It's hot today. The kind of August hot that makes you think that maybe Autumn cool wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.
Despite the sticky humid air, I want to work outside. I've weeded five out of the eight flower beds so far. I've got the big one to do and, too, the much disheveled western bed, where milkweed was given special permission to infiltrate (you know, because of the monarchs) my perennials. Cleaning things us is a farmette priority!
Breakfast on the porch. How lovely that it can be the same for me! Yes, day after day of good coffee, of that comforting oatmeal, dribbled with local honey. Only the fruit change, reflecting the bounty of the seasons. Our farmette peaches are phenomenal this year! Market blueberries and cherries are going strong. This I could never tire of: summer bounty.
And summer flowers. Three pictures for you from the farmette gardens, the first two combining the singular beauty of ever blooming annuals with the power of the perennials...
And this final one -- of the Big Bed, which is such a typical late August display of the fading and the still colorful flowers.
Ed is warning me that it's getting too hot to keep up the weeding, but I finish it anyway. Only one untended bed remains -- the worst one, by the sheep shed. It can wait until fall. I need to get inspired about how to treat it next year.
Next year! Are we really starting to think about where to go from here next spring? Yes, I suppose we are!
In the early afternoon, Ed and I go out again for a Sardine brunch. Just like a month ago, before my July week-long trip to Chicago. Oh, but so much happened in that short time period! Children tended, boats sailed, horses ridden over volcanic fields. And guess what, we survived!
And again I am off to be with Primrose, for her last week before she, too, starts "school."
Bus to Chicago, "L" train to the youngest family's neighborhood. I decided to not stay at the hotel. For the same price, I can rent an Airbnb, giving me a little more space and perhaps more importantly, a kitchenette, so that I can fix a supper for myself. Here it is:
Very hip, very cool -- so how is it that it appears to be affordable (and indeed less expensive than even a discounted rate at the neighborhood hotel)? Well now, if you were to open the window and jump out (and I would not recommend it as I am on the fourth floor), you might land on the platform of the "L" train. I am that close to it. I had known about it when I booked the unit. Just a tad concerned, I ask the agent -- how loud does it get? He assured me that 90% of the noise is blocked by the double glazed window. That leaves us with 10% of a lion's roar.
But, I am content. I mind a dull roar much less than loud thumping music. You have to make compromises in life, no?
After throwing my bag down, I make my way to the youngest family's home. I really don't need to bother them tonight -- I'll see them plenty in the days ahead, but I have with me fresh corn that Ed picked up at the corn farm today. I don't think they will have tasted corn picked that very morning (at least not since my girl moved away from Madison some fifteen years ago). My offering, from the farm, to the city. At the very least, it will give them a reason to smile: here comes grandma, carrying corn.
Despite the sticky humid air, I want to work outside. I've weeded five out of the eight flower beds so far. I've got the big one to do and, too, the much disheveled western bed, where milkweed was given special permission to infiltrate (you know, because of the monarchs) my perennials. Cleaning things us is a farmette priority!
Breakfast on the porch. How lovely that it can be the same for me! Yes, day after day of good coffee, of that comforting oatmeal, dribbled with local honey. Only the fruit change, reflecting the bounty of the seasons. Our farmette peaches are phenomenal this year! Market blueberries and cherries are going strong. This I could never tire of: summer bounty.
And summer flowers. Three pictures for you from the farmette gardens, the first two combining the singular beauty of ever blooming annuals with the power of the perennials...
And this final one -- of the Big Bed, which is such a typical late August display of the fading and the still colorful flowers.
Ed is warning me that it's getting too hot to keep up the weeding, but I finish it anyway. Only one untended bed remains -- the worst one, by the sheep shed. It can wait until fall. I need to get inspired about how to treat it next year.
Next year! Are we really starting to think about where to go from here next spring? Yes, I suppose we are!
In the early afternoon, Ed and I go out again for a Sardine brunch. Just like a month ago, before my July week-long trip to Chicago. Oh, but so much happened in that short time period! Children tended, boats sailed, horses ridden over volcanic fields. And guess what, we survived!
And again I am off to be with Primrose, for her last week before she, too, starts "school."
Bus to Chicago, "L" train to the youngest family's neighborhood. I decided to not stay at the hotel. For the same price, I can rent an Airbnb, giving me a little more space and perhaps more importantly, a kitchenette, so that I can fix a supper for myself. Here it is:
Very hip, very cool -- so how is it that it appears to be affordable (and indeed less expensive than even a discounted rate at the neighborhood hotel)? Well now, if you were to open the window and jump out (and I would not recommend it as I am on the fourth floor), you might land on the platform of the "L" train. I am that close to it. I had known about it when I booked the unit. Just a tad concerned, I ask the agent -- how loud does it get? He assured me that 90% of the noise is blocked by the double glazed window. That leaves us with 10% of a lion's roar.
But, I am content. I mind a dull roar much less than loud thumping music. You have to make compromises in life, no?
After throwing my bag down, I make my way to the youngest family's home. I really don't need to bother them tonight -- I'll see them plenty in the days ahead, but I have with me fresh corn that Ed picked up at the corn farm today. I don't think they will have tasted corn picked that very morning (at least not since my girl moved away from Madison some fifteen years ago). My offering, from the farm, to the city. At the very least, it will give them a reason to smile: here comes grandma, carrying corn.
