Saturday - 197th

What do you call a day that bounces madly from one edge to the next, unpredictably, wickedly, with the force of the winds that seem to have made south central Wisconsin their home these days?

Cloudy and cold. No, make that warm. A little warm.











And here's a sweet surprise -- blueberry pancakes with Primrose!

(so little pancake left!)





Well, it's not as if we are at the same table. She is in Chicago. I have no pancakes here. Still, I can imagine the maple syrup sweetness!

(here's my mom!)






For Ed and me breakfast is more, well, ordinary. But on the porch! Warm enough for that!






Since we are really at the tail end of unseasonable temperatures (and I mean the tippy tip of that tail), I do not go inside after breakfast. I take my laptop and read and write out on the porch until the juice runs out. (Because it is soooo difficult to go inside and fetch the chord and plug it in!)

Memorable: an email exchange with an old college friend. People my age really appreciate friendships that are packed with a long history. I've known this person since I was 19. Pretty damn long. So that's definitely a swing in the up direction.


And how's the spirit of the farmette holding up these days? In addition to DIY fix-it projects, there's been a lot of reading and news analysis taking place here in the farmhouse. Ed and I are quite on the same political page, so you'd think this would be calm and perhaps even boring. Nothing worse than listening to someone express something that sounds exactly like a thought coming out of your own mouth. Yawn!

But where we differ is in reaction to events transpiring all around us. I'm in a "do nothing" mode right now. The pandemic has zapped my "let's talk about it some more" energies. Ed is much more focused on scraping out all exigencies and permutations. And so, perhaps for the first time, the tables are switched. I want more quiet, less of the brutal analysis. I have a wait and see approach to just about everything right now. Ed's more fired up. Indeed, in the fifteen years we have been together, I've not ever seen him this fired up before. From my perspective, that's a bounce in the wrong direction. I understand his animation, but when things get rough, I look for calm and calm is proving to be elusive this Fall!


But here's a bounce up: a visit with Snowdrop. Outside, distanced, with masks.












It's supposed to be warm. Perfect for an afternoon outside.






Sometime in the middle of reading with her, I get a call from Stoughton. There has been a sighting and this time, there is a video of the stray kittie. I'm sure it's Cutie! The white paws, the white chest, everything matches! I call Ed and send him to Stoughton. He and the prospective owner walk the blocks where the kittie was seen. They aren't lucky, but they leave a trap with food. Apparently she little cat has been hanging out there for a few days. [Only later, when I am back at the farmhouse, do I carefully study the video. A white chest, four white paws. Wait a minute... Cutie has only three white paws! Nearly identical, but no bananas. It's not her.]

As I continue to read now with Snowdrop, I pause and watch her, appreciating her increasingly big girl movements, her careful storytelling. She's hanging on to some of her little girl traits and habits, but they're getting to be more polished. In all these grandkids, I see the next age take shape, and then the next one, and the one after that.

And now it's really cold. I give her my sweater to cover her legs.


 



She doesn't want to go inside, we linger. Finally it's time to pack up and get going. She tells me she wishes I could come in with her.





I cannot come in with her.



And then I'm off to the CSA pick up point where a box of Fall veggies awaits me. You can go ahead and love your spring and early summer stuff, but these are veggies both Ed and I gobble up in one sitting. Cauliflower. Bok choy. Potatoes -- purple today. Garlic, onions. Tomatoes -- big, lovely. Peppers, mixed greens for a sautee or to throw in with a salad. What's there not to like?


Evening. Finally, over popcorn, we let go of the angst and revel in all that's good right now. We watch the next episode of our crime drama, I pour a glass of Chablis. Total calm. So very wonderful.

Friday - 196th

Are you tired of reading these words -- "it was a stunning day?"  Oh, but the skies were blue, and the warm breeze was so strong, and the temperatures soared to near 80F (26C), and the gold that's touching the leaves right now seems majestic, and the dainty asters popping up in the prairies are like candies in a candy jar and if you can be outside today, you want to stay there and never go in.






Morning walk to the barn, with a moment to pick a few handfuls of weeds. I figure if I do a little each day, I'll get on top of the areas around the sheep shed. What to do going forward is still a puzzle, but perhaps I can spend winter months pondering over how to keep those weeds out of there next year.

Breakfast.






Hello, cat. And Ed.






We do just a few tiny projects around the farmhouse -- like, the gasket around the freezer door is ripped and not too clean, so we pull it off, clean it up and put it back on, upside down so we can no longer see the crack. (If there is a cheap fix to a problem, Ed will find it.) But really, we spend very little time indoors. Instead, we hop on the motorbike and head out to our local park, taking the trail that has served us well for years now.

(on the way, the cranes...)






(the giant oak and, well, the tall guy...)






(love and friendship, among turtles...)






(choppy lake)





Fall colors? Sure, but they are subtle still.






Except in places where they are resplendent and bold.






In the afternoon, after a careful filling out the bubbles on the ballot...







... we're again on the bike, motoring first to our City Hall, where they have placed in the lobby a drop box for ballots. It could not be easier. We came equipped with masks and disinfectants and, considering we encountered no one and had to touch nothing, we used neither.

[By evening, our votes were recorded as "received!"]

Next, we go over to County Materials where we examine the cement blocks we'll be using for our front steps. Yes, I think we finally have a decision in hand. Ed's agreeable to moving ahead with the help of Mr. Retired Mason. He'll be building our front steps in mid October.

Our last afternoon minutes are spent on farmette land, examining the grape that has climbed over and into the box elder tree. It's a concord grape (nice taste in the flesh, plenty of seeds and an awful skin), planted by Ed a long time ago and it is the only grape that consistently produces (here and in the grape arbor) edible grapes. We leave most to the birds, though some amount of sucking and spitting out the seeds is a very autumnal small pleasure for both of us.

And there you have it. They say that we wont be seeing days like this again until spring 2021. Can you think that far ahead? I cannot.

And did I mention that it was an utterly stunning day?

Thursday - 195th

Quite suddenly, the mechanical aspects of living in a rural farmhouse are front and center for us. In other words, Ed is getting to be very, very busy.

It starts early. The people who do septic system inspections are here to do a three year check on ours. If it reaches a certain benchmark, the stuff has to be pumped out. This time, we're okay. Next time, we may have to go the whole distance and clean out the gunk (to put it nicely).

Over breakfast...





... we discuss the very pleasant topic of septic strategies. Ed proposes we put in a bidet pump into our toilet.
People love it! -- he tells me.
Don't you need an electrical socket nearby?
Oh, we wouldn't have to do the electric version. This one is manual.
So... a burst of cold water comes up?
Well, it wouldn't be ice cold... People say it's way cleaner than toilet paper.

Are we really going to base our future cleaning habits on online reviews?

Okay, that discussion is put on hold. For a while.

As we're on the porch, Ed starts unpacking the new water heating system that arrived in big boxes several days ago. Remember? Our water heater is leaking and Ed has decided to replace the whole thing with an on-demand heater.
It will be different. In some ways that I can't predict.
You mean a hot water adventure? So long as it doesn't shoot up bursts of cold water during a hot shower. I would hate that.
No, it probably wont do that...

He takes out the new pipe fittings. One is chipped.
Will you send it back?
I can fix it. (To Ed, unnecessary disposing of plastic is up there with strangling innocent dolphins.)






We are interrupted with the arrival of yet another person who may be able to help Ed construct the front steps to the house. Note here the words "able to help Ed." The implication is that at least part of the work is done by Ed. Building the landing, filling in concrete -- that's all Ed. The guy does the masonry. As usual, I can hardly follow the discussion. Half the vocabulary is beyond me. But I do catch this very important detail -- this gentleman is a retired mason. He has time. He could do this project (with Ed) this Fall!

He's got my vote.





The afternoon? Spent on looking at patterns of stamped concrete and outdoor tile. We live in a country of too many choices.

Come to think of it, maybe I can just stamp the concrete myself. It's not too complicated. I think. Here's a video... I can do this. Ed clicks on YouTube and we're off, learning about how to decorate your concrete slab.

Oh boy.

And it doesn't end there. Before the evening is out, Ed is looking at boring prefab slabs of concrete which, I suppose in some designer's universe would be called okay looking steps. And thus we've completed the circle of designing the front entrance to the farmhouse: all options are once more on the table.

You know, I have a feeling this isn't the right year for us to put in the 200plus fruit trees in the rear farmette lands.



Here's a nice evening activity! Talking to Primrose in Chicago.






She and I review, among other things, raspberries and mint. I happen to have an abundance of both: the grocery store decided to substitute my requested two containers of strawberries with nine (yes nine) containers of raspberries. As for the mint? It grows abundantly just by the porch. Primrose was cutting and smelling mint in school today. I brought in some of mine so we could pretend-smell on FaceTime.






And while we're on the subject of growing things, did you know that my big beautiful lily put forth a final bloom today?





September 24th. Memorable!

Wednesday - 194th

For me, it's the calm after the storm. Tumultuous days (yesterday) deserve the quiet of simplicity here, at the farmette. So, few words today.

But lots of photos! My clicking finger seemed to work on overtime!

Here we go then: a beautiful warm September day!


(Good morning, cheepers)






(Breakfast, for once -- at a breakfast hour.)






(Ed has a Zoom meeting, I drive over to the local park. Why does a sandhill cross the road?)






(at the park: geese and turtles, loving the sunshine)






(Like a cathedral, no?)






(Hey, did you follow me here??)






Late afternoon distanced meetup with Snowdrop. I locked myself out of my car. Ed comes over with the spare set of keys.






Notice something different? We move to wearing masks during our meetup. It's a considerable amount of time and even though we are outside, this is safer.






Snowdrop complies, of course, but it's one more barrier between us and she feels it.






I tell her it's okay to pull it down for a photo!






(Art)






Toward evening, we go up on the deck and for a few minutes, the kids are free to romp, though of course, at a distance.
















(Tired of fetching the ball for his favorite sister, Sparrow reverts to playing with toy foods. Some things do not change.)






Going home. Hazy sunset. Glider in the sky. Field of corn.






Good night, with love.

Tuesday - 193rd

No one asked if I was looking for a little excitement this morning. Had they done so, I would have answered -- no. It was to be a quiet day. No cat searching, no grocery washing, lots of reading, maybe some writing.

The morning's beautiful! The skies are a little hazy, but it's a morning mist, a thin veil of cotton over an otherwise blue sky. Happy Fall indeed!






















I feed the cats, pull some weeds, then come inside to see if Ed is up.

He is. We talk about various smells. I tell him outside, it smells like detergent in a laundromat. He says inside it smells like melting plastic. We laugh at how differently we perceive things. And then the smoke alarm goes off.
Probably needs a new battery -- he mutters.

It's the basement one. We go downstairs to a basement full of smoke and burning something. There is, in fact, a fire.

Oh, shit.

I grab my phone and exit. Ed puts it out and tries to find the source.

He comes up, switches off the electricity, goes back down. It's the water pump switch: caught on fire, melted.

So... we have no water, there is smoke in the house, and Ed is at this point stumped as to what happened. He calls the fire department. In a few minutes, we have two fire truck and an ambulance.










Ed has a long discussion downstairs with the fire inspector. I sit on the porch wondering if, in addition to the water heater, we'll have to replace the water pump.

The inspector comes up, with a trail of lecturing words for Ed. "In the future, call 911."
From Ed  -- I called the fire station just to get you here, to report a fire causing malfunction. We did not need the fire truck/ambulance etc.
You don't know that. We'll make the evaluation.
The fire was out. I put it out.
I repeat, you don't know that. Call 911.
Fine. We'll call 911. By the way, your mask is not covering your nose. This from Ed. After all, we are following strict isolation. We're seniors.
I know. It fogs up my glasses if I cover my nose. And there you have it -- a mask wearing minimalist.


In many ways, we were lucky: the water pump pressure switch caught fire, but there is nothing close to it and so the fire was contained. Had there been, say, a shelf with paint above, or any number of things that people store in basements we would have been in trouble.

As we catch our breath and Ed takes stock as to what needs to be replaced, I get a call.
Hello, this is Linda. I have your cat.
What??
I saw the picture in the ad. It's her. She came to eat -- she was really hungry. I have her in a pet carrier.
We're on our way!

As we pull into Stoughton, thinking this day cannot get any crazier, Linda calls back.
Maybe it's not her. I can't really tell if she has that white chest. Her back is toward me.

Well, we're here. We can take a look.

It's not her. There are no white or brown markings. It's a very friendly tabby.
Do you want her? She's pretty sweet!
Are you sure she's feral?

A mailman comes over with the mail. He takes a look at the cat. Hey, that's the cat of your neighbor, over at 131 (name of street).
What? The poor kitty was starving!
Well, it's your neighbor's cat.

We thank Linda and retreat. In the car again, Ed calls a hardware store. Might as well pick up a new water pump pressure switch in Stoughton.

(Drive back: are you getting familiar with the cattle?)






At home. Noon now. Ed switches out the gizmo that went up in smoke. (It's plastic burning that can kill you -- Ed reminds me ever so calmly. If you're in a fire, don't inhale it. Get low to the ground, do anything. Just don't breathe that stuff. So reassuring to know what could kill us! Seems there are many weapons pointed at us out there right now!)

I eat breakfast, alone. I have enough water to fill my coffee maker.






Ed comes up a bit later.
Water pump's fine. (What a relief. I remember lifting it out of the well several years ago, when I wasn't yet 67. I'm not sure I could still do it now.) We should be good to go.
So... what caused the fire?
I don't know. Defective product? I'll report it.

Day's not over. Opera lady hasn't sung I guess. Our long awaited stone and masonry guy comes to give us a quote on fixing the front steps.





I'm thinking -- finally, we shall have steps to the house! What's your timeline? I ask.
Maybe spring, maybe later.
Seriously?
Last year we could work until November 19th. This year -- who knows. At any rate, we're booked solid until then.

Late afternoon. Isn't it time for lunch yet? Has the new switch failed yet? You know what we need? A frittata for supper. It's the kind of a day that deserves a frittata. With broccoli, garlic, rabe, mushrooms, onion, corn, eight cheeper eggs, and lots and lots of cheese.






One last text with my older daughter, but she brushes me off. She's having an anniversary evening with her husband.

What??? Did I really mix up my own daughter's anniversary date?? Is today the first day of Fall? They were married on the first day of Fall.

It's the first day of Fall.

Shit.

But happy anniversary, sweet one!

What a day...