Warsaw days

It is cloudy and cold, in the way that a Warsaw December day so often can present itself. All day the temperature hovers close to the freezing point. Maybe it goes up a degree, maybe even two, but I can't be sure. When I look out my bedroom window this morning, I see the telltale traces of snow on the ground. (Not on the sidewalks -- these are merely wet and slushy.)

It does look pretty! For all the cold weather we have had back home in Wisconsin, this will be my first glimpse of snow this season.





I go out to get some milk for my morning coffee. Should I stop at my go-to greengrocer? The choice product, the one on display outside the entrance, seems to be the ubiquitous Polish cabbage...






There were days when you could find very little else in the dead of winter. Not so now: the store has the citrus fruts, the tomatoes, mushrooms, root vegetables, and even grapes.

I return home and fix that usual breakfast, only without the berries that, thanks to Mexico and Chile, are on our shelves year round, but aren't so visible in the winter season here.





And then my sister and I set out for a very long walk, undeterred by the on again/off again snow shower.

The goal is not unknown to me and you -- Lazienki Park. But we take a different route, one that runs parallel to the river. I rarely walk this way: the commercial center is on the higher Warsaw plateau above us. But I'm curious how things look down here. I had picked up a copy of the book "Varsavia Coffee Spots" and it lists some tantalizing possibilities for a refreshing coffee or tea in this area.

Here's one: the Kawiarnia Fabryczna (a cafe named after its home street -- translated as Factory Street... No factories now, just a smattering of rather hip looking spots). (A time release selfie!!)





The tea is wonderful (and warming), the atmosphere recreates a sixties look. The book description says that it's a favorite of high school students from the nearby high school Batory. We are here during class time, so of course, there are no teenagers around, but still, I have to smile at the link of this new place to a very old Warsaw school. My father had attended it (though his studies were interrupted when the war broke out) and indeed, for one semester, my sister and I had gone here as well, right when we came back from our years in New York.

Here it is, the ever lovely Batory Lycee:






And now we are at the lower corner of the Lazienki Park. Oh, how beautiful the summer palace looks from this vantage point!






The loveliest of all lovely parks!






(Yes, you'll find the red squirrel here...)






And no matter what the weather, you'll always find a mother with a stroller...





It's really feeling nippy now and my sister catches the metro home while I linger, checking out this time another new eating spot -- a place called MOD. It started out as a doughnut place: American style doughnuts. Meaning with a hole. And none of this artificial coloring and such: all natural ingredients. In the mornings people come here too for the excellent coffee and in the afternoon -- for bowlfuls of Asian-French fusion food. Me, I admire the doughnuts!






I pick up a few to take over to my dinner hosts tonight.






Ah, dinner: it's a big deal for me, for us. A chance to be together again. There were some last minute changes, as life does not stand still and a family emergency had to shift things from one place to another, but in the end, most of us did gather and that's a good thing! It's been a while!

Our hosts are part of our econometrics group from university days. But both have this other passion: art. Their home is filled with samples of their work and it is all quite incredible. I'll just post two examples, because they bring back thoughts of home. Here's a painting (one of so many, so many art pieces!) done by the husband...





What? You haven't guessed who is featured in it? Let me bring you closer to it:






Yes, you got it! Apple, Peach, Java...

And here are some of the sculptures done by the wife. Yes, life size penguins! Snowdrop would be in awe!






I could give you countless photos of pockets of conversation...






But I really didn't keep my camera out very long. Just enough to commemorate an important event: as of yesterday, all of the women there (plus the two who could not be with us tonight) are grandmothers!






Dinner is delicious! Rosol (Polish chicken soup), salmon tartare, ribs, chicken, salads and too many desserts! All on a very short notice, as the dinner venue had to change last just last night. My friends are tremendous in the kitchen!






We stay a while, even as tomorrow is a work day for everyone.

Time to go. Just a quick demonstration of a dance...






Then lots of hugs and kisses and we head home.

Home. What's home? Mine is that Warsaw apartment, where tonight I FaceTime with Snowdrop and Skype with Ed. Home -- there and here. Defined by the space, but even more by where love grows and flourishes.

and now I am here

December is always an interesting time to be in Europe. On the downside, the weather is completely unpredictable and could very well be awful. The days are short. People watching is made difficult by the early twilight and the layers of protective clothing we all wear. So... bleak, right?

No. On the upside, apart from New Year's Eve which draws crowds to Europe's capitals, the neighborhoods of most cities take a breather now from the tourist onslaught. Prices fall, restaurants don't require ten week advance reservations. And each country has its own spectacular and idiosyncratic approach to the holidays and whatever it may be, you'll find it to be colorful, delicious and festive.

I think the upsides win and I have been crossing the ocean in December for a long, long time. Indeed, it used to be that my only visits to Poland would fall on December days.

If there are travel headaches sometimes associated with this sketchy period weather-wise, I experienced none of them on this trip. My flight to Detroit was pleasant and arrived early, the next one to Amsterdam was even more pleasant (no bumps, no rolls) and also arrived early, despite the fog and drizzle.

(A second breakfast at the Amsterdam airport, because if you have several hours to kill, inevitably you eat.)




And finally my flight to Warsaw: it was on time, yes, but even more important was the view out my window as we prepared to land.  I was in that dreamy state of tiredness that usually hits me toward the end of these multiple flights. I look outside -- the moon! Oh, what a moon! And then I remembered -- it's full, it's orange, it's beautiful! An extra large moon (though not really: it doesn't actually change size!). A December super-moon.





My sister is there at the airport and we head home. As we leave the subway stop, I turn toward the flower stall on this street..





I pick up flowers for the table.

And there again is the super-moon, shining brightly on us here, and on you back home, too!





My apartment building poses a small challenge: The electricity in the stairwell seems to be out and with it -- the keypad that allows us to plug in the entry code. No problem! My sister pounds on the window of a neighbor and she lets us in. When you live in a building with many people who are decades older than ancient you,there will typically be someone home somewhere.

My sister has a set of surprises for me -- Christmas lights throughout!






It's all so pretty! (Snowdrop would love it too...)

My sister fixes supper for the both of us...





And we talk. Now is the time to talk. Not too long. I am quickly wearing down. Besides, I have three whole days in Poland before me! Too little? I know... That's what happens when I have tugs from back home. I'm never anywhere else for more than a handful of days.

But I am here now. Let's take each of the next three days and fill them with the richness of being in Warsaw.

I'll leave you with Christmas lights, from my home here:

farmhouse quiet

Will it surprise you to see only one photo today -- of breakfast amidst white flowers (paper whites, freesia, orchids) and across the table from the rapidly whitening head of Ed?





It's a quiet morning for us. True, I have an afternoon flight out, but for once I'm ahead of myself. We help the buyer of our old couch cart the thing out to her truck and then we settle down to our various projects. Too, we take some time to talk about various future projects that we may want to take on. We are never short on ideas!

A day grounded in the calm of the farmhouse -- so perfect on a December day.

I'll leave you with that: a precious feeling of calm.

My next post should be from Warsaw.

a thousand faces of Snowdrop

She is my granddaughter, but when I write about her here, on Ocean, she is also something else: Snowdrop is my everyone. She is my little love and my stand-in for those whom I love. Today, as I take more than my usual share of photos of her, I note to her mom that perhaps I should spread my photo shoot more broadly. Nah, she tells me. Snowdrop says it all for all of us (or words to that effect).

So on my last full day here (before I take off tomorrow), you'll see a thousand faces of Snowdrop, but do see in her all that my world is now: love for family, for my farmette life, love for my days that bring all these precious faces into my orbit.

I still need to travel. I'm sure I will always need to travel. But it's not easy to leave all this behind. No, not easy.

Let's look at "all this." Today, it was the usual Friday stuff: a bit of a rushed breakfast, because Ed has his tech meetings. Plenty of sunshine once again!







And then I get stuck on my computer trying to integrate Lightroom photo editing software into my new laptop. In the end, I have to resubscribe and start from the beginning, but it takes hours before I reach that endpoint. It doesn't matter. I had done grocery shopping yesterday. I had planned my suitcase packing the day before. I am way more organized than I used to be when I was younger, more spontaneous and yes, a bit more insane about stuffing in too much in too few hours.

My one set task (besides figuring out the photo editing download) for today is to do laundry. And in going down to the basement (where we keep the washing machine) I notice that once again we trapped a mouse. That's  a mouse a day, no exceptions, all since the kitties have left.

Ed wont be home until late and I wont be home until even later. I better deal with the mouse now. I make a trip of it: I take the darn thing to the fields where Ed and I had spotted the cranes in recent weeks. Are the sandhills all gone?

Not yet.






Just as I am about to release the mouse, I spot a black kittie. Not one of "ours," but clearly a feral, on the prowl. Out goes the mouse. Will the cat chase it down? I do not want to know.


I pick up Snowdrop.

That is, I try to pick her up. She is completely out. All her classmates are already onto their afternoon activities, but the little one is quite lost to the world.

Well now, I'm not surprised. She hasn't napped since Sunday. Nothing is more important than giving her this moment to rest and indeed, the school is quite willing to have me stay and wait, but her classmates are too eager to have their friend up and present and so in the end, the sleepy little one is brought back into reality quite abruptly.

Normally, this would have been a tough ride, but I only needed to remind her that we will be picking up mommy and then going to get the Christmas tree (from the annual sale by our university's forestry department).

Happy girl!

Here are a thousand faces of Snowdrop at the Ag Hall, where we search for the perfect tree for Snowdrop's home.

From there, it's a hop and a skip over to Clasen's Bakery -- the place we love at the holiday season because honestly, I am certain they have the best chocolate covered gingerbread on this side of the ocean.

Again, a thousand faces of Snowdrop at Clasen's -- her face is one of pure joy, especially once she discovers their gingerbread house.






















Finally, home. Snowdrop's home. I help the young family with the tree. It's not a wee project. And it's not a wee tree. But Snowdrop is not a wee girl anymore. She is involved!

A thousand faces of Snowdrop at tree trimming:






















And then I come home, with leftover pizza for Ed and a bag full of photos to play with while we watch reruns of Seinfeld as Ed proves that he actually does have most of the famous Seinfeld lines neatly memorized.

So why leave all this? I can't answer that. But it is hard to go. Even as I know I must.

Thursday

It's so pretty outside right now! November weather, but with plenty of sunshine. The lesson from this is to never give up hope for a better tomorrow. All those complaints about winter coming too soon? Surely misguided!

Unfortunately, we haven't the time for play. Ed's fixing his truck, pushing forward his patent, monitoring the ins and outs of milling machine production -- he's one busy guy!

I'm equally preoccupied, though with less ambitious tasks. But they all need to be wrapped up by Saturday, as I'm leaving then on my annual December trip (another short one!) across the ocean. So I'm running around doing very many very unimportant chores.

Breakfast, squeezed in between phone conferences (Ed's), grocery lists (mine), and an unexpected but so very delightful visit from friends.






I read that tomorrow is the meteorological start of winter. How funny! We're slated to reach the 50sF (above 10C) -- which has happened maybe once or twice in December in the past century.


As I pick up the little one after school, I'm assuming that she will want to spend her afternoon with me outside, at the park playground.

Not so. She does want to stay at the school playground for a while. Swings, yes, of course...






... but what really draws her today is the vast sand play area. She takes off her shoes, ready to plunge. I protest. Too cold, too uncomfortable, too shady, too wrong for November! She looks me straight in the eye to see if I mean business and then decides (correctly) that I am putty in her hands.






I do remain firm afterwards: you need to wash your hands.
She scoots away from me but then comes back. I'm sorry grandma...

Whoa... how did this girl grow up to be so... good?

I ask her then if she still wants to go to the park, or perhaps the coffee shop?
She chooses the latter. I understand. We're truly done with fall frolic by the lesser lake. There are better (warmer!) ways to spend our time together.






(She still delights in playing school in the car before we head home... I mean, she can spin her stories here for a very  very long time!)






Finally, farmhouse.






Testing the new-ish couch.





She approves!

It's her last visit to the farmhouse for a while. Still, I feel we haven't fully explored our play possibilities. I wanted to do this and that and then some more of the other!

It's a funny thing being a grandparent: on the one hand, your energy levels aren't where they may have been, say, thirty years back. At the same time, you've figured out where you could possibly help a child most. Even as there's never enough time to do all that you know would help.

But for now, she is at peace. As are we. November was one heck of a thrilling month.

looking forward

We all look forward. Well, there are those that truly believe in The Moment, but most of us have an eye toward the next hour. And on a sunny (if cool) day, everything about the next hour looks so grand!

I put on our most beautiful Christmas music mix (compiled over the decades) and get to work on holiday cards. (What? You're not on my list? If you're a good Ocean friend, you should be! Send me your address!)

It's been a full morning. We sold our couch and made plans to pick up the new-ish one. We moved furniture. We made room for the newcommer. We looked for the kitties and found none of them and sure enough, in the two days without kitties, we've trapped mice in the basement. Coincidence? I don't think so.

Breakfast in glorious sunshine! Our old potted orchids are starting their winter bloom!





And now the music and the cards. Ed is not in the farmhouse or I'd hesitate with the music. My daughter pointed out that she doesn't know many guys who love streaming lovely holiday offerings hour after hour. Well, they're missing something! The calm that comes from hearing hauntingly beautiful and familiar melodies is exquisite.


I pick up Snowdrop.

Her teacher tells me she and her buddy were very energetic and so she calmed them down by telling a story: of goldilocks and the three bears. The two imps seem properly horrified by the tale's twists and turns.






I think that yesterday's gusty winds finally had an impact on Snowdrop. When I asked if she'd prefer playground over coffee shop she surprised me by choosing the coffee shop. So fine by me!






A third day without a nap. She is tired.






But it is in her nature to rally and to find that something to smile about. A doughnut? Yes, I love doughnuts, grandma!






Revived. We walk back to the car.

Every inch of this route is familiar, yet we never tire of it!





But today we have to hurry. We have one more music class to observe.

It all takes me back, of course. I remember it too well -- watching that excitement, the desire to improve, the work, the car rides to get us there.

And still, it's different.

(We walk through a fragment of a mall, with a paper store. Like me at her age, Snowdrop loves paper products!)





I suppose having grandkids is like that: familiar, beautiful, yet completely fresh and unpredictable.


I take the little one home. Christmas songs play on the car radio. She sings along, paying minute attention to the various parts that bring a song together. Come on it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you... Ding-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling! It's all rather magical: the darkening night, the lights outside, the music, her young voice: ding-a-ying-a-ying-a-ying-a-ying!


And now I am the farmhouse once more. The couch is on the truck. Ed and I hoist it, work it up through the porch, past the kitchen and finally to its spot in the living room.

Sleek lines, simple, pale colors, firm support. Perfect.





It takes some getting used to: we no longer sink into a feather bed of cushions when we sit down. And that's a good thing. A fine thing indeed!

Now, about tomorrow and the next hour and the hour after that...