Rain. Please, may there be some rain. And let me not regret this wish: we don't want heavy storms. We just need rain. Drizzle drizzle, pitter patter. Okay?
Eh, we have no say in these things.
I continue to work outside in the morning, today in a steamy blanket of very humid air. I clip, snip, take a few photos...
And it's nice, it's calming, it's rewarding, except when I come across a big, very furry and very dead animal in one of the lily fields. Our best guess is that it's a groundhog. Sure looks like a groundhog. But why dead? It's not butchered by predators. It's not susceptible to lily toxins. One of those unsolved mysteries! I call Ed, who takes out the shovel and buries the poor guy in the old orchard.
And then we go out to Stoneman's Farm for their sweet corn. Their pearl 'n honey, beloved by so many of us, Wisconsin corn. It's the first day of the season for them (unless you count the sprinkling of early corn they had a week ago) and they are hopping! Their loyal customers have been waiting for this day all year long.
We buy a baker's dozen. That should keep us happy for half a week. We could come out every day for a freshly picked bunch of ears, but honestly, the difference between day old and three day old corn is so small to the average person (we are that average person), that we settle for a dozen. Wisconsin's treasure. Right up there with our cheeses!
Only after that burst of activity do we sit down to breakfast.
And then come the storms, giving us, well, not even an inch of rain. It stops by mid afternoon, which is a good thing because I have a Zoom call where background matters and I dont like any of our backgrounds at the farmhouse. I take it on the porch.
I dress carefully: a navy, gently flowered silky-looking top which I hope looks like a professional shirt, though it's really a dress, and a navy jersey blazer that honestly, you could scrunch up and put in a backpack, but it looks way more serene on camera. With a bee pin stuck in the lapel. As I come down, Ed looks at me with a pronounced frown.
Gorgeous, you don't look like that! Are you sure you want to wear that?
Okay buster, I'm going to hurl one right back at you: I do look like that when I travel to Europe, but you wouldn't know because you never go with me.
But, but, you don't really look like that!
I'm thinking I've been hanging around the farmhouse too long. Shorts and t-shirt, all summer long. No, I am not going to wear a t-shirt advertising produce and prairie flowers! Forget it! I walk off, resisting the temptation to comment on his torn t-shirt. With Ed, the less you say, the less he digs into whatever stubborn point of view he wants to bring to the table. (To his credit, the second time I come down, after adding lipstick -- lipstick, of all things! something I haven't worn since my daughter's wedding!-- he does offer some "you look gorgeous, gorgeous" sweet words.)
What Zoom call is this anyway? It's a TV interview for my book (Like a Swallow) and I am of two minds about it: yes I know I need to talk up my book, no I don't like spending time on this. Besides, it's a live show on our local CBS News program, and I have to wonder who watches TV at 4 o'clock in the afternoon anyway. No one I know. But, the interviewing team is very cheerful, very pleasant and the questions are fine, and the whole thing passes by without a major calamity, which to me is about as much as I can hope for.
In the evening we eat leftover chicken and corn. I mean, is this a classic summer supper, or what? With tomatoes and cucumbers from the garden. This season offers such a wealth of good things!
We are grateful.
