one last time…

I know, I know. Move on. No reason to mope. It’s a beautiful day out there.

(remember the first time I took the bike out in April? The trail had no sign of life. One solitary robin would send me spinning! A red bellied bird! Wow!)

Still, as I bike to campus, I get that shocking reminder that the the Fall semester is in full swing.

When you say Wis-con-sin…
You’ve said it all!




Oh, I'm not the only one getting ready for school to start. I've just done it more than the average person on campus. Take this student: how many years of her life has she eased into Fall thinking that this year will be the most perfect of the whole lot of them? Fifteen? Twenty maybe? Okay, multiply that by 2.5 for me...





At the law school, no one is stuck in the season that so clearly is no more. Me, sometimes I pretend I am still drifting out there, lightly, effortlessly, leisurely, but it's not true. My table has stacks of papers, outlines, drafts. I'm not alone. We're all reading, moving forward.






In the later afternoon, I bike to Ed's. I've not done the trip much this summer. No time. When did we play tennis last at our secret tennis playing venue?

Not this time either.

As I round the curve of my most favorite stretch of the bike path, I'm thinking how grand it is that this day should have such a beautiful sky. Because if you're going to be so neglectful of the outdoors as I have been this month, when you do go out, you should do it on an afternoon of perfect sky. Here, in Wisconsin, we have a huge, beautiful sky. That was my thought when I moved here in '79 and I've never changed my mind on that one.

(I've changed my mind on a lot of other things about Wisconsin -- including how "fun" it is to struggle through a cold long winter.)

...against a field of goldenrod, with the occasional puffy cloud overhead. The most beautiful landscape.





Ed helps me fill the tires (I have got to get the bike ready.. One more day and I am in my teaching schedule...).

(For Ed, the change in seasons means that there will be more cool days and less grass to mow. All positives.)

I linger as he shows a local developer various corners of his lot. Ed takes each day as it comes. The developer considers the future of this particular tract of land. Me, I just see the tall grasses and a demanding land, where plants, especially weeds, grow with great vigor and force.





Almost evening now. In the shadows of the trail, I glance up and I see it -- the inevitable encroachment of fall colors.





I bike home quickly. I'm due at the little shop for the evening.

Yes, evening. I need a jacket now. Too cold to just dash out. A sure sign that this is the very last hour of August.

one last time…

I know, I know. Move on. No reason to mope. It’s a beautiful day out there.

(remember the first time I took the bike out in April? The trail had no sign of life. One solitary robin would send me spinning! A red bellied bird! Wow!)

Still, as I bike to campus, I get that shocking reminder that the the Fall semester is in full swing.

When you say Wis-con-sin…
You’ve said it all!




Oh, I'm not the only one getting ready for school to start. I've just done it more than the average person on campus. Take this student: how many years of her life has she eased into Fall thinking that this year will be the most perfect of the whole lot of them? Fifteen? Twenty maybe? Okay, multiply that by 2.5 for me...





At the law school, no one is stuck in the season that so clearly is no more. Me, sometimes I pretend I am still drifting out there, lightly, effortlessly, leisurely, but it's not true. My table has stacks of papers, outlines, drafts. I'm not alone. We're all reading, moving forward.






In the later afternoon, I bike to Ed's. I've not done the trip much this summer. No time. When did we play tennis last at our secret tennis playing venue?

Not this time either.

As I round the curve of my most favorite stretch of the bike path, I'm thinking how grand it is that this day should have such a beautiful sky. Because if you're going to be so neglectful of the outdoors as I have been this month, when you do go out, you should do it on an afternoon of perfect sky. Here, in Wisconsin, we have a huge, beautiful sky. That was my thought when I moved here in '79 and I've never changed my mind on that one.

(I've changed my mind on a lot of other things about Wisconsin -- including how "fun" it is to struggle through a cold long winter.)

...against a field of goldenrod, with the occasional puffy cloud overhead. The most beautiful landscape.





Ed helps me fill the tires (I have got to get the bike ready.. One more day and I am in my teaching schedule...).

(For Ed, the change in seasons means that there will be more cool days and less grass to mow. All positives.)

I linger as he shows a local developer various corners of his lot. Ed takes each day as it comes. The developer considers the future of this particular tract of land. Me, I just see the tall grasses and a demanding land, where plants, especially weeds, grow with great vigor and force.





Almost evening now. In the shadows of the trail, I glance up and I see it -- the inevitable encroachment of fall colors.





I bike home quickly. I'm due at the little shop for the evening.

Yes, evening. I need a jacket now. Too cold to just dash out. A sure sign that this is the very last hour of August.

yes, but...

It’s so often like that: a flight of fancy, followed by a calmer reality. This Sunday, it’s as if neither side won, but each made sure to assert itself.

The day begins. Even from my morning reclining stance, I can see that we're going to have a clear sky. Wonderful!

Oh, but it’s Sunday. I have to clean the condo, so that Monday can truly start with a clean slate. Bummer.

Still, as I finish the scrubbing and polishing, I note that the sky stubbornly holds on: blue, a deep, gorgeous, comprehensive blue. I suggest to Ed we head out to participate in a new (at least I think it’s new) Ride the Drive Madison event: major routes downtown have been cleared of automobile traffic, so that people can take to the streets on this one day!

Yes, but... my bike is back at the farmette -- Ed reminds me.
Okay, let’s walk the streets then! It’s not yet noon, we still have a few hours before I’m due at the shop.

But do I? No! I misread my schedule! I have a mere handful of minutes.

I'm not easily defeated. We hop on Ed's motorbike and head downtown. And I have to say, a small handful of minutes is better than no minutes at all. Because truly, it is a brilliant day. People are out and about -- great numbers of people at that. I see them up ahead, on the bridge, singing, dancing...





Closer: singing, dancing...




and biking...



or attempting to bike... or giving up and playing football with the dog...




I'm liking my home town...

Yes, but did you hear? We may strike a record low for a Madison August night: 37F. Ridiculous place!


And yet… a customer comes into the shop where I am working the afternoon hours. She’s friendly and speaks enthusiastically about the product we sell. Always a good sign. As I wrap up her purchases, we switch to reviewing the day’s weather. It's pleasantly warm inside the shop, when the sun is streaming in, but I note to her -- it’s kind of cool today, don’t you think?
Yes, but my aunt, she has been tracking these things for a long time and she heard the first cicada yesterday.
Is that a good thing? Or not so much?
Oh, it’s great! You get six weeks more of warm weather after the first cicada makes noise here. This August, the first cicada was very very late. Good news indeed!

Yes, uplifting. Wonderfully so. Six weeks of warmth? Wow. No buts. I'm flying.

yes, but...

It’s so often like that: a flight of fancy, followed by a calmer reality. This Sunday, it’s as if neither side won, but each made sure to assert itself.

The day begins. Even from my morning reclining stance, I can see that we're going to have a clear sky. Wonderful!

Oh, but it’s Sunday. I have to clean the condo, so that Monday can truly start with a clean slate. Bummer.

Still, as I finish the scrubbing and polishing, I note that the sky stubbornly holds on: blue, a deep, gorgeous, comprehensive blue. I suggest to Ed we head out to participate in a new (at least I think it’s new) Ride the Drive Madison event: major routes downtown have been cleared of automobile traffic, so that people can take to the streets on this one day!

Yes, but... my bike is back at the farmette -- Ed reminds me.
Okay, let’s walk the streets then! It’s not yet noon, we still have a few hours before I’m due at the shop.

But do I? No! I misread my schedule! I have a mere handful of minutes.

I'm not easily defeated. We hop on Ed's motorbike and head downtown. And I have to say, a small handful of minutes is better than no minutes at all. Because truly, it is a brilliant day. People are out and about -- great numbers of people at that. I see them up ahead, on the bridge, singing, dancing...





Closer: singing, dancing...




and biking...



or attempting to bike... or giving up and playing football with the dog...




I'm liking my home town...

Yes, but did you hear? We may strike a record low for a Madison August night: 37F. Ridiculous place!


And yet… a customer comes into the shop where I am working the afternoon hours. She’s friendly and speaks enthusiastically about the product we sell. Always a good sign. As I wrap up her purchases, we switch to reviewing the day’s weather. It's pleasantly warm inside the shop, when the sun is streaming in, but I note to her -- it’s kind of cool today, don’t you think?
Yes, but my aunt, she has been tracking these things for a long time and she heard the first cicada yesterday.
Is that a good thing? Or not so much?
Oh, it’s great! You get six weeks more of warm weather after the first cicada makes noise here. This August, the first cicada was very very late. Good news indeed!

Yes, uplifting. Wonderfully so. Six weeks of warmth? Wow. No buts. I'm flying.

short list

It’s surprising how easy it is to downsize life. I don’t mean just shedding possessions and moving into smaller space (though that, too, is really quite easy). I mean reducing your obligations and commitments so that there are very few left. Only the essentials.

I read the story in the Times today about a suddenly unemployed fellow who, at the age of 58, could not find a job and, therefore, experienced an emptiness that comes not only from an absence of work but also an absence of things to do.

Of course, I do not lack things to do. My work plate (broadly baked) is heaping. My daily tasks are finite, but demanding. And, I still worry about cooking a good meal at the end of the day.

But the list, while bloated and bulging in what it asks of me, has very few items on it. Numerically speaking, it is quite short. The inconsequential social engagements, the endless to-dos and should-dos are almost entirely gone.

And for at least a brief period (say, between age 56 and 56.75), I want it to be quiet.



As the late August day begins, with more clouds and insanely cool temperatures (did I ever feel hot this summer?), I think – time to go to the market. And it is the only thing that I do of note. The conversations I will have there may be the only face to face encounters I have all day (Ed doesn’t count, if only because the man’s face is hidden behind text or screen for a good number of his waking hours).

So, in celebration of humanity on this blustery day, here are the colors of the market. Inadvertently, I seem to have picked out the reds of the day. Who could blame me. Did I mention it is an October-like day here?

short list

It’s surprising how easy it is to downsize life. I don’t mean just shedding possessions and moving into smaller space (though that, too, is really quite easy). I mean reducing your obligations and commitments so that there are very few left. Only the essentials.

I read the story in the Times today about a suddenly unemployed fellow who, at the age of 58, could not find a job and, therefore, experienced an emptiness that comes not only from an absence of work but also an absence of things to do.

Of course, I do not lack things to do. My work plate (broadly baked) is heaping. My daily tasks are finite, but demanding. And, I still worry about cooking a good meal at the end of the day.

But the list, while bloated and bulging in what it asks of me, has very few items on it. Numerically speaking, it is quite short. The inconsequential social engagements, the endless to-dos and should-dos are almost entirely gone.

And for at least a brief period (say, between age 56 and 56.75), I want it to be quiet.



As the late August day begins, with more clouds and insanely cool temperatures (did I ever feel hot this summer?), I think – time to go to the market. And it is the only thing that I do of note. The conversations I will have there may be the only face to face encounters I have all day (Ed doesn’t count, if only because the man’s face is hidden behind text or screen for a good number of his waking hours).

So, in celebration of humanity on this blustery day, here are the colors of the market. Inadvertently, I seem to have picked out the reds of the day. Who could blame me. Did I mention it is an October-like day here?

complet

It’s a French word for “full.” It can be a disappointment: the hotel is full; sorry. But I see the warm and fuzzy side: the day is full, the preparations – completed, done, all fully accounted for.


I’m ready for school to start. My summer was full. All is where it should be. Fully accounted for. Ready for the plunge.

One last detail, taken care of this afternoon: shopping for school clothes.

It can be tough when your budget is dictated by your part time retail earnings. But, I succeeded. Down to the hairband.





While in the shopping neighborhood (it’s quite generous of me to call the big mall area a neighborhood, but I’m feeling complet, and therefore generous), I returned to the place that keeps me happy – La Baguette.





The family of bakers is back from les vacances (only three weeks: I worry that they’re succumbing to the American pressure to cut back) and the store is buzzing!





I stand in line, happy to have the luxury of their baguette, their quiche (best anywhere), their predictable wonderfulness (in the way that one’s neighborhood bakery should always be the epicenter of your world of bliss). I sigh, but my sigh is that of deep contentment.

I am handing over the bills for the baguette when madame tells me – we are selling a new loaf now. Perhaps you would like to try it? Le pain complet…*

Well of course I say yes. In the future, when life is as it always is – imperfect – I’ll pick up a baguette and I’ll break off a piece and have it with whatever chunk of cheese I have at home and my wounds will be (temporarily) healed. But today, buying a pain complet is so…right.


* wholewheat

complet

It’s a French word for “full.” It can be a disappointment: the hotel is full; sorry. But I see the warm and fuzzy side: the day is full, the preparations – completed, done, all fully accounted for.


I’m ready for school to start. My summer was full. All is where it should be. Fully accounted for. Ready for the plunge.

One last detail, taken care of this afternoon: shopping for school clothes.

It can be tough when your budget is dictated by your part time retail earnings. But, I succeeded. Down to the hairband.





While in the shopping neighborhood (it’s quite generous of me to call the big mall area a neighborhood, but I’m feeling complet, and therefore generous), I returned to the place that keeps me happy – La Baguette.





The family of bakers is back from les vacances (only three weeks: I worry that they’re succumbing to the American pressure to cut back) and the store is buzzing!





I stand in line, happy to have the luxury of their baguette, their quiche (best anywhere), their predictable wonderfulness (in the way that one’s neighborhood bakery should always be the epicenter of your world of bliss). I sigh, but my sigh is that of deep contentment.

I am handing over the bills for the baguette when madame tells me – we are selling a new loaf now. Perhaps you would like to try it? Le pain complet…*

Well of course I say yes. In the future, when life is as it always is – imperfect – I’ll pick up a baguette and I’ll break off a piece and have it with whatever chunk of cheese I have at home and my wounds will be (temporarily) healed. But today, buying a pain complet is so…right.


* wholewheat

health

The day was a blur. I’ve been nursing a cold (what a ridiculous phrase – nursing a cold – as if I wanted to bring it out in its full glory) and today, said cold decided to respond to my kindness by expanding its reach.

Naturally, I was grumpy (so Ed tells me).

By late afternoon, I had read one case (3 pages long) and I had responded to five emails (two of them not work related). I felt I had done a lion’s share.

Part of me wanted to be in Vancouver. [Conversation from a few days back: Ed, I have a three day lull, free from work. Let’s go to Vancouver! I’ve never been to Vancouver! You want to go to Vancouver tomorrow? Yes! Don’t you have cases to read?] Part of me wanted to sleep.

I did neither. By early evening, I felt strong enough to head down to Borders. I know I drank coffee and, in addition, I rejected all the books that crossed my visual path. (Who’d want to read that? And that? Or that?) Everything else is, as I said, a wicked rush of unmarked time.





But let me suggest something: there has been a change in weather. See it? See her scarf?

Maybe I’m simply adjusting.


Later, I baked that huge head of cauliflower (in an Kalamata olive-lemon vinaigrette), and cooked up some eggs, and made myself a very powerful glass of kir (white wine with cassis; I double dosed the cassis tonight).

It killed whatever malaise had crept up my spine today. Thank God.

I went back to work, to writing, to the rituals of any evening. And I felt terribly sad for those, whose illnesses could not be pushed aside so quickly and effortlessly.

Time for an admission: as my sidebar indicates, I am in favor of healthcare for all. No ifs, no buts. Life is very different for those who are sick.

health

The day was a blur. I’ve been nursing a cold (what a ridiculous phrase – nursing a cold – as if I wanted to bring it out in its full glory) and today, said cold decided to respond to my kindness by expanding its reach.

Naturally, I was grumpy (so Ed tells me).

By late afternoon, I had read one case (3 pages long) and I had responded to five emails (two of them not work related). I felt I had done a lion’s share.

Part of me wanted to be in Vancouver. [Conversation from a few days back: Ed, I have a three day lull, free from work. Let’s go to Vancouver! I’ve never been to Vancouver! You want to go to Vancouver tomorrow? Yes! Don’t you have cases to read?] Part of me wanted to sleep.

I did neither. By early evening, I felt strong enough to head down to Borders. I know I drank coffee and, in addition, I rejected all the books that crossed my visual path. (Who’d want to read that? And that? Or that?) Everything else is, as I said, a wicked rush of unmarked time.





But let me suggest something: there has been a change in weather. See it? See her scarf?

Maybe I’m simply adjusting.


Later, I baked that huge head of cauliflower (in an Kalamata olive-lemon vinaigrette), and cooked up some eggs, and made myself a very powerful glass of kir (white wine with cassis; I double dosed the cassis tonight).

It killed whatever malaise had crept up my spine today. Thank God.

I went back to work, to writing, to the rituals of any evening. And I felt terribly sad for those, whose illnesses could not be pushed aside so quickly and effortlessly.

Time for an admission: as my sidebar indicates, I am in favor of healthcare for all. No ifs, no buts. Life is very different for those who are sick.

school days, fall days

The glorious beginning. Not for everyone on campus just yet. It’s still mostly empty on Bascom Hill (right outside my office).





But slowly they emerge. An early trickle of students. She’s stretched out on the long expanse of green with a friend. It feels so leisurely now, in August…





At the Law School, the orientation program brings all first years to campus. Since I teach two classes for first years, I’m there as well, with introductory classes today.





To me, being in school again is not unlike being at a family reunion. I know the analogy fails somewhat: I have never met my students before, I see very few of my colleagues in the course of the summer. But come fall (and it is fall now, for real… see this on my walk home?)...





…come fall, I am more than ready to plunge into this new, expanded family halfway up Bascom Hill.





Those of us who love the raw challenge of teaching can never have enough of the first days of fall. I’m one of them.

school days, fall days

The glorious beginning. Not for everyone on campus just yet. It’s still mostly empty on Bascom Hill (right outside my office).





But slowly they emerge. An early trickle of students. She’s stretched out on the long expanse of green with a friend. It feels so leisurely now, in August…





At the Law School, the orientation program brings all first years to campus. Since I teach two classes for first years, I’m there as well, with introductory classes today.





To me, being in school again is not unlike being at a family reunion. I know the analogy fails somewhat: I have never met my students before, I see very few of my colleagues in the course of the summer. But come fall (and it is fall now, for real… see this on my walk home?)...





…come fall, I am more than ready to plunge into this new, expanded family halfway up Bascom Hill.





Those of us who love the raw challenge of teaching can never have enough of the first days of fall. I’m one of them.

dressed in black

Troops of retail. I see them everywhere now. I can’t shake it, they stand out for me: women and men, but mostly women – walking, sitting, taking a caffeine sip, a nicotine puff, before the inevitable return to the smile from behind the counter.

All dressed in black. As if some supreme marketing wizard decided that customers will buy more from a person who looked funeral-bound. Wear black. Only black. Crisp black.

That’s not true – someone will say. I saw you: you wear an olive apron.

Indeed. I hide my real self underneath all that black and then, to make sure I am well hidden, I happily add on the apron.

Hidden from what? – you ask. Oh dear, let me think…

Myself?

dressed in black

Troops of retail. I see them everywhere now. I can’t shake it, they stand out for me: women and men, but mostly women – walking, sitting, taking a caffeine sip, a nicotine puff, before the inevitable return to the smile from behind the counter.

All dressed in black. As if some supreme marketing wizard decided that customers will buy more from a person who looked funeral-bound. Wear black. Only black. Crisp black.

That’s not true – someone will say. I saw you: you wear an olive apron.

Indeed. I hide my real self underneath all that black and then, to make sure I am well hidden, I happily add on the apron.

Hidden from what? – you ask. Oh dear, let me think…

Myself?

why me

People ask this question when small stuff (meaning, not life threatening) hits them in the face – why me? And I think (but I don’t say it) – well, why not? I mean, join the club! You think you’re doing the right deed, more, you think you’re doing over and beyond the right deed and there you have it: slap, bang, straight from some punk who can’t wait to scorch you alive by virtue of your mere existence.

I had two (three, if you wish to count me, talking to myself) dear to me people ask this question today.

Little rugs get pulled from under the feet of innocents all the time. You’re left standing on the bare floor while others still have the warmth of a wooly carpet and you ask – why me?

Because, world! It is the way human beings behave toward each other. Recklessly, mindlessly, stupidly.

Since the two stories from today are not my stories to tell, and the third one – my own – could also put me in peril’s way (picture this: wee little person buys something from big hunky company; product is defective; wee little person wants product fixed; big hunky company agrees, up to a point and then stops; wee little person sends final bill for attempt to fix defective product, big hunky company says no and throws in a round of insults. Best not to write about it all on the Net, right? Especially if the product is something big, like a... no, no, shhhh) it's best to stay quiet on the details, right?

But take heart all you why me’s. You have to believe that it all comes around, full circle. The ones who punch, eventually will nurse a black eye.

In the meantime (and unrelatedly), thanks, Ann, for the link to the funniest jokes competition in Edinburgh. I feel like someone could tell me this one (among the top ten picks), to my face:

"To the people who've got iPhones: you just bought one, you didn't invent it!"

why me

People ask this question when small stuff (meaning, not life threatening) hits them in the face – why me? And I think (but I don’t say it) – well, why not? I mean, join the club! You think you’re doing the right deed, more, you think you’re doing over and beyond the right deed and there you have it: slap, bang, straight from some punk who can’t wait to scorch you alive by virtue of your mere existence.

I had two (three, if you wish to count me, talking to myself) dear to me people ask this question today.

Little rugs get pulled from under the feet of innocents all the time. You’re left standing on the bare floor while others still have the warmth of a wooly carpet and you ask – why me?

Because, world! It is the way human beings behave toward each other. Recklessly, mindlessly, stupidly.

Since the two stories from today are not my stories to tell, and the third one – my own – could also put me in peril’s way (picture this: wee little person buys something from big hunky company; product is defective; wee little person wants product fixed; big hunky company agrees, up to a point and then stops; wee little person sends final bill for attempt to fix defective product, big hunky company says no and throws in a round of insults. Best not to write about it all on the Net, right? Especially if the product is something big, like a... no, no, shhhh) it's best to stay quiet on the details, right?

But take heart all you why me’s. You have to believe that it all comes around, full circle. The ones who punch, eventually will nurse a black eye.

In the meantime (and unrelatedly), thanks, Ann, for the link to the funniest jokes competition in Edinburgh. I feel like someone could tell me this one (among the top ten picks), to my face:

"To the people who've got iPhones: you just bought one, you didn't invent it!"

halcyon days

I would like to say that biking back from a coffee with a friend brought to my mind the words of Walt Whitman, but that’s not exactly a correct recount of my thinking.

Instead, it went something like this:

The day began early (6 is early by anyone’s measure) and soberly. Cleaning house. Finding a leaking washer, wondering if there is a more boring expense on this planet than fixing a leaking washing machine.

A beautiful day outside, but I was slated to stay indoors. Good thing. Getting that thing repaired is bound to cost a small fortune. Is it ever otherwise? If I thought my moonlighting would pay for a late end of year trip to that other continent, I understood today that it would not. Instead, if I’m lucky, my washer will no longer leak by the end of 2009.

But here’s where the story changes. After work, I biked to meet up with a friend over a beverage. [We couldn’t decide if a 4:30 meet up was wine time or coffee time; she settled for a soda; I settled for a… oh, I bet you got that one wrong! Early wine is a vacation thing. I am not on vacation. Coffee. I had coffee.]

We drank (soda and coffee), we reviewed the imperfections that are thrust upon any ordinary citizen and soon after, I cycled home.

I followed the bike path past late summer gardens -- half vibrant, half late August dry…





… and on toward my condo, cutting through neighborhoods and parks, past Madison scenes that no longer surprise me (these two parked their car at the curb, took out their ladders and began picking. What are those? I asked. Sort of a wild cherry. Very tart unless you cook it).





At home, I sat back and considered my handful of photos: late in the summer snapshots of halcyon days. End of the season. End of sending kids off to school. End of the day. Trees spilling wild cherries onto the sidewalk. The only thing that remains is to pause, watch, ponder. From there it doesn’t take long to get to Whitman.

Not from successful love alone,
Nor wealth, nor honor'd middle age, nor victories of politics or war;
But as life wanes, and all the turbulent passions calm,
As gorgeous, vapory, silent hues cover the evening sky,
As softness, fulness, rest, suffuse the frame, like freshier, balmier air,
As the days take on a mellower light, and the apple at last hangs
really finish'd and indolent-ripe on the tree,
Then for the teeming quietest, happiest days of all!
The brooding and blissful halcyon days!