It's July and yet I haven't been griping about the weather or bugs. That's because the weather is just about perfect -- sunny and mild, and the bugs -- well, they're there, but in manageable numbers. I can work in the flower beds without being eaten alive.
And work I do. The number of lilies snipped today rose to 690. Some of the garden clearing is pleasant, but some is a daily reminder of what I need to improve next year. There are plants that are planted incorrectly, completely shielded from view. There are portions of beds that fail to do much of anything important. They really need to be replanted next year. There are places that are so dense and hard to get to that I have to wonder -- what was I thinking when I worked out this part of the garden? And of course, there are the more distant beds that need significant weeding and reimagining. So I hum to myself (Cat Stevens music this morning), and I count the lilies that fill the bucket, and I think about next year: what should I change? Will I be up for a major reworking of some of the beds, or should I just slog along and maintain as best as I can what is already here? After all, there's plenty that's solid and good. I do not aim for better than "very good!"
(good morning!)
(bucket at work)
Breakfast, on the porch.
There is an annual meeting or get together or celebration or something of the company that once was Ed's but now is employee owned, and this event takes place at a barn just to the east of us, so we both bike over to put in our time. I dont know most of the 40 or 50 people who form the company now, so I don't linger for long, but still, I'm quite proud of all the work Ed has done to help grow this company, so I stick around long enough to pass on my congrats to the people in charge. Then I pick up some free company t-shirts and bike home, along the path that allows me to see the farmette from this other side -- across the prairie that separates us from the New Development.
Thursday is just Snowdrop day and here's another twist -- I pick her up (and the dad picks Sparrow up) at the Dane County Fairgrounds, where the two had spent a terrific time with their summer camp program.
The girl and I don't immediately go home -- I have to pick up corn at the first official day of bi-colored sweet corn at Stoneman's Farms. They saved us a dozen ears and it is truly exciting for me to bring it home. (It's exciting for her to visit with the Stoneman cat and then to be given a bag of scraps to feed to their summer farm residents -- the sheep and the goat.)
(think about her cat...)
(Rosie the goat...)
(the black sheep...)
(yay, Stoneman's!)
At the farmhouse,
... she keeps herself busy while I trim and store the ears of corn. The drill is always the same: take off some, but not all of the husk, stick it neatly in the fridge. The sooner you do that, the better the taste when you do finally cook it.
(stomach as a comfy pillow...)
Snowdrop and I have work to do -- go over lines for her forthcoming Young Shakespeare Players performance. This does take time and still, we have plenty left for our ongoing reading of the next World War II series that we're thoroughly immersed in.
Evening now. I steam corn. This is going to be a repeat performance for the next month! Nothing, nothing is better for a summer supper than Stoneman's corn. Best weather, brightest flowers yet, best corn. Summer at her finest!
