I love this next season. The one that comes the day after tomorrow. Lily person that I am (lilies are a summer flower), I nonetheless adore the colors of a blooming spring garden (dare I say it) best. True, my spring flower fields aren't as loaded as they could be. The daffodils should be dug up and spread out -- some of them have stopped blooming (though the new ones are magnificent!). The tulips have to be sprayed with a nasty hot pepper potion, or else the animals devour the flower heads. The lilac has been cut back and so it should enjoy a hefty bloom, but it's getting old so the flowers, though profuse, are smaller. The peonies should be staked more, the irisis are often overwhelmed by their neighbors (false indigo comes to mind). And there's a period of about two or three weeks in mid June where the summer stuff is yet to make an appearance, but the spring flowers are finishing up their run. So the end of spring is actually not the best time to visit my garden.
In short -- spring flowers pose their own challenges. And still, they are sublime. And thus the season that supports them is sublime. My favorite!
However...
Spring brings out the ticks and Ed-the-Pancake-petter, found two live and large ticks on him last night. You cannot forget this if you live in Wisconsin: March is officially the beginning of the tick season. Watch out for them!
It is also the allergy season and though I do not suffer much from these various pollens and puffs and whatnots that are in the air, I did wake up with teary red eyes today. This was particularly discombobulating because I had a very early (predawn) MRI scheduled (it's a head thing -- having once had a brain bleed slates you to check up on stuff every handful of years). Do you know how head MRIs work? You get strapped in tight, with a fencing like cage over your head to keep things in place, because the point is not to move for the 45 minute duration of the exam. Now I ask you -- how is it possible not to move when your eye is itching? I toughed it out but just barely, and then of course, the minute I left the clinic, my eye felt just fine.
At home, I fed the animals in the barn, and in the sheep shed, and in the farmhouse, and on the porch...
(tulips are just barely poking through)
We ate an oatmeal breakfast...
And then I returned to thoughts of packing. I just cannot get a handle on this because the weather (of my forthcoming trip) is going to be so varied (as is the terrain) that it seems I ought to pack for all four seasons in my one medium suitcase. And dont even get me started on shoes. (And no, I don't think a nice scarf will transform a drab sporty outfit into something suitable for a big time capital of Europe.) Now, I love these kinds of problems. Really I do. They stay in my head and I bounce around ideas and it feels like such a treat to be thinking about travel rather than, say, the fact that our constitutional order is under attack. Or that so many people will support a floundering economy spinning toward a recession because it is a gift from him whom they love so much. Or something. You can see how wondering whether one pair of hiking shoes and one pair of sneakers will suffice for rain, snow, mud, and the occasional splash of sun, and a nice eating venue - that's a hell of a more pleasant stream of images to have bouncing around in your head than the ones I pick up from The News.
Switching focus now -- you know the large maple that fell down out front a couple of days ago? Well now, not only has our neighbor volunteered to chop it up and take it away as firewood, but Ed has also had a call from a guy who wants to build a stairwell out of it, and today another guy, a chef from Chicago who wants to make disc like plates to possibly use in his restaurant or at the very least give out as gifts to his friends. Ed told them that all three could be accommodated (the tree is that big) and he put them in touch with each other to work out details. The Chicago chef offered us breads or pastries as compensation. Sounds good to me!
Eventually I go out to continue work on the lavender field. It's boring and back-breaking work, but I do love a full lavender field and so I hack away until I'm, well, more done. Let's hope I at least half know what I am doing!
And now it's time to pick up the kids. We switched ice cream day to this day because tomorrow we are slated to have a weather horror show here in south central Wisconsin.
Fine with me. I get a treat out of the deal: I always ask for a taste of a new and interesting flavor, though at some level it all just tastes like creamy sweet ice cream. Our American selections tend to combine vanilla and chocolate ice cream with cookies caramel salt crumble nuts peanut butter candy bits in endless combinations, giving them obscure and playful names, but really not going for a depth of flavor. To me the perfect ice cream is a perfectly executed pistachio (not green!), or perfectly done strawberry, or peach, or any of the fruits where you can actually taste the fruit. Nonetheless, the Chocolate Shoppe is creamy and tasty and nearby. Besides, no matter where we are, Snowdrop always picks some version of chocolate and Sparrow wont even try anything beyond vanilla.
In the evening I drop off the kids at the Middleton Library where the girl has Girl Scouts. She had been an enthusiastic cookie seller initially, but now I feel she has "moved on" to other challenges. I think at least at this age, her entrepreneurial drive is... modest.
Is there daylight left at 6 pm? Yes there is! I'm back at the lavender field, trimming away. With the help of chickens this time.
At home, I make cabbage soup. With onion, garlic, carrot, corn, jerusalem artichokes, potatoes. And maybe cannellini beans. Haven't decided yet if that's overkill.
Ed comes over, we settle into our viewing of a sitcom that we've watched and liked before and we'll cycle through again, because frankly, we just want to laugh. And we do. And it feels so good....
with love....
