Saturday

And again it snows. 

You'd think we would have quite the buildup here. Drifts blocking entryways. Flower tubs lost under heaps of snow. But no. It hasn't been like that. Every day we get another inch, maybe two. Three (today) max. Clean, pretty, but nothing formidable. I suppose you could say that it pleases both sides: those who want snow can't complain. Those who'd rather see clear roads can't fuss. 

Morning walk. Chickens are hiding in far corners of the barn. It's not the snow this time, it's the cold. We're climbing to 18F (-8C) today. They would prefer a milder temp, thank you. And please, without the whipping wind.

It has been a busy winter season and it will continue to be full and lively going forward. But today, my calendar has only one entry on it -- a Zoom chat with a friend who lives far away -- and that's it! Clean slate for the afternoon, clean slate for the evening. 

Well, let's make this day a good one! How about a trip to my usual bakery (Madison Sourdough) for breakfast treats? And here's a stunning development: the head baker there was also nominated for a James Beard award, in the category of "Best Baker!" Well now, don't I have a nose for morning pastries!

Hey Ed, breakfast time! Hurry up! Fresh pastries are getting less fresh by the second!

A day of luxury. And the snow keeps falling, gently. Maybe we'll get as much as four inches. If ever there was a time to do a forest ski run, this is it! Cold (we both were wooly caps) but so very beautiful.

In the late afternoon I am lost to the world with work on some distant trip. I had wanted to do garden planning, but didn't quite get to it. Ideas for the flower fields hatched in January are fantastic: they're totally excessive, unreasonable and farfetched, but at the same time, that crazy ambition always pushes the garden forward a little. I curse my plans and plant purchases from this month while I'm digging come spring time, but in fact, the results are always deeply satisfying. Maybe tomorrow!

I tear myself away from my research to feed the seventh feral cat (called Pancake, I can't remember why) that's been coming around fairly regularly. She's terrified of all humans, but she must be hungry because she is forcing herself to come to the porch with great hopes that we will have left something there for her. If she hears me move, she runs like a speed demon to the other side of town. But she comes back when I retreat. It's a tricky business, because she wont come near the house if some of the other cats are around. But, it's a game we're used to playing: put out food when other cats aren't watching, and when chickens aren't close by and hope that the hungry visitor will get some protein in before anyone else shows up.

In the evening, I bake some fish for the two of us. It feels like I haven't really prepared a solid dinner for a number of days (soup doesn't count). Time to roll up the sleeves and take out the baking pans. 

And so goes an easy day, with nothing planned. Where did the time fly? Incredible, isn't it...

thankful

It's the end of an incredible week. From Naples to the farmette. From childhood friends to newer friends, and the newest of all -- good people whom I meet as a result of Like a Swallow or Ocean. Those of you who "met me" for the first time yesterday and then wrote to tell me about it -- you are both wonderful and kind and I am so glad to have you on board, with your positive attitude about life and a generous warmth toward people that cross your path. Wow, so much goodness in this world!

These were my thoughts as I wake up to yet another light snow day here in south-central Wisconsin. I know some of you may be wishing it would stop. I am not one of them. I love snow, especially fresh snow, especially when it falls in seasonally appropriate months and not, say, in April. 

I walk to the barn to feed the animals (for the new readers -- we have six semi-feral cats that share space with us here at the farmette. Three of them come regularly into the farmhouse, the remaining three like to hang out in the sheep shed, which, by the way, is no rickety shed -- it has floor heating and lots of comfy spaces for them. All six cats panic when we have visitors. My grandkids have been coming here almost daily for eight years now and the cats still take flight when they see them coming. Apart from caring for cats, we raise free range chickens. Right now we have six hens but that number does fluctuate. Predators have been known to outsmart us. But, knock on wood, we've had a streak of good luck this winter and so far, our beautiful Bresse girls (white hens with blue legs and red combs) and our motly crew of others are as happy as I imagine chickens can get. Well, they do hate snow so perhaps today they are not as thrilled with life as they are on days when they can dig up my plants and eat bugs and roots and tiny new growth. 

It is my morning job to feed all these characters and it is a job I love. Even in foul weather. It gives a good start to my day. You know how you're supposed to have a meditative moment before you plunge into your activities? This is my meditative moment.

(The barn does have a few boards missing...)

(the venerable farmhouse...)

And now I have to prepare breakfast, which takes a shockingly long while, considering it usually consists of just fruit and oatmeal. In cutting up fruits for me, for Ed and for whatever grandkid comes to the farmhouse later in the day, I again find that peaceful stretch of minutes that makes for a fine beginning to any day.

(cats, waiting...)

(Breakfast)

This morning I also bake a rhubarb yogurt cake. Ed keeps nudging me to use up all our freezer produce and we have a lot of stored rhubarb. I'm on it! 

Is there time for skiing? Just barely.

And now I pick up Snowdrop, eight years old, here daily after school:

Toward evening, the routines change a bit. First of all, her two brothers drop by after school. For a cookie. And rhubarb cake. Sparrow (4) and Sandpiper (1). Sweet, sweet boys!

And then -- and this is a really unusual thing for us -- Ed and I go out to dinner with friends. It's such a rare thing for the two of us to share friends. Since he and I began our life together when we were already past 50, we came into it with pre-formed friendships and we typically stay in our own circle of pals. But there are exceptions where I will be included in his gang from years past and this particular evening is just such a time. And moreover, these people picked as our dinner place Osteria Papavero, a small Italian restaurant that quite coincidentally just got nominated for a James Beard award. 

Chef Francesco Mangano is from Bologna, which really is a far culinary step from Naples, but both these cities have a deep affection for pasta and braised meats, so there is indeed reason for me to feel a tiny bit nostalgic as I step into this little gem of a place. 

Look familiar? All that's missing is the zucchini blossom...

It's restaurant week in Madison, which means that we have a solid three course meal before us. Panna cotta for dessert!

Such a terrific cap to a beautifully busy week! 

We drive home in falling temperatures. There will be solid snow tomorrow. We're ready for it!

with love...

booked up

I felt this morning like I did on the days I still taught: so much to do, so little time to do it in. Like a working person, with a lecture to prepare and house chores to finish up. And snow to clear -- to the barn, to the car. And a partner who is going to want to ski, and a granddaughter who most assuredly will want to play.

Help me out here, I'm drowning!

But, on the other hand, it sure is a pretty day. With a gentle snow and temps still just below freezing, you could say it is a near perfect winter weather.

A bit later, as I wait for Ed to finish up some of his machine design talk on Zoom, I glance over at an article in the paper- - one that appeared last week actually, except I was too busy then to read it. I'll link you to it, but I think the title says it all: Three Steps to Age Exuberantly. The thing is, I know how to age exuberantly! It's so obvious: stop with the whining and get on with your projects. Search for happiness in your reality, even as it may have elements of sadness. Talk to younger people, preferably not about your sore knee. Learn from them. Cook for your grandkids. Yes, yes, it's all there, written down for you by an 86 year old Swedish woman who had previously written a book about how you should declutter your home before you die so that your kids wont have to deal with your mess when you're gone. Amen! Wisdoms galore! 

And yet, here I am, feeling like the day is running away from me and I am not feeling all too exuberant about it. 

Eventually, Ed joins me for breakfast and the tide turns. He asks if he can help with farmette chores and my impatience with the day fades. We've got this! We're in control!

Very soon after, we go skiing in our county park. I wait at the bottom of the hill for him to catch up and he barrels into me and then topples into a snow drift. I had to laugh. It was, after all, sort of my fault (I didn't get out of the way quickly enough). And of course since we are ancient people, he couldn't easily get up. It took a few mins to figure it all out. And that was funny too.

And the snow keeps falling and the forest looks like it's happy to receive this blanket of white stuff.

Beautiful snow...

The world seems like such a pretty and welcoming place. Cold, but isn't that what gives color to our cheeks? Isn't it just so bracing? We ski harder and my activity rings on my watch close and I am so delighted with the way things are going!

In the afternoon  I have Snowdrop and again I groan at the absence of time. I should take her skiing. Skating. Snow fort building. But there isn't time for that. She wants food and she wants to read. We do both.

(She also wants to clobber Ed. I leave them to it: they have their own game going which I do not fully understand but it makes them both laugh and that's a good thing.)

 

And now I zip her home, and I zip myself over to the Oregon Public Library for the scheduled Like a Swallow presentation and reading. I am absolutely certain that no one will come on a cold and snowy day. In the evening no less. Wouldn't you rather stay home and eat veggie soup rather than brave the elements to listen to someone ramble about her childhood in Poland?

But people are a curious species and I do have quite a nice group of readers in the room and more watching online, and it is, in fact, a beautiful evening! Well, at least I thought so!

I go home deeply satisfied and happy. And I eat soup late, very late, with Ed, and at the end of the day I can't help but feel... exuberant! Great word, don't you think?

With so much love...

home

I wake up to winter in Wisconsin. The warm spell is behind us, the light snow is cleaning up the landscape. We'll have some arctic days in the weeks ahead, but today feels, well, normal. Winter normal.

But I'm still thinking about Naples. Maybe it's because Neapolitan culture, habits, daily life, feel uniquely different from what I would find elsewhere in Europe, yet not so different that I can't find my bearings within it. So, different in many ways, but still familiar. You don't feel shut out -- they're too welcoming for that.

Increasingly, when I travel, between actually doing things, dashing around, and writing Ocean posts, I find myself having too little time to think. But that's okay, I catch up on everything once I am home. So today, I'm catching up on thinking.

And at the same time, I'm molding myself back into my sweet routines at home. Morning with the animals  while for once Ed can sleep in...

(where were you all these days?!!)

(where were you all these days?!)

And then breakfast together. We talk about the power of hateful speech and people's taste for reading such stuff, or at least about such stuff. And the importance of removing yourself from all of it so that you at least are not part of the enabling camp. Democracy, unfortunately, has to make room for vile content, but without listeners, without an audience, gossip, and especially negative opinions on the lives of others has no where to go.

There. We can get serious over oatmeal!

Snow. Not a ton of it -- this is no blizzard. Just a gentle light dusting over a small base. Enough to go skiing? Well why not!

I talk to the forest. I haven't had a good conversation yet this year. It's time.

And in the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. 

This girl would like to just reread favorite things off the shelf.

But, it's time to nudge her toward new stuff. And I do. And she is mesmerized by the freshness of the story (the Penderwicks series -- just superb to read together!). The entire afternoon is spent on zipping through the chapters of it. Well, and eating tons of snacks. Some things never change.

In the evening I cook up a soup. Just because it is the absolutely perfect evening for it. I also suggest we watch the one movie from this year's Oscars that we can actually stream for free -- All Quiet on the Western Front. It's the kind of movie where if you begin it while having faith in humanity, you're liable to quickly loose it at the end. Uff! Two and a half hours of horror.

Still, the soup was good and the farmhouse was warm and it was so good to be home once more!

with love...

from Naples to the farmette

Here's a solid truth: Naples was so intense! I can think of a number of reasons for it. First of all, I feel that Neapolitans are intense. There's no messing with them -- they are in charge. So friendly! But they look out for their own. Ask for help and you'll get more than what you need. But don't push, or they will push back hard. 

Then, too, the weather was intense. I need not go over that -- you saw it up and down my Ocean posts. Neapolitans slapped on their caps, hid behind scarves and hurried to get out of the rain. If the weather was a bother for me, it was an outright menace for them. Families hid their children. People didn't go out if they didn't have to. 

And of course, seeing Bee after an almost three and a half year hiatus was, for me, intense, in all the good ways, because spending time with her is always good.

Finally, the food: so much doughy stuff, so much sugar, such big portions! I couldn't quite get the hang of eating here. Three meals was too much, but it seemed impossible to eat less. In essence, I was never hungry.

I had five days and five nights here, though of course, two of those days were really in Rome. I slept too little and walked a ton. Intense!

This morning, I set my internal clock to mind the time. I have to get into a cab by 10 or I'll be scrambling to catch my 12:20 flight to Paris. But leaving at 10 does mean that I have a solid morning in Naples. A solid sunny morning in Naples. I mean, really! Did the sun have to come out just as I am leaving??

(From my room, before dawn: the sun rises from behind the Amalfi coast...)

(a few minutes later...)

Breakfast. Alone this time and no lingering allowed! If I want a Neapolitan walk, I need to speed things up a bit. And who am I kidding -- I don't want healthy or wholesome, I want one last fling with the sweet stuff here. So, let's see.... How about the apple cake which probably has more egg yolks per bite than a soufflé? 

And one of my favs here -- that leafy pastry with the pastry cream inside. Fine, add some fruit and a yogurt. And a cappuccino. They do make a good cappuccino...

Now for my morning walk. But where to? The sky is so blue, the air getting to be so warm... For the first time I shed my sweater and just stick with my light jacket.

I'm going for the main shopping drag -- Via Toledo -- just because that's where I started. And it's good for people watching. With umbrellas tucked away for good, I can now see faces and catch the tail ends of conversations (they do not have quiet voices here).

(Did I mention that Neapolitans are risk takers?! Perfect place to keep a bike helmet, don't you think?)

I cross the Piazza del Plebiscito. At this early hour, this traffic-free square appears to be used as a dog park: they meet, they chat, the dogs are let loose.

... to make friends with other dogs, with whom they start a loud conversation.

I pass by the Gambrinus Caffe. All those Neapolitan croissants! I think they claim they invented this pastry. But they don't just let it be: they stuff it, sprinkle it, glaze it. Yeah, I'm tempted. But, I've done my Neapolitan indulgence. I move on.

And now I pass those countless cafe bars where people meet up to talk and gesture and express themselves as only the southerners in Italy can.

Actually, you do not need a cafe bar. A conversation in the middle of the sidewalk will do.

There are a number of interesting side streets. The laundry is there, but this time with a promise that it will actually dry.

Looking this way, you see Vesuvius. Never too far away to have you forget that nature can be mean toward those who don't live by its rules (that would be most of us).

Ah, Naples... So full of everything!

Okay, time to head back. In a hurry now. As is everyone else here, all the time.

Well, I guess not everyone. These guys remind me of the ice fishermen back home. Same idea. Camaraderie, quiet. Probably more of a catch here. I'd eat what they bring in! (Can't say the same about stuff hauled in from Lake Waubesa...)

Fine, I need to include a last photo of Vesuvius. Naples lives in its shadow. That sounds like a writer's cliché but in this case I think it's true. Naples, Pompeii, Amalfi Coast -- in a sense they re all one, for reasons of tourism, but, too, in shaping the Neapolitan identity.

(Amalfi coast -- we meant to wander its staggered alleys, but of course, the weather stopped us. Admire it from this poster in a local cafe!)

One more quick detour -- to the Castle dell'Ovo, just across a strip of water from my hotel. I thought I'd have time to climb its ramparts, but I couldn't find the entrance to them. I admit I did not try hard. Time was running out.

A look back toward my sweet old hotel -- such pleasant, accommodating people! Such clean rooms! Such great views!

What's my last photo from Naples? Coincidentally, it's of a cat. He's waiting for a seaside restaurant to open for lunch. Cats love seaside restaurants. Our herd of six back at the farmette would feel happy here!

And that's it! I pick up my suitcase and take a cab to the airport. The driver curses the traffic, but I'm okay with it. It's Naples. The airport is close. And small. We're good.

The Air France flight takes off on time for Paris. I have a somewhat short layover there, but with enough time to browse and pick up a box of chocolates for Ed. It is Valentine's Day soon, isn't it? Oddly, as I approach the departure gate, forty minutes before take off, I find not a single passenger there. Wait, did I miss something? Did I mess up the time? The agent tells me -- you're the last one. They're all on board. Never, and I really mean never do I recall pre boarding everyone this early at CDG! Well, no matter. I'm not late, the flight takes off at its scheduled hour. 

It's a long flight to Minneapolis, and then another layover, and finally another short flight -- to Madison, and now I am home. Hi Ed! Did you miss me?? Of course, gorgeous.

With so much love...