Saturday

Today was the day I was to land in Warsaw. I'd looked at the weather charts with lots of enthusiasm. For once, March was proving to be a winner there!

Of course, instead, I'm staying home.

For kids and parents with kids, a day when you're stuck at home may seem long. You make a list of exciting things to do with them -- maybe build a whole city with blocks and learn two languages while you're at it -- and at the end of the day, you collapse and think: one day down and... what, 45 more to go?

But older people look at time differently: it seems to always pass quickly. You think you have a whole day before you and suddenly, you look up, glance at the clock and recoil. It's evening? When did that happen?

Looking back now...

MORNING

After breakfast, alone again (Ed needed to rest)...





... I attack the problem of adding some requested foods to my mom's pantry. She gets three meals a day at her retirement home, but she's mostly on her own with snacks. Yes, I would have done it sooner, but I just got her list and it seemed easy enough to simply order a home delivery. Peanut butter, nuts, ice cream, some cheese and crackers -- that kind of stuff.

Well now! I knew there would be a spike in online shopping, but of course, it's worse than a spike. All systems are crashing and besides, most of the items she wants are no longer available. Ed and I try four different sources and fail each time.

Of course, it isn't a major problem. Eventually, shopping may become less chaotic and, too, we can think of other clever ways of getting snacks to her, but still, it took us the whole morning to figure out that this just can't happen today.

What next? Well, since it's a rather cold day, Ed thought it would be fun to fill out our census form. There is nothing funnier than listening to him agonize over what to call our relationship (that's one of the questions). I know very well how to be provocative: say "husband and wife" and watch him turn pale!


NOON

Now comes the afternoon. Still cold and so we stay indoors. I start thinking about dinner. This is normally a two minute process. In simpler times, I have the week pretty much sketched out in my head. Today, I'm stumped. A frittata again? Will that deplete fresh veggies? Are we at that point so soon? Two days into the month's stock up and I'm already worried about depleting the veggies?

So maybe start in on the frozen ones?

I know, I know -- we should all have such lightweight problems! But thinking about which combo of protein and veggie to cook up for dinner is far less stressful than reading yet another report on what's going on in the rest of the world.


AFTERNOON

Email exchanges and texts with family and friends have increased somewhat. Not because any of us have more time (ask working parents how leisurely their days are feelin' right now!). I think it's because we crave that community that is suddenly threatened. And I want to know how things are for my beloveds. (I have to admit --  I need to restrain myself from sending them endless advice articles -- like, did you read the one posted by Consumer Reports on how to shop for groceries at the time of the pandemic? I mean, I'm sure they know to wash their hands, but I thought it essential to let the young families read about how they should be using their own pens to sign credit card pads. Because, you know, all that university education was not good enough for them to have figured this out on their own.)





And now the afternoon is long gone. I check my email one more time. I see messages from Delta and KLM asking me how I enjoyed my flights. The ones that I wasn't on.


EVENING

Chicken brats and broccoli. From the stack of fresh veggies. Broccoli bunches take up room in the fridge (we eat copious amounts of veggies each evening), so it's good to cook it up today. Next week, it's onto the frozen stuff.

We live in an unreal world, don't you think? Still, we're all trying to figure it out and I like to believe that collectively, we're forging ahead in the best way we can, with our brains working overtime to be sure, but too, finding space for a quick laugh (did you hear the one about Milan's painting of The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci? No one's at the table. Couldn't come, because of, you now, the virus). Hey, if the Italians (who are suffering terribly right now) can laugh and sing, so can I.

Didn't hear their voices? Try this. It's worth it.



Stay well, stay happy!

Friday

And so we roll up the sleeves and start the work of coping, of supporting, of living in this new way.


We are a land of diverse views and interpretations. This is beautiful: we experiment with a wide range of ideas. We need a range of ideas to thrive.

But I was thinking today, sometimes that range of ideas can be chaotic. And chaos can be detrimental to your health.

This was very much on my mind as I dashed over to the grocery store this morning. I know, I know: yesterday was to be our last run. And then I noticed I forgot the butter. Ed threw in four baking mixes (brownies, cookies), all of them needing butter. We have almost none. Back I go! One last time! (She said with conviction...) And so long as I am there, I fill in other gaps.

A small digression on preparing for living out of your refrigerator/freezer for a month: you should not do what I did. I had begun thinking that we need to stock up nearly a month ago. But I wasn't sure, so I did a partial stock up. As I began to be more sure, I added foods. And then more foods. There was no master plan. So long as the foods would not be wasted, I was willing to bring them home. This morning, I made a list of what was actually in the pantry, in the freezer and in the fridge. Uff! Lots of cannellini beans (for soups). Not nearly enough kidneys (for chili). And of course, no butter.

So after breakfast (solo, because Ed slept in and I was in a hurry)...





...I went back to the store. And as I filled in the gaps, I caught snippets of conversations. Ridiculous overreaction! -- said one gent. The panic is worse than the virus!  (Needless to say, this is not my view, even as I am no fan of panic.)

I ran into a friend. She was incensed about the fact that an infected person had had contact with an orchestra leader (she is a musician), who didn't think to isolate and had contact with a whole bunch of high school orchestra students. And contact with her. Wait, her? Should I step back a bit as I listen to this recount? Doesn't social distancing mean you're not supposed to have face to face conversations with friends?

Social distancing is interpreted so differently by anyone who hears this now common expression! Some have asked me if perhaps social isolation is an extreme over-reaction. Well, that depends. If Ed and I do not participate in a rich social life, then cutting out the occasional lunch or dinner with friends moves us neatly into the isolation bracket (except for the kids, but that remains an open question, depending on how things evolve in the next couple of days. Or hours.). Cut out the shopping trips and we are cut off. Isolated. And that should be good -- for us and for our community.

And what about all those diverse approaches? I hear some people saying that yes indeed, they are doing social distancing. They're not going to crowded restaurants anymore. Well that's a step in the right direction (except from the perspective of the restaurant staff), but when I look at the charts and projections, it would be better if they did more.

In other words, it would be wonderful if an authoritative source came on the air and said: the ideal model is this: (insert description here). You do not need to do more, you should not be doing less. You should work to come as close to it as is feasible in your particular situation. The closer the better. 

As all this unfolds, I have additional dramas of some significance unfolding in my family clan. Nothing health threatening, but still, these days are anxious days not only because of the virus. I'd say that what I need right now is a speed bump for the soul. You know those "calming devices" on residential roads? To get you to slow down? I would like something analogous to get me to stop thinking about all the "what ifs" and "why nots" in all our lives.

Such loveliness in today's blue skies! I've been doing a lot of reading to stay informed and make good choices, but at some point, one needs to let go of all the reading and processing and move on to another topic. Such as blue skies and sunshine that dazzles a rooster's feathers.






...Or children! Grandchildren!  As it's Friday, I am with just Snowdrop today. I'm feeling rather sentimental, as it's the last time I am picking her up at school. Well, the last time for a while. Because of you know what. No need to go back to that topic! Last look at the south facing bed of flowers... (will they be in full bloom next time I am here?)






A spirited romp (she wants to go to the young orchard in the hope of finding new growth...)...






... then in we go for an afternoon of reading and play.





I drive her home and we laugh at how the sun hides behind buildings, then reappears to shine brightly, too brightly, straight in our eyes as we head west. The fact that we can even play this game shows you how far we've moved into the spring season. Just a handful of weeks ago, we'd be driving in darkness, with headlights at full beam.

By the time I return to the farmette though, it is quite dark. I sautee some fish, steam some asparagus and cross off both items from my list of stockpiles. So far, so good.

Stay well, stay happy.

Thursday

Rally the forces, we are at war with a virus! Helping our communities stay safe -- that is the path forward and this is now our daily task.

Thinking clearly about your own situation, making lists of ways to move forward gives you a feeling of relief: you are not completely at the mercy of something that is threatening to knock you down.

Ed and I sit down to breakfast...






... and afterwards, we both go grocery shopping, for what we feel may be the last time for a while.

I am stunned to see a full parking lot at the grocery store. Normally a Thursday morning is so quiet! Hey, normally, Ed does not shop with me. But this is special. He wants to throw some stuff into the cart.
Chocolate chips cookies! We should bake chocolate chip cookies! And brownies!

He is full of sweet ideas.

I comment at the checkout that the store is unusually buzzing (with emptying shelves by the minute). The clerk responds -- panic buying.

No, it isn't panic buying. It's sensible stocking up. It's ensuring that we do not go out unnecessarily in the weeks ahead. It's being kind to our community. It's all of us, working hard to flatten the curve of infection, so it doesn't go through the roof all at once. Just a tiny hike, nothing unmanageable. We shop now to slow down the impact of this menace.

Ed and I are cancelling all our social engagements. (hey, we are social! just not very often...) I don't use the words "abundance of precaution." That sounds like you're one of those easily scared people who wears a gas mask before entering a children's classroom even on virus free days. We are not like that. We are merely sensible.

Speaking of children, for now, I continue to bring them to the farmhouse.





 '



 


One day at a time! We are taking one day at a time. Next week, I anticipate there will be even more changes in our routines. But, let's pull together in our communities. Right now, staying home (in Poland, seniors are told not to leave their homes at all, in France, outsiders are asked not to enter senior homes) is the best we can do. Yes, for us, but even more so -- for our families, for our friends and neighbors. For those who will need health care in the coming months.

Expect a lot of Ocean stories on how two seniors fill their time working the farmette lands in the quiet of a different kind of spring.

Stay well, stay happy.

Wednesday

It's a wet, drippy day. Warm for early March. Ed shrugs when I relay this to him. It's been an insanely warm winter, period. He answers.
Not insanely warm. Just warmer than last year.
No, actually insanely warm.
We had Arctic blasts. We had plenty of snow and ice.

He brings up the data. 8% warmer than average. I suppose "insanely warm" is not inaccurate.

Breakfast, relaxed.






The morning is reserved for emails and travel cancellations. And I have to say, it's a smooth, if time consuming process, with positive outcomes at all fronts.

Delta is reviewing my request for a refund. I'm sure they will approve it. Perhaps with a fee, but no matter. The bulk of the airfare outlay will be saved.
Air France instantly issued a travel voucher.
And my sweet tiny hotel in Paris waved its rule of no cancellations and no refunds on my booking and issued a voucher as well.

My financial losses will be minimal. Let's correct that: I will likely benefit from not traveling, as the expense of eating out, of local transportation -- all those little things that always cost more than you thought they would -- disappears.

My friends in Warsaw are glad I'm not traveling. And of course, I am too. It's interesting how quickly things changed in the last weeks. A month ago, most of us lived with innocence coming out of our ears. Three weeks ago, I was already on edge, sending messages to the young families about stocking up for quarantines. It seemed inevitable.

But then, one week ago, it was no longer simply inevitable. It was now. And now means protecting the vulnerable, protecting your local health care system, doing your bit to get good outcomes for nearly all who fall ill.

There was one other reminder from one of my Polish friends: stay optimistic! And I'll add to that -- stay cheerful. If you do your bit, you should be able, I think, to turn away from the constancy of this topic. Take a deep breath! (So long as you are not in a crowded place and no one has just sneezed at you!) We are, after all, at the brink of a beautiful season! The most beautiful season!

Still, do your bit! It's like voting: your small act, coupled with the small acts of others moves mountains. So learn to love your home. Revel in its wonderfulness. Use your phone, write letters, listen to music and watch the flowers begin their blooming season.


I pick up the kids. We play.





















They go home. For dinner, I scramble up a frittata: eggs from our cheepers, spinach from our local farmers, a diced potato, cheese. So much good stuff in our pantry! How can you not marvel at that!
Don't forget the mushrooms, Ed reminds me.

No, I wont forget the mushrooms. Sauteed in olive oil, with a squish of garlic.

Tuesday

A beautiful day, one to be acknowledged if not enjoyed to the fullest. I unfortunately have things to do! Groceries to buy. Mom things to straighten out. (The move was good, but she's had some grumblings and miscommunications, so I need to get to the bottom of things.) Kids to pick up.

But of course, first comes animal care. Here's an early morning photo of our most beautiful shed cat: Dark Blue Tuxedo. She is a girl and others took the lead on naming her.






And breakfast, solo. Ed overslept and had to rush to a meeting. On zoom. That's going to be the new normal for a bunch of people in the weeks to come.






I pick up the kids at school and there I find the first true colors of spring. They have a south facing flower bed and sure enough, today the crocuses burst open.






(In Snowdrop's classroom, Sparrow is learning the ropes. He loves treating this as his space too.)






(At the farmhouse, the entire afternoon is spent reading and telling stories.)






(hey, chocolate mouth!)





And toward evening, I visit with their mommy. She has had a tumultuous set of days. It's so good to sit down and just exhale and offload together.



And now I am at the farmhouse. Dinner of leftovers long finished. Time to write some emails with explanations about a decision I finally came to. I'm canceling my trip (which was to begin this Friday) to Poland and France. You'd think -- well of course! So much danger out there at the moment! But this wasn't what prompted me to call it off. Though there is some chance of picking up the virus, none of the cities on my list are reporting huge outbreaks (at the moment). And chances are high I'd be sitting alone on the long flight there and back.

So why cancel? Ed would call it a Black Swan event: small risk, but with large consequences should it come to pass. Me, personally, I'd take a small risk to go see my sister, my friends. To walk through the Luxembourg Gardens. To be thrilled by the sight of primroses there. But this isn't about just me. We here in the US likely have a very large number of unidentified infections. Wisconsin's deceptively small numbers may be completely off. Between that and the flight, why would I want to make my friends in Poland nervous about getting together with me? And, importantly, why would I want to bring worry home? Ed and I are older. We need to look out for each other, for people we love, for others living in this grand state we call home.

So I wont go, even as I am terribly sorry about missing this trip. But, people have worse choices and greater anxieties facing them now. Me, I'm merely slated to have an expensive  (all those lost prepaid moneys) staycation. Still, I wont bring home the anxiety that would otherwise surely follow me around, like some wild animal waiting to bite hard. 

In the meantime, I'm also following this advice: skip the shakes and hugs for friends and colleagues. Let's all get used to a simple, elegant bow. A greeting of respect and of love.

Monday

And she is in!

What began now three months ago reached a milestone today -- my mom, following a stroke, moved from independent living to hospital care to nursing home rehab and today -- to her new digs in an assisted living retirement community.

This final move came on a very rainy day. No complaints there -- rain means spring. Rain means the snow is nearly melted. Rain means we'll get a head start on washing down the glass roof over the porch.

Immediately after breakfast...






I set out to the store to pick up a few odds and ends for her and then I drove on to her new place, making sure that all is ready. Oh, it was now without small glitches and calls to Ed -- how come the power strip isn't working? Are you sure the light bulb you gave me works? Must be the lamp then... And so on. But by 11:30 I was ready for her and ten minutes later she arrived.

She was immensely surprised at how peaceful it all is. A studio, but a spacious studio. So much closet space! Such a nice bathroom! So much room!






(We will forget about the stuff she wished I had packed and that I did not know she wished I had packed.)

My own view is that it feels spacious because it is (at the moment) uncluttered. But vestiges of old habits remain. I heard the words "I never throw anything away..." and I recoil. All you seniors, this is not a good approach. If you don't throw it away, someone else will have to do it for you. All those little plastic containers and jars and bags and extra everything? They cannot stay in the cupboards forever.

Right now, my mom has to have time to take it all in. When someone else unpacks for you, you can't find a thing. Switches, mechanicals -- all new, all different. But, her computer (and thus a return to Ocean) awaits her, the telephone is plugged in and she is on her way to resuming normal life.

I just make it in time to pick up the kids.

Sparrow has been borderline sick these past days and for the first time I got a report from school that was less than stellar. The little guy is needy. Not his usual self.

Well, perhaps an infusion of Snowdrop's excitement moves things around for him, because by the time I get them both to the farmhouse, they're all smiles.

They are enormously creative in their play. Snowdrop is one long story that morphs into another and another and Sparrow? Well, at this point in life, he just wants to keep up with her.






Such sweet innocent play! You can even forget the dire news headlines for the few hours that these two are at the farmhouse. They laugh, you laugh.





And the rains come down and the snows vanish and you hope for a really beautiful spring. I mean, the rough season is the one that was. We need the pick-me-up of an emerging field of spring flowers! Soon!

Sunday

You do know it's International Women's Day, don't you? Oh stop blubbering about how you don't observe such holidays! Go celebrate the women who contributed to making your life grand. What, your life is not grand? Don't blame the women. We had no say in that!

Anyway. It is Women's Day and I always remember it, because in the Poland of my youth, it was a fairly big deal. At the very least you got a flower for your gendered efforts. And a lot of good messaging about the value of women. And honestly, sometimes the soul needs to hear some good stuff coming at you. Your brain says "it's all just there to make you feel good" and the heart responds "I don't mind being made to feel good..."

For those who say -- every day is women's day, I'll respond -- ah, but were that the case! Until that happens, let's give ourselves a flower and take stock of all that we have accomplished in our varied and full lives.

So, Women's Day, but also Sunday, an especially beautiful and spring-like day here, in Wisconsin. Really stunning.

But first, breakfast.






We wait a little for the temps to climb up and climb they do! We reach a high of 57F (14C). It's by far our warmest reading of 2020. Amazing and wonderful all at the same time.

A hike is in order. Ed and I pick a segment of the Ice Age Trail that is especially pretty (we think) in early spring. It starts right by a wonderful goat farm (they make great goat cheese there) and meanders up the hills and into the forest...






... before coming out on this bluff, with possibly the best views in south central Wisconsin.





We do live in a lovely corner of the country!

Selfie, to commemorate the successful climb through at times muddy, at other times slippery portions of the trail...






In the evening, the young family is here for dinner. Oh, that extra hour of daylight! It makes such a difference!






(ice cream fan...)






(out to feed the cheepers and cats with Ed)





Late evening. How did it get to be late so fast?  Lost an hour... International Women's Day, cut to just 23 hours. So unfair! Ah well. We're used to it.

Saturday

And so ends winter time. Tomorrow, we spring forward. (Europe does this a couple of weeks later.) But here, in Wisconsin, it seems we've already sprung forward. We wake up to another stellar day.

Breakfast.






I can't fully take advantage of it because I set aside this day for unpacking my mom's new apartment. I treat myself to a drive along the back roads. It adds a handful of minutes, but it's worth it. I am so much not a fan of interstate highways. Sitting behind trucks and having cars speed by you at twice the speed limit (or so it seems) is sometimes horrible, often boring, and honestly -- just stressful. I prefer having the luxury of an empty road, if only so that I can look out at these landscapes.






My mom's apartment is a large studio. She was in a one bedroom before, but honestly, this place seems more spacious. It could be the result of eliminating 75% of her possessions, or it could be that a studio projects spaciousness. 

By mid afternoon, I'm done!

A brief drive through Sun Prairie shows off this rather charming small satellite town (it's just a half dozen miles to Madison from here). I should stop and take some pictures, but I'm in a hurry to get back, so you get just this, straight out my car window:






Why the rush? Oh, so Ed and I can take in a walk! Just to the county park up the road, but it surely is a lovely and musical walk!






Did I tell you? The warbling sandhill cranes are back!






Yes, I'm a huge fan! These birds offer an enchanting symphonic presentation for us at the farmette nearly every day. (Their sound carries.)





Welcome back, you lovely birds! Do your courtship dances, enjoy our waterways and wetlands. And sing your warbly tunes! Winter's done. Spring is here.

Friday

It's done! Not without adventure, but I surely can say that the bulk of the work of moving my mom (or at least her stuff) to a new place is behind us.

I can sit back now and reflect on the process itself  (hmmm...maybe I should wait until she moves in on Monday...). About all the good people that I worked with -- I mean, really good people, both in county government and in the taxed and stressed but you'd never know it medical services. About my least favorite part of it all. No, not the carrying lifting and loading. Not the hours of time spent on shuffling papers. Hands down, the toughest was going through all of my mom's stuff, every folder, paper and acquired item and deciding what to toss, sell, give away, take. Take note all you aging readers! Tear it up and toss it away. You don't need half of what you think you need.

Breakfast is very early. "Two moving people and a borrowed truck" have a job to do!






We pick up the truck and drive to our storage unit on the outskirts of the city. Loading the truck is tricky. There is just enough room for it all. Well, one of the chairs sort of towers over everything, but still, we're good!






It's a scant ten minute drive from storage to mom's new place. Rural scenery. On a beautiful, sunny day.






Time to unload the truck!

You know gorgeous, I think we lost that chair...

Indeed! It's gone. Fell off along the way. We find it later in a ditch. Shattered. Good thing we stuck to quiet rural roads!

 I'm so very glad that part of the move is behind us.

We haul her stuff to the unit, set up some of the mechanicals and take off. I'll unpack tomorrow. This afternoon, I'm back at the farmette with Snowdrop. 


She is (at first)  a disappointed little girl. The shed cats are out and about and she wants with all her heart to befriend at least one of them. There are barn cats that grow tame with age. We've seen them on nearby farms. The guys here are not quite there yet. Ed and I can pet most of them, but not at our whim. And this little girl is a whole new kettle of fish. They run if she approaches.






We suggest she meets them in their home turf -- the shed. She's willing. She wants to move all her toys into the shed and wait for them here!






She is eventually appeased with one cat gazing curiously at her from a short distance. I tell her that over time, they'll be as used to her as they are to the cheepers who cross their path (and who, by the way, love having Snowdrop in their midst).






In the evening, Ed and I eat take out Chinese food. In a crazy busy day, you need to make room for some slight extravagance. Something that can celebrate the good and healthy in all of us.

Thursday

The wind howled, the trash cans outside toppled, signs telling you to drive carefully (because of the animals) on our long driveway fell off their posts.

Still, it very much feels like early spring.

Breakfast.






Much of my morning is devoted to coordinating my mom's transfer (Monday!). There's the discharge, the transport, the move-in. It's going to be a radical change for her (for the better, I hope!). She has been in a nursing home rehab for nearly three months and she has insisted on isolation.  No visits, no computer, no calls (I'm the exception).  The hope is that next week, she will resurface and resume an engagement with the world. in a supportive environment.


In the afternoon, I pick up the kids and bring them to the farmette. Showers come and go, the walkways are mushy and muddy -- all typical early spring stuff, all wonderful!











It's dance day of course.












And then I'm back at home. Late, but satisfied that all that needed to be done today was taken care of. Tomorrow, Ed and I will don our mover hats. "Two people and borrowed truck." Best part? We move for free!

sun salutations

It's wickedly beautiful outside again! A constant reminder of how splendid early spring can be! I don't think anyone cares that it's still just a handful of degrees above freezing. Sunshine dazzles. The spirits lift, the step grows more bouncy.

We've had a string of such days. Two takeaways from good weather: it's a prod to get you moving more (not by car, on your feet!) and it's a reminder to take dreary days in stride. They do not have a hold on your life. Eventually, the sunshine will pull you out of yourself once again.

Breakfast, ready and lovely.






An appointment follows, but after that Ed and I have a window and this time we don't dally: to the county park!






The walk is grand and not too slippery.






Hey, would you believe it? Even as the ice fishers still throw down their lines...






... someone else is taking advantage of the thawing ice!






Neither activity looks appealing to me! And as if to demonstrate the uncertainties with walking on ice, I step on a patch, out there in the park meadows, it shatters in its thinness, I fall and end up completely wet. Icy wet. This kind of mishap is way more funny on sunny days!


The kids are equally spirited today. Snowdrop still chooses indoor play (were he given a vote, I'm sure Sparrow would pick the option of "whatever my sister wants!"), but there is always a pause outside now, to take stock, to appreciate the disappearing snow cover, to salute the sun.











For a few minutes anyway. The great bulk of our time is in the farmhouse.





Ed plays volley ball tonight and so I forgo the movie watching in favor of a quiet evening. Time to think a little about grandparenting, about parenting, about the children in our lives. I track with great attention the growth of three right now and give as much care as I can to all of them. So you could say that I've tended to five kids in my life. Does that make me almost an expert?

Your approach to family life changes as you get older. On the one hand you are more limited of course (you are not in charge of their lives, and besides, your physical stamina diminishes somewhat), on the other hand time gives you a better understanding of where you need to tread carefully and where you can relax. On balance, are grandparents less anxious about their grandkids? I think so. There is a broadening of our perspective. And the realization that few people have tried and true answers and so why not lose the angst? Why not accept one's uncertainties and vulnerabilities and enjoy the flawed but wonderful run through life?

Spring. It came early this year. And I am so glad!