Friday

Many a retired person will tell you that Fridays aren't the game changer they once were for us. The TGIF acronym fizzles and fades. We're more likely to say "thank goodness it's Monday!" because on Mondays parks, trails, markets empty out as people return to work. That is, non retired people return to work. We the no longer employed continue with our engagement in projects, families, gardens, and routines on Tuesdays, Saturdays, Mondays and yes, Fridays. Each day is at once unique and special, and independent of its position in the weekly line up.

Still, if you have kids in your life, you pick up that weekly rhythm again. Their Friday becomes your Friday. And weekends become breakaways from routine.

 

This morning, the bugs were out again and so once more I walked briskly to take care of the animals and then equally briskly, I retreated inside.

(chicks)

(tubs)

(the buggy farmette)

To the porch!

For reasons of various visits and engagements, I did not see the kids as much this week as I normally would so today I trudged out to their place to hand over some odd stuff I'd picked up for them in preparation for school. Perhaps the best thing about living so close to them is the fact that I can drop in like that. Even a few minutes matters. 

(They are speed reading library books to meet the public library's summer challenge. Their baby sitter is keeping an eye on things. Sandpiper is not participating in the challenge. He prefers to nap during reading hour.)

(a break for art)

Since I am now very close to Owen Conservation Park, I decide to take a walk there afterwards. I've not checked it out since my spring search for Virginia Bluebells. 

At the end of August, the fields here are deliciously golden!

Really stunning!

The park isn't vast, but it's large enough to be home to a herd of deer. Nonetheless, in all my decades of hiking here, I have never crossed paths with a deer. Until today. A young fawn, engaging me in a staring contest.

Owen Woods Park puts me back in another era, when my daughters were little (we lived just blocks away from it) and when I would come here for solitary walks to clear the head and refresh the spirit. I still like it for solitary walks: the loops aren't especially long, and still you have to love the feeling of nature's dominance, right in the middle of the city.

Once again I can't help thinking that Ed and I live in a perfect bubble of farmette rural quiet, yet we are so close to the city, and within that city -- to a world of nature all over again.

I did my walk for the day. Afterwards, I felt no guilt in picking up my kindle and spending the rest of the day reading. On the couch. I even chased Ed off to the lesser (smaller) couch so I could stretch out on the big one. No guilt whatsoever!

predictable

First of all, you knew that I would cave and get a new pocket camera. And sell the old pocket camera. I watched the refund for my flight from Milan to Paris come in and said aha! That's a deposit for a new pocket camera! Now all I have to do is sell the old one. We are in the process of writing up a Craigslist ad.

I mention this because the new camera came last night and I stayed up  poring over the book of information that came with it. Since it is made by the same company as my good camera (that's in the shop this month) -- Fujifilm -- somehow I had thought that knowledge about one would be transferable to the other. It isn't. I went to bed very late (or early this morning, depending on your perspective) and still didn't understand half of the most basic parameters of its functions. I couldn't sleep anyway.  I'm forbidden popcorn for at least a week because of the mouth surgery and you know how dependent I am on Ed's popcorn. Shattered routines. I munched on stale cheese puffs that melt in your mouth and still manage to taste like cardboard and studied the densely filled pages of the manual.

This lack of complete knowledge did not prevent me from taking my nifty baby Fuji along for my morning walk. You wont notice any difference, but I sure as heck did. A  new and wonderful picture taking experience! I loved it!

(step out into sunshine)

(on hot days they like to hang out together in the shadows of  the old barn)

(the perfect peach)

(the venerable farmhouse)

Breakfast on the porch. This one I will remember! (Yesterday's is a complete blank. Indeed, anything that happened to me yesterday before noon is one misty slate (effect of medications). Whatever I said or wrote to anyone -- know that I wasn't altogether there! 

 

 

 

Today is indeed a hot day. That's fine. August days can be toasty. But for the first time this summer it is also really buggy. I am fighting mosquitoes! This is a terrible disappointment! We thought we were past their threat, but no! They are here and they make life outside difficult again. Ed asks -- should we move? I say -- where to? He says -- New Zealand? Or Ireland? I say -- too far from the kids. He says -- they can visit. How many times have we gone around this? Oh, maybe 100. There are some things that just drive us to despair. A swarm of mosquitoes is one of them.

In the afternoon we go to the farmers market. We are late, it is hot, we want to avoid coming into contact with people. In other words, the nifty little camera stays mostly hidden. We just want to get our cheeses, give away a few dozen eggs, say hi to farmer Natalie and run.

Since the market and our CSA pick up spot are both close to our local Thai place, I suggest a take out dinner. It's been a while! Of course, this means that we must balance the huge bag of CSA groceries and the cheeses and hot Thai food on Ed's not too large motorcycle. It is a tricky deal! Our success today is marked by the fact that nothing spills, nothing goes haywire, and we don't actually look at places in Ireland or New Zealand, but instead call someone who will spray some garlic stuff on mosquito infested farmette spots. Hey, I call that a pretty good run! All that and a new pocket camera too! 

I ask Ed -- want to watch Rick Steves PBS travel show on Europe? I mean, so long as I'm staying put I may as well throw comments at the TV screen as Rick has us traipse through old markets and ruins of Greek theaters. The man's made a fortune by putting together itineraries for bewildered and confused travelers. I admire his business acumen, really I do. Even if it always seems just a little too touristy, who cares. I can only wish to walk those same cobbled streets and cross the grassy sheep fields some time soon. 

In the meantime, Ed is out solid, asleep next to me on the couch as Rick drones on about Greece, about Sicily, about Portugal. Europe brings out the sleepies in my once-travel-companion. Maybe it's a good idea to follow his example just this one time. Good night! Until tomorrow!

... and counting

Poles used to spot an American visitor by looking at the shoes. Americans have singular travel shoe preferences. These days with open markets in Poland you can get fooled. I have a better tool anyway: a pretty reliable marker of American citizenship is that smile and those rows of even teeth. When we watched the Olympics, Ed and I would grin knowingly each time an American stepped up to talk about that won medal: look at those American teeth!

My crucial childhood years were spent in Poland. No fluoride, not enough restorative bracing. Possibly lousy genes there too. My dad had teeth which he hid all his life with a tight-lipped smile. Anyway, blame it on birth, blame it on fate -- I do not have American teeth.

And so this morning I had yet another surgical appointment to remove some big time offenders. Forget the details -- teeth stories are not interesting stories -- but I do want to note that I have had more teeth pulled in the last two years than there are fingers on one hand. Today's twosome was, therefore, no big deal. (It is however only stage one of the process. You need to put something in the vacant lot! Three more stages will follow. If all goes as planned.)

I had finally convinced the dental surgery that me inquiring about vaccination status of the team is NOT a violation of HIPAA and so I did ask and everyone assured me that they had had the shot (but oh, the struggle to get that information!). And so very early today, after a very quick walk through the gardens to attend to the animals...

...I drag out of bed a sleepy Ed (you need a return driver) and I have my surgery, enjoying the woozey state of being half under and half with the rest of the world for pretty much he whole morning.

(Breakfast, so much later!)

It happens to be the day that I have a Zoom call with my Polish friends. Perhaps they got a version of me that wasn't altogether sharp. All this at a time where our discussion veered toward such lightweight topics as Afghanistan and the delta variant. Still, it was really good to talk to them. Poland is where we were in June: low infection rates, no surge yet. People are feeling comfortable in settings we here know now are no longer safe. So it's goofy fun to hear that two were heading out to a concert, and a child of theirs was heading out to Corsica, and a child of another was about to embark on a flight to Croatia, while one set of grandparents was heading out to Italy. It was wonderful to imagine a normal-ish life for two hours. May it last for them, may it come back to us. And to everyone on this great big beautiful planet! 

In the evening, Ed abandons his ambitious Wednesday bike ride and tags along with me on a more modest one. We head for the lake.

It's not in a good state. None of the lakes in our county are in a good state. This great big beautiful planet of ours needs our help. Ed says quietly -- imagine how wonderful it would be to jump into a clear lake. Yes, imagine.

We pedal back slowly, because when you return from a lake you are usually going up a hill. Besides, we aren't in a hurry. Internet is down at home. Our computers are sitting idle. 

My dinner plans are simple: reheat the corn soup. Summer food. Wonderful, wonderful summer food.

Tuesday

I don't think anyone is still hanging onto a summer schedule. The second half of August is when you're left scrambling: to fit in all that you had seen yourself doing this summer, to get your schedule in order for the Fall, to check off any last appointments, to reset your brain to the rapidly approaching new season. And of course, kids are either starting school now or counting (on one hand) the number of days til that start.

For me, this period is a mixed bag of goodies. I like my garden, but I'm less keen on taking the camera out. Except for the early morning. Like today. During the walk to deal with the animals. That's it.

(In my fields, end of August means a proliferation of purple blooms interspersed with deep yellows.)

(Why does this girl lay her little green eggs in my lily bed??)

(tail end...)

It's a time when I most love breakfast on the porch. Because I know there's about a month left of this incredibly relaxed meal -- something that you could not do when working a full time job or raising kids or in the dead of winter, but now -- it's yours for the asking!

 

 

 

It's a time when I remind myself to get moving, because it really is a lot easier to hop on a bike or do something super sporty now than it will be in November. So once again I pedal out and about, enjoying the sights and smells of August.

When Snowdrop comes over, I don't push the great outdoors on her. Just a couple of quick pics with my wobbly camera and we go in to read, and build a Lego set, and tell stories.

On the one hand you want to say -- romp! It's warm! It's easy! It's rural and grand! On the other hand, it's warm. Maybe a little buggy. Hey, have I showed you the size of these guys? Total menace in the garden. Go find some grasses to feast on and leave my flowers alone! (It's time to take out the home made pepper spray again...)

Time to go home. She and her brother have one week of summer vacation left. Funny how for the adults in the family summer always moves so fast! And then the school year moves even faster.

(no school for this guy yet...)

Evening at the farmette: here, the daylight hours start fading by dinnertime. This is new and very Fall-ish! I think about the candles I'll soon be bringing out. Another seasonal imperative: finding ways to bring light inside your living space even as the natural light fades with the setting sun.

I say to Ed -- between the rural bike paths and the county cross country ski trails practically out the door, could we be living in a more beautiful place?

We're doin' alright, he tells me. We're doing alright.

summer thoughts

It's a problem when your backup camera starts to assert its age and begins a cycle of malfunctioning. I mean, backup by definition means that it should back you up, say when your one good camera is in the repair shop and will be there still for several weeks. When I traveled, I always slipped the extra little guy into my pack. Just in case. It's come in handy! Too, it's small. Perfect for those times when you just can't stand draping that hunk of photographic machinery around your neck. The backup camera has to fit in my purse. And I do not own one of those mega purses that would fit everything in your possession. Big purses make no sense to me. You never use one quarter the junk you carry in them. So -- small purse, small backup camera.

Except now I have this malfunctioning backup camera. Ed says it's just the battery connector -- it needs the occasional wipe. Really? Like, how does dust or grime get in there to mess with connections?

As you can see, I'm itching for a new backup camera. 

I tell myself -- it's okay. You cancelled a trip to Italy. You saved money. Italy is way more expensive than a small backup camera. Still, Ed's attitude toward buying stuff has to rub off on you! The planet is small and in trouble. We need to aspire to have less and use more of what's in the head rather than in the house. 

But it doesn't hurt to look at backup cameras on line. Just to look...

 

First though, there is that lovely morning walk on the most splendid August day! Warm but not hot. Bright, with clear skies and an unreal amount of August fragrance.

 

(opening the window in he mud room before I step out)

(Cherry and Dance: you're late with our food!)

(where will the froggies go when the lilies are all gone?)

(Happy, waiting to see what's next)

(August flowers)

(picnic table pots)

(the last two bold and beautiful girls: see you next year!)

(Am I the only one who does not mind the sloppy chaos of August in the garden?)

And of course, breakfast outside!

And then I just can't leave my post on the porch. On that white chair with the blue cushions. All morning long.

In the afternoon though I recoil. I hate feeling so spoiled. I've never just "relaxed" all day long. Really never. It's not that I have a strong work ethic. (Do you? I don't. Ask me how hard I worked as a kid in school...) It's that I have a million things I would like to do on days where I have a chunk of free time. This includes getting more active again. Not necessarily to return to the day-long toil outside of the spring season, but to do something that actually counts as aerobic movement. So I hop on my bike and pedal around the new development rather aimlessly, and this spurs my motivation, and I turn toward Lake Waubesa...

I park my bike and watch a family with big kids and maybe cousins or aunts wade into the waters, clothes on, just for the fun of it. They speak a language I don't understand. Maybe Hmong? (Some 20% of all Hmong Americans live in Wisconsin.) They seem, well, happy. And I'm happy with them. Despite everything. I mean, we live at a time when today's New Yorker cartoon seems so apt -- the guy says to his partner, both watching TV - "would you mind if I changed the channel to check on the other disasters?" Yet if you are so lucky as to be in a time and place where this hasn't destroyed your life (yet), then giggling foolishly as you swim in your sopping wet clothes and your aunt snaps pictures of the whole lot of you with her smart phone -- that's exactly what you should be doing.

I peddle home, still smiling.

Evening conversation with my Chicago grandgirl: about beach trips (hers), resident twelve-baby turkey family (mine), and December flowers (her mom's). 

More reasons to smile.

With love.

...of wines and vintage cars

When I buy wine, I nearly always buy whites and nearly always from the same regions of the world -- ones that I know and love. Ed thinks I should be more adventurous and he is convinced that somewhere in Wisconsin there may be a vintner who has made a bottle of white that I will like. And so not surprisingly, when he read about a special event taking place at Bothom Vineyards today (just 35 minutes to the west of us!), he asked if I may be interested in checking it out.  

I am interested. The event is their annual vintage car display. I think the deal is that if you have a vintage car, you can register it and display it. A lot of people come to see them. And I mean a lot! Like hundreds and hundreds. In addition, there is the wine. You could go to their tasting room and sample wines, or you could just buy a glass from their selection and walk around looking at cars with a plastic cup of wine in your hand.

Okay, that sounds like it could be fun. Not so much the cars, but the whole set up: a vineyard that has (if you read their website) gained some recognition for their wines, beautiful countryside, and people obsessing about cars. You'd go, right?

But first there are the farmette fields to clean up a little...

And a very very late breakfast to eat outside...

Shortly after noon, we set out. 

I always enjoy these local escapades with Ed. We learn a little more about the people who practice their trade here and we see some more of south central Wisconsin. I was just a little curious though why he would flag this particular event since he does not like wine and isn't much into cars either. Turns out he may not like driving cars, but design fascinates him! Too, his father used to love learning about old cars and that interest sort of trickled down.

In other words, at this particular event, Ed was really into the cars!

And I was really into the grapes in the vineyards!

And neither of us was really into the wine, but that's because we bought one cup from the cart and it was just okay -- neither of us could finish it and we sampled nothing more. The tasting barn was packed and Ed and I do not go into crowded public places.

I have to say, the demographic at the car show was rather defined: white old men. With some women tagging along. I felt a little like being at a retirement home. (Not to gripe here -- we are, after all, ourselves members of that demographic, but still...)

We may go back to the vineyards on a day that's not devoted to a vintage car display. I feel we ought to give their wines a proper sampling. I mean, they really do have a fine reputation. Another time.

In the evening the young family comes for dinner... 

 

 

 

...and it is just perfect weather for an outside meal.

And here's another thing to be said about the evening: everyone was in a great mood. Well, I suppose Sparrow had a momentary disappointment when his sister ate everything and with alacrity. "She beat me!" -- he kept saying rather sadly. It's not a competition, Sparrow. "Yes, but she beat me!" 

My wee substitute camera died at this point and so I stopped taking pictures. I did manage a smart phone shot of Sandpiper while I was holding him, so I suppose you could view it as one of our selfie moments...

Too, my phone picked up a couch shot of those three...

And the evening rolled in and the moon rolled out and life felt so good...

With love...