interesting Tuesday

Have you had days that are neither fantastic nor awful, but for the most part very good and significantly interesting?


We wake up to a cold, somewhat wet and definitely gray day. I'm grateful. I want that warm cozy farmhouse morning where I read and write and bake cookies.

Breakfast first, of course. Note all the pots brought in for the winter.





But then I enter into the fray: I throw out the idea that we should pick up a couple of appropriate discs for our final days of disc golf (the course closes at the end of the month).

Well now. Don't ever enter into the discussion of what disc to buy with Ed.

There are seemingly hundreds of discs and they vary as to speed, glide, velocity, resistance, turn, fade, plastic used, weight in several gradations -- on and on and on. Some are good for beginners (me!) but promise short speed (which may be a good thing). But you need glide. Except if you're playing in windy conditions. This can take you into hundreds of permutations and possibilities.

I tell Ed - when we started playing tennis some dozen years ago, we went to Dick's discount sports store and bought two light and cheap rackets. They have served us well. We've played dozens (hundreds?) of games. We never once thought about which racket would serve our game well.

But with these discs  -- it's different. We initially bought two cheap discs (well, they're all relatively inexpensive) and we thought they'd be fine. But it's obvious that they're not fine and so the question remains -- what's fine?

So here we are on a potentially cozy reading/writing day, arguing whether velocity trumps speed and whether it matters that I don't snap or spin (or at least I don't think I do). Phew!

I call it quits at noon and retreat into cookie baking mode.

I need a cookie that is good for my afternoon coffee break. This one, with all the right flours, oats, and fruits is pretty nearly perfect (wouldn't you want a cookie with cherries, blueberries and chocolate chips?).






(Well, so I thought. Snowdrop voiced a strong preference for plain old chocolate chip.)


When I pick up Snowdrop at school, I know right away that this afternoon too is going to be... interesting.

The wind is remarkable. The temperatures are low (about 45f or 7C). The skies are gray. Nothing about it is very inviting.

Still, Snowdrop wants the playground and I think to myself -- well, it's good that she feels herself to be hardy.





But even with my proffered scarf, she cannot compete with the strong gusts. Perhaps for this reason, she is far more frustrated with her inability to master her world than in any typical day.






Still, she does rally. She always rallies. She can't keep that zest for life hidden for long.

(At the farmhouse, sharpening her colored pencils...)






(Rubbing my "back" as she puts me down for nap... I am her student, the tent is our classroom...)






(Dance!)






(She is thrilled to discover that grandma has Sesame Street records! And unlike streamed music, this one comes with a record cover, with pictures to admire and adore... )






(Grandma, that's Big Bird!)






So... interesting, don't you think? Lovely and interesting, in unpredictable ways.

paying the price

First, an apology: I have read and loved your comments. I have formulated (in my head) responses to all of them, but they never made it to Ocean pages.

Basically, I have not kept up with life.

Oh, I do the essentials: I cook fresh and honest meals, I spend time with Ed, I take care of my grandgirl. The farmhouse is in good form and the garden is thriving.

But I have not taken care of small details and I am sorry for it. Do know that every message from you is part of this text, my life, my pleasure.

There is a reason why I start with this apology: today is the worst of the worst: an acute example of taking on too much and huffing and puffing my way through the day, because, well, I didn't think things through...

I did think about breakfast and it was lovely.






But the rest of the morning and, too, the late afternoon were lost to my rushing through garden work. We're getting a burst of cold wet air tomorrow and so I need to finish planting, transplanting and replanting flowers today! So many bulbs remain! Too, there are the fragile pots to bring in, others to move -- oh, don't get me started. I have a lot on my plate.

It didn't have to be this way. Had I fewer bulbs, smaller ambitions, lighter aspirations, I'd be fine. Instead, I dig frantically and, too, I scold the cheepers for scratching up bulbs I had already put in. Girls! Behave!!


By the afternoon, I am mostly done. I breathe a sigh of relief and tell myself I will never get into this kind of a time crunch again. (Knowing damn well that I am very likely to get into this kind of a time crunch again.)


I pick up a rested and jubilant Snowdrop.







Because this truly is the last warm-ish day of the year, we spend a long long time on the playground.

Oh, I'll miss these hours of unstructured outdoor play, where she is driven by her imagination, nothing more.






Toward evening, we are back at the farmhouse. She finds our frisbees and we toss them around a bit.






I tell her, too, that she can pick any flower she wants.






Within a day, we'll have frost and the annuals will disappear for the year.





It's been such a beautiful fall. And yes, I'm quite fine with the coming of winter.  I've done my planting for spring, so I know what awaits us come April. In the meantime, as always, I'm hoping for a snowy cold season!

a wet, wet, beautifully wet Sunday

There were only two things wrong with this day (and even as I affix the label "wrong," I'm thinking that this exaggerates the gravity of the situation). First of all, Flickr -- my Internet photo storage place -- seems to be having panda issues tonight (anyone who uses Flickr will know that "panda" is a stand-in for a Flickr crash). I cannot upload photos and we're getting dangerously close to the witching hour. That's a slight annoyance.

Secondly, I saw not a single sandhill crane today. And this was a surprise, since Ed and I made a special effort to track these beautiful birds on this wet and gray day.

Let me explain, and as always, let me stick with chronology because when I sit down to write and photos are not loading and the day's activities and the evening's wine are (predictably) making me very sleepy, there is not a better way to tackle an Ocean post. Believe me, years of effort have taught me this much.


First of all, I am up early. Significantly earlier than on other days. Snowdrop is sleeping over at the farmhouse and I like to be up and ready and putzing in the kitchen by the time she is fully awake and ready to join the world.

(Her first breakfast is little more than a cereal snack.)







I shout up to Ed that I've not seen the chickens this morning. This isn't a worry -- it's just a recognition of the fact that the coop doors didn't automatically open today. He trots out to fix the problem. Snowdrop, as always, wants to come along for the ride and, too, for her first siting of the two new hens.






And now comes breakfast number two. This is a bigger deal. Snowdrop and I stir up the pancake batter...






... and the three of us sit down to a lovely indoor breakfast.






I'd forgotten to get her beloved bacon for the occasion, but the little one is sweetly undisturbed. The maple syrup is flowing freely and the fruits are plentiful and she finds no reason to complain.






After I drive her home, Ed and I embark on our own adventure. A friend told us that the Fall colors just to the north of us are looking especially gorgeous right now. Ed searches for a good driving loop and proposes an easy circle around the Baraboo hills. Typically, I would recoil at the idea of a driving adventure (as would Ed), but it really is raining today and, too, there is a small hiking opportunity that seems positively exciting -- if only because it may be the only hike with in an hour's drive of here that we haven't yet taken. And to add frosting to this sweet deal -- we would be very close to the sand bars of the Wisconsin River.

Why is this such a good thing?

Well, we are just at the early stage of the great Sandhill migration. And if you want to see a whole bunch of cranes ("whole bunch" means, I am told, hundreds upon hundreds), you'll travel up to the river and sit back and admire their wonderfulness as they fly in great numbers to these sandy stretches of the riverbank.

And so we set out to do our scenic loop. And it is a magnificent drive! The rain? Is it raining? Does it matter? Of course not!






The misty wet skies add beauty to the landscape...






...They stand up well to the fiery oranges and reds!











Eventually, we find an access point to the river (it takes a while!)...





Most likely we are too early. On this afternoon, there are no cranes here.


... Just the gold of a beautiful Wisconsin forest!






Toward the final stretch of the loop, we come to Durward's Glen.

It's a curious place -- we'd stopped here a few months back, on the way to the mushroom farm further down the road. We found a religious retreat, nothing more. Today, we probed harder and further and were rewarded with a beautiful (if hard to follow) trail past the stream and up into the forested bluffs.






It is a stunning little place!






And yes, the Fall colors are at their prime.






It's raining of course, but then we knew we'd be in for a wet walk. It doesn't bother us in the slightest.










Deeply satisfied, we return to the farmette.

I rush now to prepare dinner. The young family is here for our Sunday meal. And again Ed ventures out to fix the doors to the chicken coop and again Snowdrop begs to go with him to the barn.

And look! The clouds have moved on! What an incredible sunset (viewed from the top of a large wood chip pile)!






We eat, she plays, we eat some more...





And eventually, very close to midnight, Flickr returns to its normal functional mode, and I'm sure the cranes are returning to the river sand bars, and this makes for a most perfect day for us all, rain or no rain. 

it's a beautiful day...

We did not break records today, but no matter: surely this weather is beyond grand! With a high of 77F (25C), a breeze that could blow away anyone's grumpy mood, this day sparkled!

Apple and Peach, the two new hens, ventured closer to the farmhouse. Peach is the shy one, Apple is more assertive. Still, we think the foursome is blending well. Even though introducing new chickens to the flock is never easy, this transition has been relatively calm.





For one last time, we eat breakfast on the porch. We watch chicken antics and breathe in the earthy smell of Fall.





And then I hop on Rosie (remember Rosie? The moped!) and make my way to the Capitol Square to meet up with Snowdrop and her mom for one last Saturday farmers market together.

I can't tell what the little girl loves best: our meet up? The snacks she picks up as we make our market rounds? Or the vast green spaces where she can romp?





Perhaps the latter...





Or maybe all the above!

It's a day of reds, every which way you look!





It's a day of sunlight...






And it's a day for sampling a pumpkin bar.






I can't resist the selfie...






She collapses from the sweetness of the pumpkin bar, and from the loveliness of the day...






A passerby asks if we want a "real photo." I rarely say no to such offers. They're kindly offered and of course, not as crazy as selfies.






Afternoon. Ed and I are reviewing the possibilities. It's not often that we have such drop dead gorgeous weather. Yes, the wind is picking up and yes, I know that by nightfall, it will bring rain and far cooler temperatures. But that's tomorrow's concern. Today, we can play.

How about one last game of disc golf?
Okay!

Why did we think that we could persevere and do well despite the gusts of wind?

Worst Game Ever!

Because it's a weekend day, we are not alone on the course. Others are struggling as well, but at least they come equipped. Everyone carries a bag of discs -- choosing appropriate ones for the conditions and demands of your predicament. Not us: we use only the Walmart duo that we purchased because hey,  I liked the design and it said "midrange" which to me sounded like it ought to cover all bases. Sort of like having one golf club for every challenge on the course.

Well, what can I say... The views were pretty...





... and on the way there and back, we encountered a pack of graceful sandhill cranes. Snowdrop would have approved.






In the late afternoon, I plant bulbs. Dozens and dozens of bulbs. So many bulbs!

And I'm not finished yet. (But getting close!)


In the evening, Snowdrop is with us for a sleepover. She is bouncy, exuberant, enthusiastic, happy. (She brings a doll from home and plays with the whole herd of her babes with utter devotion and joy.)





Homemade pizza dinner...





Then -- a lot of craziness (she is of an age where winding down for the night isn't a given) and eventually, I nudge her to bed. I have a wee bit of trepidation: we've made a toddler bed out of the crib and it is her first night outside of the confines of her usual nighttime situation.

I needn't have worried. She snuggles under her new quilt, closes her eyes and drifts off...

Goodnight, goodnight, sleep well, wake up rested and happy!

a dozen

A dozen years ago today, Ed turned 55. I did not know it then. It was our first time together and I knew very little about him, and all that I learned lead me to think that he and I came from different planets. Perhaps galaxies. But, we spent an afternoon in each others company and it felt right. And so we have continued to stay in each others company, committed to this idea of being together forever, or a day -- so long as our hearts are in the right place and we hold on to that essential respect for who the other person is.

Oh, we sampled each others passions over the years. He traveled with me many times and I did some wild hiking, camping and canoeing. He tried the neat and tidy look and I tried a more casual approach to housekeeping. But not for long. I went back to neurotic tidiness and he went back to a life that rarely takes him away from the farmette (now that I live here too). Some things did stick (his love of my family, my love of the farmette land), but mostly, Ed is Ed and I suppose Nina is still Nina.

So today is our anniversary: a dozen years. Ed doesn't celebrate stuff, but he knows I do and so we have a sweet breakfast, with flowers from our neighbor's field and cards written just so...






It is the first morning of our newly added hens and so I hurry to the barn to see what Apple and Peach are up to.






I throw some old bread crumbs down for the whole lot of them and to my astonishment, Apple takes the lead, giving a nudge to chase sweet, gentle Java away. Aren't the newbies supposed to take on subservient positions??

Of course, Java and Henny do have the upper hand. They know the lay of the land and they know our habits. The other two are just learning.

(Java is like Ed: never perturbed by the bullies in life, always calm, moving through the day at her own sweet gentle pace.)





Alright: so far so good.


In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop at school. She hasn't napped, but still, she is excited at what this day holds for her: a promised adventure with grandma and mommy.

Are we going to the playground? -- she asks.
No, we're going to pick up mommy at work and then we're all going on a hike to Indian Lake.

She is on board! This way!






The sun is warm, the breeze is gentle. You want to take off your sweater, Snowdrop? This is likely to be the last day when we can all hang out in short sleeves!






A passerby takes a generational photo...






Snowdrop climbs in and out of a tree...











... and snuggles in her mommy's lap.






The forest hues are stunning...






The lake -- probably the loveliest I have ever seen it (and I have been here a huge number of times!)...






Snowdrop makes up the best stories!






...and reminds us of how easy it is to find beauty at every turn...







Later, much later, I say to Ed -- we really don't have to go out for dinner. I know you're worried about the cheepers...
Let's see where they are tonight...

We walk tot he barn and lo! Henny is perched in a tree, but the other three are all snuggled together in a tight little coop spot. We put her in with the rest and head out for a "mussels and fries" dinner at our favorite place -- Brasserie V.

A selfie:





... and a wish for a good night: to you and to all, today and always. With love.