Saturday

Early, very early today, when I step outside to work in the flower beds (mostly to snip off spent lilies), I think -- there's nothing more that I want to say about my garden. There is no photo that will tell a new story. I wont even carry my camera. I'll hang it there, on a branch, just in case, but honestly -- I've done my summer story telling! You've seen it all. No new flower images will appear today.

And it's not just puffery. I believe it.

And then, just as I twist to reach for a wilted flower, I see this hidden little apricot gem, in camaraderie with the phloxes, monardas, and (false) black eyed susans:






And then, I look back toward the porch and the morning sunlight hits the lilies and it catches me by surprise! I put down the bucket and go for my camera.






Worse -- when I take a few steps back and look toward the porch again, it's like I'm seeing an entirely new picture! The emphasis is now on the porch, standing in harmony with the garden. I'm glad I haven't put down my camera yet, because all this just looks so lovely to me!





And so it continues: as I work in the front road bed, I think -- white flowers are such an excellent match for the yellows, pinks and purples! Let me just capture this symbiotic relationship between the flowers here...





No new images? Ha!

I'm counting spent flowers again today and there's a reason for it: I know the numbers of lilies are going down. I can see it in the shift from an abundance of blooms, where every flower is bumping into one another, to a light and airy presentation of wistful long stems...





Today's count: 431 spent lily blooms. We are surely on the final days of July. (On the upside, the weather is sunny and lovely and fewer blooms means I spend less time on this task which, while pleasant enough, is still a tad too buggy for a completely meditative experience.)


Breakfast.






And one last look at the morning garden -- mysterious, shimmering, and yes -- sublime.





The rest of the morning has a slight twist to it, as my daughter's good friend who lives rather far away is visiting for the week. Rather than walking to the market with them, I opt to meet them there. And there's a benefit to going off on my own -- I can get to the vendors earlier and do some serious food buying and, because I have Rosie (my moped), I can buy more: the old girl can really take in a lot of food in her back basket and in the seat hold.

For me, the market stars today are the Door County cherries, including the sour ones which I need for a Sunday dessert...






And perhaps even more spectacular -- the first farmers market corn.






We do love our corn, here, in Wisconsin! The rains have produced a thick mat of green stalks, but the ripening has, I think, been slower. Our great local corn farmer has not had enough corn to keep his barn stand open this weekend. I am very happy to be at the downtown market in time to pick up our first sweet corn of the season!

And now I meet up with Snowdrop, my daughter and her friend (whom I have known for a long long time)...

Hey, little girl! So happy to see you!





You too, friend!





As I pack up Rosie, Snowdrop shows more than a passing interest in the motorbike.






Sweet girl, that helmet is heavier than your head for sure!





We've walked the market, I've purchased my needed foods, time for me to scoot back to the farmette. And of course, the beauty of riding Rosie is that you can pull up to the side of the road and gaze out at what you have before you. For instance -- just at the approach to the farmhouse, you can take in these fields, still worked by the truck farmers. (The development that is slated to fill so much of this space has been stalled by a squabble about how best to introduce water and sewers... I have to shake my head at that one: for seven years the developer has been pushing to start his building project, against great protests from the environmentalists among us. And now he gets the green light and the disputes begin!)






Nearly dinner time. I need to check on the cranes congregating across the road. Again -- you've seen the cranes here, on Ocean.  But aren't they magnificent in their new formations??





Suppertime. Now, as we transition from July lilies to August harvest, new ideas open up:  this is the time to be a locavore in Wisconsin! We eat picked this morning sweet corn, Harmony Valley lettuces and arugula, Ed and Nina baby tomatoes, Java and Scotch (scrambled) eggs, along with Indian Valley farms oyster mushrooms.

Outside, the sun still throws the occasional ray onto my garden. (I wasn't going to photograph it! You've seen versions of this, but really, it has never quite looked like this before!)





Ed locks the door on the cheeper coop, I polish this thing and the other, humming a song to myself. Yes, every once in a while, I take to humming -- you can only hope that I'll be quiet about it if you're there, say, trying to read a book or think deep thoughts.. Ta ta ta ta tum, tatata tum! Everybody loves Saturday night! Everybody, everybody, everybody, everybody, everybody loves Saturday night!