Friday

You have to pull out all the stops to like a day like this: wet and cold and gray, with an exclamation point! Snowdrop said yesterday -- I like snow, but I like it when it's clean and fresh and not soggy and dirty. Well said. Unfortunately, we are in for a spell of soggy and dirty. Consider the morning walk to the barn:

I brought the last of my tubs of forced bulbs to the breakfast table. All the stops, I tell you!

It is impossible to get excited about a walk in the park, so I head out for just a few minutes, with my rain jacket, into the new development. With a rain jacket, in January, in Wisconsin! It really messes with your sense of time and place, but there you have it -- we are stuck in a cloud of weird warm soggy air.

I do try to focus on garden planning, but I have to say, I'm only modestly excited about it. As my beds shrink from the encroaching shade, I feel that my aspirations also have to shrink. Too, I'm no longer expanding the reach of my planting. Last year I barely kept up with the fields currently under my care. (Well, truthfully, I did not keep up with the ones furthest from the farmhouse. In the fall I took the tractor out there and mowed down the weeds that had taken over!) Still, I will admit to being excited about the coming of the growing season. This winter isn't exactly tough on us here at the farmette, but nor is it a stellar one, with the crisp landscapes and pale blue skies that we love so much at this time of the year. So yes, l'll be looking forward to spring along with everyone else. Two more months!

And in the afternoon, the kids are here, for their usual Friday eat-read-violin-ballet sequence. 

The pick-up, the time at the farmhouse -- it all seems like a repetition of the same each day, doesn't it? In truth, it's not. Snowdrop and Sparrow are getting older and the conversational dynamics are changing. Snowdrop raises topics that dont deserve pat answers and cant be sidestepped easily. Too, we're continuing with a book that puts us right into the bombing of England during World War II. Another set of issues for us to talk about. Sparrow tunes in, tunes out. You never know when he is fully present, in the way that younger sibs are even when you're talking about stuff that is beyond their immediate comprehension. War? Child abuse and neglect? What does he make of that? And the more mundane topics -- class dynamics. His are difinitive recounts: he has a good day with friends or he doesn't. And the "not so good" days are never bad, it's just that nothing stands out in his memory. So we juggle it all and in doing so I watch these two grow up and I have to say, this, to me is the best part of parenting or grandparenting -- when you can help these young ones sort through perplexing topics so that there is always clarity and hope for them.

I come home late on Fridays. This is the perfect day for reheating foods. And I do. And it feels warm and comforting to sit down with Ed over bowls of farro, as we laugh a little at funny moments of Ted Lasso on the big screen. The week is done. All's fine with our little world. 

with love....

Thursday

Little lemons, that's what I call them: the little lemons of a January day.

Take the weather: stuck at foggy, drippy, cold, wet. There will not be a different photo for you from my morning walk. It will be a repeat of the same, every day, because that's what the weather will be like for the next two weeks.

(the marching band...)

Breakfast: I'm feeling like I should return to oatmeal. Step aside, croissants, I need to get back to a healthier start to the day.

I have an appointment for a 30 000 mile checkup on the car. I drive up, ready to relinquish Alpine Blue for a couple of hours and am told that it will take the whole day. The whole day? I can't be without a car for the whole day! Ed's out at work and I have kids to pick up. And what is it that you need to do that requires a whole day? I'm given a list and a price tag. Whoaaaaaa! I will have spent ten percent of the cost of the car on maintenance this week! Why cant we have better public transportation in place anyway? Cars cars cars! We rely on them, we need them, we cant live without them and we spent a fortune on making them safe. (Nice big squeeze on my little lemon here!)

I reschedule the tune up for a weekend day and go back home, where all these little lemons lead me to bake lemon blueberry muffins. Because when life throws you little lemons, you may as well bake these muffins.

On the upside, the kids are up and running and I am back in the pick up line waiting for them.

(Off come the coats! Neither kid likes to sit in a car with coat on...)

And we come to the farmhouse and it all feels so normal again!

Well, except for the drizzle, the fog, the kind of stuff you're okay with in November, but not now, not in crisp January! 

I've made a batch of farro with cauliflower, tomatoes, and parmesan. A perfect comfy food. No lemon juice for this one. Warm and cozy, familiar and delicious!

 Okay, I'm ready for another day of drizzle, fog, and cat fights, and chickens messing up our walkway. It's all good. Really truly.

Wednesday

The amaryllis burst into full bloom this morning. Yes, the bulb that I sort of hoped would bring a bit of color to the Christmas table. The one I planted too late because I was too busy. Or something. And I have to say, I appreciate its beauty all the more now, when there is nothing to be said about the landscape outside the window. Sure, there's snow, but it's wet, melting and getting to be a little messy at the sides. And on top of that, it's a foggy morning, so the world looks a little out of focus on my morning walk to the barn.

So, yay amaryllis! 

Ed comes late to the breakfast table. Once again, we talk about the cats. There was another brawl with Pancake last night (he's the black and white recent addition to the farmette lot). Pancake looks a little worse for wear today, and still, I think he's the one who starts the fights. For some reason most of the cats do not like Unfriendly and Pancake is no exception here. When Unfriendly tries to return home, Pancake stands in the way. The fighting begins.

And there is nothing we can do about it.

 

I spend the day working on a photo book. I have the time for it because two out of the three Madison grandkids have come down with The Bug and the third is just barely over his version of it. Grandparents are not good candidates for babysitting virus stricken kids, since whatever the kids have is likely to pass quickly for them and not so quickly for those pushing the eighth decade. So once again I have no picking up duties today. It's weird -- for three weeks, I have been with some portion of the grandkids pretty much every single day and now for three days I have been without them. Call it a pause. Tomorrow, I'm sure we'll return to a real "normal."

I do go out to shop at the grocery store. This is still a fun activity for me because I've not done it for all these Covid years. It's like regaining eyesight after being temporarily blind. There's joy in those grocery aisles, really there is!

 

How quickly a day goes by! One minute you're pushing a cart in the grocery store and the next you're rubbing your eyes because surely it's later than late, and you haven't quite synced into the local time zone yet. Let's hope the cats are quiet tonight. We need our sleep!

with love...

Tuesday

Maybe I shouldn't have gloated about how we missed all that horrible Wisconsin weather while away on our trip. Sure, no Arctic blast came our way up there in the mountains or in Paris, and yes, there is a warm-up right now in south central Wisconsin, but is this better? This still freezing air, the sleet coming down hard on the roads, the clumpy wet snow left over from the last storm? The cats, chickens and I say no, it is not!

Breakfast of oatmeal. We review the problems surrounding our cats. Seven is too much, we say! And still, what can we do? We feed them and make sure that each has a warm spot for the cold days. Three come into the farmhouse, five use the the sheep-shed, one has a warming hut on the porch. But they are territorial and occasionally they draw boundaries against some of the others. Too, chasing them out of the house can be a drag. They hide from us rather than being pushed outside. It's all a big winter headache and yet, here we are, looking after them, because if not us, then who?

To take my mind off of cats, sleet and slushy snow, I do ballet.

In the later morning, I go to the bakery to restock our supply of croissants and cookies for the kids and bread for Ed. It's good to be back at Madison Sourdough, even though I had no shortage of croissants in the last ten days! 

And in the afternoon, when the icy sleet turns to snow -- wet, accumulating snow, I get in the car once again, this time to pick up the kids. School was closed (again!) yesterday, so I was off duty then, but today I'm back on track. I'm told that both kids are happy to be back with friends and familiar routines.

So, they come to the farmhouse and we have a fabulous time, right? Well, not exactly. As I drive up to the school, well in advance of the pick up time, I check once again the air pressure on the car tires. One had been a tiny bit low and I just want to make sure it's holding steady. And it is. But what's this? Another tire, one that was just fine this morning, is suddenly very low. And I mean very. As I'm wondering if it has enough oomph to even get us home, I get a call from my daughter -- Snowdrop is sick, apparently with the same bug that Sparrow had yesterday and their mommy had the day before. And so I pick them up...

... and drive them home. Not my home, but their home.

And the pressure drops once again. And I know I wont make it back to the farmhouse so I detour to a tire place I know in the neighborhood and sure enough, I have not one but two holes in two tires and say, did you know that on a 4-wheel drive car, you can't just swap out two tires, you have to do all four?

I spend the rest of the afternoon in the tire shop waiting for the car tires to be changed and for the bill to be handed to me so that I can gasp in horror at how expensive the afternoon has become.

On the upside, we did not have a flat on the highway, we did not have to wait to be towed (I cannot change a tire by myself, and in any case, it is snowing and wet and altogether unpleasant outside), the kids are home, and the slow leak and the fast leak are both history by now.

[Ed later says -- I cant believe you had two such punctures! I can only respond -- who am I to question the wisdom of the tire shop? They're reputable, they've been around for decades. They say swap, I swap!]

Home now, with two cats that refuse to go out, with too many fresh croissants and fresh chocolate chip cookies, and with a distracted Ed who is working away at his machine design.

What an interesting first "normal" day back this has been!

home again

In one of those endless waits yesterday (airport lines, delays, holdups -- that kind of thing), Snowdrop told me that one reason she loves getaway vacations is that they break up the routine for you. Pull you out of your regular schedule. It's funny because I share that view, despite the fact that neither she nor I dislike our routines. In fact, I'm really fond of my days of animal care, of writing, reading cooking, school pick up. Of breakfasts and dinners with Ed. Of couch time afterwards. And yet, that break was heavenly. Just to shut off and redirect the mind. A restart when I get home again.

Coming back from Europe is easier on the body than going there. You wake up early and go to sleep earlier and that's just fine. Well, except for the first day when the number of sleep hours is halved and your energy levels are quartered. Still, I was with the animals at the usual hour, admiring the snow, the deer, the paw prints, the first rays of sunlight.

Breakfast? Ed had an early morning call and I did not want to wait for him to be done. That coffee isn't a luxury on the return, it's a necessity. I could not move forward without it, so it was just me and the cats. And the forced bulbs that started blooming in my absence.

(We have an Eiffel Tower loving cat...)

Getting the farmhouse in order after being away is a job! I don't mind doing it. Putting things away makes you feel like you're done living out of a suitcase and that's just such a relief. Nonetheless, it takes time. The fridge is empty, the laundry has piled up, the plants are dry (I forgot to tell Ed to water them) -- it all needs that TLC  to keep things looking presentable. Well, except for the hole in th kitchen ceiling and in the bathroom wall. Hardly presentable, but we've grown so used to it that I'll miss both when Ed finally does get around to patching things up.

The deep freeze came and went -- I missed the entire dire event! Today, the temps climbed up to freezing, which is just perfect for cross country skiing. The snow cover is good, the trails are modestly groomed. It's a wonderful way to return to winter in Wisconsin.

with love...

leaving Paris

We are leaving Paris today. The good news is that our departure is not at the usual ungodly hour, such that we would have to be up at 5 and at the airport at 7, hungry and tired before the trip had even begun. Our flight to Detroit is to take off in the afternoon. That means I can let the girl sleep in. I can take extra care with packing us up. We can go down to our lovely breakfast downstairs. Croissants, baguette. Yogurts, juice. Cappuccino. And bacon for the little one!

 

 

Too, we have time for one last Parisian walk. I give her some choices. She opts for the river. Perfect! We walk the blocks leading up to the Seine...

 

 

 

 

 

 

And cross at the lovely pedestrian bridge...

 

 

 

... which offers great views to the east (above) and to the west (below).

 

 

 

We cut through the Louvre courtyard and talk about what's inside, what art we will someday investigate. And of course we admire the pyramid.

 

 

 Paris will begin warming up this afternoon, but right now, in the morning hours, it's still pretty cold, so Snowdrop opts to return rather than continue. I have to agree. We will have walked a good bit. We are satiated with Paris.

Or are we? The girl tells me she is happy to see her fam again but she is super sad at having this trip behind her. And she hates leaving Paris. And I have to wonder -- what is it about this city that draws her in? I get why I like being here, but Snowdrop is just a kid. Why does she love it so much? I have the presence of mind not to ask. Sometimes feelings are best left undefined. Without explanation. Without bursting the bubble with some platitude and speculation.

 

 

 

We choose a different set of blocks for our walk back. There's street art here. Lovely! 

 

 

 

 

 

And now we are back in our hotel and by noon we make our way downstairs, say goodbye to the fabulous Hotel Baume staff and catch our cab ride to the airport.

My last photo from Paris? A selfie from our walk across the Seine.

 

 

The trip back is not difficult. Sure, there was the matter of the delayed flight, the broken chair, the late return, the looooong wait at passport control. None of it matters. We had a beautiful set of days. The girl is happy. I am happy.

Hi Ed.... Did you miss me? 

Goodnight to all. We are home.

Paris

Our last full day in France. Between the bad weather, a federal holiday and several staff service days, Snowdrop's school has had more closures this past week than open days. In effect she'll have skipped no more than two and a half days of classes Still, it's time to go back.

But not today. 

The weather is still unusually cold for Paris, but just so average for us Wisconsin types. Sunny and just below freezing all day long. We have plans for the day! But first, a race as to who gets down faster -- the elevator girl or the stair-using grandma. (Typically she wins. I mean, come on, we're on the American 6th floor! But today we tied.)

And breakfast.

And now it's time to catch the bus to the far western edge of the city. I almost never use the buses in Paris. My habit is to walk, and if I'm in a hurry I'll catch the metro. But the girl voted for the bus and frankly, it's the easiest way to get to the Marmottan Museum.

And it's a delightful ride. On a winter weekend, it's easy to nab a seat and simply enjoy the views along the way.

I'd taken Snowdrop to this museum when she was very young and I am sure she remembers none of it. But she knows Monet and the Marmottan is perhaps the best single compilation of Monet paintings in any one place. Were it not so far, I'd probably go there more often. But then, so would the rest of humanity. Its distance is what helps to keep things tame.

Why return to view paintings that you've seen countless times? What new things are you learning? Apart from allowing the little girl to get comfortable with great art, is there a reason to come back at all to canvases that you already memorized?

The answer is so simple! Of course there is! Great art makes you feel both reverent and content. (It can agitate as well, but I tend to return to places where the mood is of tranquility and incredible beauty. At the Marmottan, at the Orangerie, at d'Orsay -- it's all there for you to take in. Not unlike a walk in a forest, or a blooming garden -- it expands your senses and gives them a real workout! What's there not to love?)

I was going to be more leisurely on our trek back from the museum. Perhaps walk a little more. Maybe pause alomg the way. But "just below freezing" can still feel pretty nippy. And the girl has expressed a real interest in returning to Les Editeurs for lunch. So we catch the 63 bus again and head back to our neighborhood.

 

 

 

The ride is about a half hour and on this return journey an older woman is clearly listening to our conversation. About monsters and why they irrationally can freak a kid out, even when said kid knows there aren't any, and certainly not in your bedroom, or in her closet. The fellow passenger confirms: she too worried about monsters and indeed still takes another look in the back seat of her car to make sure none are lurking (not sure this was reassuring to the girl, but the fellow rider was so hungry to join in and chat with us that we let her continue).

Turns out the chatty woman is a professor of computer science in Brazil. She has been coming to Paris every year for several decades. A month each time. In their summer and thus Europe's winter. Is she lonely? She stays with us for the ride and I dare say, she may have enjoyed an invitation to join us for lunch. But I know Snowdrop: she is protective of her private time, of our private time. Sparrow would clamor to engage a stranger in friendly chatter. Snowdrop holds back.

Still, it is very lovely to have had this chance encounter. A person who comes into your life, only to exit it quickly again as the bus doors slam shut behind us. What will she do in Paris this whole month? Who will be her friend here? Or, like me, will she walk the streets on her own, enjoying the quiet of her own company?

At Les Editeurs Snowdrop orders exactly the same thing she ordered for dinner when we first arrived. Beans. Scallops and fries. French food can be intimidating. In these three dishes she finds comfort.

A sidestep to the pastry store (we'll eat our loot at the hotel,) and then to the neighborhood store where an older woman sells, well, small inconsequentials. Jewelry that's not too pricey, knick-knacks. She is extraordinarily chatty and always greets me warmly. Most of my adornments, such as they are, come from this small store. Today she wants to gift me a bracelet. It's simple, and she knows what will happen to it. You're going to give it to your granddaughter and I want you to have it! I guess I'll have to give you two bracelets...

And now we are at Le Baume, chomping on our sweets.

At 3, we go to the Luxembourg Gardens.

 

 

Snowdrop really wants to go to the playground in the park. Indeed, she has been wanting to do this since we got here. It always closes just before we get there. Not today. She zips, she climbs, she slides. I watch, holding my breath because when she misses a rung and comes to the ground, she insists on starting again until she gets it exactly right. Waiting for her to experience a success can chill a stationary non-climbing, bouncing or zipping grandma.

Age. It's your friend on a playground. Until it isn't anymore!

(Yes, you can go on the merry-go-round again!)

(yes, you can have some warm cotton candy...)

(Snowdrop: this has been a perfect day!)

Dinner? At the last minute I changed directions. Rather than going back to an old reliable place with very delicious French cooking, I booked a table at an Italian eatery by the Pantheon. A Bracetto. I'd never tried it, but I want to give Snowdrop this safe eating haven for her last dinner in France. Pizza, no effort required! And reputably great pizza. 

A short walk from out hotel and we're there. On the upside, it really did have great pizza. The seating though was tricky. We'd booked, but we got perhaps the worst table in the place. Right next to some guys who were hanging out on one side, and on the other side -- where all the traffic passed through. Snowdrop was disheartened so I insisted on a change and eventually they complied, putting us at the "only available" space up by the window, on high chairs. Good but not great. Still, the pizza was superb and it was in the end the cheapest meal of the trip: two pizzas, one drink, $35 total. Boom! Good to go!

(walk back to the hotel)

And there you have it: a winter escape. From one super cold state to a somewhat cold country. Tomorrow we return home. I hear Wisconsin will be warming up this week. So will Paris. It's been an interesting winter thus far!

with so much love...