Ed and I do not agree on everything. And there is one thing about which we really disagree: it is the matter of trees.
The farmette has many, many trees. Firs, maples, walnuts. Lotus, birch, box elder. Willows, northern catalpas, russian olives. And that's before we even start listing the overgrown crabs and the fruit trees in the old orchard.
When I look at photos of the farmette from, say fifteen or twenty years ago, the landscaped reveals many unobstructed sunny areas. The trees were all here, but they were considerably smaller. Over the years, the sunny areas have receded. There are very few spots now that get six hours of sunshine each day.
This makes growing flowers or vegetables a challenge. Our tomato bushes yield far too few tomatoes. And increasingly, the flower fields, at the edges, are showing less vigorous displays of blooms.
I keep bugging Ed to trim the trees -- to remove some of the bigger branches. But he is a reluctant tree trimmer and honestly, his trimming would be like sucking out a drop of water from an ocean of branches. I surely would be happy to completely remove some of the more invasive trees (box elders!) altogether, though I know Ed would never agree to that. He'll chop down trees that are near death, or that have fallen precariously on top of something vulnerable (a barn, a shed, another tree). The others just keep on growing.
So of course, I get very excited when Madison Gas and Electric sends its crew of tree trimmers our way. Every five or six years, they come out to cut the branches that are growing into the electrical lines. I view this as my one tiny opportunity to at least clear the front, street facing flower bed of shade.
This morning, both Ed and I are out to greet the tree trimmers. My message -- be generous in your pruning! It's good for the power lines! Ed's message? Well, he doesn't have one really, except to grimace as they talk about removing one limb or the next.
Breakfast. We talk about trees and cats and Iowa. There was a photo, but in some moment of great distraction, I erased it.
The afternoon is slightly different in that I pick up Snowdrop earlier and we go over to the haircut shop for a much needed trim. We have a few minutes to kill, so we walk over to the nearby coffee shop...
... for a cookie treat. (It's the first time that I see her cross her legs like a person four times her age. Out of curiosity, I google this position to see if it is gender specific and I find out that in the US, men, in fact, rarely cross their legs, whereas in Europe it's far more common. You can come to your own conclusions as to why.)
Snowdrop does not want to wear clips in her hair, so the project of growing out her bangs has to wait until an age when she can control her cascading-into-her-eyes hair better. Today, her bangs get a good trim!
As I watch the now familiar hair cut routines, I have to smile. Snowdrop is such a cheerful kid. Throughout the whole time, she looks as happy as if she were eating birthday cake.
Okay, done.
We go together to pick up Sparrow, who is still in the thick of a deep sleep. Not for long. A few violent shakes from his sister and he's up, pleasantly surprised to see the both of us bending over his little cot.
To the farmhouse!
... where we also break with the routines. Snowdrop is inspired to make up a game with her babies and so I take charge of the little guy, as she creates a fantasy story the whole afternoon she is here. The little guy certainly does not mind the one-on-one attention from me!
In the evening, Ed picks up the two kitties at the vet clinic. We take them to the sheep shed, where we had set up a temporary litter box for them. We open the cage door. Both scurry out, but the boy has just that much more confidence. He hides, but when I bring food to him, he eats. The calico is more traumatized. She walks in circles and trusts nothing. Some of the shed cats come in and in finding the kitties there, they go on guard. They may be friendly when they visit the porch, but this is their turf. For a minute, we wonder if the kitties will be okay left alone with their bigger half siblings.
Ah well, at least they will be warm for the night. We are crossing our fingers that they wont discover the exit door today. They do not know the lay of the land. Fleeing into random darkness could be catastrophic for them.
Ed plays volley ball tonight and I read a book that the reviewers called the best beach read of 2019. Funny that I should get to it in February, when it's so cold and icy outside.
The farmette has many, many trees. Firs, maples, walnuts. Lotus, birch, box elder. Willows, northern catalpas, russian olives. And that's before we even start listing the overgrown crabs and the fruit trees in the old orchard.
When I look at photos of the farmette from, say fifteen or twenty years ago, the landscaped reveals many unobstructed sunny areas. The trees were all here, but they were considerably smaller. Over the years, the sunny areas have receded. There are very few spots now that get six hours of sunshine each day.
This makes growing flowers or vegetables a challenge. Our tomato bushes yield far too few tomatoes. And increasingly, the flower fields, at the edges, are showing less vigorous displays of blooms.
I keep bugging Ed to trim the trees -- to remove some of the bigger branches. But he is a reluctant tree trimmer and honestly, his trimming would be like sucking out a drop of water from an ocean of branches. I surely would be happy to completely remove some of the more invasive trees (box elders!) altogether, though I know Ed would never agree to that. He'll chop down trees that are near death, or that have fallen precariously on top of something vulnerable (a barn, a shed, another tree). The others just keep on growing.
So of course, I get very excited when Madison Gas and Electric sends its crew of tree trimmers our way. Every five or six years, they come out to cut the branches that are growing into the electrical lines. I view this as my one tiny opportunity to at least clear the front, street facing flower bed of shade.
This morning, both Ed and I are out to greet the tree trimmers. My message -- be generous in your pruning! It's good for the power lines! Ed's message? Well, he doesn't have one really, except to grimace as they talk about removing one limb or the next.
Breakfast. We talk about trees and cats and Iowa. There was a photo, but in some moment of great distraction, I erased it.
The afternoon is slightly different in that I pick up Snowdrop earlier and we go over to the haircut shop for a much needed trim. We have a few minutes to kill, so we walk over to the nearby coffee shop...
... for a cookie treat. (It's the first time that I see her cross her legs like a person four times her age. Out of curiosity, I google this position to see if it is gender specific and I find out that in the US, men, in fact, rarely cross their legs, whereas in Europe it's far more common. You can come to your own conclusions as to why.)
Snowdrop does not want to wear clips in her hair, so the project of growing out her bangs has to wait until an age when she can control her cascading-into-her-eyes hair better. Today, her bangs get a good trim!
As I watch the now familiar hair cut routines, I have to smile. Snowdrop is such a cheerful kid. Throughout the whole time, she looks as happy as if she were eating birthday cake.
Okay, done.
We go together to pick up Sparrow, who is still in the thick of a deep sleep. Not for long. A few violent shakes from his sister and he's up, pleasantly surprised to see the both of us bending over his little cot.
To the farmhouse!
... where we also break with the routines. Snowdrop is inspired to make up a game with her babies and so I take charge of the little guy, as she creates a fantasy story the whole afternoon she is here. The little guy certainly does not mind the one-on-one attention from me!
In the evening, Ed picks up the two kitties at the vet clinic. We take them to the sheep shed, where we had set up a temporary litter box for them. We open the cage door. Both scurry out, but the boy has just that much more confidence. He hides, but when I bring food to him, he eats. The calico is more traumatized. She walks in circles and trusts nothing. Some of the shed cats come in and in finding the kitties there, they go on guard. They may be friendly when they visit the porch, but this is their turf. For a minute, we wonder if the kitties will be okay left alone with their bigger half siblings.
Ah well, at least they will be warm for the night. We are crossing our fingers that they wont discover the exit door today. They do not know the lay of the land. Fleeing into random darkness could be catastrophic for them.
Ed plays volley ball tonight and I read a book that the reviewers called the best beach read of 2019. Funny that I should get to it in February, when it's so cold and icy outside.
