the final hill

I moaned, good and loud. Over and over again. No one could hear me -- Millie was at doggie daycare, the windows were closed. I could have screamed and no one would have come running.

Some may regard that as a real disadvantage for a senior (I am a senior!). You fall down, can't move and then what? Fine, there is that downside. But sometimes, it just feels so good to moan and groan and not explain yourself to anyone. My own very vocal sighs and exhales came after a four hour planting stint. The rocks were heavy, the soil -- saturated with last night's rains. I thought I had dug out sufficiently large holes, but today they seemed barely big enough to fit a rose. That's not the way to plant roses!

(a wet rose on a wet day)

 

 

All that lifting and twisting and digging and heaving finally got to me. I had put in four roses. I have one more that came yesterday, but I was plum tuckered out. I stepped into a hot shower and I thought -- this is almost as good as a massage! Moans and groans were emitted. It was a heavenly ten minutes.

Unfortunately, life has a way of knocking that calm and serenity right out of your system rapidly enough. Before I could even sit down for my afternoon coffee, I looked out and saw that bags of soil and mulch had been delivered and left outside on the front steps (and not in the back driveway). Once again I had to lift and carry, though I made sure I kept my hands clean -- I had massaged them with blueberry balm which put me one foot in the Finnish forest of this summer's hike. I didn't want to have to wash it off. (The blueberry balm is actually Swedish, but I learned about blueberry potions and lotions from our guide in Finland, though I have to think that the forests of Sweden resemble the forests of Finland.)

 

All this happened after breakfast of course. Millie, who looks sweet as can be after yesterday's bath and grooming session...

 

 

 

.... had no problem being loud as people and dogs and babes passed by the house.

But her vocal noises are such a mark of excitement and exuberance that I really do not mind her very melodic (i.e. high pitched) barks, especially since she is for most of her waking hours a quiet dog. Including during breakfast itself.

(Millie, did you bring your two pup friends to our morning meal? So that I'm having breakfast with three dogs?) 

 

 

In the late afternoon, showered and refreshed, I pick up Millie and spend some time with her at home, but at 6, I put her in her crate (sorry, pup!) because I decided to finally attend the book club meeting that the more active neighborhood women have organized. I read the book, I need to not spend every evening on the couch.

 

(Tempting: to stay home and fill in the rose information into my new Rose Notebook which came today. You see it against the backdrop of roses snipped by me because of the heavy rain that balled just a few of the blooms. The Notebook is large. The little note pad I started with could not fit in a good plan of the rose garden.)

 

 

Six women showed up at the bar that is actually on the premises of the new development. Six very lively and interesting women. I waved off my non-alcoholic status and ordered a small glass of white wine, because that's what you do at book clubs -- you sip white wine. (Unfortunately, the quantity was too low to offer a nice buzz, so it was a waste.) I was the oldest and that was nice too (for me), because most (but not all) of my friends are actually older than me. I like a range!  

The new development (where I live) sees itself as a rather unique place. It is a model of environmental planning and much testing had been done for many years to understand what systems worked best to keep the environmental toxins out of the nearby wetlands. (According to the Department of Natural Resources, we do better in that regard than the farmers who came before us.) Additionally, there appears to be a real drive to create a community of people rather than just a place to park your car and go inside and close your door to others. The Edge, where I lived for five months, also tried to do that. And they succeeded. I thought it was a fantastic apartment complex. And Terra Vessa (the name of this new development)? Honestly, I think they're doing a really good job of it too. I lucked out here. Three months, and I already know and like at least half a dozen people who live within a block or two or three of me.

As for poor Millie -- she is, of course, overjoyed to see me return (after 90 minutes). 

I assure her that the book club meets only once a month. She seemed okay with that.

 

 

 

with so much love... 

 

 

that morning light!

Well, I caved. Being so immersed in gardening, I could not allow myself to stop, almost arbitrarily, on October 10th. Sure, there will be bulbs to plant later, but I cannot emphasize enough how boring it is to plant bulbs. Not only do you not see anything for months on end, but then, too, you forget where you planted what. Since mine is a new garden all around, I am still barely remembering what perennials are planted where, so that spring will be at least in part a bit of a surprise. But with bulbs, it will be a total surprise as I am not about to make a map of daffodils or tulips. So, I do not call bulb planting real gardening. October 10th is the day I stop real garden work. 

This is why building a greenhouse (remember? The $10 000 to $25 000 one?) was so enticing. Prolonging the growing season. Tending plants year round. 

So this morning I went ahead and bought a greenhouse! And they promise me I can put it up myself and it will only take 15 minutes.

Okay, so not quite a greenhouse of the type you put outdoors with tempered horticultural glass and a watering system and solar panels. This one is merely a plant light over pods of seedlings -- something I can put on the kitchen countertop. (I should note that Ed is doing the same, only he is using big ugly lamps and his ambitions are higher -- going for tomatoes. Me, I'm sticking with small herbs and flowers. One hundredth the price of a real greenhouse, and I dont even need a building permit (nor Ed's help) to set it up!

What finally pushed me over to plant light growing? It's the absence of any blooms in the winter. Yes, I do grow orchids and those do flower, but they must stay by an indirect light source. It's not as if you can keep them on a table or a kitchen counter. For years (nay, decades!) I've been buying grocery store flowers on my weekly shopping trips, but lately, I just cant get excited by that. The flowers feel frozen in time. They are not seasonal (so that I can pick up tulips now, in September). They never change. Always the Alstroemeria. Mums. And arrangements. Nasty groupings of flowers that do not belong in the same vase. Sure, there are flower services and they will deliver stunning bouquets, but those are completely unaffordable for me. So, what better way to bring in fresh growth if not through lights and pods and such! Hey, I use coffee pods too. I am not a purist. Efficiencies are important!

 *.    *.     *

And here's another way in which I just give in and follow a trend -- I follow on FaceBook a ridiculously silly dog named Coco. And I love these daily video clips of this real mini doodle, dressed in (AI generated) adorable outfits, explaining by way of interview the way of life of a dog. They're about a minute long, and I find them to be so adorable and charming that I know I will walk away from them smiling. Guaranteed. (I believe you can also follow Coco the doodle pup elsewhere -- Instagram and such.) Having a mini doodle myself, I know too well that these dogs are really fabulous human companions. The wisdom in these daily mini clips is that you can actually imagine that if your doodle could express thoughts, this is exactly what she would say.

 

*.    *.     * 

I come downstairs with Millie to a living space (it's all just one room on the ground floor) bathed in sunlight. How I love to see outdoor light pouring in in this way!

Our walk is again sublime. Light mist over the wetlands, sunshine creeping up on Steffi''s House. 

Breakfast.

*.    *.     *

Today is the day Millie gets a bath and a fur trim. Once a month. I could save a little by doing this once every five weeks, but her face fur gets long too quickly and the poor pup cant see beans by the end of a month. 

I drop her off at noon and return to my garden. I'm still waiting for my last roses to arrive. I clean up some holes, dig one more for a climber that was a last minute addition, and just as I am about to set out to pick up Snowdrop, the UPS truck pulls up, and my delivery person brings over a few boxes. She asks -- do you grow and sell roses at the farmers market maybe? 

That would be a nice way to share the blooms. But rose bushes take a while to become fully floriferous. Initially, you'll see only a handful of blooms. Enough to clip a couple for the house in the summer. But actually, as with all my gardens, I'm loathe to cut flowers. My rose garden is split into several smaller gardens, but the biggest by far is the one next to the side bike/pedestrian walkway. It would be wonderful if the people who routinely use this path would pass by blooming roses and smile. Sort of like watching Coco the doodle, only you wont need a screen to get that grin going.

 

*.    *.    *

 Snowdrop, for once, is among the early kids.

 

 

 

We walk their big dog Goose, we read. It's one of those perfectly Snowdropish afternoons. Lovely, peaceful.

The girl begs to go with me to pick up Millie from the groomer, but I just do not have it in me to drive all the way to the far east side for the pup, and then to drive her all the way back to the west side to get her home, and then return with Millie all the way back to Steffi's House. In rush hour traffic, all of it. As it is, I'm late for Millie's pick up. Not that she minds!

 

 

 

The sweetest dog. And yes, she, too, makes me smile. Consistently. Broadly.

with so much love... 

 

perfection

You cannot have a better weather day to finish off September than what we have today here in south central Wisconsin (unless you're one of those who thrives on gloomy gray skies). A light mist hangs over the wetlands, Millie's paws are soaking from the morning dew. She doesn't mind, and I keep a towel by the door to wipe them down. I have to. My girl goes from wet turf straight to The Chair, where I set up breakfast for myself.

("anything in here for me??")

 

I have my monthly house cleaning today and so I prepare for that, and when I hear they're on their way, I take Millie to doggie daycare. Monday is not her usual day there -- Tuesday is, but tomorrow she has her monthly groom so I moved things around a bit.

Errands on the way back, and then I stop at Oasis Cafe for a second morning cup of coffee (what luxury!) at a table outside (heaven!).

I'm having some rose delivery issues (promises promises..) and so I take the time to send some emails explaining what went wrong and suggesting corrections. I feel a little like the character in The Correspondent who writes letters, including letters of complaint as a hobby. (My mother did that as well, except my mother went high up in the chain of command -- why bother with customer services when you can write volumes straight to the CEO and therefore guarantee for yourself that the letter will never be read!). Honestly, I do not usually bother. But when it comes to roses, the approaching winter and also the approaching trip that I have in October set rather rigid deadlines for me and I've given growers plenty of extra time over and beyond their promised dates of delivery. If the plants do not come in the next ten days, then all is lost. Perhaps that's too dramatic.  Not all is lost, but I might as well kiss the last handful of roses good bye and you have no idea how carefully I planned the proper planting diagrams and protocols.

Yes, I did do some work outside. Of course I did! 

("Scepter'd Isle" rose) 

 

 

("Vanessa Bell" rose)

 

 

I watered the plants that I did not get to yesterday. I trained some of the branches of the climbers. And then I went for a bike ride. Nothing great -- just around the neighborhood, for a very leisurely "stroll on wheels." 

I have food to share with Ed and so he comes over in the evening. The house looks beautiful and very clean. I'm sure he does not notice. His eyes are always on clutter and the foot rest and the stool for food -- all used by him mind you, are just added clutter. My house fills (according to him), his house empties (according to me). He likes his, I love mine.

With so much love... 

unusual Fall

You can assume that for the next two weeks, every day that is dry, will have me working outside in Steffi's Garden. That's what I did today, that's what I will do tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after. Yes, there's planting: I put in four roses today (13 to go!) and I move one phlox and one heliopsis. But there's so much more! In my rush to get things in the ground, I had taken short cuts. I'm cleaning up after myself now -- pulling up patches of sod where they interfere with the rose air flow (roses need air flow!). I'm putting down mulch where it's thin. I'm ripping out tufts of grass where it does not belong. And, because these are all new plantings, I'm keeping up with a watering schedule.

This is truly insane behavior on my part if measured against my typical September activity. I always gave up on garden work by the end of August. The weeds were by then unmanageable, the earth was dry and crusted, flowers were drying up for the year. Why bother interfering with the natural progression of things? But this year is different in so many ways and my care for the garden is different as well. It is all my responsibility. I am the steward here. My ideas, my execution. And ideas evolve, and my enthusiasm for this project hasn't waned, and it is delightful to be working outside (no mosquitoes!) this fall. 

After breakfast of course.

("I'm ready!")

Millie joins me, too, for part of the outdoor work.

I have some tidying to do inside her fenced yard. She keeps an eye on me. 

People stroll by, offering lovely comments, Ed stops by to deposit one more box of papers and one more bucket of soil. I have hit a groove of contentedness and I'm not willing to let go of it.

 

In the evening, the young family is here for dinner. That includes Goose and of course, with Millie chasing after and then running away from Goose, the evening is very lively! 

Given the weather, it's no surprise that at least half of the clan spends a good bit of time outside. On the porch, taking small walks, watching the dogs go wild every time another dog walks by. 

Eventually though we all come in to eat. With the lights on -- that's how close to winter we are! 

But no frost yet. And so I will continue: digging, planting, moving, cleaning up...

with so much love...

 

it's the great pumpkin, charlie brown...

The holiday TV special about Charlie Brown and his crew and the pumpkin first aired in October 1966. I probably would have watched it, had I still been living in the United States, but in July of that year, we'd moved back to Poland, and the last thing on my mind then was Halloween. Poland (in those days) did not acknowledge or celebrate Halloween. 

I didn't miss this particular holiday. Living in Manhattan, in a mostly adult apartment building, I was not going to have much opportunity for collecting candy from neighbors. Only once did I even try to do so in my building. My mom allowed me to take an old sheet and convert it into a ghost costume. I rang some doorbells on my 9th floor. I got zero candies out of the deal. (In the following year I went to stay with my friend Jackie who lived on Long Island and had a proper gang of kids going door to door, and the candy loot was then substantial.) Since my parents weren't holiday loving people, pumpkins were not brought into the house for pumpkin carving, or pumpkin pie, or pumpkin anything. I probably never even touched a pumpkin until I moved to live as a nanny for a young child in New York. I was then 19. I assume they had pumpkins, but I don't really remember.

So is this why I never thought of Halloween as especially fun? 

Oh, but today we had great fun at a pre-Halloween outing that had all the trappings of this holiday, with some Wisconsin farm motifs thrown in for good measure.

 

Millie and I wake up to gorgeous weather. She has a bit of an upset tummy so I dont linger in bed (which is a shame because I did not go to sleep until way after 1 a.m.). But you cant feel anything but grand on a morning like this. Fall sunshine, misty blue skies, a cool breeze. Just fabulous.

Breakfast...

And then she snoozes while I plant. Just one rose. I dont have any more here right now. (I also invite a neighbor over to inspect and consider taking two of my oldest plants (dating back to.... May!). I'm having trouble with them in the places where they were planted and she has a large yard and loves to grow gifted flowers.

[So how many roses do I still expect to put in this Fall? I believe 17. And not a penny more!]

I have a noon zoom call with my Warsaw friend and then very quickly I go to my daughter's (Millie stays in her crate). I pick her up along with the three kids and we set out for the Enchanted Valley Acres.

Madison families know and love this place -- it's just about 20 minutes outside the city, located in a beautiful dale where Christmas trees grow and fields of corn are harvested to create corn mazes.  The idea here is to structure a Halloween-ish experience for kids, especially young kids. Yes there are pumpkins that you can buy and take home. But there are also themed activities: large slides, goats to feed, orange trampolines to bounce on, tractor rides, horseshoes to swing and toss, chains to lift up, big tires to roll in. And so much more.

They charge an entrance fee and though it is steep (in my view), it is well worth it, especially on a gorgeous day. Kids have freedom to roam and try their hand at any number of things. I'll post fifteen photos to give you a sense of the place.

And of course, there are the pumpkins. Each of us got to pick their own. Sparrow chose the largest he could find, Snowdrop picked the most perfectly shaped one, and Sandpiper wanted the one that came with a small paint set that you could use for it. 

Since Millie had had to stay in her crate for some 3.5 hours, once I returned home, I immediately took her to the nearby dog park.

She has mixed feelings about it. She loves dogs, but she prefers to tango with ones whose scent she recognizes.

Still, she does like the walk. It's just long enough to give her some movement and short enough that it doesn't wear her down. And the dogs are always on the friendly side of things (except for my two: Henry and Sadie both misbehaved here horribly, though not toward other dogs. Toward the dog owners).

Evening at home. Guess who is tired after this very full day? Yes, Millie of course. She and me both! 

with so much love...

still planting, after all these years

This morning, on Public Radio's Garden Talk (which happened to be on when I was driving Millie to doggie daycare), the person interviewed was the author of the new book, Home Greenhouse Revival -- Leslie Halleck. Talk about dangling temptation in front of my nose! Imagine, if I had a small greenhouse, I could continue garden work even on the coldest day in January! Then I googled the price of putting up something that was well ventilated, heated, insulated, etc. I do not have a spare 10k waiting to be spent and that is the absolute minimum you can expect to pay for such a structure. 

Ed and I had once talked about putting up some winter growing shelter by the sheep shed.  It didn't make sense to me then and there. Not enough sunlight for one thing. Sure, you could put in plant lamps (which you may have to use in any greenhouse anyway, depending on what you want to grow). And not easy to get to from the farmhouse, if there's snow. Sure, it would cost next to nothing (built by us, from scraps), but it would look miserable and probably it would not function well. In my imagination, a greenhouse would have to serve at least two purposes: one would be to continue growing things all year long, and the second -- to have the whole project be a pleasurable experience. Trekking to the sheep shed in the dead of winter, into a DIY structure, built without proper materials or heat sources or anything at all really -- well, there's no beauty in that. At my age, beauty is an important component of a day. 

But isn't extending the growing season in this way a fool's errand anyway? Doesn't a garden person need the winter pause to think, rest, reimagine how it all will come together next spring? I don't know about that. I find winter to be long because we spend too little time outdoors. What would you do for four hours outside, especially if there is no snow and especially if you have a little pup who probably would hate the bitter cold? Wouldn't a greenhouse bring you closer to nature? 

I used to have a lot of plants indoors, in the house. I'm not keen on that anymore in part because Millie eats the soil, the fallen plant debris, really pretty much anything. Most houseplants are toxic to dogs and  she would surely chomp on it, if only to test you -- to see if you are paying attention. Too, house plants tend to be... boring. Same old stuff that you'll see in shopping malls and offices. Stuff that survives the inhospitable conditions of a dry warm underlit house (most homes are suboptimal in one way or another). Stuff that you'll see in Miami and Maine. Just plain boring. It seems that at one time or another, I've grown it all. Or seen it all. Or yawned at it all online.

All good reasons to contemplate life with a greenhouse. Except of course the cost. And it probably would not satisfy my HOA. I dont think they like additional structures on wee properties. Still, I can dream! A greenhouse big enough and warm enough, so that I can take a cup of coffee in there and admire a blooming plant or two. Doesn't that sound grand?

 

Breakfast...

Millie then goes to day care, I work on planting three very little roses (no wonder they were discounted). And I notice in my master plan that I've mixed up two big ones: Windermere was supposed to be by the drain pipe and Emile Bronte was supposed to be in front of the white fence. Somewhere along the way I switched them. Does it matter? It's a question of color: I liked the first set up better. But this will do.

 

And then I pick up the boys and the girl at school. Well, not exactly that: the boys are coming home by school bus, so that I actually pick them up as they get off the bus.

It saves me a whole 45 minutes to do it this way and so far, they seem to like the bus.

(what the boys like to snack on after school...)

 

We all then go to pick up Snowdrop. By car, because Friday is the day of the Great Adventure. Their mom tags along for this. We had wanted to go to a nearby pumpkin patch (for the annual pumpkin acquisition), but it turns out the patch is only open on the weekends. To tame their disappointment, I offer to take them all to Bruce landscapers. They usually have seasonal merchandise. Something small for their rooms.

Everyone is in a happy mood -- Snowdrop had had some extraordinary test results in school, Sparrow was deconstructing a crush entanglement in his class (not his own!), and Sandpiper just loved the idea of getting small weird pumpkins (I'm told the boys went to bed with their choices tonight). 

From there, to Clasens for a treat, and then the young family goes to their various places and activities and I pick up Millie (actually, Snowdrop does the "picking up")...

 

 

... and my pup and I are off to pick up tacos for dinner for Ed and me. 

I remember when he and I used to take these same tacos to various outdoor spots in the county and watch the sun go down. These days, the sun goes down long before I ever sit down to dinner. Still, it's good to have Ed here for the evening. Over tacos.

There is a beautiful full moon out tonight. Ed takes Rosie, my moped, for a spin around the new development. I'm thinking of letting Rosie go. She wont bring in much, but someone will surely love her as I did in the years I rode her, sometimes early in the morning to watch a sunrise over Lake Waubesa, sometimes to the market to pick up veggies and flowers. Now, with Millie here, I can't imagine I'd use her enough to justify the cost of keeping her. Sigh...

A late night tonight. This will be the pattern in the net week or so. Lots to do, and too few hours to fit it all in. But then, isn't this true for everyone? We are a harried lot. Maybe that's a good thing. I doubt it. Far better to step outside and just look at that full Harvest Moon (unusually bright at the September Equinox, hence the name -- giving off prolonged light, once needed for the harvest) and to gaze at it for a long long while.

with so much love... 

waiting

There is a book I used to read to the very young ones called Waiting. I don't know why they loved it (nothing happens!), but they did. The book shows windowsill artifacts, ostensibly with some senses activated, watching the seasons change outside. They wait. Not for anything in particular, just for, I don't know, time to pass?

What do you do when you have to wait for something or someone? 

Waiting is different these days. When I was younger and lived in postwar Poland, waiting in lines was the norm. I didn't like it -- nobody liked it! -- but it was expected and so you made do. No phones to scroll! You looked at the people in line. Most faces were grim. People had things to do, other lines to wait in. A slow moving line wasn't helpful. 

It's a little funny that in France, you often have to wait to check out with an item you want to buy. The lines aren't long, but if it's a small shop (and there are many of those), the attending salesperson will take great care with each sale -- folding the garment, packing carefully a dish, tieing a bow around a jewelry box. Then, when all is done, they come out from behind the counter and hand you your parcel face to face. Honestly, after years in Polish lines, I try very hard to be patient, but part of me just wants to get out and run. I would call this "unnecessary waiting." (I do admit that pleasant sales clerks are a delight when it finally my turn to do the purchase. Still, is it really worth the wait? I don't know...)

There are times when I like to wait. When I pick up the kids at school, I take a book, listen to very light, soothing music. and the wait feels like a spa moment. No one bothers me. I can't do much else. It's delightful. Or, waiting for a day of travel. I like that too. The anticipation is fabulous. 

Then there are days like this one, where I have to wait for plants to arrive. As you know, I worked intensely to get the ground ready for planting. I have such callouses on my hands that even a soothing balm wont soften them. There actually 16 holes waiting for roses and there are three campanula (bell flower) babies waiting for my decision as to where they should go.  I do appreciate a break though. The whole day feels like a break. Maybe that's what waiting is for me? An intermission?

 

Breakfast.

 

 

And then Millie goes to play and I go back home, in no rush to do anything. I tidy up the rose garden, dig out some more stones from some of the holes, distribute more mulch, but all this takes no more than an hour. Hmmm... must I do laundry now? (When you feel you should be productive, do laundry. Or fold laundry. Or carry it upstairs. I did all three.)

 

In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop. 

We have a different routine today: we go to her house and hang out. Her mom joins us for a while. We talk about what it's like to be 5 years old. Goose is with us, happily moving from one person to the next.

It feels so good to have this moment of calm here too. 

Honestly, a day of waiting can feel as grand as a day of digging. Or a day with a full agenda. So long as it's not waiting in a shopping line. Don't like those.

(Millie, this morning, in sunshine, waiting --- for something to develop outside...)

 

with so much love...