Thursday

If you ever have had an infections disease, the kind that requires people to wear PPEs (personal protective equipment) or at the very least N95 masks when they come near you, and if you have even a shred of empathy for humankind, then you will have experienced this day -- which is my day today -- when by at least some markers you are deemed disease free (completed period of isolation, with two negative tests, spaced, afterwards), even though, of course, these markers are a standardized fiction, because nothing is certain, nothing is without doubt. And so you are deemed safe, but those around you kind of still keep their distance and you want them to, because what if, what if... You do not want to be a Typhoid Mary (the woman who was an asymptomatic carrier, infecting everyone left and right). And of course, Covid gives you ample opportunity to have doubts: you can get a rebound! The burden is on you to identify a Covid sniffle and distinguish it from a winter "I've been outside, damn it, so my nose drips" sniffle. I've already used five tests for this course of Covid. The UW Health Covid specialist tells you not to pay attention to tests anymore. Too many false positives can follow a course of Covid. But I don't have any positives! Am I golden? Or am I an outlier? In Covid, there are outliers. 

The funny thing is that all these doubts, the potential for spread, your own safety markers -- they exist for everyone, perhaps especially for those who think themselves to be Covid free. Only a hermit can rest comfortably and think him or herself to be clear of the virus. (Ed comes to mind, though he spent four hours this week in the Social Security Administration office. Masked, to be sure. But no one else around him was masked. So even Ed has to question his potential for being a carrier.) But you dont think much about it if you've not had Covid. You think -- I'll know it when it's here and then I'll be a good citizen and take precautions. [Caveat: there are those who do not think this way; I personally know of people who boarded a transAtlantic flight knowing they had Covid. Good people. They found suitable interpretations to allow themselves a different thought pattern. And of course there are those who simply equate Covid with a "bad cold" and carry on as if it were nothing more than that. I can only say -- tell that to the long Covid sufferers, currently somewhere between 6 - 28% of all who have had Covid. I know, quite the spread of probable cases!]

So I am in my gray box, ostensibly disease free, and honestly - a safer bet than the stranger you'll bump into at the grocery store because I have a stack of fresh negative tests! And yet, I am cautious. Because just a few days ago, I could have messed with you, and you, and you....

That's one perspective. Another is my daughter's who cannot wait for me to pronounce myself to be Covid free! She leaves it to me to make that determination (she knows I am submerged in all the science around Covid), but once made, she is willing, nay, eager for me to resume afterschool childcare! And so today, I reclaim the kids.

But of course, that comes later. In the morning there are the animals to feed...

Breakfast to eat.... (why alone? Well, you know, my gray box...)

And a bike ride to get under the belt before the rains come down. Ed and I go out together.

(Still catching those shots from pedaling behind him)

Theme for today's ride? So many cranes!

And home again.

Afterwards, the farmhouse is once again his. And this is so good, though once more we must find our center: he must get used to me clearing a dirty plate from under his nose. I must get used to having a dirty plate in plain sight. The melons come back to occupy half the refrigerator, dripping their sticky juice. My breakfasts come back to tempt him even as he likes these days to push off the first meal of the day. All this is refreshing for us: we are back to navigating our common waters, together. And it is wonderful.

The kids? Oh, they're excited to be back. In this week of isolation, they have managed to cycle through a school closure, their own set of non-Covid bugs and a visit from another grandmother. Nonetheless, give a child her known routine, with indulgences and attention thrown in and she, he is happy.

(Today, I also pick up Sandpiper)

So maybe we have Covid behind us for now? That's the hope and expectation! 

Now, onto our shared evening. Just Ed and me -- so missed by the both of us!

with love...

Wednesday

Well, when even the cat abandons you for breakfast, there's nothing left but to bring the laptop to the table.

It was in many ways a celebratory meal. I'd done my morning chicken chores...

(hey, you're sure you're going the right way??)

And I scrubbed the house up and down and all around, running loads of laundry, vacuuming, you name it, I did it. (No, not a thorough job. Give me a break. A sufficient job.) Why the fuss? Well I got a "for sure negative" Covid test result. If it repeats tomorrow, I can reenter society. Isolation ostensibly ended yesterday, but I find that to be an empty victory, because if I see people, I still need a mask. By tomorrow's negative, that requirement goes away, so Ed can come back to the farmhouse.

We time our bike ride to fit the weather pattern for the day. For sure, the best is slated to be with us in the morning and so we do our loop then. My challenge? To photograph from the big camera slung around my neck without braking pace! Pedal, focus and snap!

And again!

In our little corner of the world, you can't go far these days without spotting a crane. Or two. Or more. Today, cranes in flight. And I'm in flight too, except they're faster than I am, electric assist notwithstanding!

And home again.

I'm thinking how the suddenness of certain events (say a Covid diagnosis) really messes with your sense of time and place. It is hard to believe that I came back from France exactly a week ago. It feels at once more distant in time, but also, since I've stayed put, canceling all my dinners, doctors, grandkid pickups, and everything in between for the week, my return seems like it happened just a day or two ago. I came back, I had a normal day and then there is this void. Not an unpleasant void, mind you. I had such a mild case! And for the most part, good weather has given us the gift of many outings, rides, hikes. I've put the house in order -- something that I always have to do upon a return, but can't quite accomplish in one fell swoop, ever, because there isn't the time for it. I've beat the deadline for Christmas cards! Under the wire, to get that coveted discount that only comes if you put your order in before October 15th. I haven't yet planted the spring bulbs, but I have done some gardening. And I caught up on sleep. So -- not bad for a void!

In the evening, I promised myself, and you, that I would cook something new. Smitten Kitchen posted a recipe for chicken tortilla soup and I suddenly wanted that very chicken tortilla soup. With a tomato base, black beans, and a reach for my frozen corn kernes, oh, and importantly -- some fried up tortilla strips, it really is good!

Now all that has to happen is for me not to get a rebound case of Covid and I will consider myself very lucky indeed. 

with love...

Tuesday

A beautiful but stinky morning!

I step outside just as the sun pushes its first rays over the horizon. Ribbons of mist settle over the fields to the east of us. It's cold! 

I've been given instructions to move the car and I see that there is the smallest hint of frost on the windshield. Nothing that will kill off the annuals yet, but it is a warning: we are just at the edge of a huge seasonal change. (With a deep frost, the landscape at the farmette will be transformed.)

For now though, I'm still thinking about what plants to bring indoors for the winter. I dont have enough hours of sunlight on the windowsill to keep them vibrant, and yet what there is will produce a constant, if wimpy, bloom all winter long. And when I take the plant out again come spring, it springs to life! So, which one? 

Our septic system is to be cleaned out this morning. This happens maybe once in a handful of years. Basically two people using the toilet and one of them being committed to a bidet (did you read that article in the Washington Post yesterday imploring everyone to switch to a bidet? Ed feels so vindicated!) doesn't provide much fodder for the system. The cats, upon seeing the big truck roll in, scatter to high heaven. The hens, on the other hand, hover with curiosity. 

But what I really smell is the visit of a skunk. This is never good news. Skunks want our chickens. And at least one of the cats has been known to wage war with the smelly predator. You could say that the cat won the war but lost the battle. (Thankfully it was not a cat that comes in for farmhouse visits).

Breakfast, with two reminders of earlier travels (candle scent, honey). These are the kind of souvenirs I can live with!

And then I work. In the garden. And on small projects that got pushed aside for lack of time. Eventually, Ed is ready for a walk and I coax him into an Arboretum hike. Once a season! -- I tell him.

For us, the Arboretum is a place of two extremes: on the one hand, it is stunningly beautiful. Now, perhaps more than ever.

It's a vast space, with open fields, studded with magnificent trees...

And, too, there is a forest with trails that are just lovely.

Except that...

Well, it abuts the Beltline -- our highway that circumnavigates our city to the south. In spite of the vastness of the Arboretum lands, the noise of the traffic never quite goes away. You can never have what we love so much about forest walks: total quiet. So yes, it was splendid and beautiful and the weather was absolutely fabulous...

But he knew, and I knew that we'd probably wait another couple of months before we'd rush back.

At home, I bike a little in our neighborhood. Laugh all you want: it was for the rings! (And for the warmth of an October sun, and the views in the fields, and the feeling of being transported elsewhere!)

Supper? Well, leftovers. Cheesy, tomatoey, farro. With a freshly poached egg on top and a salad at the side. 

Tomorrow I honestly will at least attempt to cook something new. Maybe!

with love...

Monday

Before I say another word, let me just note that my heart and thoughts are with a friend who has been thrown the worst sour pickle juice you could possibly imagine this week. She is going through rough days and I am not really with her, because she doesn't live nearby, and yet I am with her because she needs even distant support. You know who you are. I'm at your side, always. (As you have been for me.)

(still blooming!)

Me, I continue to coast. So far, none of the potentially Covid exposed persons have shown any signs of illness. Please may that last. And I feel good! So good that I dared test myself once again and though I'm positive, I know that I will remain thus for a while and it should not bother me because even if there's that extra line on my home test, everything is receding. My load is lessening. 

In the morning, I'm with the chickens. And one of the cats. The usual rigamarole. No, cat, you stay in the shed. Yes you! And you? Come with me to the farmhouse. Clap clap clap! That's the signal. You know what you're supposed to do! 

Breakfast, alone. I decided that I need some human content in the post, even if I am isolating, so you get me today! Want others? Sorry, can't help you there...

And then I do a lot of internet work because I have a festering to do list and, too, I have some travel adjustments that require work. Click click, tap tap. All morning long.

But in the afternoon, Ed and I head out. The plan is to bike to the park and then walk, but we get sidetracked. He wants me to identify some of the stuff that's growing out back where he has been tending newly planted saplings. Most of them are weeds, but still, it's good to get information so you can plan accordingly (to mow? to let it be? to dig out?).

We walk the farmette lands up and down, and we take a look at the new orchard, and Ed even finds a leftover pear way up high... and another!

(...in our bike helmets!)

The hens come out to see what the excitement is all about...

And did I tell you? It's such a beautiful day! Sunny and cool. Your perfect October afternoon.

Okay, let's get on those bikes!

To the park!

Where the turtles are once again warming their backs in the sweet rays of an autumnal sun.

It's sad not to go back to the farmhouse together, but honestly, I have had a very easy isolation. On beautiful days, it hardly feels real that I am infected with something as bad as Covid. I feel that fine!

Evening: I cook up farro, with tomatoes and cheese. Another one of those meals that will last at least three nights. Toss a salad, throw on a poached egg and you're golden.

These unexpectedly strange days are spinning by quickly. Out of broken routines, there emerge new ones. We think we don't handle change well, but in fact we do. We're experts at it, adjusting constantly to a new set of imperatives. Such small challenges we have here, at the farmette, compared to those faced by others. Tiny beads of nothing. Lucky. Just insanely lucky. I wish luck were universally on the side of all those who need it right now...

with so much love... 

Sunday

Let's start off with how I feel (because it very much guides the rest of this day): well, apart from being absolutely certain that I must have inadvertently eaten a cupful of grapefruit rind (that bitter taste!), I'm really not bad at all. The fatigue has abated, and the cold symptoms -- well, they're at a consistently low level. So much so that on a normal day you would say -- I must have dusted too vigorously, hence the light aggravation! Well, I wouldn't say that, because I have grown slack with farmhouse dusting, but a normal person who keeps a very tidy house might say that. So basically, things are progressing well I think.

Nonetheless, I can't say I'm motivated to be a Very Productive person. I keep cooking things that can be reheated over three dinners in a row, because not eating with Ed makes me lazy in the kitchen. And, were it not for those darn rings on my smart watch, I'd probably not be in a hurry to ride or hike or get off that darn couch. It's very comfortable in our living room. (Ed claims it's also very comfortable in his sheep shed, but I bet you anything that the minute my quarantine is over, he'll be leaving the luxury of the shed to rejoin me in our farmhouse.)

I am up at the usual time. It's cold outside, but of course, it's the middle of October so no surprises there. Chicken feeding time!

And again, I give Ed a nudge through the sheep shed door to feed the five cats who eat there, even as I then have to hurry to feed the "leftover" cat in the farmhouse (Unfriendly Snowflake). She has been banned from the sheep shed by some of the others. I do not know why. Life can be very unfair to cats.

Breakfast, to the tune of that song from 1971 -- Alone Again, Naturally (although that is a super depresso song and I am anything but depressed, but still, the tile is fitting! I mean, solo breakfast, with wilting flowers!).

I do eventually go out to do some work in the garden. I'm very unmotivated. This is not unusual -- October garden work belongs to those who really give their life over to the project of gardening. The rest of us -- we do it because we have to. I have to take out more weeds. I have to cut back some of the spent flowers for a winter look. I have to (eventually, once they arrive) plant the bulbs. So this afternoon, I do a few of the "I have to's."

Oh! Look at our quince harvest this year!

I planted the quince trees after my last visit with my father before he died. He had poured me a superb drink that Poles love -- mix quince and sugar and vodka in some combination that I can't remember and let it steep and you have yourself something quite delicious. So I planted quince trees and they are finally bearing fruit.

The problem is, I don't have the kind of dinner parties where you bring out a vodka and quince digestif at the end to show off your home liqueur production talents. And to sip it myself? That just seems sad and unnecessary. So, Ed took over some of the quince to a local bakery (Sugar River Country Bakery, the guys you see at several of the Madison farmers markets) and they played with it and liked it and so we are supplying them with our good crop of quince this year.

In the late afternoon, I go out biking again. With Ed. It's a glorious day for it! (All but the temperatures which remain on the October cool side.)

(our awesome bike trail... Ed was supposed to be in the photo, but he sped up and disappeared into the thicket while I was pedaling and balancing the camera for a shot!)

(back on the rural roads... to the lake!)

(now there's an older couple's fine way of passing a Sunday afternoon! staring at the lake! So peaceful...)

(back on the roads: home again...)

The wind is strong and I can't say that I'm not tired after the ride (love those double negatives!), but at least I have no feelings of guilt as I retire for the rest of the afternoon to the couch. In the meantime, Ed finishes planting pawpaw trees. In many ways, it's not an unusual autumn day for us, but there is an absence of family that is palpable. And of course, an absence of Ed in the evening. A few more days! Just a few more days!

I lose myself in beaming over the good election results in Poland. Democracy prevailed. Oh yeah! A good day, I think, for the future of my home country.

with love...

Saturday

It was a strange, though not uncomfortable night. Tired and sleepy, I luxuriated in bed, thinking how different a Covid diagnosis would have been three years ago! Back then, I would have tracked my oxygenation levels, ready to be whisked off to the hospital should they drop. I would have looked for signs of trouble in every part of me. Now, I allow myself to stay in bed and think about these years of Covid and how they reshaped our lives and yet, we who believe in vaccinations and medicine are not pummeled by this virus. Most of us can expect to come out okay at the end of the day. Well, at the end of the week! I realize that I am greatly benefited by having had a recent booster. If I had to catch Covid, I could not have picked a better time for it. My responses are at their strongest this very week.

And by my usual get up and get moving time (7!), I'm feeling less tired and less raspy and I know that sometime in the middle of the night, the virus got kicked in the butt hard and if all goes well, I can expect it to back off and leave me alone. Soon.

Now, how to face our weird and screwed up days, here at the farmhouse? The 3 cats slept downstairs. I would have let them out but it rained all night and Pancake, the 7th interloper at the farmette, hogged the porch so I felt I should let them have their peace in the living room while I closed myself off upstairs. (Ed has the shed cats -- the three who never come to the farmhouse -- to keep him company.)

In the morning, I chase the cats out and head to the barn to free and feed the chickens. 

I poke my head into the sheep shed and shout over to Ed to feed the cats. I can't do it. It's his germ-free safe space. This, of course, terrifies the three felines that are in there with him. They flee as if a tornado had swept through the premises. (All the cats hate unexpected noises.)

And then I eat breakfast. Alone.

Honestly, I'm feeling lazy. And mad that this last trip ended with Covid. I had managed to do close to a dozen trips since the pandemic struck and I'd gotten it into my head that if I only follow precautions, I should be fine. And I was fine. Even during the peak of the spread last winter, I was fine. Until this fall --  I wasn't. 

Still, I am exceptionally lucky. In every single way. I am home, I can call my doc and get the antivirals. I have Ed to shout to across the farmette lands. Oh, not just that -- I helped him fix the brakes on his car this afternoon! Masked, with doors open, I pumped the brakes while he puttered and muttered and used tools to do who knows what. 

And here's another thing we can do together -- go on a bike ride!

True, it's not especially pleasant outside. Cold and gray (but with some breaks in the sky!). But the rains have stopped and I have to get used to the new normal of cold weather. Right now I'm still bundling up as if I were in the highest mountains in the middle of January, but my blood will adjust soon and winter will be nothing more than a clothing annoyance in terms of searching out the caps, the scarves, the missing second glove...

(We combine it with a walk in our favorite park. Keeping a nice distance apart!)

(Hey! The gaggle of cranes and geese is at it again!)

Back at home I think about how weird it is to have this virus that I have been basically avoiding every single day, sometimes with total preoccupation, sometimes with a little less, since March 8, 2020. Friends ask me how I'm doing and I have to say that there are two unpleasant aspects of Covid for me (apart from the mild raspiness which is nothing more than an annoyance) -- the taste in my mouth (remember when we read that Covid messed with your tastebuds? oh yeah!), and the psychological effect of getting this thing that I've been dodging for so long. I've become so complacent about being able to zip through travel without catching anything, that I allowed myself to book endless trips going forward. My pandemic-ly deferred travel budget went into overdrive! Now I'm thinking -- each trip will pose a new risk. And each time I come back sick, I mess with the lives of those at home. Oh sure, I'm careful in travel. I avoid the obvious crowds, stores, shows, and I mask up, with my super duper KN95! But of course, not while eating.. 

Ah well, life moves on. 

Now, excuse me while I pace. I cant let go of my movement rings, just because of a dumb old virus!

with love...