don't tell any one but...

My dog is not following doctor's orders.

I made a mistake in the way I planted several of the roses.

The cake I baked today was so delicious and so easy that I am going to give it my highest recommendation, but if you bake it, dont tell anyone how easy it is. You may as well get credit for being a fine baker.

I scotch-taped a piece of original art to a frame. 

I asked AI about the ending to Dear Child and had a conversation about every new development so that I would know what to expect with each gruesome episode. 

I'm sure I can add to this list as the day progresses, because the reality is that we all stumble along doing things that others may find to be horribly impulsive, careless, silly, perhaps not in the best interest of humanity (or your dog). That's just the way it is. You try your best and adjust as you go along.

 

This morning, my breakfast friends are to come to Steffi's House. I am eager to have them here. So far only family and Ed's friends have stepped inside (hard to believe, but I've only lived here for 2.5 weeks). Oh, and the Russian repair person. And I've done a ton of work here, especially outside. My friends are always appreciative of my efforts and though I really don't look for compliments, I do love it when people notice. That's all. Just notice. 

However, given my planting mania and Millie's stay-at-home week, I did not have the energy nor time to do any advance prep for the meal. We set 9 a.m. for their arrival and I have done nothing except think about what to serve and order a nice pot on Amazon last night that is to be delivered this morning between 5 and 7 a.m. And it is delivered, and it is beautiful -- an enameled cast iron pan that is an upgrade over the inexpensive Lodge cast iron pans that we all have, the ones that love to rust and cant ever be seasoned enough.

I shower, walk and feed Millie, water my back yard roses, and tomatoes, and planter, and get to work.

The point is -- I dont have that much time. On the menu? A frittata with seasonal veggies and a cake.

And you know what? It all gets done, no problem.  Well, it's thanks to the cake. I decided to do the recipe that perhaps you read about in the NYTimes this week -- their "Original Plum Torte" by Marian Burros. There is a whole backstory behind it, but the upshot is that they have been printing this recipe every year in the summer since 1983. And it consistently gets 5 stars. Why not, I thought. Reading through it I saw that it was incredibly easy. And though there's no way I will find cute little purple plums in my grocery store and especially in mid-July, I picked up a combo of cherry red plums and the bigger so called black plums and they work beautifully!

And the frittata? For this I used my beautiful new pan. Eggs, cheese, and a mixture of sauteed mushrooms, peas, and spinach. Oh, and I threw in some little tomatoes from my bushes. The peas gave it a thoroughly summer taste. Honestly, it was lovely and good and I take no credit for it because again, it's just not that hard to make an exceptionally good frittata.

Millie decided to be calm for the visit. And it was one of our longer "breakfasts."

Lots to review, to update, to speculate about.

 

 

 

 

 

This means that when my friends left, Millie had plenty of energy. I went out to water some of the roses and though I told her to stay calm and I had her on Trazadone, the pup went hog wild with the joy of being outside. Definiteyl NOT what the doctor ordered. I had to call the clinic and ask -- how do I keep my dog from being exuberant and they told me to up her meds! Well okay, but I'll do that reluctantly. I love her feeling of joy.

As for the roses -- one of them died and I sent a photo of it tot he company. They give refunds. But I also got a comment from their horticulturist. Something to the effect -- "pebbles at the base may look pretty but they are wrong for roses. They trap heat and may seep stuff into the soil." But inside the fenced area, I do not use them because they look pretty! Indeed, I rather dislike them because grass pushes through and unlike with bark, it's hard to pull out. But I use them because Millie loves to eat bark mulch and I honestly do not think it's good for her. A real choking hazard for one thing. (She tried eating the pebbles too but gave up after one or two attempts. Thank goodness!) But, I care about my roses, so my next task is to remove all the pebbles and use their recommended Mint Compost. Maybe Millie will reject it and in any case, it wont kill her. Some people even recommend it as a breath freshener (not that my pup has bad breath...).

I water the front garden as Millie sits and watches from the porch. 

 

 

 

That worked! 

 

 

 

Planting is more difficult. I'll figure that one out tomorrow. This afternoon, I'm scheduled to pick up this girl!

Her dream realized! Purple hair. What, you can't tell? This photo is clearer:

 

 

 

Very purple. Well, she deserves it. She patiently waited until after the Poland trip and she really was a star (as they all were) during that momentous adventure.

Later, I pick up a package that came to my front door. With this on it:

 

 

 Inside, a sheet with a lot of text in Cyrillic script. And this (I added the frame):

 

 

It's small. Painted on a piece of cardboard. By a woman living in the war torn country of the Ukraine. It traveled in this way: from Kyiv to Lviv. From Lviv to Warsaw. From Warsaw to New York. From New York to New Jersey. From New Jersey to Illinois. From Illinois finally to Wisconsin. All in 10 days. I can't even imagine how the first legs of its journey took place. Seems so frivolous, doesn't it? To buy a small painting from a war zone. And yet, the woman who painted it depends on income from her art. I'm sure she cannot sell it in her own home country right now.

 

In the evening, Ed comes over for a piece of frittata and plum cake.

And so passes another beautiful day, with better air quality, cooler temperatures and, importantly, so much good feeling and warmth, of the inside-your-stomach kind.

with so much love... 

 

wild

This isn't specific to Millie. I've seen it in other dogs. At around 8 months, just when spayed, instead of nicely settling into adulthood, your pup goes hog wild with a burst of energy you think properly belongs to sheep herding canines. Say what? -- you're thinking. What ever possessed you to go upstairs and start chewing on a kid book behind my back? Downstairs again, you hear a carpet being moved about. Millie? Is that you? -- as you look over and see her picking up the edges of your Turkish rug to see if little pup teeth could possibly undo the complicated weave.

Millie is on meds to keep her calm in this post-operative period. They're not working. She wants to be outside running. She wants to go up to other dogs and sniff their butts. She wants active play! Zoomie time! Over the couch and around the corner and away she goes! And she finds ways to get my attention. Negative attention to be sure, but anything is fine to spark up her day. My once velcro pup has discovered that she can keep an eye on me through the stair rails from upstairs.

I follow her up. She looks at me expectantly. Haha! You know I always go upstairs if I want to have "an accident!" Oh Millie... 

Whatever happened to that quiet, morning nap?? 

Breakfast. Mine, inside. Air is unhealthy.  Millie, you already ate!

 

 

I tell her to follow a treat into the crate.  Which, to her credit, she does. But when I close her door and step outside to do some planting, I hear her unhappy cries and barks. I give it half an hour. She doesn't let up. I put down the shovel and go back in.

But here's a great gift for me: Ed agrees that the air is "good enough" to do some work outside. He offers to come over with his pick-axe and dig out some holes for a few roses (the soil is that bad!). This is superbly helpful. I take Millie out with us and tie her down (to the hose). Ed breaks up the soil, I carry buckets of it out toward the vacant lot. (How would have I planted my garden without that lot? I've offloaded hundreds of bucketfuls of clay and rock there.) We then move inside the fenced area. More holes. And while we're at it, he does a big one for my potted lilac (which will be much happier in the ground).

Definitely my hero today! It would have taken me many days to work a shovel into that hard clay. I put in just one rose -- the rest are still sitting somewhere waiting for transport.

Yes, I am a complete rose enthusiast this year. I've planted a few before, but it was always in an off-hand manner. Not only where they completely wrong for farmette fields, too, I'd always held that prevailing belief that roses require too much intervention. Disease, pests, beetles -- all of it. I don't want fussy flowers. I have enough work with unfussy ones. But of course, the world of roses has changed dramatically in recent decades. Much of the change we owe to David Austin -- the British rose guy who successfully bred the goldendoodle of roses. One after another. (Just like the goldendoodle or other poodle combos give us smart, affectionate dogs, which is what most people want at home, so too David Austin roses bring together what gardeners love: bushes that are disease resistant and importantly -- that offer a repeat bloom all summer long. Some never stop, some come in waves. But they do promise flowers way past the typical June rose season. (Very sorry to hear that the next generation head -- David Austin's son, died today. David senior had lived til he was 92. His son was not so lucky. Happy to hear that the family -- he had three children -- will keep the business running anyway. Such a legacy the Austin Davids have left for all of us!)

I've read a lot about these roses -- the floribundas, the climbers, and I've looked at hundreds of photos from greenhouses. There are flower shapes (for example "cupped") that are nothing short of enchanting. I have studied the colors too -- initially drawn to the vibrant ones, I am now convinced that the most beautiful are the pastels. Soft tones of pink and orange. 

Roses do require patience in that they really need time to develop their full potential. Years of time. I splurged on a couple of three year old ones, but I haven't the budget for more of those. No matter. I'm old but not that old. I'll probably live to see all of them bloom their heads off! Gardeners are by nature optimistic. We always believe that the result of our efforts will be stunning and will improve the landscape considerably -- for us, for others too. 

In the evening I leave Millie for just a few minutes. Ed is out and he needs my help to put away the chickens. At this sunset hour, the flowers are always at their finest. 

 

 

 

That's true in Steffi's House as well, only Steffi's flowers are still babies. 

 

 

 We'll see how this all comes together by summer's end (here's that hopeful optimism again).

with so much love...

it's like being stuck at home with the flu

Yes, the air quality deteriorated and we are back at Very Unhealthy. Between that and Millie's continued anxiety if I step out of the house, I tell you, life has become very indoorsy for me. At the same time that I have ideas for the outside! Work to do! Flowers to move! Holes to dig! 

("why cant we go out??")

Well no matter. People have it worse. Try living in hot Cuba without much electricity right now. Or for that matter, closer to home -- in Ontario or any number of places in the US where fires are threatening homes. 

I eat a very lovely breakfast on the couch.

 

 

 

I do test the girl (to see if she will protest my exit) while she is settling for a nap. I want to take out that monstrous hibiscus from the front garden. (After that, only one more true lily to take out and give away and I will have basically cleaned out all that my sod remover planted in the corner. Well, except for the couple of day lilies, salvias and irises which were put in as per my request. And the creeping phlox at the edge which is never a bad idea only I wish it were strawberry and cream. Fussy? Well yes: if you care about gardens as much as I do, you're going to be very fussy.)  

The plan is for me to put in another rose bush in the place of the hibiscus (and donate the hibiscus to my daughter who likes "warm" flowers). I think about what to put at the feet of that rose. You can feed AI anything these days, including what ideas it may have for comparability with an orange pink blush rose. It's crazy how much you can ask that non-human fake brain. Just now I typed in "when will this putrid air finally move out of Madison Wisconsin." AI is always cheerful and positive and it responded -- "a cold front and incoming thunderstorms late Monday afternoon to bring the much-needed clearing, ushering in fresher and cooler air." Then it mildly scolded me for using the word putrid (putting it in italics as if to mock me), and reminded me that I should be interested in Fitchburg and perhaps not just Madison. (It hints that it damn well knows where I live so I needn't pretend I'm from Madison.)

I venture out again (very briefly!) in the late afternoon -- to get some rose fertilizer and blue plants (nepetas, a lavender -- stuff like that) which, to my mind, are the best match for a rose. I choose to ignore all those YouTubers who push the idea of Lady's Mantle, which I always thought was a shade plant and obviously roses do not like shade. But perhaps I'm providing too much detail here. Most of you aren't going to grow roses. This is what happens when you are housebound and get carried away with a project.

 

 

 

In the evening Ed and the young family come to dinner. No pickle ball for Ed. And not much summer play for the kids either. The heat typically gives them the local pool. This air means stay inside and read a book. It very much reminds me of a winter without snow, only you wear a mask and not a cap and gloves.

 

 

The kids have been warned not to engage Millie in lively play. Of course, Millie is no wilting flower right now, but I fed her a nice dose of trazodone, so she is reasonably placid. And so were they.

Let's hope they have some solid rains up north in the next days. And while they're at it, maybe they could send us a sprinkle or two. A drought, hazy air -- I suppose when I was a kid and lived in New York City, the air was always heavy and the skies were never brilliantly blue. And we did not wear masks. And the AC was loud and it rattled the apartment and you could fry an egg on the sidewalk. Such easier times for us now. Still, let's hope for rain and better air.

with so much love... 

a break

South central Wisconsin gets a break from "very unhealthy," and even "unhealthy" air. By mid morning, we put "unhealthy for sensitive groups," and then "moderate" behind us, and hit "good!" I realize that this may change as destructive fires are still burning up north, but Millie and I are grateful for the break. Our breakfast out he porch? It lasts well over an hour.

(a few minutes of lap time)

 

 

 (what's blooming on the Steffi porch...)

 

 

Millie's incision is still bothering her -- she whimpers initially this morning. But then her meds kick in and she is like her old self. Indeed, too much so. I'm to walk her only for quick bathroom breaks. When I dropped the leash to turn off the hose -- something that is usually risk free as she always stays by my side, not being a squirrel chaser or especially outgoing toward strangers or their dogs -- this time she does a mad zoomie run around me, clearly enjoying her leash-free existence. (I discuss this with the clinic -- they suggest calming meds, as the girl really needs to abandon her friskiness for the next ten days.) 

I dont have the heart to leave her alone quite yet (except briefly, say to put in a plant!) but at the same time, I do believe she is feeling a little housebound. There's only so much excitement her raggedy or chewy toys can bring her. I schedule a lunch with Ed at Tati's. It requires of her a quietness and stillness, but at the same time it offers visual stimulation. (It's a shame she's indifferent to the TV set -- I could see us binge watching suspense series, or even canine movies. Unfortunately, she gives the set a glance and moves on to see what else in life is interesting and perhaps a bit more challenging, not realizing that there's wonder in doing nothing more than staring at the screen.)

(a tilted selfie)

On the way home, we stop by the farmette -- I have more compost to dump there. And of course, the lilies are breathtakingly beautiful. I snip off a few spent flowers, trying to hold back that feeling of wanting to fix something that just isn't under my care anymore. 

 

(nymphs and shepherds...) 

 

Now that the smog has lifted (at least temporarily), I'm itching to go outside at Steffi's House and Garden.  I have some more ideas -- endless ideas, because, well, this place has so much potential still!

It was a welcome reprieve. I know people who are dealing with the fires on a more personal level (instead of just the residual smoke) have so much more to worry about, still it was tough to go through a day of such smoke. Today, the skies looked beautiful again.

 

with so much love...

 

 

disappointment

Summer is fabulous. I love it, we love it, for the beauty, fun, joy, pleasure of being outside. Summer brings us close to nature. We need it to sustain us in the months when being close to nature is difficult, drab, unpleasant. At the farmette, summer was a little spoiled by the mosquito infestation. Deer flies as well, but really, it was the mosquitoes that almost forced us to move to a better location. They really affected out outdoor time.

At Steffi's House and Garden, mosquitoes are not an issue. Yes, you'll feel them at dusk, in very modest amounts. I can spend hours outside and not be bothered at all by biting bugs. 

But now we have the wildfire smoke. We had it last year too and it was awful. I blocked it from my memory. This year it's worse. Hard not to face the fact that suddenly outdoor time has been cut short. 

The garden is planted, so working out there is purely for maintenance, and plant adjustments. And watering, because we are in the thick of a very long dry spell. But of course, this is the time where we reap the joy of being among plants. Of breathing in their fragrance. This is when you take longer bike rides too. Morning walks along paths that lead you through prairie land popping with the colors of cone flowers, into forests with that gentle sway of heavily leafed branches, providing shade on a warm day. 

All of it has suddenly been taken away from us. And yes, I understand that for many this isn't just a question of pleasure. Kids go to camps. Adults go in and out all the time. Many work outside. Dogs need to be walked and they cannot wear masks. 

So go ahead and tell me that mitigating climate change is a bunch of hyped up liberal nonsense. I dare you. I may punch back at that one. I really may. (Or, go ahead and blame Canada. Always easy to point a finger at someone else. As if we ourselves have done "all we can" to arrest the overheating of our planet.)

 

Millie slept well and though she is very very far from being herself, her post-surgery slump is sweetly affectionate. It's hard to understand why dogs trust their humans so wholeheartedly, no matter what. I caused all this pain by taking her to the vet. The vet made her miserable: coming out she was (in terms of pain) far worse off than going in. And yet she completely believes that I am there to love her and care for her. That I am the one that makes it better, not worse. 

 

 

 

I eat breakfast inside. Of course I do. 

 

 

The porch is basically off limits except for necessary watering and of course, I need a mask for that. I already have the longest post-cold lingering respiratory stuff known to human-kind, I don't need to make it worse. 

Millie is on meds that make her a bit lethargic so it's not too difficult to crate her. I need to move one plant and water the tomato pots and cedar planter. I do it hurriedly and without great joy. The air is that bad. We are currently in the VERY unhealthy range -- first time ever for our location in south-central Wisconsin. And no, it doesn't make me feel any better to know that Pennsylvania has it far worse -- they're past the "hazardous" (meaning deadly) range. I didn't even know there was a post-hazardous point. What could be worse than deadly? 

 

The day is spent Minding Millie. I suppose that should be the title for the next ten days. 

 

 

 

I do keep an eye on her just so we can avoid the whole cone around her head thing. And frankly, she strives to be always within petting range. Whereas before, slinking under the couch was her place to exhale, now she is on the couch with me, asking openly for a cheek rub or a gentle cuddle. You have to feel sorry for the sweet girl. Dogs don't get explanations, nor do they understand time. "This will pass" is meaningless not only because they don't speak our language. There is no later. There is only now.

(girls in pink)

I use this opportunity to rest up. Weeks of craziness are catching up with me and in the absence of more physical labor today, I feel... tired. (Working takes your mind off of fatigue.) I doze off. I wake up and read. Reclining positions are very appealing. For her and for me. And I finally decide to buy soaker hoses. The weather forecast shows no rain in sight for days (weeks?) on end. I dont want to have to water by hand Steffi's Garden every day. At least not all of it.

 

In the evening I cook, Ed comes over, we watch our British farming show. There you have it -- an indoor day if I ever saw one. In July no less. On the upside, Millie is delighted to have me on the couch for long stretches of time. Within eyesight. No effort required to track me. She's not disappointed!

with so much love... 

just made it!

Most of my heavy lifting and energetic digging is complete for this year. This is a relief as we are one of the many states affected by the Canadian fires. Our air is thick with smoke. Worse than I ever experienced here (though we can't complain: some parts of the country are far worse off than we are. We are just "unhealthy," which is better than "very unhealthy" (Madison) or  "hazardous" (Chicago, Milwaukee, all of Michigan). "Hazardous" they say can kill you. Ours would be more like a punch in the gut I suppose. 

It is fortuitous that most of us vulnerables do have a mask supply. I went out with Millie in the morning without one and immediately regretted it. All subsequent outdoor time was with mask in place.

(sunlight through a thick haze)

 

 

It was not your typical morning in any event. Since Millie is scheduled for morning surgery, she is not allowed food. How do I explain this to her? I eat, she doesn't? "Doctor's orders" is not within her vocabulary. I don't take my granola bowl outside. And since I have to deliver her to the clinic early, it's all rather rushed. On a tray. Inside.

Millie thinks we should be out on the porch. Why am I wrecking her routines?!

 

I try to act normal. We're going to see the vet! -- I say excitedly. She looks puzzled. Is this a good thing? She's doubtful. 

By 8 we are at the clinic. My pup is shaking in my arms. I ask -- can't she have something to calm her down?! I act as if a dog has never come into their offices with apprehension. 

Millie is lucky in that she is patient number 1 today. I keep the phone by my side just in case and then I grocery shop (on the belief that I will be housebound in the immediate future). 

Driving home, I stop by the farmette to pick up more soil. I have nothing to plant at the moment, but it's good to have a bucketful for when a new plant makes a magical appearance because Nina could not resist a stop at K&A.  While at the farmette, I pause. It's the peak day for the lilies. And they are so vigorous, no plentiful even without my care, my weeding, and without any watering at all, they take your breath away! I take a few photos...

I have that wistfulness that comes when you look back at decisions you've made. Should have I stayed? Cleaned up, the flower fields would look better than ever before. 

Of course, you dont decide where your home will be based on a day of great lily beauty. Steffi's Garden has a way to go, but I surely worked as hard at in it as I did at the farmette and still it was easier -- I wasn't at war with endless weeds, mosquitoes, excessive shade. If I have failed plantings, I can replace them and try again. At the farmette, I really believed I was eventually going to lose that war. So much there that I could not fix. So no, I don't wish I had been there to help this garden of great beauty along. Still, that feeling of wistfulness is strong!

I bring just a few lily stems home with me.

 

Are you wondering about the clay jug (above)? That's an olla pot that came with the cedar planter. I thought I knew all the garden paraphernalia out there, but this one was new for me. Apparently you bury it in the planter and keep pouring water into it and that water seeps out and keeps the soil perfectly moist throughout. You just need to keep filling the pot  -- it does the work for you. (We speculated yesterday if there was any benefit to it, since it can't be a whole lot easier to pour water into the jug rather than sprinkling it over the planter. Still, it appears that these pots have been around (so they say) for 5000 years.There must be in some way be a benefit to them. I put it in, because it came with the planter. I'll let you know how great it is to work with.

Despite the smog, I do work outside for a couple of hours. With a mask of course. I plant my peas and basil and the olla pot..

And I water. Everything. It's hot again and there is no promise of rain in sight.

I also call the realtor selling the newly built house next door and ask her to please convey my sincere pleadings to stop flooding my yard and killing my roses with the constant sprinkling of their grasses. i understand new sod needs constant watering, but it all flows to my yard and Millie comes in from her outdoor play with a muddied coat. And two of my rose bushes are not surviving the deluge of water that cannot drain well given the clay soil under their roots. I'm told they'd cut back. Let's hope.

 

A break! a coffee at Tati's with a friend -- a former student; obviously many years have passed. It's impressive what professional paths these smart people have followed. She was a public defender, a judge, a mother. An activist. A concerned citizen. You don't know this about the people sitting behind long tables in class. All you know is that they work hard (most of them do anyway!) and have ambitions. Some are on their second or third career paths. You dont know any of it. And for most, you'll never learn their stories. But there are some who never quite step out of your field of vision and some who you actually encounter again and start a new kind of conversation. 

 

I finish watering just as it's time to pick up my pup She did "really well," which I suppose means she slept through the whole thing without giving them any trouble, and she did not bleed to death. I had brought in a onesie for her and she was carried out to my waiting arms in that onesie, looking so much like a vulnerable newborn! They also gave me a cone of shame to wrap around her head when "your eyes aren't on her." I do not understand how dogs can exist in that huge piece of plastic so I nodded, but then put it aside, opting for "keeping my eyes on her" all the time. 

 

(reluctant to move...)

 

Millie naps much of the afternoon and evening. When she is awake, I'm there to redirect her if her snout goes toward her wound. So far we haven't had to use the cone around her head, but this is only the first day. We have nine to go.

with so much love...

  

writing

You and I are always juggling facts, feelings, options out there, figuring out how to take on each day, each new situation, trying not to make mistakes, making them anyway. Life, in a nutshell. How we act is one thing, but explaining ourselves to others is quite another. You don't blurt out feelings and convictions to those you care about without paying attention to the impact your words may have. Those who feel free to spill out their views on everything suffer the consequences. My mother was a fine example of this. Everyone was scared of her. Well, maybe not Ed who is rather indifferent to the words of others. 

But then, in 2005 I began writing Ocean.  I don't owe anyone a complete recounting of my day and yet, at the core of my writing here is my belief that what I do write must be honest. Now, we know that "honest" is a broad term that means many things. My honest may not be your honest. The way I see a truth is of course born of my experiences and feelings, and mental faculties. Still, anyone who knows me will tell you that there is indeed a basic honesty about the stories that appear here.

How did I manage this without hurting, indeed shattering the feelings of others? There may be some skill in presenting reality kindly, but mostly I've just been lucky not to live through much personal drama in the last decades -- the decades of writing Ocean. There was my divorce and that was in fact dramatic in the way most divorces are, but my ex and I have remained friends and so the recounting of my days even immediately after the separation and then divorce could remain true to the facts as I saw them then. Obviously I did not and would not spell out all that happened, but I was able to navigate that period in my posts, without wrecking things along the way. 

It's not that my entire life has been without drama. I think I had plenty of happenings when I was a child, an adolescent, and then a full grown adult. Perhaps the most dramatic years were those just before I began writing daily here.  One reason why I did not provide a part 2 to Like a Swallow (people have asked) is because I don't think I have the ability to write about those years without making a whole bunch of people unhappy. Why would I ever want to do that! Some dramas are best left behind.

I'm thinking about this because the day is hot as can be, Millie and I braved our very early meal outside on the porch...

... and then I took her to doggie daycare, returning home to work like mad to get things watered and planted in Steffi's Garden. 

And then I had lunch with friends who belonged to those years of such great tumult for me. This chaos was not their fault, perhaps it was nobody's fault, but they, along with a group of very talented musicians, were certainly in my life during those years. I haven't seen the two of them in a very long time, but they are in town and today we had lunch. Then coffee.

Old friends, especially those who drifted with you from one crisis to the next, have a way of hanging on to the details of your life. From there, it was easy to expand on where our lives have taken us today. We will have to meet again to continue that conversation before they return to their home in Mexico.

 

I pick up Snowdrop from her Shakespeare program, we go home, she plays for a minute, we read.

And the day doesn't stop there. We pick up Millie, I drop Snowdrop at home, I pick up Thai food and I head for Steffi's House, where Ed is waiting for me, along with three of his friends from way back when. We are all, um, older. In fact, in this setting I may well be the youngest. We get together in this small group maybe once a year -- two of them live in Washington, the state. And yet, once more, it is like a gathering of people who really know each other well (I'm perhaps the outlier here, as I've known them for only about 15 years -- that's nothing for people our age!). One was Ed's college roommate. Imagine that! 

A day of bringing in the past to catch up with the present. Not that I can get Ed to reflect on any of it. And that's okay. I have plenty of space in my head to process all this on my own. And to sometimes write about it here.

with so much love... 

July 14th

Who plants vegetables from seed in the middle of July? Insanity. Futile venture. Unnecessary work. And yet, here I am, building a cedar wood planter quickly, so that I can put in some seeds today or tomorrow.

You know of course my obsession with perennial flowers. But where do I stand on planting fruits and veggies? I have mixed feelings here. On the one hand, I loved having cherry trees at the farmette, but oftentimes the birds would get to the cherries before we did. The peaches fared better. One pear tree I liked, one I did not. Apples? None were as good as the market ones. Ed's tomatoes have been useful for freezing. I tried carrots. Not good. Radishes? Too dense and too far down the property line. Easily forgotten. Lettuce? Ed's giving it a go, but not a very serious go. He scattered seeds on the old soil in the metal tins. The soil bakes in those and weeds compete with lettuce leaves.

So, mixed feelings.

But in Steffi's Garden I'm giving it a different approach: I planted a few tomatoes in pots (they're tall, abundant, fabulous, though none of the kids have been enthusiastic about picking them fresh off the vine. I planted fraises de bois also in a pot. Small pickings there. And on the porch, I have one of those bushy raspberry plants meant for a large pot. It's growing well, but the berries are... sparse. 

So what's with the cedar planter now? Well, on Independence Day, many businesses lured suckers like me into buying something after slashing prices by 50-70%. And so the cedar planter was pretty inexpensive. Still, really? Whatever for? 

It's because I love the look of sweet peas growing up a trellis. I also do like the taste of them, especially raw in a salad. And here's the thing -- now is the time to sow peas for a second (in my case first) harvest. In addition, I have some basil seeds which, of course, are always welcome.

You could speculate that if my veggie harvest doesn't work out, I can always put flowers into the planter, but I would protest that fiercely. In my mind's eye, cedar planters are for veggies. And I have room for it in the driveway!

Which brings me to the topic of "back yards." Steffi's House is not your typical suburban house. It's a cottage (the developer calls it a Mulberry Cottage"), on a very small parcel of land. (90% of the properties in this development are built in this way.) This suits me just fine as I am running away from lots of land management and especially lawn management. But I also believe in using every piece of that land productively. In the back of the house, I have a driveway and then strips of green grass on both sides of it. I converted one side to be part of Millie's fenced play area, with a planting of rose bushes around the fencing and a perennial patch at the end. The other side of the driveway is long and I've put in perennial beds in different portions of it. Here's where I also planted climbing roses, hoping for a good show of flowers in a year or two. 

I've spent just as much time on these backyard plantings as I have out front. In total, I counted today that I have (thus far) planted about 205 flowering plants in this past month. It's been fabulous to watch this nothing-lawned up piece of land develop into something more than that.

(one of the roses in the "backyard")

I must say, Millie was a very agreeable pooch when I worked on the cedar planter. My neighbor across the alley hired a team of some half dozen men who came with their machinery to do some landscapng work in her "backyard." Much of it is to be covered with pebbles and if you have never heard a truck dump loads of pebbles, let me warn youthat ear plugs are not a ridiculous idea. I suppose the construction noises at Sally's House taught Millie not to mind too much. Still, I was glad to be done with the cedar planter and to go in and close the door to the noise. 

Did I not mention that we had had a lovely early morning breakfast on the porch? 

There will come a time when major projects here, at Steffi's House and Garden will be a thing of the past. That time is rapidly approaching. But then, so is the next season!  

 

My big project for the afternoon is to start leaving Millie alone again. And it seems so easy. If I say, Millie, you want to go for a car ride? -- she runs and hides, usually in her crate. You're asking for it, my girl!  I close her crate door, tell her I'll be back soon and head out, listening for her barks and yelps. Nothing. Silence. This is good!

I take an hour to run errands. To the farmette, more soil needed. To the dump -- cardboard to recycle. Oh! I should stop at K&A on my way -- they having a rose sale!  I come back and cross my fingers, but here I run out of luck. She must have heard me open the garage door because I hear her barking plaintively now. Sweet, sweet pup!

 

 

 

Things are getting tight again: I have grandchild pickup today and tomorrow and I have no less than two social engagements tomorrow. And on Thursday, Millie is scheduled for surgery (spaying). That means she will be housebound for at least ten days. Let's hope she is  more amenable to being left for short periods of time or else I will not be able to breath fresh air for a week!

 

Ed comes over just as I start in on putting in two more roses (that damn K&A sale!). It is toasty hot! The backyard -- Millie's playground  -- is ablaze with sunshine (in most places) -- making it an ideal place for roses, but impossibly hot to work in today. We are hitting 100F/38C this afternoon, and that's a shade reading. And yet Ed offers to help dig. Roses are a big digging project as they need holes substantially larger than their pot. Actually, roses are a big deal project period. You need to watch for pests (beetles!) disease (black spot, yellow leaf drop), for canes running in weird directions. You need to prune, direct, feed (stinky fish emulsion works well, tough Millie loves to lick the stones that get doused with it), and at least initially -- water, just the right amount. Why take on something that requires so much effort? Well, because I can (all that sunshine!) and because roses are one of the rare plants that wont kill your pet. Most everything that I grow in the flower beds is toxic to dogs, and though Millie doesn't devour random plants, she has been known to nibble on stuff out of boredom or to test my patience with her!

Between the two of us, Ed and I get the roses in! And again I drink a gallon of sparkling water and Millie, exhausted from watching us work, slides under the couch and goes to sleep.

 

Very late in the afternoon I pick Snowdrop up from her Shakespeare program. (Twelfth Night in the mornings, R&J in the afternoon.) 

 

 

  

(Sandpiper picks up Snowdrop; he always comes up for a "car treat" - not to be shared with Millie!)

 

It seems so decadent to sit on the couch in a cool (but not cold!) living room and read together. Young kids, those who cant yet get a summer job yet, do not appreciate how great a summer vacation can be. Once work kicks in, that freedom to pick your pleasure disappears. Until retirement (at least in this country of very few vacation days handed to you during your working life). I still feel a guilty pleasure when I sit down in the middle of the day and allow myself an hour with a book. That hasn't happened in recent weeks, but I know that the reading corner is there, waiting for me once I slow down with garden work. A solid rain would help!

with so much love....