day before

The day before a departure is always wild. It starts early, with my reaching for the computer before dawn and it ends with a slight worry that I wont get everything together on time.

(I’ll say this much: I know when to call it quits with the bike. Unlike the average UW kid...)





And I know where to find bright color on a December evening...





I’m there, at the mall, looking for holiday gifts for people back in the old country. And I'm wondering -- why is it that kids no longer go for the mall Santa thing? Not a kid in sight this evening. He has to make do with a wave toward people like me... Are kids all Santa'd out these days? Is that a good thing?

Anyway, I'm off and away tomorrow. Travel is a blogger's friend and enemy. You hope to write, you don't know if there will be the opportunity. But you know I'll try. And I'll connect as soon as I can.

Wisconsin winter days

A day of wonders and exclamation marks. Perhaps I’m the only one that can appreciate them, but still, I have to note here that I am impressed. With the entrepreneurial spirit and with the weather.

The first: Apple. The computer. After several days of Genius sessions and attempted fixes, Apple reps call me and ask if it’s okay for them to simply replace my computer with a new one, of an upgraded type (all data neatly migrated to the new one so I would not be bothered with teaching the freshly minted one how to walk and talk). Showing no loyalty whatsoever to what is, after all, a mere old box, I said “yes, yes, YES! and Thank you....”

As a dedicated laptop user (I’d say that in our indoor nonwork time, we have a machine suspended on our bellies pretty routinely), I am impressed by the loveliness and smoothness of processes on new machines. Ed, of course, is more focused on keeping his old and cheap running for as long as possible. Fine, but the fact is that newer is better in technology. And today, I get lucky – I get newer. [p.s. with all new glitches!]


In other news, I put down my work shortly after noon. When the sun comes out after a snowstorm (this is a frequent occurrence in Wisconsin), the world glistens. Even if it’s disturbingly cold outside.

Snow. I suggest to Ed that we take our skis out (for the first time). Neither of us has much time to spare, but we’re willing and enthusiastic and so we set out to do a short run around the perimeter of the Arboretum.









It’s unfortunate that shortly into the ski venture we get lost. And then again, and again. A wrong turn can be costly when, after an hour or two, the sun sinks low...





...and lower...





...until there is very little left.






It’s now that you hear the birds. But you have to stop to hear and see them. I’m waiting for Ed (in skiing I am perhaps three times faster on the trails – it is the only place where he appears to exude caution) and I look around me. One, two, five, eight robins congregate. They hardly twitter. A rustle, another, silence.





Lovely. It is all so very lovely. I’m leaving Wisconsin the day after tomorrow, to head back to the part of the world that was my home for most of my formative years, and I am exceptionally excited about this, but I know returning, too, will be a good thing. It’s just so darn lovely here!

snowflake

Well, now, that was pretty cool. Go to sleep in shades of gray and wake up to a bleary predawn world of blue and white.



At least that’s the first reaction. Not that it was a ticklish and delightful snow. Stepping outside I thought it was rather prickly and meanspirited. But still, lovely to behold.

I think about snowflakes even as my daughters are in New York attending (among other things) the Nutcracker this afternoon. My girl was a snowflake (among other things) in one such show. How long is one’s memory of poignant moments? Mine trawls back even further -- to when I attended the Nutcracker when I was a kid. It was the first time in my life that I cried because I found something to be beautiful.


Unfortunately, today was a day of work for me and so I could not spend much time contemplating the freshly white landscape. And so I guess I should feel thankful that my baby Apple (anything that’s less than two years old is a baby – and luckily still under my health insurance, excuse me, warranty, thank goodness) still needed urgent care (though her symptoms are improving, so there’s that). Twice I needed to go to the Apple Store at the mall and so I could ask Ed to detour through the prettier places on Madison’s west side, including the delightful Owen Woods.





I have to give Ed praise for never complaining on matters of detours, even when such suggestions are sometimes a bad idea – for example, when the roads are snow covered and slippery and the park driveways even more so, and when we are in his light and airy (the wind hits you in through the rusted parts) Geo with very easygoing tires that basically like to roll along and not rigidly adhere to much of anything.

He fights the slight incline while I get out, give an ineffective push and concentrate on taking a photo or two.





Eventually we make it back. Of course we do. I wouldn’t be writing if we didn’t.

the last ride

These are exciting times. And though the conventional wisdom is that December is stress central, I feel it to be the opposite. When the weather outside is delightful (on a good spring, summer or fall day), I’m compelled to take note. So beautiful! Have to enjoy it. Yes, really – it deserves my full attention!

But on days like today? No pressure! It’s gray and bitter cold. Whatever I do outdoors is bonus points. Like eating yesterday’s brussel sprouts. Makes me feel proud: despite the temptation to be lethargic and eat junk, I moved and ate leftover veggies!

So I biked to work today, even though I didn’t have to. If I had put away the darn cycle for the winter, everyone would have understood. But at the last minute I changed my mind. The semester ends this week and I will finish it off with cycling to and from work. Yeah!

Did I mention that it was gray?





No photoshop color correction on that one. Indeed, by afternoon, the clouds are thick enough to obliterate any tones of gold. We are part of one big gray canvas of sameness.

But exhilarating!

And speaking of excitement, I must mention the early morning car trip to my daughter’s place (she lives on the other side of town) so that I could take her to the airport. When we purchased the holiday tree a few days back, I left it on the roof of my red Ford Escort. I rarely drive the thing and besides, I’m going out of town for nearly two week. As are my daughters. We’ll put up the tree when we reconvene in Madison in the week of Christmas.

But life throws you interesting punches and one such punch is my limping computer, which required a car trip (with tree on top) to the mall last night. And now, here I am this morning, driving my daughter to the garage where she is leaving her car for repairs and then from there, to the airport.

In the middle of the very busy, fast moving Stoughton Road, the twine holding down the tree displays an impish desire to let loose. Or something. Animated in chatter with daughter, I do not notice until I glance at the mirror and see the tree slipping down the hatch in the back.

Oh dear.

I pull over and do some makeshift tugging and tightening. One minute later it starts slipping again. I tug and tighten. We move forward, it slips anyway. We stop, etc. etc.

We limp along this way to the airport and we hold on tight to the twine inside thinking that at least we’ll not let the tree roll  freely on the road.

The ride back from the airport is equally exciting, especially since now I am holding on to the twine and driving and wishing I were the type who prayed in stressful times. It would at the very least take my mind off the image of a tree bouncing off and doing damage. I teach Torts, after all. I know too much about personal injury cases.

You may think I am inept, as I let the tree hang loose in this way. Not so. It's because the cord is too short and on this particular car, there aren’t many trustworthy parts where you can fasten something and rest assured that the cord and car part wont break off and go spinning into space. You have to remember that the entire rear bumper and good part of the front one are held up by tape.

But, I worry too much. After all, I'm holding on to the twine and at worst, the tree will have been knocked about in an Isadora Duncan sort of way.

In the end I make it home with tree trunk pointing wickedly into the air, but with the rest still remaining more or less attached to the car.

Can you see why I prefer biking? (Though do note though that yesterday’s ripples along the shore are today’s ice. Brrr...)





Quick clarification: The last photo suggests we are have snow. Not so. What you’re seeing is the icy stuff that accumulates at the shoreline. Our ground is frozen, but bare.

Tomorrow, though, things may look quite different.

turning points

Should I? Yes, of course I should. It's 16, but it's dry and sunny. I've seen worse.

Yes, but the cold... And it will feel worse later, when I am tired from the long day.

Okay, but if I don't, I miss out on so much!

Fine. I have a half hour. It's a twenty two minute pedal, let's go!

I'm bundled to the max. Cap under helmet, scarf, down jacket. Still, it's biting out there! I pull up the scarf to cover the face.

At the lake, I see the first stages of freezing. Beaver dams rise over sheets of thin ice.


 


Shoreline branches are frozen. As if they know what's coming and they see no point in avoiding the inevitable.





The birds retreat to the less solid waters. For the most part.





I need to hurry up! I have an early morning class Thursdays! It's the last day of classes, too. Hurry up!

What's this?! Lake shore path is closed? Why? Oh, tree maintenance? Well fine, but how do I proceed now? I have no time to spare! Okay, Observatory -- I'll take Observatory. Uff! That is one uphill climb! I am tired before I even enter the Law School doors.


For my first class, I have invited a guest. He's been an honored speaker in years past and I have come to depend on him to fill certain voids that I cannot tackle. I listen as always, but this time I note that there is something different about his presentation. It's the same talk, the same person, and yet... I ask him afterward -- did I hear you say that you've had some issues? Yes, this summer I almost died. I had a brain bleed. 

And it all comes back to me. It's as if I am listening to myself speak. Because some fifteen years ago, I was in his place -- freshly recovering from a brain hemorrhage. I know too well the feeling of post trauma vulnerability. The shocked relief at being alive. He tells me -- thirty percent die, thirty percent have significant brain damage, thirty percent survive with no lasting damage. I know those statistics well. They haven't changed in the last decades.

We talk for a while and then I have to hurry on. I have two more classes to teach.
 It's good to see you -- I say. It's good to be able to see you -- he tells me.


And now the day is done. Last class ends. I look out at the faces of my fall semester and I think -- wow, this is our last meeting as a group.  They've been my daily fare and now  -- pfft! gone. 

Home. I wish I could merely pedal home. It's cold, yes, that. But I also know that at home I have a laptop that spontaneously shuts down for no good reason. And I am going away next week. And I can't afford spontaneous shutdowns when I am far far from an Apple Service Center.

I spend two hours with the Apple Genius bunch and they try, they really do, but it's no use. My baby needs an overhaul and it is doubtful that needed parts will arrive before my departure next week.

I've seen people fall apart over computer issues and I am determined not to be one of them. I'll make do! I'll figure it out!

I rush home and make spaghetti sauce -- a family favorite. My old daughter comes by for dinner, Ed's there, being Ed.

The night sets in. Deep sigh. I have no complaints.

winter mix

The December rush. Taxing, but so very pleasant.. Hurrying forward, you find yourself humming. Lots to do! Isn’t life delightful?

There is the matter of the tree. We need to move along and get one, but no one has time for it. Finally, early this morning we do a quick run to a tree place just at the edge of town.

Before classes, before anything at all, we are out picking out the Christmas tree.





And then we zip across the street to the bakery.  I try not to want anything. Even as I want it all. But if I am tempted, can you imagine the draw this place may have for the wee little ones?










Classes, office hours – the day continues in the usual way. I take a break in mid afternoon for coffee and to pick up CSA spinach (in the basement of the engineering building, of all things). I think – this is like the Poland I once knew, where you go out of your way to pick up a food item that’s not easy to find. Lemons, for instance, in the Poland of my childhood. Toilet paper. Bananas. And now, here in Madison – fresh, curly, flavorful spinach, grown locally, in the dead of winter.


Evening. An end of semester get together for law school faculty and staff. A chance to see the lovely offspring of your colleagues. Babies born since last year, children acting like children, only with one extra year's worth of spunk. I watch parents quiet the tired ones and I think – wow, it’s been a while since I’ve had to do that. Indeed, my older daughter is one of my colleagues. She mixes with her friends and I realize that she is closer in age to most of them than I am.

Time ushering in change. Yesterday the rain made the streets shine. Today, it is well below freezing and there are little mounds of snow in the gutters. It’s early evening for the younger colleagues and late evening for me. I take my pack, my papers, my spinach and catch the next bus home.

the last day of November

This was the last day of November? Oh my. December is not for the timid. There’s too much going on.

For me, there are several dozen points to take note of in the switch to the last month of the year:

1. The end of the semester is suddenly there. This week in fact. Students whom I have come to accept as being part of my everyday will mostly disappear and go on to live happy and productive lives, only I’ll never know where, how and under what circumstances.

2. The eleventh month (November) seems too long. It takes forever to get to Thanksgiving and there’s not much else to distinguish one day from the next.

3. The twelfth month (December) seems too short. It takes no time to get to the end of the semester, to leave town, to return and plan out the entire Christmas hoopla, and finally, to reach the end of the year.

4. If you think of bright holiday lights as opposed to long dark winter nights, December will seem a lot less of a drain on your psyche.

5. I had a short night. I finished work close to 2 a.m. and got up around 5 to get the condo ready for a showing, prepare for class and switch cars with daughters who needed my old Ford wreck more than I did. Even as the evening approaches, I am spent. So you only get five points here. No matter – add your own. One can tell it’s no longer November when... music: how about that one? How do you feel about December holiday music? (Emotions run high on that one; mine are, perhaps predictably, of the thumbs up kind.)


Here is the first in a series of photos of Christmas tree selling places – the ones that make no promises about the splendidness of the trees or of the buying experience (cramped, with a limited selection, yet uniquely beautiful). By Knoche's, on Old Middleton Road:

thank you

In the last month, I have received some half dozen thank you notes, mostly from daughters’ friends who have come to a family meal here. I have to say, it’s made my heart swell.

In many ways, I may be called old school. Or old world. Or both. I love excessively good manners. In fact, I think politeness is a mere front for greater sensitivity and attentiveness to the needs of another. If a person can bother with a thank you note, don't you think that they are more likely to understand postpartum blues and menopausal hot flashes and midlife upsets?


In my office on Bascom Hill, I have a collection of thank you notes from students in years past. I keep them all on my desk, right there in front of me, as a reminder of what matters in a work day -- the effort expanded and the benefits (to the student) accrued. Now I am looking at an equally beguiling collection of thank-yous at home. On rainy days like today, you can’t ask for a hell of a lot more.





Wait – yes I can. An even better ending to a work packed day: meeting a daughter, or two on the Square for a drink. Or dinner. Or both.




Thank you, daughters!

Sunday

You could say we picked the wrong day for a hike. Yesterday was a bone chilling winter-like day. Today, the temperature shot up nearly 30 degrees. A low fifties reading has to feel better than low twenties.

But Sundays are rarely good hiking days. By the time I finish cleaning the condo, it is noon. Then, today, we have to fetch Ed’s pickup truck to cart a broken old Honda motorbike back to the farm for further study and eventual repair. And once there, Ed is lost to his motorcycle project.

(And by the way, if you don't believe cats follow their owners in the way that dogs do, you ought to make a study of Ed and Isis...)






To me, good weather is a magnet. I always deeply regret any days spent indoors when the sun taunts us with its seasonal flashiness, even in the muted shyness of a February day.

And so on this ever so sunny November afternoon,  I head out for a walk without my occasional travel companion. Not too long a walk, but a favorite nonetheless: down the path that weaves through the Nature Conservancy land less than a mile south of the farmette.






If the Ice Age Trail is the well coiffed queen of Wisconsin trails, the Nature Conservancy path is her wild child. Sometimes it’s spacious and orderly...





...other times its out of control and unruly...





...almost disappearing on you, but not quite. Oh, and while you're searching for the path, you can, in this season of see-through forests, catch a glimpse of Lake Waubesa.






And so the bottom line is that this trail, too, is lovely, in the way that all your children are lovely and besides, the agency that appears to be in control here seeks to preserve the natural habitat and that to me is a worthy enough goal, no?





I think a lot about the farm house as I push away tall strands of dry prairie grasses. Once I had made the decision to relocate there after selling my condo, I thought it would be only a matter of time before I packed up and moved on. Now, the project of moving to the farm house is very much in the air:  at what price is it not worth the investment? Opinions vary on this one. And so the jury is out and we’re all waiting to see the estimates drawn up by the contractor, Andy.

In the late afternoon I am back at the condo. There is work to be done for the week ahead. Classes are ending, students need my attention. I answer emails, write letters of recommendation and only for a minute do I allow myself a farewell glance at what I’m sure will be the warmest sun we’ll have until spring arrives sometime in... well, March if we’re lucky.

Saturday

We’re at Luigi’s in Two Rivers.









People from Wisconsin tend to know where Two Rivers is – it’s where two rivers – the East Twin & the West Twin empty into Lake Michigan.

They say that Two Rivers (pop. 13,000) is also the place of the first ever ice cream sundae. We’re not having ice cream sundaes. It’s cold – never made it above freezing today, even in the heat of the afternoon sun. And the sun has long dipped beyond the horizon. (Just across the street from Luigi’s, you can see the dusk settle in over one of the rivers. Significantly frozen now. No surprise. It’s really cold.)






Why Two Rivers? It was one of those early morning quick decisions, made while looking out from under bedcovers in a half waken stupor, thinking that perhaps we ought to seize the day. Or at least a portion of it.

It is indeed a fine day. Cold, but brilliant.

I canvas the state for hiking ideas. I’m willing to drive far, Ed – less so. Realistically, we can’t drive that far and hope to hike before the sun sets.

The Ice Age Trail segment hugging central Lake Michigan seems perfect.

Even though I am well aware of the fact that we are in the last two days of the deer hunting season in Wisconsin.

[On the way out, I pull into Wal-Mart. For blaze orange gear. Cap and vest $7.99. Sometimes I do like Wal-Mart.]

It’s a solid three hour drive to Two Rivers, so that it is quite late -- 1:00 -- before we reach the trail head. I know from yesterday that the sun sets at 4:15. And in the forest it tends to disappear even earlier. By 5:00 it will be dark. A four hour hike then, at most.

Still, I set out happy. It’s such a pretty trail!





And the topography is quite different here. Lots of sand. Pine, cedar, birch, yes, and then, when you think you’ve inhaled all the best that the hike has to offer, you come upon Lake Michigan...






We walk in the forest quiet. We do this so well, Ed and I. Perhaps this will be our epithet: they hiked well together, up and down the forested trails...





We are not alone of course. There are no other hikers, but there are quite a few hunters.





Hunting deer, hunting squirrels (don't look in his bucket! -- Ed tells me), just plain hunting.





At the very last segment of the return trail we see a posting announcing that this segment is closed during deer hunting season. Who knew! (I had checked on the website and I noted that during the deer hunt, much of the Ice Age trail that cuts through private land is off limits. But we are not on private land.) And how is one to return without hiking this last segment?





We continue. And moments later, I hear that quick movement through brush. Two deer, maybe three, zigzagging to the side of the path, then disappearing altogether. I want to think that these guys know to prance away quickly when there’s danger, but that’s being unrealistic. There are hunters everywhere. Blaze orange flashes constantly. This hunter is waiting, rifle ready at his side.





How easy it is to get used to guns... I’ve seen more in active use in the last month than perhaps in all years prior to this. So much do I take hunters for granted now that I hardly pay them heed. My eyes are focused on other things.

For instance, on the splendid lighthouse...





...and the never distant coastline.





Frozen now at the shoreline. Wasn’t it, on some days at least, warm in Wisconsin last week? The ice that I see here is a fraction of what we’ll see in a month, but still -- that's not a wave spilling out on the sand, that's a solid border of snow and ice.
















The hike cannot be long. After two hours, we turn around and head back. By now, the sun comes through only in the frozen bogs and clearings.









And now it's just touching the tips of trees. Then it's gone. The forest is quiet, preparing for the night.

Finally. We reach the car at the side of the road. I’m glad I wore wool socks. I’m glad the heater works in the old Escort. I’m glad we had this one last hike that I could think of as belonging to fall. December will shift things for me. Today was still, at a stretch, autumnal. A cold and beautiful late fall day.

quiet

Suddenly, it’s very very quiet. Daughters left town to visit family members elsewhere, Ed retreated to his sheep shed, ostensibly to give comfort to Isis, his cat, but more likely to recover from a day of raucous merrymaking (food and drink, aided by a constant stream of music and movies).

I’m left to tackle the post turkey clean up. It’s amazing how one bird can nearly destroy your oven, your hands, your pans, your pristine neatness that you’re trying to maintain for a condo sale.





Outside – it’s winter. I can feel it. Everything has changed: it’s a different, biting cold outdoors. There are chilling winds that freeze the frown on your face, even as on the up side, we are having a magnificent winter blue sky.






I'm turn inwards. The outdoors is no longer the default option. I doubt that I’ll take the bike out again, even if the weather returns to a decent range. I’m differently oriented now. I'm taking on a winter mood.


Though not entirely. By evening, I want at least a little of my old life back: I don’t bike, but I meander out for a winter walk. Even as the sun reminds me that if you want its warmth, you have to remember to be out before 4.  I missed it today. Now,  I'm just catching the last wisps of its brightness.





Yep, it’s winter. May as well be December.