pipes, rocks and blooms

At the downtown Farmers Market, I pick up, in a burst of optimism, flowers for the outside gardens. I don’t have a plan for them. In fact, I will probably never have a plan for perennial beds or vegetable plots. I am following Ed’s lead here: we’ll cultivate as the whimsy strikes. We’ll maintain as best we can otherwise.

And this year especially, I am so focused on the farmhouse that I cannot think deeply about the work outside. We planted a large bed of lilies last fall in the hope that they will establish themselves there and take over the large space just to the back (or front – depending on your definition) of the house. Otherwise, I’ll do spot improvements. Flowers planted along the various paths and edges.

And so I buy just a handful of some favorites. Golden California poppies and blue forget-me-nots. And cosmos for their tireless blooming habit.






I didn’t take my basket to the market and so a farmer is packing my plants in a plastic bag. You don’t mind that it says “Menards”? He asks. Mind? I spent my commercial waking hours at Menards!

Just this morning, Ed and I were there, looking at tubes and nipples again. More fittings for the gas pipe job. He is hoping that he can manipulate an elbow into the right spot underneath the floors. But he keeps shaking his head – a sure sign of concern.

I leave Ed to ponder, pound and manipulate. My younger daughter is in Madison for the week-end (first time this year!). Mom’s birthday, Easter and the market – all good reason’s to come up now. My two girls and I do the market walk and even though it’s cool still, the colors are brilliant. Yes, sure, I know – it’s all greenhouse stuff, but it’s festive and so beautiful after the bland winter tones!





But right after the market, I’m back at the farmhouse as Ed and I try to work the pipe into position.

More rock, you need to chisel away more rock. Or something.

Let’s take it out and start again.

And so it continues in the farmhouse, hidden behind trees, but easy to spot because of the tall silo. All under the big big sky of the Midwest.