foolish ventures

I do so love April, in the way that one loves the night before a very special event. The excitement! The promise of new growth, not next month or next week but tomorrow! The opportunity to get even closer to the natural world! It happens now.

In Poland, the first day of April is affectionately called Prima Aprilis. It sounds a lot better than our old April Fool's, but the intent is the same: we fool family, friends, anyone with something slightly annoying, potentially unpleasant, definitely funny. I read, for example, these small suggestions in a Polish newspaper: take a raisin, cut it in half, roll a half out into a thin string-like formation and put it in someone's sugar bowl. It really does look like a worm. Or, put a hard boiled egg in someone's egg carton. Or, if you're like me, send a text with some absurd announcement to your daughters and hope that they have forgotten it's April first. I do this every year and usually I manage to fool at least one for at least a handful of minutes. Why do we do this? Because small foolishness can lighten the heart just a little bit! And who doesn't need a lighter heart these days...

A less beneficial foolishness is one where you decide to stay up late with your tree planning maps. It's after midnight before I am satisfied that I did my best effort, placing some 75 trees on the two acres behind the barn and behind the new orchard. Drawn to scale, I hope.

And still less beneficial is then getting up before dawn because Ed chooses to discuss at that moment how to prepare the overgrown jungle out there for the arrival of the new trees. This is a huge deal and the stumbling piece that has kept us from doing anything for years. I used to try to mow down the weeds that grow there, but I routinely broke the tractor and the power mower over boulders, vines and invasive shrub stumps. Since no one ever ventured to that stretch of land and I left Ed burdened with the constant struggle to keep the machines in good repair, I gave up. 

Now that the trees are coming, we have to confront reality: a six inch high maple or a one foot chestnut cannot go into a jungle of weeds and shrubs and vines. We have to in some way clear the land. To some degree. The dilemma? To what degree and who should do the job (Ed, Ed and Nina, professionals and if so -- which professionals). So much to decide and though my input in such matters is sought out and welcomed, ultimately Ed follows his own predilection. Me, I would just pay someone to clear the land. There is now a growing industry of forestry mowers -- people who clear the invasives in forests and presumably on our overgrown land. It's ecologically friendly, as they mulch all that they pick up, and it prevents erosion. No digging or tilling. How expensive can it be to hire someone to do this for us a couple of times each year?

At breakfast...

... we go over the possibilities. Or rather, I lend an ear and offer my vote. By late morning, we've made progress: we ask someone to come out and give us an assessment. 

Okay, enough about trees. Why am I not outside? Well, it's sunny, but still cold. 

 

 

 

So the morning is spent finessing the details of my flower and now, too, tree maps.

In the afternoon though, we want to grab that sunshine. Snowdrop is on spring break and so I do not pick her up today. Ed and I could always do more yard work, but I suggest instead that we take a walk. We've been pretty farmette bound in the last few weeks. Time to see how spring unfolds in other parts of the world!

We head out to our local county park. I believe the last time we were here there was still snow on the ground. Not anymore! And indeed, we see that they recently did a controlled prairie burn.

Ed puts that on the table as well -- maybe we should consider a burn... 

No, we should not.

But we do pay close attention to the forested part of our walk. We study the maples, the shagbark hickory...

And in my head, I immediately redraw our own tree plan. Walking through a native forest helps me visualize these trees as they will appear long after we're stardust (or, in the alternative -- nutrients feeding the roots of these giants!). It's a slow paced walk. Truly we are taking a forest bath...

 

 

 

The evening calls for a frittata, don't you think? I cook it while chatting up Primrose, who is always fascinated by the culinary exploits at the farmhouse.

 

 

 

Yes, I stir in lots of local mushrooms, brussel sprouts, corn. And cheese. I must admit, the cheese is not from Wisconsin. As I said, sometimes, you just have to go out and taste something from a more distant part of the world.