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...