Chicago days

I always said that weather in the city is far less important than it is, say, at the farmette.

That was before I moved into an apartment for the week, one that's a little over a mile from my daughter's Chicago home. And before I discovered that my sweet little granddaughter likes nothing more than a stroller ride in the middle of the day. A long stroller ride.

 City lights are on at 7:15 in the morning. It's dark out there! Puddles on the streets, on the sidewalk too, and above that complicated urban landscape -- the threat of more rain.





I walk briskly once again.

Breakfast, while the babe takes her morning nap.






And then I consider our options.

As usual, the forecasters are waffling. Thundershowers. Morning rain. No, afternoon rain. Partly cloudy otherwise. No, actually cloudy all day long. With possible rain.

Primrose and I play indoors... She is agreeable.






(Ready to eat!)






...but in the end, I throw caution to the wind (and an umbrella into the stroller). It's not raining right now.

It's cooler today. Sweater weather.






I have big adventuring ideas (as perhaps does she)...


 



... but I play it safe and start off with the essentials: stocking up on some peaches from the Local Foods store. (Primrose, do you mind if I throw some fruit in your stroller just for a few seconds?)






And sure enough, as soon as we leave the store, the drizzle starts. It doesn't stay with us for long, but I have no way of knowing that, and so I hurry back home.


That's okay. There's plenty to do indoors. And somewhere in those afternoon hours, I take two more selfies -- one with a timed release, and one that's the old fashioned kind. (And if you're wondering why there is this sudden burst of selfie photos -- after all, I rarely do this with Snowdrop or Sparrow -- it's really because Primrose is at an age where she can sit by herself, but not for very long. In a selfie, I can support her just a little bit. I do think the camera's red light catches her by surprise every time, but she does like the game, in the way that a child always loves a project that brings out the giggles in everyone.)












Early evening. The witching hours for any young child. But Primrose is easy to keep mellow. All you need to do is... yep! take her for a walk. And mention that she's soon going to see mommy!






I leave the two young girls to their joyful reunion.





As I walk back to my apartment, I think about how close we are to the end of summer. Tomorrow, Primrose is testing her new "school" in the morning and on Friday, Snowdrop is testing her new class. For me, there may be a New Year's Eve out there, but a fresh year really does begin with the first day of school. We get that chance to begin again, as school kids, or as parents and grandparents of school kids: a clean slate, or at the very least -- a new lunchbox or pencil case! Oh, how I loved my new pencil case each year as a child! (In my Polish first grade, the case held no pencils, as we started our writing lessons using pens dipped in inkwells; my "pen case" was a wooden box with a sliding top).

And so I am facing up to the season's end. Good bye you much awaited summer! You have been nothing short of remarkable!

Chicago days

I step outside, ready to do a quick 20 minute hike over to the youngest family's home. Oh my, but it's dark outside. A rumble of thunder confirms my suspicion that we're in for a storm. Should I Uber over? I can't be late or they will be late!

(The street where I live, looking toward the downtown)





I cross my fingers and set out, walking very very briskly.

Phew, dodged that bullet!

So many of our storms this year seemed to come out of nowhere. And others never materialized. It's as if there's a great disturbance up there in the skies and you just can't tell when it'll peek to a rousing crescendo or release anger with torrents of rain.

If I've been spared a big one so far here, in Chicago, Madison has not been so lucky. Ed helped with piling sand bags yesterday, but the rains continue and the flooding is serious.



Breakfast, with lights on against a dark sky outside.






Primrose is ready for an adventure, but I'm a little apprehensive. I do not want to be caught out in a storm. Let's play here for a while -- I tell her.






(Pause for necessary wardrobe adjustment...)






The sun is out! Let's go!






Our walk is long. I don't know why Primrose enjoys these neighborhood hikes, but she does -- chewing, watching, grinning away as she locks in my gaze and listens to whatever absurd song I may be singing for her.






We poke around a few shops and then settle in at Milk and Honey Cafe for a quick lunch. I eat a cold beet and lemon soup (makes your mouth pucker!) while she nibbles on a slice of watermelon. My grandchildren are watermelon babies this summer! (No, of course it's not real.)






Evening. A very special one! The Madison young family came to town! Big cousin, littlest cousin here to spend a tiny bit of time with Primrose and me.






(hey you!)






(hmm...)






(hey you.)






The youngest parents finish their work day and meet us for a munch and a drink at the Publican Anker. I do so love the occasions where we can all be together!






(Ice cream treat: at Jeni's Splendid Ice Cream, of course. Snowdrop and I make up a special song for the occasion!)





Night. In my little apartment over the L train station, I think about how quiet it is now. It took my less than an hour to get used to the train sound. Now I don't even pay attention to it. If you asked me if there was an interruption in the movement of the trains (they typically run every six or seven minutes in each direction) I'd have to admit that I don't know. We really are quite capable of getting used to the strangest things in life!

The moon is hidden. Storm clouds have moved in. Dull roar, loud crash, then silence once more.

We live in such stormy times! But in our little corner, all is blissfully calm tonight. Good night, good night, sleep tight.... and even tighter than that!

Chicago days

Morning Walk

Early in the morning, I leave my Airbnb apartment and walk the mile to the young family's home.

Not too far from where they live, there is a bar that is immensely popular at night. I'm told that the reason for its cool status is that it appears regularly in a TV show. People are drawn to see the real deal. Maybe to get a beer, maybe to feel for a moment that they're part of the story.

Next to the bar, there is a house and as best as I can figure out, at least two, possibly three guys, all right about my age, live there. I see them every time I walk to be with Primrose, because at least one of them is always leaning on the gate, chatting to those who pass by. All day long, people stop to talk.





There is something very old fashioned and old world about this. I keep telling myself that one of these days I'll have to stop and find out more about these irrepressibly friendly people. But not today. Today, I don't want to be late for my early morning date with Primrose.


How Quickly They Grow

It seems I was just here with the little one! Not even four weeks have passed since my last Chicago adventure. But of course, Primrose was then four month old, whereas now, she is just about five.






She is at that point where you half think she is ready to get up and walk away. After all, she can keep herself straight and upright! (I catch myself doing that thing you do with babies: always looking ahead toward the next stage.)





Primrose is starting to develop preferences. You can coax, you can shuffle things around and confuse her into thinking she is doing what she wants. She does have opinions though and it's delightful to navigate the day listening to her assertions and proclamations.

(An important desire: "I want to eat my toes!")






Adventuring!

It is our habit to go out exploring after her morning nap. As before, she is a spirited and eager adventurer.






Our first destination is a place called Local Foods. It's tucked inbetween warehouses, foundries and metal shops -- not exactly on anyone's strolling path. But it's worth the rather uninteresting walk. Just about all the foods are sourced from the Midwest. Not a few number of items are, of course, from Wisconsin.

It's a lovely and colorful place to explore. I stock up on foods for my Chicago suppers! Primrose? Well, she likes my enthusiasm. Here I am in the midst of a rhapsody about peaches.






May I have an ice cream cone?

Our next adventuring destination is in a completely opposite direction. It's a bit of a walk, but we're game! I've heard a lot of good things about it: Jeni's Splendid Ice Cream.

Once there, it takes me forever to pick a flavor. I sample at least three or four and finally settle on goat cheese and cherries. (The flavors are very creative!)

And I also take the time to entertain myself. I have found that with babies, you really do have to think of ways to make the whole enterprise of caring for them fun for you (as well as for the little one). When they're older, drawing with them, telling stories, reading books, building spaceships or castles  -- all these things are such great fun! But an infant is a bigger challenge.

Going for walks? For me, that's definitely fun! And additionally -- I love including the young one in my camera play. Taking an interesting picture of a baby is hard. But the whole process can be very very entertaining. Here are four pictures in a series of selfies (timed release) that I would call "I want that ice cream cone!"

"Please?"






"Please!"






"Looks so delicious..."






"Well, at least I get to touch it."






Evening in Chicago

The young couple is putting in a longer day at work. My sweet babe is in that mood that every parent must love: call it the "I am not going to be easily satisfied" evening state of mind. We run through her usual beloved toys quickly. No? Not tonight? How about sunglasses?!






But a grandma worth her beans always has tricks up her sleeve. Primrose, would you like to go to the park?

Primrose finds her chill moment in the nearby park swings. Snowdrop, the swinger of all swingers, would have been impressed!






And now her parents are here and all is right with the world!






Check mail, hear her stories, take charge of her care. Some time they'll eat dinner, but it wont be for awhile.






I'll see you tomorrow, Primrose!

The evening sun descends. neighbors sit on a bench by their homes talking, sipping wine. Someone rides a skateboard.





The last days of summer in the city. Brittle leaves, fading gardens, warm evenings, lovely memories.

farm to city

It's hot today. The kind of August hot that makes you think that maybe Autumn cool wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.

Despite the sticky humid air, I want to work outside. I've weeded five out of the eight flower beds so far. I've got the big one to do and, too, the much disheveled western bed, where milkweed was given special permission to infiltrate (you know, because of the monarchs) my perennials. Cleaning things us is a farmette priority!

Breakfast on the porch. How lovely that it can be the same for me! Yes, day after day of good coffee, of that comforting oatmeal, dribbled with local honey. Only the fruit change, reflecting the bounty of the seasons. Our farmette peaches are phenomenal this year! Market blueberries and cherries are going strong. This I could never tire of: summer bounty.






And summer flowers. Three pictures for you from the farmette gardens, the first two combining the singular beauty of ever blooming annuals with the power of the perennials...












And this final one -- of the Big Bed, which is such a typical late August display of the fading and the still colorful flowers.





Ed is warning me that it's getting too hot to keep up the weeding, but I finish it anyway. Only one untended bed remains -- the worst one, by the sheep shed. It can wait until fall. I need to get inspired about how to treat it next year.

Next year! Are we really starting to think about where to go from here next spring? Yes, I suppose we are!


In the early afternoon, Ed and I go out again for a Sardine brunch. Just like a month ago, before my July week-long trip to Chicago. Oh, but so much happened in that short time period! Children tended, boats sailed, horses ridden over volcanic fields. And guess what, we survived!






And again I am off to be with Primrose, for her last week before she, too, starts "school."

Bus to Chicago, "L" train to the youngest family's neighborhood. I decided to not stay at the hotel. For the same price, I can rent an Airbnb, giving me a little more space and perhaps more importantly, a kitchenette, so that I can fix a supper for myself. Here it is:





Very hip, very cool -- so how is it that it appears to be affordable (and indeed less expensive than even a discounted rate at the neighborhood hotel)? Well now, if you were to open the window and jump out (and I would not recommend it as I am on the fourth floor), you might land on the platform of the "L" train. I am that close to it. I had known about it when I booked the unit. Just a tad concerned, I ask the agent -- how loud does it get? He assured me that 90% of the noise is blocked by the double glazed window. That leaves us with 10% of a lion's roar.

But, I am content. I mind a dull roar much less than loud thumping music. You have to make compromises in life, no? 

After throwing my bag down, I make my way to the youngest family's home. I really don't need to bother them tonight -- I'll see them plenty in the days ahead, but I have with me fresh corn that Ed picked up at the corn farm today. I don't think they will have tasted corn picked that very morning (at least not since my girl moved away from Madison some fifteen years ago). My offering, from the farm, to the city. At the very least, it will give them a reason to smile: here comes grandma, carrying corn.

farmette days

In the afternoon I sit out on the porch sipping a coffee and munching on a brioche smothered with Dreamfarm goat cheese and I consider the very real possibility that we can't really tell if we're open to new ideas. When earlier I had asked Ed if he liked the new mattress and he said  -- it's okay but I liked the old one better, I retorted -- that's because you didn't pick the new one! You only like the stuff you pick, never things that are imposed on you.

He didn't agree: I look for new ideas from others all the time. I definitely am not stuck in my own way of doing things.
So long as you get to do the final pick, you're good. But if someone picks for you -- you resist to high heaven!

It's always fun to analyze the behavior of your loved one. Less fun to examine your own approach to life.

Like Ed, I think that I work hard to keep an open mind. And like him, I think I adjust all the time for ever the more clever game plan. And possibly, like him, way too frequently I'm bogged down in preconceptions and stale ideas.

Take the garden. I pulled on garden gloves, picked up clippers and set out to clear weeds, grasses and spent flowers out of at least some of the flower beds. I must have spent five hours on this, and for at least a handful of those hours, I had Ed's help. And still, as I step back to survey the progress, I can't help but think that the garden is past its prime.

Then along comes a guy who stopped by to pick up our broken TV. Apparently he likes to dabble in taking apart these things. He thanks us for the set and then says -- your garden is so beautiful! I am so jealous!

I was about to do my usual protest -- faded, past its prime, should have seen it in July. But then I considered the possibility that the flower beds are actually quite colorful and pretty to look at.  There is an interplay of perennials and annuals, but that's okay! Giverny relies heavily on annuals in the fall season. They aren't a lesser flower, they just have a different blooming habit in our northern climes.

Just because there isn't a single lily in the picture below, doesn't mean that I should treat it with less affection!






Then there are the cheepers. Peach, the light brown hen was definitely stepping into the shoes of a lead hen when the three young ones were introduced to the flock. I used to glare at her as she pushed the little chickens away from the food.

But she doesn't do that anymore. If she's the top hen, you'd hardly know it. Look at her gently "kissing" the beak of Pepper!






And here's a cheeper story for you: I kept telling Ed that the coop is to small and there isn't enough space for them to roost and lay eggs. He has been steadfastly saying that it's fine and that they take turns. After all, we tend to collect 3 - 4 eggs a day. Two little ones are probably not laying yet.

But when I went to feed the girls, I could not find Tomato. I searched everywhere and finally found her in the barn behind some boxes. When she got up, I saw some fifteen eggs in a neat little pile right where she had been sitting. Obviously this is not just today's loot!

Did that change Ed's mind about the coop? No. He claims that some chickens just like to lay eggs in their own special spot and we can now collect Tomato's eggs from behind the box.

We just like our own ideas, that's all.



(The big bed..)






(the bed by the parked cars)






Breakfast, on the porch.






And after this late morning meal it's back to work in the gardens.






(A view toward the porch: in July, it's all about the lilies. Now, it's a mixed bag of yellows along with phloxes and annuals.)






Toward evening, Ed asks -- want to play tennis?
Play tennis? I want to sit on the couch and have someone serve me a good dinner.
Then how about biking over to get some fresh corn?

This is what happens when you go away -- your energy levels soar. You want to shake things up. Be a better person. Move more, do more. Oh, all this tapers off soon enough, but still, you return feeling just that much changed. Ed hadn't spent a night away from the farmhouse in more than three years. Shuffling his routines around a bit on the boat and now at home has surely been a good thing. Still, I have been working for five hours...

Ed, here's my final compromise: I will lift myself off the couch to motorbike with you to get corn.

The corn farmers also raise cattle. A baby calf was born just today. I span the field to find the babe, but am distracted by the show of cattle love before my eyes. Wait, isn't the mounting cow a female? Indeed: it appears that a cow in oestrus (meaning in a period of sexual receptivity) will mount anyone in sight!






Still later, I ask -- would you like me to put away the cheepers tonight? That odious chore that is less odious when you don't have to do it!
I'll make us some popcorn.