Every summer there is an event that reminds me just why we moved to Wisconsin. It’s called the Fishoree and, as the name implies, its a fishing ‘competition’ for kids. (Competition in the sense that there are awards given for such categories as ‘cutest fish’.) It’s a favorite of ALL my boys as it involves worms, tangled line and consequent fish-tales. Oh yes, and a locally brewed beer for my husband (who needs it after dealing with the tangled lines.) Miette loves it as well. This year she spent the entire evening squealing “I wanna catch a beauty!” (As in….“what a beauty!”) And therein lies my focus of the evening – soaking up the sheer beauty of it all.

Its no secret that I adore the farmer’s market.  It make me feel hopeful and inspired and, well, just like that ‘kid in the candy store.’  Most Saturdays we zip over to our local market which is quaint and neighborly and somewhat predictable in its offerings. But when we are feeling the need for the unexpected we load up the car and head to Madison for the BIG kahuna of markets.

My kids love the sights and samples and crowds.  And the man with the bee-hive hat.  And I love seeking out that odd vegetable that will inspire a new recipe and on a good week, may even convert one of my (very outspoken) strange-food-naysayers.

‘OUR’ LUNCH DATE. usually at our favorite sushi spot. although we try to do the occasional ‘date-night,’ lunch dates are a bit easier to squeeze in and they offer the perfect amount of time to reacquaint and revitalize. and afterward i always feel grateful that i have someone as inspired as my husband to share them with.

MY FATHER. For countless reasons. But today, on his birthday, I want to celebrate one of his many talents — woodworking. Every Christmas for the past decade or so my Dad has made each of his five children an heirloom worthy piece of furniture. Each piece is a testimony not only to his extraordinary skill, but also to his seemingly limitless generosity. Thank you Dad and Happy Happy Birthday!!

OUR YARD IN WINTER. My memories are filled with trees. As a child I spent a lot of time daydreaming, looking skyward through branches and leaves and blooms. In the winter, I favored making snow angels to snow men (less work, more reverie). Another chance for recumbent repose. As I point my camera north I recall just how it felt: cheeks chapped, arms and legs akimbo, mind filled. I can even taste the falling flakes.

GREEK REVIVAL FARMHOUSES. Like this beauty. We almost were swayed. But practicality won out. And the fact that moving is tiring. Of course, remodeling is as well. But its ghost-free (and allows for an extra bathroom).