The day reminds me of scrambled eggs: shells cracked, thrown quickly together, whipped up to a sizzle, then finally plated and savored, at a calm pace.
It was an early day for both of us. We're running into problems feeding all the animals, given that one set of cats wants what the other gets and the chickens want basically what is in anyone else's dish over and above what's in their own. So now we both have to feed the animals together, moving swiftly between feeding stations.
And since we're both up, wouldn't this be a fine time to go get our corn from the corn farmers? Yes it would!
We take the motorbike up the road and it is such a pretty and refreshing ride! The wind is just cool enough to make me think of putting on a summer sweater and the sun is still gentle and soothing. As we make the turn into the driveway of the neatly tended farmstead, Ed comments on how good it is to be living so close to so much of what we love. I have to smile at that. It takes a while to form an attachment to a community, a neighborhood, or a set of rural roads, but once you do, that loyalty only grows stronger. My friends in Warsaw have a significant attachment to the neighborhoods of their childhood. In fact, some have moved right back to those set of blocks that were home early on. For Ed and me, a home base hasn't been as solid or stable. I told him today that he has a lot of New York still within him. Mannerisms and habits that stand out as being very un-Wisconsin. He did not disagree. Maybe that's why I'm hanging out with a fellow New Yorker, he laughed. Neither of us especially like that city and I have long given up on calling Warsaw home, but now, here, on the farmette, we're finding something likable about keeping to our "neighborhood" of farmers, vendors, parks, and in better times, coffee shops and eateries. If there is a place that's within a short drive, we'll always pick that over something even just a little farther.
So now we've fed the animals, picked up freshly harvested corn, but the lilies are untouched and I'm distracted by messages from my daughter about some snafus they have encountered in their scheduling decisions and so I am both snipping and texting and cutting up fruits for breakfast and giving Ed a tour of the old orchard where I wish he'd clear some dead tress and out of control brush and bramblers.
Not many garden photos emerge. There were too many eggs sizzling in the pan already. Still, these two are indicative: the colors are strong, the lilies are ending their best month with a strong finish.
Porch breakfast. Scrambled morning ends on a calm note.
The kids come then and once again we begin with some outdoor time. Ed has charged them with a chore: every time they are outside, they must go to the back of the barn and scare away any deer they may find there. Our exploding tomato crop is being destroyed by very un-shy deer who nibble, trample and retreat, several times each day. The kids love the idea of being guards of the tomato patch and although we find no deer the two times we venture out back, the chore is one they're happy to return to again and again!
In addition to deer, we're getting quite the surge in butterflies and humming birds. Snowdrop is enraptured. Even a common cabbage butterfly is nothing short of magical to her.
(the humming bird: it does sometimes take a pause.)
(the kids: outside.)
(Sparrow is photographed far less frequently outside, because he is always asking to hold my hand. Well, it beats carrying the little load!)
In the afternoon, once the kids are gone, both Ed and I zonk out on the two couches in the farmhouse. We are that tired.
Evening. Animal chores. Snip the flowers I never snipped in the morning.
A check on the tomatoes. Oh dear...
Shoooo! (As if that will help!)
Dinner is leftovers. And fresh corn. A stellar combination!
It was an early day for both of us. We're running into problems feeding all the animals, given that one set of cats wants what the other gets and the chickens want basically what is in anyone else's dish over and above what's in their own. So now we both have to feed the animals together, moving swiftly between feeding stations.
And since we're both up, wouldn't this be a fine time to go get our corn from the corn farmers? Yes it would!
We take the motorbike up the road and it is such a pretty and refreshing ride! The wind is just cool enough to make me think of putting on a summer sweater and the sun is still gentle and soothing. As we make the turn into the driveway of the neatly tended farmstead, Ed comments on how good it is to be living so close to so much of what we love. I have to smile at that. It takes a while to form an attachment to a community, a neighborhood, or a set of rural roads, but once you do, that loyalty only grows stronger. My friends in Warsaw have a significant attachment to the neighborhoods of their childhood. In fact, some have moved right back to those set of blocks that were home early on. For Ed and me, a home base hasn't been as solid or stable. I told him today that he has a lot of New York still within him. Mannerisms and habits that stand out as being very un-Wisconsin. He did not disagree. Maybe that's why I'm hanging out with a fellow New Yorker, he laughed. Neither of us especially like that city and I have long given up on calling Warsaw home, but now, here, on the farmette, we're finding something likable about keeping to our "neighborhood" of farmers, vendors, parks, and in better times, coffee shops and eateries. If there is a place that's within a short drive, we'll always pick that over something even just a little farther.
So now we've fed the animals, picked up freshly harvested corn, but the lilies are untouched and I'm distracted by messages from my daughter about some snafus they have encountered in their scheduling decisions and so I am both snipping and texting and cutting up fruits for breakfast and giving Ed a tour of the old orchard where I wish he'd clear some dead tress and out of control brush and bramblers.
Not many garden photos emerge. There were too many eggs sizzling in the pan already. Still, these two are indicative: the colors are strong, the lilies are ending their best month with a strong finish.
Porch breakfast. Scrambled morning ends on a calm note.
The kids come then and once again we begin with some outdoor time. Ed has charged them with a chore: every time they are outside, they must go to the back of the barn and scare away any deer they may find there. Our exploding tomato crop is being destroyed by very un-shy deer who nibble, trample and retreat, several times each day. The kids love the idea of being guards of the tomato patch and although we find no deer the two times we venture out back, the chore is one they're happy to return to again and again!
In addition to deer, we're getting quite the surge in butterflies and humming birds. Snowdrop is enraptured. Even a common cabbage butterfly is nothing short of magical to her.
(the humming bird: it does sometimes take a pause.)
(the kids: outside.)
(Sparrow is photographed far less frequently outside, because he is always asking to hold my hand. Well, it beats carrying the little load!)
In the afternoon, once the kids are gone, both Ed and I zonk out on the two couches in the farmhouse. We are that tired.
Evening. Animal chores. Snip the flowers I never snipped in the morning.
A check on the tomatoes. Oh dear...
Shoooo! (As if that will help!)
Dinner is leftovers. And fresh corn. A stellar combination!
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