views. Weather forecast for the whole week I am to be in Switzerland? Calls for rain.

The thing is, I do mind, in that I would prefer sunshine. But on the other hand, rain on a trip doesn't hold me back. I still wake up each morning excited and eager to head out. But the way I head out and what I do changes. I anticipate a heck of a lot of visits to coffee shops in the week ahead. People watching over a Swiss pastry. You tell me -- does that sound even a little unpleasant? Quite the contrary.

First thing's first. One last March walk to the barn...

And one final breakfast with Ed. This part is hard. I'm at the stage in life where I do not want to be away from him for what I consider to be a long time on this trip, but we do talk daily and I know his farmette days will look not much different, whether I am there or not. 

And now it's time to catch my flight to Atlanta. From there -- to Paris, and then onto Zurich.

If all goes well, my next post will be from there.

with so much love...

the day before

Well, the day has come. There's no putting it off. No ignoring the heap of must-takes piling on the floor around an empty suitcase. Decisions must be made, the suitcase needs to be packed. With care. Tomorrow morning, I'm off on a trip. Longer than usual, passing through destinations, each requiring a completely different attitude toward dress and appearance.

I'm still not 100% energetic, but most of what ailed me has receded. I didn't take any meds in part because that which was prescribed to me doesn't exist. Yesterday's was not the most helpful visit to urgent care. But I'm glad I went. At least I know what I don't have! Right now, I'm feeling like whatever it was, it sure was a light case. What a huge relief! I came dangerously close to being sick just in time for my trip. As it is, I'm good to go. Early tomorrow. If I finish packing today.

In years past, spring break trips, always coming at the end of March, came after the first spring blooms popped open on farmette lands. Crocuses, sometimes even a daffodil or two. This year is different. The growing season got off to a later start and I was sure I'd leave without seeing a single flower here on farmette lands. 

I was wrong. This morning, on my walk to the barn, I spotted it! The first snowdrop!

Okay, so maybe you don't think this is a big deal, especially given that we saw hundreds of these same flowers over at Olbrich Gardens over a week ago, but to me it's huge. It's as if the garden is letting me know that it's there, slowly emerging, and it will be there when I next see it upon my return. 

 

 

Breakfast. I tell Ed about an article I read in the Economist about why people are leaving New Zealand (to go to Australia), and in the NYTimes about what Europeans (and Canadians and Mexicans and Panamanians and Greenlanders) are saying about American tourists these days. 

I find it interesting that many traveling Americans want to hide their identity. I get it. I've written here before -- I wasn't too happy having the conversation about being Polish when I lived here as a child, preferring to avoid the topic altogether. But this time, I think we owe it to fess up to what our country is doing to others. We've made people really scared to travel here. With good reason. One commenter (to the NYTimes article on Americans traveling to Europe) said this -- when I ask American tourists what the hell they're doing in their country, they say "I didn't vote for him." It's like in Italy with Berlusconi: everyone claimed they didn't vote for him and there he was, prime minister! And anyway, if you didn't vote for him but you oppose what he's doing to the rest of the world, to your own country, why aren't you out on the streets like we would be here, every week, every day!"

Valid questions. We should face up to them. 

After breakfast I forced myself to go upstairs to pack. I'm sure I'm not doing it right and I reconsidered some of my choices having just read another commenter (on traveling Americans) who wrote that he'd be more forgiving of Americans if they weren't so boastful about their own exceptionalism, if they'd learn a few words that weren't in their own language, if they dressed with care where appropriate, if they just stop demanding better service. I took that to heart and switched out an indifferent shirt for a nicer top. The rest goes without saying.

 

It's cooler today, but the sun is brilliant. Do you see in the breakfast photo an Ed absorbed in reading material? That's because he is on the mailing list of the Ice Age Trail publications and their most recent one describes a segment of the trail -- cutting through the Valley View Preserve -- that we haven't hiked yet. This is remarkable. It's a mere 20 minutes away and I don't know about it? I really thought we'd explored every hiking path within at least an hour of Madison. 

What's notable about this particular segment is that it is dotted with bird houses for Bluebirds. Nine were installed a year ago. And in July, 32 Eastern Bluebirds fledged from them after being cared for by their parents, achieving an 84% fledge rate in that very first year. A remarkable success story.

Ed suggested we pick up the trail today and I am indeed up for it!

It's a beautiful walk. Not too long, but lightly hilly and with good views. All against a very blue sky.

There is a prairie of course, and an oak grove, and a forest of mixed vegetation and nut trees. And the sunshine is strong and we are happy!

Of course, we note the bird houses. 

 

We'll be back to peek at them come summertime!

(There is a bench facing the hills, the sunshine. Call these minutes resting on it totally memorable!)

Feeling even more energetic after the walk, I attack the lavender once more. I dont finish clipping all the plants. There are several dozen and I run out of steam toward the end, leaving five behind. No matter -- task accomplished more or less! When you garden at my age, all by yourself, and there are so many flowers and shrubs and tubs to care for, you make do with "more or less."

Evening: a dinner of fish and cauliflower, a few hours on the couch with Ed, watching a show together. A PBS one on the Waubesa Wetlands -- those that hug the southern tip of Lake Waubesa, maybe two miles down the road from the farmhouse. I'll miss this couch moment of course. I always do. Still, I'm excited: tomorrow morning, I'm off.

with so much love...

spring break?

Well, it was inevitable that I would catch some of that bug that's been circulating. I could feel it creeping in on me last night. I fought with it, denied it, then finally gave up and admitted that I wasn't at my sharpest.

Still, I was up to feed those animals -- they dont care if you're not fully on board. They just want their food.

 

And I fixed a nice breakfast for the two of us.

And then I considered my options. Mild symptoms. Not Covid. What to do? Rest, with a check in at the clinic, because I want to travel in a couple of days and I want to shake this and also know that it isn't something that should keep me home.

Both of these -- rest and a clinic visit -- meant that I had to call off picking up the kids after school. That is a shame, because I wont be seeing them for a while now and, too, it's fun to pick them up on the very last day of school before spring break. Spirits tend to soar, everyone is tickled with what's ahead. Still, I needed that clinic visit and it is one crowded place right now. The wait is long. 

It was afternoon before I could head home for my hours of rest.

It's a shame that the day had to disappear into thin air like this. I didn't finish trimming the lavender. I did not spend time with the kids (and so we did not finish reading the book we were determined to get through before I leave), I did not pack, I did not go for a walk with Ed. 

On the upside, it was quiet and so very cozy inside and he kept saying -- it's so nice here with you, and I kept saying -- isn't this the best, and he'd answer -- oh, but you think walking in the rain in some far away place, with jet lag is so much better, and I'd retort -- it isn't better, Just different...

And then I slept, rousing myself to make chili. For tonight, and for him to have when I'm gone.

Uneventful, true, but so very lovely here at the farmhouse. And not too bad on the bug front. Vaccinated people (that's me!) have such better outcomes when they do get sick. Remarkable that so many still defy what the medical community has known for years -- science is on your side. Rumor and conspiratorial thinking are not. 

With love...

happy spring

We are not just one thing, one string of emotions, one combination of traits, one assemblage of attributes. We mix things up, change our minds, try out new ideas for size. And yet, we I have this one trait, one guiding force, one belief from which I have never wavered -- I believe in the magnificence of spring. Put it another way -- I just really love this season. Always have and I suppose always will.

Spring Equinox. The sun passes over the equator and boom! We move right into the growing season. Nature's way of telling us we have another chance at putting together a good day. A good life.

However, here, in south central Wisconsin, outside, there is snow.

The thing is, however much I love spring, it does come with its own peccadillos, mostly in the realm of weather. At least where I live and places I travel to -- weather in spring is: unpredictable, sometimes stubbornly unpleasant, often too wet, demanding a reach for winter garb once again.

Of course, plants need rain. It's just that us humans find rain to be a limitation: low lying clouds, sheets of wetness, accompanied by gusts of wind -- it's not what you want for, say, a spring vacation.

I have a trip coming up and looking at the weather forecast for the first week of my travels makes me cringe. Wet snow, changing to rain, cloudy and cold, every single day of that first week. Last night I wrote to my hotel hosts -- maybe I shouldn't stay a full week. Maybe I should head out toward better weather places. They poo-pooed my weather worries and wrote back something to the effect of "we'll help you survive!" 

But let's get back to spring. I am finally seeing buds and green tips out there. 

 

 

That is enough for me. Spring is a process. The end result is less important than the gradual awakening. There is no stopping that progression right now. We are on our way.

It's rather nippy out there and so we postpone our walk until a later hour. I concentrate on getting things in order. I'm not leaving until Sunday, but I have loads to do in the next three day. Ed would deny to high heaven that I need do anything for him at all, but still, I like to stock the pantry with his favorites, clean out spaces that I know otherwise will gather dust in my absence, clear the garden, cook some foods, and, of course, think about how the heck I can pack knowing that everything I wear that first week will get wet.

It is a busy morning.

(breakfast, with tulips that are past their prime and Ed who is not)

And still, I find time to read. What stands out? Oh so much. How about this: it used to be that when I lived in Poland, people from the west hesitated about coming for a visit. Indeed, my best friend from my American school declined an invitation to see me in Poland. Understandable, I suppose. There was an element of fear. So here I am, an American, reading about hesitancy all over again. Canadians, Europeans, Australians postponing a visit to my country, the United States, for many reasons to be sure, but in that handful is that element of fear all over again. Tourists, detained without explanation? Where am I living anyway? Back in postwar Poland?

 

I have just Snowdrop with me in the afternoon. Sparrow is still under the weather. 

I pick up a happy girl! Unusual? Not at all. Under-dressed? But of course.

(At the farmhouse, she snatches Ed's computer for a quick game while I fix food)

 

Much later in the evening, Ed and I do go out for a walk. The snow has mostly melted, the air is brisk, the light is spring-like and stunning. I didn't want to go, but as always, I am soooo glad we pushed ourselves to do it.

Happy, happy spring!

with love...

rainy day thoughts

Well this put a brake on my movements today! Can you imagine -- a rainy March day. We're so used to the drought-like conditions of this past year that I hardly know what to do with myself when it rains.

Lucky break for me -- a dry moment as I walk over to feed the animals. 

Breakfast -- providing us with much needed warmth and color.

And then it rains and I read. And here's what I want to highlight today: an email I got from the New Yorker, previewing an article on, well, happiness. (You get these previews if you are a subscriber. I guess they think it makes you feel special to read it one day in advance of the masses.)

Here's the premise: you know the most popular college class ever offered at Yale? No, it's not about getting rich or conquering the world. It's taught by Laurie Santos who is a cognitive scientists and it is called Psychology and the Good Life. It is about being happy. Now, if you are having pangs of envy and wish you could sit in and soak up all that she has to offer -- well, perhaps you might at least pick up some of the books she recommends in the New Yorker article. I'll give you some titles. (I think she also has a podcast, so you can skip the Yale tuition and get a good synopsis of her theses there.)

One point she makes is that you and I have some agency when it comes to happiness. To quote her -- "the data bears out that there's a lot we can do to change our behaviors and thought patterns in order to feel a little bit happier." I know you're skeptical. I bet you're thinking -- you don't know how lousy/boring/stressed/disgusting/crazy my life is. What's a Yalie with a cushy job got to say that I haven't thought of myself? (All part of our indignation at the idea that elites have any answers to anything at all.) Personally, I like science and smart people who can point to mistakes I'm making in life, so I noted at least her suggested readings and some of them sounded pretty good to me. Like, The Power of Fun, by Catherine Price. 

In her summary of this book, Santos writes -- How many of us feel as if we’re languishing, just doing the same old, same old? And, even when we finally have some leisure time, we don’t do things that are actually fun. We might do something easy, like scroll through TikTok, but that often leaves us feeling gross.   Sounds like you? Ha! Maybe it's time to pick up a copy of the Price book.

Then there's The Book of Delights by Ross Gay, where he describes something totally pleasing and satisfying each and every day. (Does that sound like Ocean? Heck, I don't mind him borrowing my premise!) Gay's book suggests we need to refocus our attention on the good, even as our natural inclination is to see the negative. I'm in total agreement. I would guess that his book is a float through all those unexpected sweet beauties and pleasures that you pass by every day without giving them a second thought. You might get some ideas on what to look out for.

I'll mention a third book because I actually purchased this one some time ago -- it's called The Stoic Challenge and I'll say this much -- it teaches you how to put some humor and resilience back into your life even if it is despicable and full of minor and major annoyances. (I have yet to read it, a fact that suggests that the pathway to happiness is filled with major distractions!)

Okay. The clouds are swirling, the thunder is rumbling. Time to pick up Snowdrop. (Just the girl today -- the boy seems to have come down with whatever she had earlier last week.)

It's one of those days when staying inside seems so warm and cozy...

 

 

In the evening the rain turns to wet snow. I'm glad the calendar calls this the last day of winter, because otherwise I may have thought we're in the thick of it. I am so happy to have soup for supper!

with love...

spring's little quirks

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

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

However...

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

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

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

(tulips are just barely poking through)

 

 

We ate an oatmeal breakfast...

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

with love....

 

Monday, busy Monday

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

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

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

 

 

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

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

(he says he is tired...)

(she's not!)

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

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

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

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

 

 

The park is quiet.

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

with so much love...