competing interests

Ed! Did you see that? They carried the torch on a zip line over the River Seine!

Um, no. I missed it. Ed makes a point of not watching the Olympics and especially the ceremonies leading up to the games.

Normally, I'm neutral about the opening stuff. One big show, lots of noise. I used to watch to see what the Polish team wore, now I think everyone is dressed to look like school children in a boarding school. Nonetheless, these opening ceremonies are in Paris! Out there, along the banks of the River Seine -- they showcases the city in a crazy beautiful way and I wish I could just watch this all day. But I can't.

Fact is, it's a stunning day, a really beautiful day out here in south central Wisconsin. I'm out snipping lilies (402 today, so holding steady for a while at this lower level) early, because I want to get that job done by the time the guys come at 9 to scare away the mosquitoes. There are many reasons for doing the lily cleanup before rather than after. Trust me, it's better this way. And the garden! Like Paris, it's best when the light is just so. Morning light is often just so.

Breakfast? I bike to Tati Cafe to pick up these:

I love this morning ride -- not long, to be sure, but still so satisfying on a sunny and still cool morning.

The day, each summer day, has its official beginning, my own opening ceremony, on the porch (I have this perennial sweet pea vine that blooms and blooms despite finishing the season in the shade!).

And then I go out and do something that is a real no-no, but I don't care. Breaking rules now and then is allowed when you're 71. (What's my vice? Well, there are many, but this one is throwback to the past: sitting out in the sun and letting those warm rays work their feel-good magic.)

If I would live by the wise saying that I should always listen to my body, then I'd be out there daily, facing the sun, enjoying its warmth, drifting in my thoughts, letting myself go limp as tension flows out and good vibes soak me from top to bottom. My body is darn happy in sunshine. Unfortunately, medicine has challenged my body on this one (and on wine too, damn it!) and so I have to actually ignore what feels good (a nice sun soak and evening wine -- two glasses used to feel soooo perfect!) and go with the science. Except on days like this one. Because, like I said, at 71, you have to sometimes let loose!

(Looking out at my flowers, from a sunny position on the red chair)

And then I get to work. I am officially signing on to the deportation of all illegals: meaning I want to remove all weeds and invasives that have crept into my flower fields and which I've ignored because of the heat, the bugs, the preoccupation with lilies, with life itself. But today, I get to work. The mosquitoes are momentarily gone. There's no better day for doing this then right now. (I am not in favor of other deportations, in case you're wondering. Anyone who has worked in a restaurant kitchen in this country knows better than to suggest something so totally nutty and cruel.)

And I work hard.

Really hard.

Buckets and buckets of weeds, pulled ruthlessly from the fields closest to the courtyard. I cannot do all of them. The terrain is too vast, and haven't the strength to put in a ten hour work day. Leave it to the next generation, of, say, nearly 60 year olds!

 

Besides, I have to pick up the kids.

Tired bunch. But soon made happy by snacks and farmhouse books and play. 

 

 

 

And a glimpse at the Eiffel Tower on TV! I'm THAT kind of a grandmother! 

Evening: I warned Ed. I want to watch a replay of the Olympic moments.  I mean, yes, I know he and I are in the middle of a film noir series on Netflix. Ripley. It's dark and awful but for some reason we're hooked on it. How about an episode of Ripley followed by boats of people waving flags in the rain in Paris?

A rerun of my photo from late June...

With love...