birthday

Well, you already know this about me -- I absolutely love my birthdays. (Today I am 71.) From the first minute of wake up to the last minute of the evening. It all feels immensely special. It seems selfish, really -- to focus so much on your own milestone. But this is the beauty of it: on all other days I'm keeping an eye on those around me. They are my center point. Sure, there's time for doing stuff I like, but only if it fits into the greater picture. But on my birthday, I feel no hesitation in arranging the day in a way that makes me very very happy. Unpleasant tasks and boring chores are put off for another day. On a birthday, I see every reason to revel in the joy others bring you, on your hobbies and interests, on foods you love. This is the day for it. Release those happy endorphins! Let them take you on a sublime ride! Because if not today, then when?

It helps that my birthday falls on a Sunday this year and it always helps that it falls on the start of the fourth week of April. Living in south-central Wisconsin, I mark this as the beginning of the true planting season. Unfortunately, it's not a frost-free date (meaning we may still have nights with dips below freezing, as for example in the week ahead) and so I would take a risk if I plunged into planting annuals. Oftentimes I study the weather charts and I do take that plunge, but this year I really do have to wait until the end of the month. So no shopping for annuals and no planting of tubs today. But perennials are fair game! In they will go.

It is a stunning day of perfect sunshine and temps back up into the mid-fifties F (so topping at 13C). A brilliant day! An outdoors day for sure.

First, to the barn, to feed the hens and cats.

(Can you believe that a month ago everything was so bare and brown?!)

Then to the bakery to pick up breakfast foods. 

(just a short while ago I was watching to see if the waters of Lake Monona were still frozen...)

Ed has been with me through nineteen birthdays so he knows what's at play. Dutifully, he gives a loving card. And puts on a clean shirt. And lets me shave off the beard the night before. And supplies flowers for the table. And doesn't gripe about the self release photo at breakfast!

And then I take out all the perennials that have come in (missing still: the day lilies)...

And get to work. All day long, I plant. Interspersed with glances at messages from close friends and young families. (And I should note, that as always, we're splitting the celebration of this day into two parts -- today, because, well it is the 21st, and then secondly -- when the younger family comes up from Chicago at a slightly later date. So be warned, more birthday talk will follow.)

It is such a good day!

(The fields still belong to the daffodils, but they're slowly starting to fade. Oh, but they have been perfect this year!)

I pause for a quick cookie and coffee break and then I continue. All the way until evening.

I dont have to cook tonight. We go out to dinner with the Madison bunch, to Amara Restaurant, because it's a good midpoint between our homes and because it's Italian-based cooking and that means that everyone will be happy.

(Presents! With all three grandkids at my side.)

It's a bit of a wait for dinner, but I surely don't mind. I sit back with my Spritz drink and take in every detail, every moment. 

(Ed plays tic tac toe with Snowdrop. I think he's winning this one...)

And the food is so good, and the kids are so excited, and yes, there's cake!

There's a lot of lingering afterwards. Well, not for Ed who has to dash off to put away the chickens. And the boys have had their fill of lingering, so they go out for a walk with their dad. And still, my daughter and her daughter and I linger...

 

Until the evening chill and the lateness of the hour force us to return to our homes.

At the farmhouse, Ed and I bring up episode 3 of Modern Love - Amsterdam. Yes, subtitles are involved, but I'll put up with them, because there is some guarantee that the episodes wont be awful, and some will be downright good. There aren't many romantic or funny shows that can promise you that. 

And we eat chocolates. And I exhale. Typically, after special days (holidays, vacations) you can expect a feeling of let down -- it's over. Have to wait until next year for another. But with my birthday it's never like that. I mean, it's spring, I have loads of planting still before me, and my garden still looks young and trouble free, and soon we'll be taking our morning meal outside and... well, life, as we know it, is so good! Frustrations, aches and tedious chores? Just something to make you stronger and more aware of your own privileged position on this planet. 

And speaking of which -- do not forget that tomorrow is Earth Day. A good time to pick up plastic trash littering public spaces, and to increase your awareness of the overuse of plastics in our everyday lives. Are we on board with that? Okay, then!

Good night and thank you: for being there, for reading, for being part of my community of good people.

with so much love...

Saturday, part 2

I have to say, there is some statement being made here: today is the last day that I am 70 and the day conspires to remind me that however much you have felt frustrations over the piddly things in your life as a 70 year old, they can get even more frustrating at any minute, so keep your whiny horses in the stable! 

Not that I found it to be tough to be 70. It was an interesting new configuration of physical and emotional challenges. In other words -- just like any other year, only with wiser and kinder overtones!

But today! Oh my, it had so much going for it and yet, the frustrations piled high.

First, the pleasant walk in the morning.

And the equally pleasant time over breakfast.

("try my apple jam that I made and froze (and forgot about) eleven years ago!" Um, that's okay. I'll stick with standard strawberry!)

But here's the thing: it's COLD outside. I mean, capital letters cold. Yes, I had lugged the annuals into the mudroom so they are safe, but still, it's unpleasant to do anything outdoorsy. Neither Ed nor I felt like working, walking, staying outside. At all. 

When we have an indoor day, we typically read a lot, often internet stuff. And I write some. Also on the internet. I settled in to frame the outlines of a post and boom! Blogger (my blogging platdform) crashed! The thing about platform crashes is that you never know the reason for it, or whether it's their fault or yours, and if and when their hosting services will be restored. Made worse by the fact that googling revealed no major outages that I could detect. So... I had to wonder -- is Ocean dead? A thing of the past? Did Google (the parent company here) kick Blogger in the butt and send it flying? Or kick me off for some misguided reason? Stuff like this happens all the time! Should I start setting up a new blog elsewhere?

These are not questions you ask initially. But as the afternoon progresses and you are blocked from accessing your posting page, you begin to wonder.

Ed suggested we go chocolate shopping and chicken feed buying. (They are on the same path.) That was the best part of the day! I was awarded 25 lovely chocolates (in anticipation of tomorrow) and at Farm & Fleet, we spent some time admiring the baby chicks and ducklings that had just come in. For your buying pleasure. Were we tempted? No, not at all, but we did ask a shopper a bunch of questions about the virtues of owning ducks. There are many, but still, we were not tempted! At all.

At home, I again fretted about the felled Blogger website and about the miserable weather. Our mudroom is packed with both the annuals and the arriving perennials that I surely for once had the time to plant, but it would have been too cruel to do that to them. They need a good start in life. 

But by evening, calmness prevailed. Blogger fixed itself, dinner didn't quite fix itself, but I gave it a good nudge and so there was a lovely salmon with asparagus and believe me, asparagus is getting to be really delicious now. Not local yet, but I can tell -- these young spears are of the season! 

And tomorrow? Ah, tomorrow! The testing of my patience and my ability to stay calm in the face of adversity, however big or small, is behind us.  Tomorrow promises to be just fine!

a very weird Saturday!

There may not be a post today. Not to worry, it's not me, it's my hosting platform. I will come back to this if I can tonight but honestly, Blogger (my platform) has been down most of the day so don't be surprised if you do not see me until... tomorrow! 

What a day...

the world according to Sandpiper

There is no doubt: birth order matters. In what way? That's a tricky one! The older kid will claim the younger one gets away with so much more! The younger kid will argue that the older one gets more attention, more care, more bandwidth. The truth is complicated. But what is certain is that the positioning of your birth will trigger consequences.

Here's one thing that is as sure as the sky is blue today (and it is very blue!): in my older daughter's family, Sandpiper, who will be three next month, has spent very little time alone with me. [You could argue that this isn't fair, but I think that misses the point. Birth order and the age of the grandparent are a given. You cant pretend them away. And, too, you could retort that perhaps he isn't missing much. Playing with a grandparent in her 70s may be challenging for the grandparent and not altogether satisfying for the child. And of course, he gets the benefits of having two sibs at home. They teach him things, whether they know it or not. My younger daughter learned valuable navigational skills while observing her sister go through ages and stages of life before her.]

The sweet thing is that despite our different kinds of meetups (not just the two of us, and not so much playing with toys together), Sandpiper is very bonded to me. I see him daily at evening drop offs and his enthusiastic "gaga!" when I appear is epic. I may pop into his life in different ways than I do for the others, but it is a way that he knows and loves. He doesn't worry that his two sibs have "more time" with me. He is happy with what is in place right now. Kids are much more adaptable that way. Only later, in their adult years, do they take on measuring sticks that other suggest for them: oh, I see that my grandmother organized her life to provide after school care for Snowdrop and then for Sparrow but I was left out of the picture. This is not his narrative now, but it may be later. Who can tell. As a grandparent, I do what feels right now, what addresses current needs and my capacity to fulfill them. I cannot worry about future narratives!

All this to say that this morning was uniquely different because, after feeding the animals and inspecting the flowers (the daffodils are in it for another few days)...

... I went over to Sandpiper's school for "grandparents' day."

For once, I was not distracted by sibs, by my felt need to monitor their interactions with each other. It was all about him.

If I had to describe that boy going through his morning of Montessori play (in case you dont know, the school ethos is to encourage individual choice in learning, so that the kids are left to choose their "works" and take responsibility for their implementation) -- I would say that two things stand out: the happy grin on his face and the dynamic way in which he flies from one thing to the next. None of this lethargic indecision for him!

I was there just short of an hour and he must have "presented to me" nearly a dozen play activities.

All executed so swiftly and smoothly that I'd swear he'd been rehearsing this for years!

It was a beautiful morning! Sandpiper is an affectionate child. The hug and kiss at the end are worth their weight in gold.

Sunny but windy and cold. That's this Friday. And that's better than tomorrow which will be cloudy and windy and cold, with temps dipping below freezing. This means that garden planting must proceed slowly. Indeed, I'll be bringing in the baskets and annuals for the night, today and tomorrow. I know to expect these dips. It's only April. Yep, it's only April...

(Or you could look up at the pear tree in full bloom in the old orchard and marvel at the fact that it is already April!)

Breakfast only now, with very uninteresting scones from a nearby coffee shop.

The two big ones are here after school.

(she could eat up all available graphic novels, as she waits for us to settle into our regular reading...)

And toward evening, I do what has become a Friday habit: I meet up with my daughter at ballet drop off. To catch up. This is followed by late evening grocery shopping at the nearby grocery store. Saves me a trip downtown, but it does bring me home on the late side of things. It isn't until 7:30 that I roll up my sleeves and think about what to do about dinner.

Now for the cold night and, I hope, a warmer weekend. The plants are arriving! I want to put them in!

with love...

purge

I do not know what came over me this morning. Nothing short of bizarre. Got up at the usual time, making my way to feed the animals, except I didn't go out to do that -- I veered toward what we affectionately call the art room. It's where the kids do their art projects, where Ed retreats for his business calls (it's the only space downstairs that has a door to close off noise), where I keep the last remaining bookshelves, where I have stacks of papers and folders that document and trace my life, my purchases, my applications, my hopes, despairs, frustrations! 

The thing is, the room is basically a mess. Oh, there are neat enough stacks. But any sensible order has been abandoned. I add things as they continue to come in. Car purchases, credit card theft documents, kid artwork, booklets on walking paths in France, I don't know what else. Everything! Papers, volumes of read material, some teaching texts, saved magazines. Even though I am not one who saves stuff, at one point, everything there had been needed, preserved out of necessity and then eventually forgotten.

So why did I go there this morning? I got it into my head that I am really done with keeping stuff. That I want empty and neat. That I dont care if a magazine contains a once treasured recipe. I will find a new recipe. I want to empty out everything!

Having moved so much in my life, I have been good about not accumulating. My childhood posessions, notebooks, mementos? My parents threw them all out. And then, when my marriage ended, I did a major purge of all our posessions (my ex took what he needed first, of course). I moved to a small apartment. I kept little from my past life. And then I moved to a condo and I purged again. And finally, when I moved to the farmhouse, I really kept just the essentials. We moved nearly everything ourselves in two loads of a small truck. There wasn't much.

And yet the papers and folders of stuff and work projects and home projects and warranties and notices and divorce papers and retirement applications -- they kept coming and somehow the farmhouse rooms and especially that art room, no longer looked bare and scaled back. 

I suppose the straw that broke the camel's overloaded back happened this month. When I visited my younger girl and saw how neatly HER bookshelves were kept. (Both my daughters are super neat.) And finally, yesterday, when I helped with the offer to purchase Steffi's house and I had that twinge of envy because the house looked so refreshingly bare! I imagined someone moving into this naked space and how in all likelihood it would fill with clutter quickly and I groaned at the thought of how rapidly it would lose that virgin beauty of a clean space.

You dont need to move to get rid of stuff. All you have to do is pretend that you are moving! And I thought -- what if I just took one shelf at a time and eliminated practically everything on it? What if?!

And that is what I did, for five hours straight, with only a two minute walk in the garden (it's raining today)...

(this Persian fritillary did not like last year's spring; this year? happy as a clam)

(and the later season tulips are making a valiant effort to give me a tulip season after all. I spray them with a homemade hot pepper spray without fail!)

... where I pick some fallen daffodils for the table. And a ten minute pause for breakfast.

Ed fed the barn and sheep shed animals, then he helped carry out bags upon bags of library and Goodwill donations. We filled the recycling bin totally. 

It all felt so good!

I'm not done with that room. I still have two filing cabinets to purge and I have to wipe clean old laptops and get rid of those as well. But honestly, the bulk of the trashing of my past life is behind me. Letters (some unpleasant reminders of how some people decided to demonize my life's choices as I moved through the various stages of my life), folders, brochures, maps, work and retirement portfolios -- most of this stuff is now officially garbage!

Yeah!

And then it was time to pick up the kids.

A cold and rainy day means that we spend zero time outside. 

So, you can call this a home bound day. What a change from my weeding and clearing of the flower fields! Weeding out accumulated junk is harder than pulling creepy invasives from perennial beds. But just as satisfying! And reading books with the kids is a perfect cap to my indoor day. With soup in the evening to soothe the soul. All that history thrown at you can be really disconcerting! Supper with Ed, on the couch? A perfect and perfectly affectionate antidote.

with so much love...

not all days are the same

And now we're in for a bit of a cool down, and with that cool down comes a gardening slow down and indeed, a different kind of a day. 

But first, a check of the farmette lands to see what storm damage occurred last night. (Not too bad: a few downed daffodils. And lots of new weeds! )

(storm clouds? moving away...)

And breakfast! 

Then I turn my attention to something completely new. Literally new. Let's see how I can describe this without trampling over people's fragile toes: so, I'm helping a friend purchase land with a finished or unfinished house. Why me of all people? Well, because she is interested in buying something in our neighborhood -- the very development that Ed and I had once lobbied hard against (it was a question of preserving the ecosystem and the wetlands to the north of us). The neighborhood where we bike and walk and admire or criticize what is being built. The farmette looks out on that development (though thankfully we are buffered by a green belt that is left to prairie flowers and ponds) and I'd say we have a pretty good idea what's going on there. So I offered to help. 

This is how I found myself at the Tati Co cafe, looking at house plans and property listings along with a realtor and the interested buyer, whom I'll just call Steffi, because, well, this will be Steffi's house.

Ed would say that I know nothing about houses -- building them, or designing them, or evaluating them -- but the fact is we are a nation of people who crave simplicity in life and the way to build a house and retain sanity is to follow a plan that was already drawn up for you so that all you have to do is make tweaks and small changes. Or, better yet -- buy something that's half built already!  

I'm not terrible at making quick decisions and Steffi wanted some pretty quick decisions made, so by the end of the morning, she gave up on the house of her dreams (too expensive!) and picked a suitable alternative. I nodded my support (when someone makes up her mind, you nod, vigorously!).

And I promised that I would be there throughout the building process. I mean, the house is almost visible from our back yard! I can help keep an eye on things! 

 

(with permission to post the process, if not the party involved!)

 

So this was my morning and my early afternoon.

And afterwards,the winds howled but the rains moved on and so I weeded. No kids today! (They have other engagements.) As the bucket filled to overflowing, I wondered if maybe caring for kids is easier than digging. Ah, the grass is always greener. [A truism that reminds me of a car conversation yesterday: Sparrow and I were complaining about the strong winds and the coming of storms and heavy rain. Snowdrop chimed in -- April showers bring May flowers. I explained to Sparrow how April rain will help my garden grow, but the girl would not let it go at that: gaga, the saying is a more general statement about how sometimes tough times and hard work can bring great rewards. Snowdrop never fails to interject and clarify if I'm oversimplifying things!]

 

I also planted my first perennial -- a clematis that I hope to train up the farmhouse porch corner. Yep, the planting marathon has begun!

Soup for supper. Someone has to use up the winter spinach in the fridge. Besides, it feels like a soupy kind of a day.

with love...

windy Tuesday: I could do with a shower

No no, not the overhead kind, in a stall, in the bathroom. I mean an outdoor rain shower, of the gentle sort. The one that gives strength and sustenance to the plants and a break in garden work for me. That would be ideal. But we get none of that. Instead, the morning is rain free (so, I need to be outside!) and the evening -- well, that is one vicious storm system that is threatening us even as I write this.

So let's roll back to the beginning. Up early, to admire stuff out there...

And to feed the animals. And then I have an appointment that is so early that I leave Ed sleeping still. And since I am out and about, I decide to stock up on croissants on the way home. We've been eating a lot of them lately. Between Ed, the kids and me -- we put away three or four each day. So I buy a bunch and then freeze them and then buy some more. But on day one, they are fresh from the bakery and that, my dear friends, is a breakfast to die for. Along with berries. The days of daily oatmeal are put on hold for now. I am following my yearnings and cravings!

(um, Dance, you're hogging space here...)

And then I go out. Seeding and weeding. And prancing and glancing, if you want to be poetic about it.

All the way until it's time to pick up the kids. I say "kids" even as you will only see one kid here, on Ocean. Let's just say that some kids were stressed over the details of walking from car to house and then working through the chores of hand-washing etc etc and picture taking then was off the table. I managed one click, of Snowdrop hounding Ed to play a computer game, before I put the camera away in favor of filling their stomachs with foods and minds with great literature.

And in the evening I tracked the storms. And there were plenty. We'll see tomorrow what branches came down. Crossing fingers that the flowers held their own!

the fruit of the matter...

This is so like us! I walk over to check the blooms on the fruit trees in the new orchard and I pause by what used to be our tomato field and grape arbor. We've let that land go to seed, or to weed. Ed found better space for his veggie and melon garden. The grapes were routinely devoured by beetles. We just gave up.

But in the thick of that current mess, there once were blueberries. Planted by Ed and added to by me. Three bushes. They were protected by fencing, so reaching for berries was never easy, but a small child's hand could do it, and us big guys found ways as well, and if you have ever tasted blueberries right off the branch, you'll know how awesome they can be. 

So I asked Ed to come out and see the mostly dried up blueberry bushes and give an opinion on whether to resume some berry production in that same spot (back of the new orchard). It would require chopping down six black walnuts which had invaded the space. For some reason, Ed did not immediately object. Indeed, before we even sat down to breakfast, he gave a thumbs up to the project and a minute later he was out there with his chainsaw. 

Trees are down. An hour later, I ordered a half dozen blueberry bushes. And a new project is born!

It's as if nothing is really intentional here, on farmette lands. Sometimes we make plans, but most often, we walk out, or I walk out, and an idea is born, or a spot of land is cleared, or another bed is weeded. There is so much to do everywhere, that making lists and following a master plan would rapidly become a chore. What we love most is that outdoor work never rises to the level of a burden, or drudgery. It's our delight. And spontaneity figures deeply into that feeling of contentment and indeed -- joy.

All that took place this morning and I'm thinking now that the trigger for it all was such a chance thing:  my morning glance out the window, looking east, toward the old orchard. There are apples and pears and firs and pines and quince trees, all smushed together. I'm responsible for the quinces, but the fruit trees are of the old variety and they were planted decades ago by the farmers who farmed this land way before we ever showed up. Ed likes the old world fruits. Too me, they have tough skins. I've grown used to the newfangled honeycrisps, so I leave these fruits to him and the animals. Still, what struck me today was how absolutely stunning one of the apples is right now. In full bloom. 

This glance out the window is what prompted me to head out to our own new orchard. (Where the plum is blooming its head off! It always puts on a show, even as it has never produces any fruit.)

So, fruit trees are the star attraction at the moment. Well, the daffodils are going strong as well. April is unfolding gloriously this year.

Breakfast.

I should also say that this is the moment when I most love and admire the bronze statues that Ed's mom made and that we've placed in various corners of the garden. Here's one that I especially like:

And here's another:

 

The rest of my free time is sucked up by weeding and lily and clematis feeding (I do that once a year). I barely had time to drink a cup of coffee for lunch. 

 

 

 

I need to pick up the girl at school! 

It isn't hard to get her to spend a few minutes outside. 

But just a few minutes. Food and books trump all, grand weather notwithstanding!

Evening drop off at her youngest brother's school, where we also meet up with Sparrow...

Long after I said goodbye to all of them, I remain in the garden. This is the day to start planting the lily and fern bulbs we purchased this February at the Garden Expo. I'm a little uneasy about them -- bulbs are hard to track in your garden and these are especially mysterious because they come from an unknown grower, but still -- in they go -- before the rains come at us tomorrow!

Dinner is very, very late.

And that's a good thing. So much accomplished... so much more still to do!

with love...