farmette days

How easy it is to slip back into summer routines after a vacation! Well, sort of easy. Look at it this way: typically in July, I spend on average 3 hours a day working in the garden. Not watering -- no, that's separate, depending on the weather. I spend it on pruning, deadheading, clipping, weeding, staking. This is when the garden is at the peak of color and I work hard at keeping it at its best. So, having been away for twelve July days, there is an absence of 36 hours of work. And to my eye, it shows. Tall grasses have invaded the flower beds. Tall lilies have tumbled. Day lilies haven't been deadheaded and I ask Ed -- there are so many blooms now! When I left, there were just a handful. You said it wasn't really exploding yet! He answers -- I didn't want to have you worry that you were missing it...

I have a lot of work before me!

But the weather? It's sublime! I left in a smoggy hazy heat, I returned to pleasant temperatures and clean skies. How good is that!

So in the morning, very early, I head out int to the garden (because you know, jet lag has you wake up at 3, 4, 5 and your body keeps asking "now is it time to get up? No? How about now? Not yet? Maybe now?" until you finally give up on this futile discussion and get going).

Some stuff that caught my eye:

It's really pretty right now!

In my absence, a tree fell down on top of the sheep shed. Ed chopped it up so we could actually access the barn again (it blocked the door where we enter). I notice that. In my absence, too, there was rain. A total of 4 inches for us. That really alleviated some of the tension in the soil, though I doubt any farmer will tell you the drought is over. The rain was once again spotty, though this time we were lucky and got some of the more copious amounts. Our CSA farmers say that in the last two months, they've had just under an inch total. That's miserable!

So okay, I dont have to water the beds for at least several weeks. But rains sure have had the weeds jumping for joy. I pull out a few and then decide that this can be a weekend project. Let's just concentrate on getting most of the lilies cleaned up.

And of course, there are the usual tasks of a return: get groceries. Do laundry. Clean. Bla bla bla. But any writing work, paper work, worky work -- I do these on the porch. Because now is the time to truly believe that the farmette is the most beautiful place on the planet!

Breakfast, with sweet, solicitous, helpful Ed.

And then some more of the same, until it is time for me to head out to Snowdrop's summer camp program for her end-of-week presentations. Yoga and drama. This time she is in a play rendition of the Sour Grape and she plays the granny and she is thrilled!

She comes back to the farmhouse with me and we do our usual.

And toward evening, I take her to a place where her mom and I agreed to meet up for a chat. My daughter wants to hear more details of the trip and I do offer some, but honestly, what you read here, on Ocean is the meat of my travels. Still, it is so pleasant to reflect on a trip that continues to be  "in progress" for the younger family (a hellish return from Paris lasting --so far!!-- two day!), a trip that had all the beautiful memories any one person could possibly store in her head!

And finally I am home.

Reeling from a time well spent. Happy to be home, because, in fact, I do love home.

going home

In travel, you triple check everything. Really. Save yourself anxious moments. If you booked a ride to the airport for the young family, ask about confirming it every chance you get, because you dont want to get grumpy when you're told on the departure morning "no, we don't have a request for a baby seat." This is where you take out your computer and show them the email and they turn all apologetic and assure you that you're right and they're wrong and they'll straighten it out. And then ask again if they did straighten it out.

This all seems so darn trivial, but travel becomes cumbersome when small things unravel. So keep checking and double checking -- is my opinion.

I had gone to sleep very late (Ocean takes time) and I needed to get up very early. The young family has a flight in the afternoon, but mine is in the morning and so I'm up with the sun and down at the desk taking care of checkout details even before they serve breakfast.

Finding myself with  a few minutes time before I can fill up with lots of coffee, I go for a walk. To the river first.

It's just after 6:30 a.m. and Paris is not an early wakeup city, so the streets are still on the empty side. Many Parisians have trickled out for their summer escape and tourists always take forever to get going. It's a good time to be out and about.

And I consider walking to the park, but I don't want to rush there and back, so I pause at the little Carr de l'Odeon and think about locations in Paris before returning to my own hotel (which is closer to the river). 

In big cities, a hotel's location really gives you a point of reference. Get it wrong, and suddenly your love for the city falters. You spend a lot of time traveling outside your set of blocks. Get it right and you can pretend for a few days that you are a local. My usual hotel (Baume) is close to the Luxembourg Gardens. I spend a rather large amount of time there when I stay at the Baume. This time, the D'Aubusson is close to the river. That puts it also closer to the Tuileries. It was lovely sitting there in cafes and at picnic tables and watching the world go by in the dappled shade of young and old trees. 

Yes, location matters.

These were my morning walk thoughts.

By 7 the breakfast room opens and I have exactly 12 minutes to eat something. One more bite of croissant, one more swipe at the French yogurt. 

And I offer you some more thoughts -- ones that were with me for the meal and, too, for the entire transport to the airport.

It was all about daughters and how much I adore spending time with them in their adult lives and with their families. Such intense love I have for them all! (Oh, yes, Ed too, but you already know that.) These last days with my younger girl and her brood were exquisite in all ways, and as I've said before, one delicious frosting to the already wonderful cake was being with my daughter while she was on vacation. Not preoccupied as we all are back home, but focused on... Copenhagen and Paris! I thought in embarking on this adventure that it would be all about helping create memories for the young family, but I see that it was also about creating memories for me. Beautiful ones. I alternate between a smile and happy tears.

I take a cab to the airport. It's the last time I'm indulging myself. A post-covid habit.  I'll go back to trains and public transportation going forward, but right now, I have to be mindful of the knee and the suitcase. So I cab it and as usual, I hate the cab ride because it's got an unhappy driver who shares his issues with me on his five children and his frustrations with the traffic situation and he has a break/accelerate method of driving which I know would make anyone sick. Back to hot and crowded trains next time!

At the airport we have an (almost) on time departure. I wish I could trade with my daughter and give them MY  departure. (Their flight is mega delayed. Ten hours and counting! With little kids at a busy airport. Update: and then it's cancelled. Nothing like first spending twelve hours with little ones at the airport and then learning that you're not going home.)

And before you know it (well, like eight plus hours later) I am in Detroit.

And after a four hour hang in Detroit (delays!), I am finally in Madison.

And I drive to the farmette. I'll end with a quiz for you! Ed is biking this evening so I enter a quiet farmhouse. Which of the following do I do? 1. Snip day lilies 2. wash refrigerator 3. go to bed because I am so darn tired!

(Correct answer: 1 and 2, and eventually -- 3.)

Wishing the young family a safe ending to their Paris adventure. They never made it out tonight.. On the upside, there were storms throughout the Midwest. Perhaps they would have had a tough time getting to Chicago tonight anyway. Travel is like that. And still, we pack our bags and go. 

with so much love,...

Paris!

Another final day comes around and brings with it these thoughts: there was a time when the end of a trip came with nothing but question marks. Here are some that I recall: did I spend too much? When will I ever travel again? Did I do justice to each day? Did I plan well? Should I start planning the next one? And here's the all important one: what will I bring home with me from this one?

In the past, souvenirs mattered. Photos mattered. Remembering all that happened in my travels mattered. When you get older they matter less simply because memories do mix, and some of them fade, and that shell you picked up from your trip to Florida looks awfully much like the shell you picked up in Brittany France, and that stone with sparkles? Maybe Lake Orta, but it could well be from any trip anywhere at all where there were rocks, which, I admit is pretty much anywhere on earth. The point is that associations between physical objects and places blur. But the memories, sharp or blurred -- they stay with you.

And I have so many from this trip.

Quiet ones: of remembering to walk respectfully on a city street (this one I have from all my travels with my daughter and now with her husband and kids). Funny ones: of Juniper's run for freedom last night as she flew the coop and stood alone gazing out at the Parisian street before her. Visual ones: Tivoli flowers, Luxembourg flowers. Blond braids and orderly bicyclists. Copenhagen rainbows. Sympathetic ones: the patience and pride of a little girl as her young sister gets so many smiles and compliments because she is so darn cute! And ones touching all senses: the bakeries of Copenhagen. The pastries of Paris. Kir vin blanc. On and on...

Then there are the images that circle around the kids, like the bees buzzing around the hives in the Luxembourg Gardens I saw yesterday...

These I think I work hardest on capturing with a camera. Because if the children ever come back here, they wont be five and one any more and so everything will be different with them and for them. There was only one year in which Sparrow put shoes on his hands and crawled around the floors of wherever we were staying making us laugh so hard, only one time where Juniper will drip that slice of pizza into her mouth delirious with joy as we watch and prompt her to do it again. Only one time (well, actually that happened twice!) where I will have had a spontaneous coffee run with my daughter while her children napped. Unlike the rocks and shells and a thousand mementos big and small, these will have left at least a smudge, one that wont be erased.

(breakfast musings)

The young family comes down to eat and I'm with them of course.

Okay, back to our rooms to get ready for our Paris walk!

(Elevator ride...)

We're aiming for the Eiffel Tower. This is ambitious in that this symbol of Parisian everything is nearly an hour away from where we are and that's with big people feet. So we take the RER train to it (and walk back).

And there it is. The Tower in all her gloriousness.

It's a hot day, so getting the kids to stay in one sunny spot for the best photo is hard. Primrose makes valiant attempts, but Juniper has her own ideas. Still, both girls are good souls and eventually it all comes together. More or less.

(And here's Primrose's idea: a selfie with mom)

And we move on. A bit of a rush now because we have a lunch restaurant reservation. 

It's important in that it's at my favorite Parisian lunch eatery and though I've surely been here many times with my daughter and even her husband, this will be a first for their two girls. We walk briskly despite the heat, the hunger, the long blocks. (Pausing only for a quick Madeline fix at this bakery!)

Cafe Varenne. They dont take lunch reservations, but I pleaded and they made an exception and they obliged with a high chair and all in all, the staff of this place is just superb. (Under the expert eye of the proprietor -- the guy trying on Primrose's sun hat!)

(Juniper, who usually cannot be trusted with a breakable plate rises to the occasion here...)

Lentils, chicken, ratatouille, steak -- we ate it all!

And Juniper made friends and Primrose was patient and I got my stubbornly rooted satisfaction of retuning here to this hectic but expertly managed and deliciously delivered place that to me, exemplifies all the best elements of casual and somewhat traditional dining in France.

(best friends with the waiter, who himself has three daughters)

From there, we walk over to the shop that sells great caramels and fruit squares and we stock up on small sacks of those...

(Juniper is suspicious of French chocolate -- gifted by the clerk)

(Both girls do love the fruit jellies. As do I!)

Not done yet! We then walk over to the little park where Primrose so wants to show her sister the tiny merry-go-round.

We are now hitting nap time big time. I still have a couple of things on my list for the day and so we break up: Juniper heads home with her parents for her nap, Primrose and I go to two shops that I pick especially with her in mind: the place of a million notebooks...

And the colorful cutlery store (Sabre) where she is charged with picking out a farmhouse spoon color for herself. She chooses one that cousins wont fight for -- green. Good strategy, little one! Stay clear of the fray.  My strategy as well!

There was to be one final shop, but it's still closed. Primrose is somewhat disappointed that Madame Flo chooses to have a very extended lunch hour today and so we cannot inspect the "special" trinkets and jewelry. Madame Flo is always very unpredictable (and slightly eccentric), but I tell the girl I will come around again before we leave. And I do.

The girls nap.

And in the evening we all head out for a dinner on the Right Bank. It's at a restaurant that I had picked for a family meal back in the 1990's, when soufflés were really at the head of everyone's attention here. Cuisines evolve, but a love of a good soufflé does stay with you. It's a long walk, but we start out early, because Primrose has been promised an old book from the riverside booksellers...

Too, we pause at the Jardin Tuileries -- it's so pleasant in the evening! The breeze is refreshing, the light is less strident...

By 7, we are at our restaurant. It's been around for 70 years! Just like me! 

We order soufflés for main courses and dessert of course. 

A beautiful ending to the day! I wont write a word more: I need to pack and get ready for a very early morning departure. More thoughts and comments? Tomorrow, for sure! Until then, bonne nuit, with so much love...

Paris!

Bonjour!

We all keep our eyes open when we travel. But we notice different things. Usually we carry our baggage with us and we stay with our expectations and preconceptions and we look for ways to validate them. It's human nature.  Though I try hard not to fall into that trap, I can be guilty of it too: I come to Paris because the city has become something important to me and when I come here, I validate its importance.

Still, I do try to force open that closed door that keeps us from seeing life in new ways and one thing that I find myself seeking out is vignettes that contain images of the older traveler. I suppose it's been this way for a while. I remember when I used to go frequently to Gargnano by Lago di Garda in Italy, I was keenly aware of the older couple (Austrian, I think) who frequently stayed at my little hotel. I know I wrote about them here. I had thought the gentleman was the hotel proprietor's father until it became clear that the hotel proprietor was merely gentle with him as you would be with an elderly friend. What struck me then was how hard the older visitor worked to find joy in what was tough going for him. His wife was infirm, he was not very mobile himself, they had had a bad year. And yet here they were, the old man and his old wife, on their annual trip to Gargnano, playing duets on the piano with the hotel proprietor. It's a scene I think back to often.

This time in Paris, I noted the older grandfather at yesterday's breakfast and today, I see a grandmother (surely she is that!) with her teenage grandson. He's delightfully attentive, but it's her smile that captures my heart. It's so genuine and kind. The waiter brings the wrong coffee. She assures him she will try it and probably like it. She doesn't like it. She doesn't tell him. She moves slowly and her grandson helps here and there. You can feel the love they share. And the utter joy she experiences being with him. Her eyes never stop smiling.

(And here's another grandmother -- with a somewhat younger grandson. Friends for sure.)

These people are my teachers. Their ability to create pleasure for others and therefore for themselves even as they age is a skill I want to have and I work on this all the time.

These are my thoughts this morning at breakfast on the patio of the d'Aubisson.

The young family is sleeping in again. I do my morning solo walk. Sort of like my walk to the barn, only different!

(older Parisian walking her dog... questions remain: is she really from here? then why the backpack?)

(the quiet of Place Dauphine in the morning...)

(older guy to the right, younger guy to the left)

And now the young family comes down for breakfast.

(croissant with strawberry jam -- mmmm!)

The plan is for them to head out to Montmartre. I decided to stay on the Left Bank. Pop into some shops, muse a little, wander around. I don't need extra time alone in Paris and I treasure all my ramblings with the awesome foursome, but Montmartre is a climb and my most recent walk there was enough to last me a while. I'll be that more restful grandmother today, preparing myself for an evening with the young ones.

(off they go!)

(off I go -- to the park.)

Lunchtime? Seems a lemon tart would make a fine midday meal! 

Life becomes so much easier with the introduction of text messages. Honestly, so much easier! I find out that the young family reversed course and went to the Marais instead. This means we can meet up on their walk back. At the beach!

For nearly two months, Paris creates "beach-like" spaces by the River Seine. For relaxation, play, for snacks and drinks. For those sad Parisians who do not leave the city in the summer. For the visitors too! The beaches opened last week and they're a great place for an afternoon stroll. Of course, we've all been strolling nearly nonstop, but still -- this space is worth a detour. 

At first we just take in the river breezes...

But toward the end, we come across a child-focused stretch. This is where Primrose and Juniper let loose!

They climb (because if one does it, so will the other).

And they cool off at the mist station. I've seen mist used as a cooling device in Parisian restaurants -- at least around the outdoor tables. But this cooling place is bigger, somewhat wetter and terrific fun for the kids.

Yes, they do get a little "damp," but it's getting hot out there again. 84F (29C), so not as bad as the first evening in Paris, but still, the cooling station is fabulous for those who dare dampen themselves with a cool spray.

From there, it's just a stroll... 

... over the river once again...

Straight to the ice cream store! (yes, I have some too...)

In the evening the young couple has time for their own exploration of Paris. I stay with the girls.

We order room service for dinner because I'm not too sure a restaurant meal is easy for the three of us, given Juniper's age and my being alone with them. Room service is a fun way to get some food into kids.

(...and me!)

In the discomfort of a small eating space, there is plenty of room for laughter.

Pastries, cherries and apricots round off the meal.

I can't get Primrose to agree to another outing, but we do go downstairs for a few minutes to listen to the jazz recital in the hotel's lounge. 

All my grandkids love to dance spontaneously to music, but it's fair to say that Juniper is the quickest to jump into rhythmic movements when she hears a song. 

We're off to the side and still, the girls get a lot of nods and smiles, including from the performer herself.

It is, however, a rather staid audience and so I don't push it. I move the girls out further, toward the entrance lobby and lo, Juniper heads right for the door. Which opens for her.

The girl knows how to get a laugh out of us. Her "escape" remains a total source of giddy amusement for her sister for the rest of the day.

And now most definitely it is time to say bonne nuit! May the moon shine brightly over you tonight...