Friday

We all know who the "happy people" in our lives are. The one who invariably make us content, who force smiles onto our faces when we're in their presence. Ocean readers certainly can guess mine: kids, grandkids, Ed. My close to the heart friends. Easy peasy. But how about happy places? Spots where you can count on finding peace, tranquility, warmth, contentment. Do you have one or two? Or more? 

I was thinking about these places today: I return to them often because they provide comfort and joy routinely. I'd have to be pretty down in the dumps not to think to myself -- it feels so good to be here!

Happy places. At the farmhouse, there are a handful: in the summer -- the porch. At all other times -- the kitchen table. In the evenings -- the couch. (I know! It takes so little!) Elsewhere? Our local park, and especially along the standard loop we do -- through the prairie and up the hill. Farther afield -- my hotel room at Le Baume in Paris. A table at lunchtime at Cafe Varenne. I suppose any well tended garden, but now I'm stretching to the probable, rather than the surefire hits.

There is magic in those happy places. They cause you to push aside the fretting, the yowling thoughts, the dreadful images from, say, a newscast earlier on. They always remind me -- yes, but there's also this to life...

Yesterday, Anne Lamott wrote another piece in the Washington Post about aging. (She is nearly exactly my age.) She wrote about routinely taking walks along a creek with a friend whom she has known since childhood. One line stuck in my head, one she quoted from another source -- when you're really pounded from all sides and you wonder -- what's the point? Where's the joy? This person thought for a while and answered -- well, there's always the morning.

Indeed! There's the morning where you wake up to a new day. And there's the porch and the bench in our courtyard (don't let me forget the bench!). And there's our local park, to which we return again and again, Ed and I, and each time we finish our loop I say, so very sincerely -- that was just beautiful!

(today's walk)

It's a sunny day. Cool, but who cares! That's spring out there!

The hens are happy once again. The crocuses are exploding with their brilliance. 

 

 

 

 

 

(the daffodils? almost!)

 

 

Ed and I start our morning with breakfast, still in the kitchen. It will be another month before we dare venture out on the porch.

And we go out for our walk. In the park. Content.

 

In the afternoon, the kids are here. 

As we start in on the next volume of the Greenhouse ghostly-mystery series (I wanted to postpone, but she begged!), Snowdrop throws a glance at my side table, where I keep my KenKen math book. Gaga! I just did those puzzles in school today! Aren't they fun? (For those who did not read this on Ocean -- KenKen logic puzzles appear daily in the NYTimes and they come highly recommended for those who don't want to slip into math nothingness as they get older!)

I am so glad that I am keeping up with my math abilities.

So ends the week. Actually, extremely well for me. Remember the bike ride Ed and I took on Monday to Paoli? Remember my words of wisdom to you on Tuesday? (Never do medical testing the day after you've done an even moderately strenuous activity...) Well now. I had a week of alarm bells going off as those high in the medical profession studied my results. Finally, the most wise and sensible of them all (my own doc) said -- repeat the test when her muscles have recovered after the ride. I did. Alarm bells were quickly silenced.

And now for my happy space. The couch. With Ed's toes digging into me, because he prefers a reclining position. 

With love.

Thursday

Of the three, which would you choose for your (more or less) daily routine: ballet, yoga, or tai chi? 

So, now that you've chosen one, fess up! Do you do it? Why not?

I'd been a yoga fan for a long time. There's just no doubt about it -- it's good for maintaining flexibility. But with a knee that no longer bends at more than a right angle, it's a struggle to get motivated. I mean, if you can't do a child's pose, then where's the fun? 

I tried ballet this fall and I liked it! But it felt meditative with a tiny bit of flexibility built into it, rather than being physically challenging. I'm sure that those who practice ballet at a more advanced level will roll their eyes at my assessment, but for a beginner, the plies and frappes and tendus are only a very mild workout. I still go back to it, but more to achieve some semblance of calm rather than muscle strength. 

So now comes the third horse that's about to be unleashed out of the starting gate: tai chi. If yoga is for flexibility, they say that tai chi is for strength, especially cardiovascular strength. Sounds like something everyone could use, no?

As usual, I dig into the YouTube material first. Ah! No special clothes required! That's good! I can fail and there will be no financial investment. But, as I watch the video, I wonder -- can you really do this on your own? I've watched so many ballet classes in my life (my daughter's my grandkids') that I sort of know the drill there. Yoga? I've taken enough classes to keep me more or less at some stable place of capability. But tai chi? I know next to nothing about it! How do I even pick a good video? 

I watch a few. There's still knee activity, but perhaps I can adjust. Or, maybe you have some good tips on where to begin? Or perhaps you want to steer me away from tai chi in favor of... whatever! Drop me a note. I'm on the lookout for some added movement!

Meanwhile we have ourselves a quiet, rainy day.

The hens look out, turn around, stay in the barn. Crocuses fold up their flower heads and wait for it to pass. 

Oatmeal for breakfast. I mean, it's only right for a day like this!

And then I do my ballet, watch Tai Chi videos and take out my KenKen math puzzles (recommended by someone with exceptional math abilities!). I chose Volume 3, because it's called Stressless KenKen puzzles, with the subtitle: "Mind Stimulating Logic Puzzles That Make You Smarter." Yeah! Two down, 198 to go.

I pick up very wet kids in the afternoon. 

 

 

(a girl who loves rain...)

 

 

They are full of talk about leprechauns. These Irish mythical creatures may have had some standing in Ireland when my kids were growing up, but luckily, they did not make it to the homes of south-central Wisconsin families. In other words, I didn't have to deal with them on St. Patrick's Day. Since my girls have some Irish blood in them (not from me!), I made it an annual thing to dance a jig with them on March 17th. When they were older, they pulled out something green to wear. That's it. Not so this generation of American kids! They want to create leprechaun traps. They want to imagine that this green clad little fellow will come to their home at night. So I nod and smile and wish their parents luck! Cleaning up after a leprechaun who messes up your house while you sleep on the eve of St Patrick's Day. Fun!

(their five minute fascination with the "Cat Game")

 

 

 

In the evening, I reheat soup at the farmhouse for Ed, for me. So perfect for this wet day! Veggies, swimming in a broth, with a sprinkling of Parmesan cheese. And a chocolate for dessert. March has been kind to us. We can certainly stand to put up with some cooler, wet days. For a while! 

with love...

Wednesday

One more "seize the day" moment. Warm, partly cloudy, lovely. Yesterday, we hit a record high of 70F (21C). Today, we're just a few degrees less than that. (Tomorrow we return to what is properly ours in March: cool, wet, cool, dry, cool wet and so on.) Ed thinks we should aim big today, but I resist anything that has us rushing like kids chasing an ice cream truck. Better to go local, moving gently from one thing to the next. Rushing belongs to those under 70!

The hens are in a good routine. All are back to treating the coop as a home base. 

And the older girls are laying again. Weirdly, one lays huge monster eggs, the other -- small and rather oblong. Same breed, same age, same diet. Different... what? Temperament? We have no idea. The younger foursome spend the day moving between barn and the nearby fir trees. For all that crazy, wild run in every direction on their first free day here, they now seem completely disinterested in venturing out beyond this tiny stretch of land. That's just fine with me. Hiding under the firs is a great way to protect yourself from hawks. 

Walk back from barn: the crocuses! Oh, the crocuses! 

 

 

 

 

 

It's been a stellar year for them. It could be that I planted a good batch of bulbs at the right depth, but honestly, I think it's just the luck of the weather. Crocuses come out early. They'll survive the cold, but their blooms are fragile. We've had no snow, no big storms and rainfalls to topple these guys. Best crocus year ever!

I have more appointments, more errands for this morning. Indeed, I decide that I can lump everything into one neat stack and do it even before breakfast. Including the week's grocery shopping! The reward? I have fresh (grocery store) flowers for the table for our morning meal.

And now for out light walk in the local park.

We choose the longer trail through the woods, which promises a ton of birdsong! Robins, song sparrows, chickadees. Heavenly!

And that's how you quickly move from morning til school pick up time.

 

The kids never play outside during the school year. (They do at home, with neighborhood friends, but not at the farmette.) Still, on great weather days, there's that temptation to do at least a quick run in a field...

Before hurrying inside. 

 

 

 

For the food. And the book. (We're currently reading Greenglass House -- a mystery, a spooky story, with bits of the unreal sprinkled throughout. Even Sparrow, who cannot possibly understand the plot's twists and turns, kept repeating -- this is such a good book!)

 

(All the cats stay outside when the kids come. Too much energy in the house!)

 

 

Evening. A light rain. More to come. 

Soup's on! Feet up. Exhale...

Tuesday

Still warm, still spring-like, still beautiful out there. Uff! The pressure to seize the day is on!

 

 

 

But of course, life throws its own agenda. Chickens, cats, appointments, errands. A trip to the bakery. A morning of all the above.

And yet, how special it is to end up at the tail end of it all, at the breakfast table, with croissants and cinnamon rolls to boot, enjoying the calm of a stunning spring-like day.

 

 

 

We do go out for a walk in our local park. Nothing unusual, nothing too long. The sun is hazy, but the breezes (and there are breezes) are soothing and absolutely delightful, especially since we are not pedaling against their force! Walking into a stiff wind merely pushes the hair out of your face.

More errands, more quick runs, stops, drop offs. Tons of email messages. More appointments to make. Phew! [Here's a tip for you: never, ever schedule a routine CK total blood screening after you've just spent the day biking to and from Paoli. Why? You may walk away convinced that you have a muscle wasting autoimmune disease. At the very least, you'll be told -- let's do some more tests. Far easier to just sit on your butt on the day before. You'll thank me for it!]

And now finally the kids.

On this most splendid day, their moods match the moment.

(I have never said no to a grandchild who wants to pick "just one" flower...)

(never...)

Both kids (and too, their elementary school cousin in Chicago) are having stellar runs this school year. Will it always be thus? One can hope. But it's greatly wonderful to hear from teachers that these kids are okay! And kind. Good people, learning to exist in this complicated world of ours.

Dinner? Eggs! For sure eggs. The hens are starting to produce very very large eggs. Delicious and deliciously abundant. Throw in some CSA spinach, some mushrooms, maybe a bit of garlic, cheese, tomatoes, and you've got yourself a farmhouse supper. With a side salad. And with love...

Monday

So, you think you've got troubles? How would you like to be a living being with radiant feathers, virtually announcing to all who want to eat you that you are there, available for consumption? Or, how would you like to be a black and white cat (aka Pancake), who has to fight to get close to a food force (us)? So that you show up for your meal not all neat and pretty, but with gashes to your face and blood dripping into the dish? 

We live in the country and we see plenty of this -- the fighting spirit that keeps animals alive, mostly, but not always. A cold day for you means you have to reach for an extra scarf as you walk to the bus stop or your car. A cold day for Pancake means that there's little escape from it. You just have to be cold. 

Spring is the season of birth, which means that predators are especially aggressive as they strive to feed their new families. I get it. It's the way life continues on this planet. Every nature film we watch is filled with the challenge and horror of survival (or not). Still, as the hawks once again circle overhead, and our new young chickens display their innocence as they strut into the open field (so visible!), I have to say, it can be a very scary time for so many animals! 

At the same time, spring is most assuredly a time of joy. In my walk to the barn, I hear the song of house sparrows, American robins, blue jays, European starlings, and northern cardinals. Red-winged blackbird, black-capped chickadee. All that, on one morning walk!

(out they go, the three youngest -- always on the run!)

(ever expanding patches of flowering crocuses, as well as the beginning of Lenten Rose blooms)

Breakfast is late. Maybe it's the time gallop, maybe it's a Zoom call with my Polish pal, maybe it's that Ed is feeling sleepy this morning. No matter. Eventually, we eat.

Today turns out to be a Zero day. Meaning -- no grandchild duty. Their school is closed, their parents have taken charge. Add to that the most beautiful weather day yet -- mostly sunny, with a high of 63F (17C). I propose we seize the day and do a bike ride. A longer one, to Paoli. Google tells me that's an hour and five minutes on the bike trails. We're pretty good to keeping close to Google estimates. 

However...

The wind. Oh, the wind!

The ride is lovely, but even on my electric bike, it is brutally tough -- into the wind! We go over the estimate by a full ten minutes, panting!

 

 

 

(Once there, we pause at Seven Acres Creamery for a pick-me-up.)

On the upside, the ride back has the wind on our backs. We cut the estimate by three minutes! Even with the pauses to, say, take a photo or two.

The leap into longer days does mess with your view of the world. You suddenly feel that much closer to all that's starting to grow outside. Winter weather may come screaming back at you (last year, we had a heavy snowfall in April), but still, it's a passing event. Underneath it all, there is new life. There is stuff that thrills you. A plateful, no, a world full of great loveliness to discover, in due time. 

daylight, saved

And just like that, Ed and I lost our window of opportunity to eat out in the evening. The clocks moved forward and therefore, so did the chicken lock up time -- now standing at 6:50 p.m. A bit earlier on dark days, a bit later on cloudless days. Maybe you think heading out to dinner afterwards, meaning after 7 is great. For us -- that's winding down time. By 7:15 I'm ready for my evening piece of chocolate, not for a server to hand me the menu and ask if I'd like a predinner drink. 

In thinking about this, I considered the possibility that we were getting to be caricatures of a senior duo. You remember the Seinfeld episode, where the parents are itching to go out to eat at 4:30? True, Ed and I typically eat between 6:45 and 7, but that means dinner is ready by 6:45 and 7. Were we to go out, then, to eat in our normal dinner window, 6 p.m. would be our target sit down time, which means we'd be heading out at 5:45. That seems awfully close to 4:30! Gulp!

Other changes brought about by the clock adjustment? Well, there's no reason for me to be up with the chickens now at 7:15, when to them it hardly matters what the clock says. I open the coop door and feed them when it's bright as can be outside, so that the predator danger is minimal. So today, that's closer to 8:30. It really doesn't matter when the magic moment of freedom comes for them, so long as it's not too early.

(teenagers, on the run!)

I notice that the bowls of water scattered in strategic places across farmette paths are frozen or empty. We do have warming dishes plugged in both in the garage and in the coop, but when the hens are out and about, they dont always remember where those are, so we supplement with these additional watering holes. These then become water sources for the hens, but also for cats, birds, raccoons -- you name it. And yes, we cornered another raccoon overnight. Our hens are in high demand!

(new chickens and fallen willow branches)

 

 

Breakfast, with just Ed. The cats are out enjoying the lovely sunshine.

And we are too! Eventually. When the crocuses open up for the day -- that's the time you want to head out. Before that? Too cold.

Okay, off we go. To the local park. We're not ambitious.

Prairie flowers and forest greens are still dormant, but you can almost sense their new buds forming. It's a wonderful time to be a gardener: you notice every detail of the plant world. The story of the growing season is about to unfold before our eyes!

(nearby...)

Back at home, it's time to get dinner ready for the young family.

(here comes the tail end!)

(dinner)

(and yes, we're Oscar fans! we sneaked in a quick viewing session! well, some of us!)

The day does feel shorter. That one hour did a fictional disappearance, of course. March 10th did not have 60 minutes sucked out of it. And yet, despite the sunlight streaming in at dinner time, despite the pleasure of having that longer spell of daylight, it feels like I lost some minutes in the course of the day.The mind works in weird ways.

Now, back to the Oscars. Mostly alone. The young family has long gone and Ed refuses to watch the endless thank-yous from those who won for films he never saw. Me, I watch as much as I can on long flights, but it hardly matters. Tuning in to the Oscars is a habit. Sort of like ending the day with a chocolate.

the benefits of having taught...

It seems that my years of teaching have come swinging right back at me these past days. There was that crazy set of mini classes I gave on International Day. Yeah, all those eager faces looking in my direction, waiting for me to say something that would draw them into the platform of learning. Then there was today. Call it a day of unexpected encounters.

It's Saturday. I had to laugh when my friend, who is spending time with her grandkids these winter months referred to days when she is without them as her zero days. Zero commitment. Time to herself. I'm adopting this into my jargon here -- Saturday is my Zero day! 

It starts the same as every other day -- I walk over to the coop to check on the hens, to feed them, to take stock. Things are settling down over in the barn area. True, the two old girls with the blue bands still venture out on their own, but the four new ones, and especially the eldest of the four, are testing the waters as well. A little bit at a time.

So, all good there.

Breakfast? Yes, I love Ed, I even like the cats that come down to be with us during our morning meal, but honestly, right now it's the blooms on the table that give me the biggest grin. So... of the season!

Then comes a Zoom call and a strategic planning session (well, the inception of a strategic planning session) of a retreat with my law school buds. So, the law school emerges just a little, early in the day.

 

(Outside, the cardinal in the budding lilac is not only beautiful to watch, but enormously awesome to listen to... Yes, I'm still into birds!)

 

 

Now, what's the plan for the rest of the Zero day, given that it is rather nippy outside? We got spoiled. Hiking in warmer weather makes you reluctant to be ambitious on less hospitable days. Still, I had an idea -- maybe we could tie in a hike to an outing -- a special outing, to a chocolate shop?

You know that Ed and I have our finger in a number of chocolatiers around town. But just this week I read something about a shop that is totally new to me. It's called CocoVaa and it's just about a fifteen minute drive for us. So, pretty close. But that's not its main virtue. The person who owns the place and makes all the chocolates just received notice that she is a James Beard Award semifinalist in the "oustanding pastry chef or baker" category for 2024. This nomination made the local press. I didn't pay attention to anything else in the article. I merely told Ed that we must visit the shop. I mean, for a chocolate maker to get that nomination? It has to be more than good!

CocoVaa is open for retail only on the weekends. (It does most of its business online.) Well, that's great! We can pop in this afternoon!

 

 

 

My brain did not put two and two together, or if it did, I did not come up with four. But as we entered the shop, my attention went not to the chocolate display, but to the woman who stood behind the counter. Nina? -- she asks. And then, because we live in a world of coincidences, the customer guy she was speaking with also said -- Nina?

Turns out I know both of them. Him -- I used to bake with him at L'Etoile Restaurant in town. Like twenty years ago. (I forgive myself for not remembering his name.) But the star player here is the chocolate maker herself -- Vata Edari (or Syovata as she is formally referred to). 

Vata used to be a student of mine, way back when (she'd practiced law for 15 years and studied chocolate making for several more and opened her business in 2018, so figure it out for yourself -- it's been a while). And one that I do very much remember. Because she was (and is) smart. And hardworking. And funny. And because she had a baby in the middle of going to school (sometimes bringing her newborn to class when all else failed). How well I know those struggles! (Both my girls were newborns while I was myself a law student.) 

(Here's Vata with her second child, who came along after she was already a lawyer and who helps out at the shop and makes very excellent tea, which we drank while chatting.)

There are some students you run into, where a mere "hi, how's it going" will do. Not so with Vata. She has a mountain of interesting tales to tell (I mean, how do you go from being a public defender to making exquisite, award winning chocolates? What? You got sued by Mars?? They lost? Ha!). And so Ed rested and we chatted and made plans to meet up soon.

In the meantime, there are her chocolates. Oh, her chocolates! Here's the box of my selections:

They're beautiful and intensely flavorful. (You can check out the flavor profiles here.) Vata uses white chocolate often, which can be a surprise as you bite into a confection. Hers aren't the chocolates you consume by the handful. They're perfect for my once per evening ritual!

From the chocolate shop, Ed and I head over to the nearby Olbrich Gardens, to check out what, if anything is blooming right now. 

We discover two surprise patches of flowers. These irises:

And delightful patches of Snowdrops.

I mean, it's not a lot, but darn it, we're not even in mid-March yet.

The day ends with all chickens, of their own volition, strutting into the coop for the night once more, and two very relaxed farmhouse humans sampling exquisite chocolates on the couch. 

with so much love...