the familiar, the new

You sleep. I'll let the cheepers out.

It was to be a small act of kindness. But what it did was to make my day long and full. In good ways, though definitely full.

But honestly, I was anxious to get out and see the garden. Here's my first view of it, just before sunrise.






I check, too, on the berries. There is the upside: they're ripe and plentiful!











There is the downside: as of today (Ed swears this was not the case yesterday), the morning mosquitoes have arrived.

Okay, I have taken note. Let me inspect the front yard anyway. The cheepers follow.






Back to the courtyard. Looking toward the sheep shed at my very favorite summertime view of the gardens. (Lessons from Giverny on how to view a garden: it's the entirety!)






Breakfast: wonderful, warm, with a view.






Two more pictures of the gardens for now: toward the main flower bed...






...and in deep appreciation of the countless lilies that bloom mainly in July, toward the porch. If you sit there, out on the porch, you are up close and personal with them.






I do love color. And this is the season for it.

I take a pause and wash Snowdrop's new stuff (the girl grows with lightening speed). Colorful and garden like.





And then, with but one more interruption for grocery shop, I stay outdoors, putting in a solid eight hours of yard work.


Evening.  Time to get dinner ready for the young family. Yes, I can finally see, hold, hug, hold again,  my granddaughter. Though I must admit, I cheated last night. Ed and I stopped by her home on the way from the airport. It was way past her bedtime, but she'd been alerted to the coming back of gaga. It was a wonderful reunion!


Okay, back to this day. Pre-dinner nibbles: today, I include shrimp, knowing darn well that this is a Snowdrop favorite.







At the farmhouse, she seems puzzled that it all looks so familiar. She also seems very content. (At the table, glancing at her books.)






She does want to go outside though. Constantly, tearfully. There, there, Snowdrop, we'll get to it, really we will.

See? Go ahead. Romp.






Dinner.





All of us.






Dessert.






Daddy's lap.






And I give her a frozen  yogurt, which this time, she wants only in theory. Dinner was large enough.





The evening turns into night, the fireflies spark the sky. It's hard to turn off the day, but I am still very tired and anything I write later into the night, will not be something you'll want to read within your time zone. Good night then to all! Until tomorrow.

going home

Air France, the airline I'm quite loyal to (for one thing, it partners with Delta and I like Delta), has had its ups and downs lately. One down -- it is struggling with labor issues. Today, for example, there was a general strike (again!) and things that usually take no time at all at the airport took forever. One upside -- I rarely fly in the thick of summer and therefore I rarely experience what I have had now on both legs of the transatlantic legs -- an overbooked flight and a resulting upgrade to keep us all happy.

But all this is trivial compared to the one huge bonus Air France has given me (and from my future bookings, it looks like this is a permanent thing): it has changed the once a day departure from Paris to Detroit. It used to be 1:30 and now it's 3:00.

I cannot tell you how wonderful this is! I would sit in the very last row of a packed plane for this gift alone. My last day, as a result of the push forward, becomes not one of just travel -- endless waits, commutes, struggles with baggage, rushed departures, short nights and in the winter,  trekking out of the hotel when it is still good and dark -- but it it includes a half day of unfettered pleasure. There is no agenda (though I could even visit a museum, it's that good!). There is leisure. On a day like today, marked by brilliant sunshine, I can head out, enjoy a lovely breakfast and walk wherever I want for several hours even and still get to the airport in plenty of time for my flight.

And so on this day where in the past I could no longer sustain an interest in Paris, because there was no time for Paris, I am only half way focused on my trip. Here, this selfie says it best: I'm halfway still here.






Where to for breakfast? Well, I start out toward my favorite -- Les Editeurs. That's a place that is hugely comfortable and it serves reliably good bread product. But on my way there, I pass Le Hibou. It's a cafe that I've always noticed, because it is enormously popular. This morning, it catches my attention for two other reasons: this vignette, which, in my opinion is utterly charming:






And I noticed that where Les Editeurs tables are in the shade, here, the tables are dappled with lovely sunshine. In other words, the lighting is just magnificent. For a summer breakfast, there is nothing better than dappled sunlight.

(To be honest, the bread product -- a croissant and a pain au chocolat for me -- is a wee bit less awesome than at Les Editeurs, but sometimes light can take precedence over food. I have no regrets.)






And then I walk. I have some 90 minutes (because I took forever with breakfast, which in itself tells you how wonderful this morning is slated to be). Where to? Oh where to?

(Look how pretty the skies! How fresh and gallant Paris looks on a July day that has absolutely perfect weather!)






Of course, I head toward the Luxembourg Gardens.

It's just 10 a.m., so only the stubborn few are there now, but oh, how beautiful this park is on a Saturday morning!

(Chairs still empty, but properly set to face a statue amidst a visually soothing bed of flowers.)






(Now there's an athletic duo: dad's carrying a skateboard and pushing his son on a scooter/bike.)






(The play area that Snowdrop loved so much in May now has, in addition to the sand pits, a splash pool.)






(Is there a more serene spot to open a book?)






(The light, the flowers, the greenery -- sensual, soothing, sublime.)






(You know who this is! When Auguste Bartholdi set out to made the Statue of Liberty that welcomes you to the New York harbor, he first created a bronze model as a template. It was placed in the Luxembourg Gardens in the early 1900's. To preserve it against damage, it was removed from the park four years ago and replaced with this bronze copy.)






(Happiness is...)






(Flowers are an ether, a balm. These are close to the beehives of the Luxembourg Gardens.)






I leave the Gardens then and find myself in the neighborhood of kids' stores. I pick up a few odds and ends for my little granddaughter. In one store, I find this quite gorgeous little shirt. Of course she'll love the penguin!






A flower shop in Paris is always visual candy to the passerby. Here, she is minutely tending to the blooms she sells. I think a lot about the flowers I left behind at the farmette. We had several storms that did damage to some of the trees. I'm hoping the flowers stood tall!






This neighborhood cafe is such a no big deal thing, but I'm sure it's a place where these two gentlemen come to chat on a regular basis.






Now this is just an incredible coincidence: I took a photo of these sisters with their dad in this very block four days ago when I was passing through here. That day they were in lovely coats and boots. How the weather has changed in the handful of days!






I reenter the Luxembourg Gardens, cutting through toward my hotel. In this one section, the fragrance of the blooming lindens is so intense that I wished with all my might that there would be an app that would capture that wonderful sweetness.







(You could sit here and just inhale. You need do nothing more to clear your mind.)






(This vast open space in this park is where Snowdrop felt the joy of exploring on her own. It's a beautiful expanse of flowers, water, avenues.)






(The Luxembourg Palace, housing the French Senate.)






(Father and son, reviewing life's peculiarities.)






(She's asking her dog who is noticeably occupying a seat rather than resting at her heels, whether he is satisfied with the state of things.)






And now for my final photo for you from this side of the ocean. It's so good to have had this morning to walk calmly, without haste, without worry.





I return to the hotel, pick up my suitcase. I have 3.5 hours to the departure of my flight and normally this is just the right amount of time. The train comes promptly and the luck of the draw is that it's an express, so I am at the airport within forty minutes. I'm feeling like this is going to be one smooth trip until I step into the airport.

Had I forgotten that there is a general strike again today? First, some security concern has the police reroute everyone bound for the overseas terminal. Okay. I'm a brisk walker. And then comes the wait. I only need to drop off a suitcase (darn Basque rum) -- I have my boarding pass. The line is short, but there are almost no agents. It takes forever. As does the wait for the bus to take us to the aircraft. Once on board though, the issues go away. The captain tells us -- you've gotten through the worse part, getting on the aircraft. Now sit back and relax. And I do.

I'm posting during the layover at Detroit, but very soon I'll be in Madison and Ed will drive me to the farmette where the fireflies dance and whiff of summer is strong.

leaving Warsaw, returning to Paris

It used to be that I regarded a stop over in Paris on the way home from Poland to be a good transition from one continent to the next (because believe it or not, even though I have transitioned between continents too many times to count, these shifts are never easy). But this time I confused myself silly by going to France first and to two very different places in France at that, weaving my way through Paris to boot, returning to it now, all the while keeping a close pulse on stuff back home, with updates on Snowdrop shenanigans and updates from Ed on storm damage and chicken laying habits (or not laying habits) at the farmette.

Trying to keep one foot in the Wisconsin door has meant that I've slept very little, as most of my tracking of that world -- my home after all -- took place in the late hours of the night. And with only two days in Warsaw, I wasn't going to waste any time catching up on sleep in the evening or early morning. (Both my sister and I get up very early.)

Added to all this is the otherwordliness of having Obama in Warsaw right now, addressing the American nation from a hotel room up the street.

Where am I anyway?

At least breakfast is calm. The usual. And that is a good thing. (Three honeys to choose from!)





My sister continues to make it all so easy for me, even though she has plenty on her own plate to deal with.

But immediately after, it's time for me to leave. I take a taxi to the airport. We have been warned that with 28 leaders of NATO member nations, plus another 27 statesmen and women from partner countries arriving in this very time period, there will be chaos at the airport and spot checks and searches for anyone coming in to catch a flight.

Ah, but what you fear is not what will undo you. I have a very easy arrival at a very relaxed airport.

And my flight is on time.

(Warsaw's skyline: it isn't a city of skyscrapers.)






And the train ride to Paris is without incident. And my Paris hotel is the same old, same old (Baume). All this is so good. Reassuring me that all will continue as before. That no worlds are that disconnected. That we all live on just one planet and the divisions between one continent, one country, once city and the next are constructs that are eventually overcome or absorbed.

Still, it was a very full ten days. As I step out to walk the streets of Paris, I think how good it is that I can have these full days and still, at the end of it all, I will return to the Wisconsin and Ed will pick me up at the airport and we'll go home to the farmette.

But for now, I walk the streets of Paris. And it is a gorgeous afternoon for it! The one sundress I brought with me can finally come out of the suitcase!

The Luxembourg Gardens first. Five photos that tell me that this, at last is summer:






























On the streets again, with the usual array of tempting shops (I don't plan on really stocking the kitchen there, but surely I need coffee cups for my Warsaw apartment)...






(...if I asked Snowdrop these days to find the Eiffel Tower, would she still be able to do this? On the dress for example?)






(Here's a young couple plus child, making improvements to their shop's window display...)






(And here's a grandma doing what I so often do to Snowdrop: telling the little one that the actual crossing of the street requires the imposition of a different set of rules...)






(And finally a selfie: proof that I did take out a sundress and that I did pick up a few coffee cups and the dress for Snowdrop.)






Dinnertime. I go back to Semilla -- my new favorite within a ten minute stroll of the hotel. I had reserved and asked for the spot at the bar (there's only one and it gives you an intimate one on one with the work in the kitchen).






A new cadre of  sous chefs! (I always wondered if one criterion for securing a job in the kitchen here is that you have to be intensely good looking...) Oh, and this is new since last I checked: several of the chefs, including the appetizer, the lead dessert and the lead fish station ones are women.

(This one instructs an even younger cook on the art of appetizer presentation.)








My meal is excellent. And as I watch the intricate dish preparation played out before me, I feel a deep appreciation for being able to witness that quest for excellence. (Here's my cherry and almond ice cream dessert.)







It's a beautiful evening here, in Paris. And I hope it is that way for you, wherever you may find yourself right now.