struggling

If you live in south central Wisconsin and your garden looks great right now then you must be standing over it with a shade umbrella in one hand and a hose in the other. We are in drought conditions. The sun is hot, relentlessly crisping and wilting everything in its path. The peonies started the day well and upright but by evening, they looked like all the joie was zapped right out of them. 91F (33C) in the first week of June is just not right. The lilies haven't even started their bloom and already the garden looks like it often does in August: tired.

But let's go back to the early morning, when the heat wasn't yet oppressive and the peonies dominated the flower beds (we have about a dozen peony bushes here).  

 

 

 

(And let's not forget the siberians and campanulas by the path to the door!) 

Once again we slept too little and were up way too early. Ed kept coming in with animal reports ("someone knocked over this or that and pushed it all the way down the path..." "someone dug under the coop trying to get in..." and so on). And just as I was settling in for a final lap of sleep, Ed tells me that the water pump is going nuts: it wont stup running. There is a leak somewhere, only he doesn't know where, and so the water must be shut off indefinitely.

That drama lasts for several hours. By the time he finds the problem, the desire to sink into more sleep is long gone.

We eat breakfast on the porch, but it's not really a leisurely meal. We're running the AC inside so that the bedroom upstairs doesn't turn into a toaster oven set on high. I'm sure Ed would have preferred to be in the coolness of the kitchen, but I haven't had my fill of porch time yet, se we eat outside.

Afterwards, I drive out to my mom's place to coordinate a visit with my daughter and her family. 

 

 

 

Still masked and outside, but at least she has a little time with her great-grandkids.

At home again I think about vacations. Should we do a quick trip somewhere? Maybe with the young families? Isn't it time to step outside the boundaries of our pandemic life just a little?  Every time I glance at the paper, there is an article about where you should go this summer. Shouldn't we be driving somewhere too? 

Ed, always the homebody, tells me -- how about checking out Lake Waubesa?

I can't say that going to Lake Waubesa is going to challenge us and take us out of our pandemic comfort zone -- it's just one or two miles up the road from the farmette. Still, we hop on the motorbike and go the short distance to where our road dead ends by the water's edge. So many people here with boats today! And there are parties at the lakeside picnic tables: a 40th birthday, a 15th birthday -- it all seems so joyous, especially after the quiet of last year's spring season.

The little beach here is pretty empty. That's a good thing. Certainly the grandkids could play here if they have a hankering for sand and water.

Ed and I walk along the road -- to the lakeside pub (crowded!) and back again. We are not yet immersed in anything near a normal life: another time we may have gone in and split a beer. Not today.

The air cools, the faces of the flowers perk up.

It's still spring after all, the hot dry days to the contrary, notwithstanding. Let's hope for some rain this week, okay? For the farmers and gardeners among us. For these guys too.

Rain, okay? We would like some rain.