Off to a wet start. I heard that Wisconsin went from having 90% of its land declared as suffering from drought conditions to only 1% of it deemed still too dry. Overnight. We are not in that 1%. And June is coming in... wet.
(Oh, but look! A day lily, in bloom for June 1st!)
(A poppy in the meadow)
I'm up early because I mean to get to the market early, but I have a bit of a slow down as I walk back to feed Pancake, one of the more feral cats, out on the porch. I see that there is a bird hopping rather listlessly under the table. Ed and I clear the porch of cats and coax the bird out, but it's obvious that it is either hurt or in shock, so I pick it up and move it to a cardboard box.
A tiny dish of water, some seeds and crumbs and time. Maybe that's all that the bird needs? (If you find a bird in shock, the best thing you can do is give it a chance to recover and maybe it'll take flight after a few minutes. If not, it's best to take it to the humane society. They're better able to care for it than you are.)
I go to the market. I'm there just before 8.
Because it is raining lightly, the square isn't crowded. I do a quick spin around most of the stalls and I am happy to spot the season's first strawberries!
Still, I dont buy any. I love market berries, but not all market berries. They're expensive, and most of them do not keep, and I just purchased a batch of grocery store berries yesterday. Nonetheless, just the appearance of them is something to celebrate. It's the berries and the flowers that are giving us that burst of color on this gray day.
I pick up my usual. Flowers, asparagus, carrots. I'm waiting for peas!
Bakery next. Empty at this hour. Oh, I could spend a whole morning just smelling and surveying their delicious choices...
And home again. To farmette colors!
I check on the bird. It moved over to the water. That's a good sign, no?
Actually it's not. A few minutes later I check again. The bird fell over and I see that his side must have been injured, because the water is pink with blood. It died pretty quickly after that.
Damn cats. Must be their doing.
These animals are such a mixed bag. Mostly fine, mostly wonderful, but also frustratingly destructive. Of tender plants (chicken scratching!). Of bird habitats (cats especially like chasing birds that look for ground worms). Yes, we love that the hens eat ticks, and that the cats eat mice. We absolutely LOVE that! But this food chain stuff is sometimes tough to watch. I suppose we're grateful that we have seven cats roaming farmette lands and only about once a month do they bring home a bird, but still, I love birds and it always gets to me when they destroy a young life. And no, it's no comfort that they can't help themselves. It still sucks.
Breakfast. In the kitchen, because it is a cool day.
I have some catch up work to do at home and I do that, all the way until it's time for Snowdrop's and Sparrow's violin recitals.
Neither of them are impassioned about their music. Snowdrop loves her lessons but hasn't the time or leanings to practice much. Sparrow practices more, but does not especially like lessons. Still, on balance, I agree with the parents that this bit of music education is a good thing (so long as they want to keep it going). It's like studying a language -- you get a lot more than merely using it as a tool to communicate. And who knows, maybe at some point some string of musicality will catch and they will take off. For now, they are students and they are making slow but steady progress. And given their relaxed approach to it, they both did remarkably well at the recital.
Afterwards, I ask them if they perhaps want to go with me to my mother's place. The rest of us -- myself, the staff -- are kind of stuck. We're not getting anywhere. She gets upset with them for "not doing their job well," with me for not solving her issues to her liking. According to her, we all don't care. Our suggestions fall flat. She is lost in her dissatisfactions.
I enter her rooms at the head of the pack. I'm apprehensive how this will play. The nurse is calming her down. She is upset because the TV isn't on her channel of choice. And then she sees the troop behind me.
Transformative. I've not heard her say a good word for many weeks. And suddenly, for the younger family, she is full of good words. She recognizes the kids, comments on their school standing, their abilities, she is a different person.
In other words, she hasn't lost her ability to connect in a positive way. Selectively, to be sure, but I know now that she has the ability to engage. When she wants to engage.
The visit is a total success. And the kids are fascinated and delighted with their ancient great grandmother.
(She returns to her old habits after the visit, calling at all hours to express her dissatisfaction with... well, pretty much everything.)
At home, the rain has wrapped it up for the day. I tidy some of the flower beds, but not for long. Too wet out there. Cool days, warm days, wet days, dry days -- we've had them all this spring. To the big kids, it's all good. The girl hasn't worn a sweater in weeks. Me, I look forward to tomorrow's clear skies. Out with the sweatshirt already. On with shorts weather!
