good weather

It's too sunny, too outrageous, too bright, too perfect for outdoor work. There! Never satisfied. Doesn't that well describe the human species?

Let me add another comment: too beautiful.

Too much visual candy. Yes, even a gradual opening up of a spring garden brings on a plethora of loveliness. You can't possibly take it all in.

The sunshine today is intense. It's not a warm day. More like warm-ish. The pressure is on to do some work outside. The Big Bed needs a good weeding.

After breakfast.

And remember the house in the new development that I had helped a friend buy? Well, I offered to look in on it, to see how the lawn is doing. (She's not living there yet -- she's renting it out.) Not surprisingly, it's not looking that great. It's telling me it needs something. But what?

I hate lawns, I don't know how to care for lawns, I don't really understand them, I don't know what their issues are. I bring over some organic grass fertilizer. Maybe that? 

I sprinkle it randomly. Then I read on the box that you need to water after sprinkling. But the outside water isn't turned on yet! Now what? Am I burning the lawn with unwatered granules? Damn lawn! 

Next stop is far more pleasant -- a meetup with my daughter at a coffee shop halfway between her home and mine. But who knew that there are two cafes in town with the same name? I go to one, she's at the other. (My fault, by the way. She had specified the street, I just missed that part of the message.) Is this turning out to be that kind of a day despite the perfect weather? 

Never mind. We have a lovely hour once I finally do catch up with her. 

And using that positive momentum, I come home and talk Ed into taking a bike ride with me. And that, too, feels good!

As I put away my bike, I take a look around me. In the late afternoon light, every plant takes on a richer hue. Even the orchard's white flowers seem more profoundly white!

(old orchard)

 

 

(new orchard)

 

 

Sometimes I think this time of the year -- late April, indeed, all of May -- is too perfect, perhaps laying on the pressure to seize the moment, to make something of it. But of course, we are appreciative! Rare is the walk outside where we don't remind ourselves how lucky we are to be in this season, at this time, among all that grows here. But it never feels like enough. There's just too much to be grateful for.

with love...

birth order and decadence

In the book I am currently reading with Snowdrop (One Year in Coal Harbor), the uncle of the protagonist tells her the following -- "People and animals and trees and everything alive are born into circumstances they have no control over. Bad and unfair things, undeserved things happen to them every day. And knowing this and how lucky we are, we feel helpless and maybe a little guilty because by chance we were born into better circumstances. And we can't change that. We can't level the playing field. We can't make those circumstances not exist. But... we do have control in making undeserved good things happen. ... Maybe we don't live in a just universe. Maybe we live in a universe where all you have control over is your own kindness."

I thought about chance and how much happens without our input, howwe have far less control over circumstances than we would like to believe. I thought about all this as I hurried to the barn this morning...

Then hurried out to pick up baked goods at Madison Sourdough... 

Then hurried from there to Sandpiper's school. (It's sort of on the way.) The little guy's class was celebrating grandparents: any grandparent of a child there was welcome to drop in and visit the classroom between the hours of 9 and 10:30 today. I was there promptly at 9. Because we're talking about grandparents, some came even earlier.

Sandpiper: the child who receives the least amount of attention here on Ocean, and probably out of all five, the least amount of grandparent oversight. Oh, I see him almost daily, at drop off times and of course on Sunday dinners and other special occasions. He always rushes over and confirms that I am indeed his grandmother and that he loves me very much. With a great big smile and a hug. That's the kind of boy he is.

But he was born in 2021 -- six years after Snowdrop, and Snowdrop was born when I was already approaching 62. Your mid sixties -- you still feel capable and at times even invincible. Like -- this retirement is no big deal! Unroll life's new challenges, please! In your early 70s, on the other hand, you find chasing a little one to be nothing short of exhausting. Your brain can't jump in and out of that playful mindset of a young child with any great dexterity. You feel akin to a sloth, hanging in there, preferably in a resting position.

The point is, Sandpiper does not get the same treatment that I gave Snowdrop or even Primrose or Sparrow. (And though Juniper is even younger, I do see her a lot when I spent time with the younger family as a whole.) You could say he got shortchanged in terms of intergenerational attention. Except, I really don't feel this boy to be particularly deprived. He has two older sibs who love him to pieces. And as they grow older and move their focus to those outside the home, he'll be the one who'll be noticed, admired, helped. Probably pampered.

In the meantime, when an occasion presents itself to show him some special love, you snatch it. This morning, I snatched it.

Happy, happy kid. Energetic as always. (He zipped through maybe a dozen work stations in the time I was there.)

Easy going, spunky, clever, playful. And always ready to give you his biggest smile. I have to think that that joyfulness comes easier to the youngest child. That the older ones have already lived through and survived the drama of being a year or two or three older. 

Still, Snadpiper is stuck with an older grandma. So are the other kids by now -- yesterday in the car Snowdrop said "gaga, you are so talking like a grandmother!" But of course, I still have the power to shower him (shower Juniper) with hugs, and kisses and so much love...

Breakfast comes next and today is the day I finally break away from many many thousands of steps and climbs and sprints (I had quite the exercise streak going there!) and healthy breakfast cereals.  Today is a day of decadence. Cinnamon rolls...

And plenty of couch time. And I tell you -- it feels great to exert not much effort at all at anything. After a month of intense movement, I have a day of stillness. 

 

I do pick up the kids -- pajama day in school again??

It's drizzling outside. The kind of rain that doesn't help your garden but annoys you no end. Not a chance of getting me excited about outdoor work. A day off -- I can live with that!  Reheated chili, a quiet evening at home reading, watching, listening.

with love...

 

Earth Month

Someone on the radio referred to this month as Earth Month. So that there will be tree planting in Madison this coming weekend because we are smack in the thick of Earth Month. I suppose it's like a protracted birthday. I'm not done with mine yet either. And we are not done with Earth Day. The good moments in our lives ought to continue beyond their designated calendar markings. I have no problem with that! 

Morning walk on this warm start to the day:

Funny that I should have worried about missing out on the daffodils this year. They are just at their peak right now. The reward for all that work back in October when the last thing I wanted to do was dig 100 bulbs into the baked soil. But it got done. And now they are everywhere.

Breakfast should have been on the porch. We crossed 60F (16C) by 9 a.m. -- that's my cut off point for a meal outside. But it didn't strike me until we were at the table. 

Afterwards, I planted a few odds and ends and I watered the pots. I've got loads of weeding to do, and I'm still waiting for a second small shipment of bulbs and plants, but for today, I put work aside in favor of a walk in our local park with Ed. Earth Month demands some time for appreciation of what's already there!

(woodland flowers: white fawnlily)

And what's already there is always grand. 

We go over to the turtle pond, which has been turtle-less for the past two years. And lo, what do we see? Turlte overcrowding!

Not an inch to spare! 

 

I pick up the kids.

So warm today! This is April for you, trying out everything to see what fits.

 

And once again I return to the flower fields in the evening, once the kids are off with their parents. Weeding. Plenty of it at this time of the year. And if all feels rather ho hum to you, well, spring and summer days do tend to be heavy on the laborious tasks associated with garden work. But at least you get flower photos. Think of it -- no more brown toned farmette pictures for a whole six months!

with love...

windows of opportunity

Showers this morning. On and off. I pick "off" for my walk to the barn.

I pick "on" for breakfast with Ed. Time for a photo with the both of us post-72! I'm hoping we'll soon move this show to the porch, but for now -- we're still in the kitchen.

And eventually, it's all "off." The clouds linger for a while, but there's no rain and I've got work to do! And once again, I'm productive. Tubs and pots -- all two dozen of them -- done! 

Too, I moved some day lilies and pulled weeds of course. By early afternoon my day's work is behind me. I'm rewarded with celebratory sunshine. (The chickens like the coolness of newly moved dirt.)

 

 

 

I pick up the kids at their school: we could not have picked a better day for ice cream! It's warm, it's just lovely outside. (Even if they do eat their cones inside.)

(to the farmhouse!)

 

Once again, after dropping the kids off at the meetup point, there are plenty of daylight hours left to get stuff done. Creeping charlie to pull. Ed's out biking and I think that's just a great idea and so I hop on mine and go for a spin around the neighborhood as well. In short sleeves. Even though the evening is rapidly setting in.

You may ask -- so this is it? This is your day? Plant, kids, bike, eat, sleep?

Yes! Isn't that just the best?!

with love...

Earth Day

I sheepishly stand before you with a proclamation: I love Earth Day. Why be self-conscious about it? What could possibly be wrong with loving a day that celebrates the Earth? That has as its slogan to preserve, protect, and defend it?

Because I recognize the hypocrisy of this in me: a love of this special day, at a time when I (and countless others to be sure) contribute to waste, don't live nearly humbly enough, throw away plastic containers, and turn up the furnace when I am cold. That I try to do otherwise is not nearly good enough.

And yet.

I was the lucky child that got to live her first years in the deep countryside of Poland. With a grandfather who worshiped no deity but obsessed instead about nature. His DNA jumped a generation (my parents were urbanites to the core) and found its way into my every cell. And in Ed, I found a soulmate. Indeed, he likely exceeds my grandfather's respect for the environment. Or at the very least -- they're tied.

To have Earth Day follow my birthday solidifies in me this idea that April 21-22nd stand for something big: a fresh chance to contribute to the beauty of the natural world all around us. These days, to me, celebrate our work, our commitment to reaching a better understanding of and support for the complicated, beautiful systems of growth -- of which we are a part. It's as close to religion as I'll ever get!

You probably know that Earth Day was started by a Wisconsin guy (Senator Gaylord Nelson) back in 1970. I was still in Poland then and knew nothing about it. And yet, I've not lived through a single April in my life without thinking about how truly beautiful this planet is. How surely we must do more to contribute to its magnificence. 

I suppose my obsessive gardening is tied up with my thoughts about nature. Or, it's that I just love being outdoors.

So, my Earth Day starts with a walk to the barn. As usual. You'll notice in my photos from the growing season that I focus on one or two special spots for a handful of days before moving on the some other place. It's because for a short while, this spot becomes a visual favorite. I love the combination of color and texture! Why look elsewhere, when today I have this:

Breakfast: Ed is on a work call so I stall the meal and make the next batch of granola.

And wouldn't you know it -- once the granola is in the oven and he is done with his call, he remembers that he has a morning appointment, so he is off. Breakfast, thus, is alone, but not too bad! I put on music and bring to the table a book about backyard birds.

A few minutes of pause -- with a back and neck massager, gratis Snowdrop (man, that gizmo feels good!) -- and then I'm off to do some planting.

I accomplish a lot. 

 

 

 

With deep satisfaction, I throw down the shovel and head out to pick up the kids.

(Right about this time of the year, I always ask them which is their favorite spot in the gardens at the moment. I can't say they give it much thought, but they do always have a firm conviction!)

 

A normal day today. No one has lessons, nothing is required of us. 

I drop them off toward evening and because it is still light outside, I swing by Kopke's on the way home. Two tubs remain empty. I pick up a few baby annuals for them. Might this be my last trip to the Greenhouse this year? In another week I'll be mostly done with planting. Could we be really that far along into spring already?? Incredible.

I hope you had a moment to celebrate Earth Day and that you gave, that we all gave, some thought to how we might take care of all the plants and animals that share space with us here on this great big beautiful planet.

with love...

72

Another year down and a new one ahead of me.

Each birthday is unique: 72 is not the new 52. It's not even the new 71. My 72 comes today and, as always, I feel it to be special. Not because it's mine, or because I want a fuss (though Ed, can you maybe make a tiny bit of one, even though I know you think birthdays are silly?), not because I want to celebrate, but because I have always used this moment to revel in the fact that I am still on this planet and to think about what comes next for me, for my beloveds, for everyone and every place where I can have some influence. 

My meditative April 21st!

I can always expect full blown spring to have arrived by now and this year as every year, it has, with the caveat that today is... on the cool side. Jacket weather. 

(walk to barn)

(Tuxie, our stunning cat, waits)

(breakfast: I'll allow myself a selfie for today. As a marker of being freshly 72.)

 

On your birthday, if you are lucky, you get to hear from people you love. And I do. Zooms, calls, texts, emails. And it's grand. This, I feel is a benefit to an already special day.  

Then, despite the cold and the clouds, I go out and put in some more plants. Lilium bulbs. Two perennials I'd never tried before (an Agastache and a new Geum). And a bunch of annuals for the pots. It's what I do! And it is grand!

In the early evening I meet up with my daughter and the big two for a mini celebration. This has become somewhat of a tradition -- a time for just us, whomever is around for that "us!" (My younger girl will have her own time and place down the pike.) We go to Cooper's Hawk, chosen as much for its location -- a good jump off for Snwodrop's ballet after and my later date with Ed -- as for its essentials -- a place for a calm moment and celebratory something. (Prosecco for me!)

The kids are very much involved with the gift selection and this year, Sandpiper thought I should get something big to hug when needed. Fluffy and soft. Totally appropriate!

If Ed tends to underplay birthdays, my girls are the opposite -- they give them all they've got! 

 

From there, I pick up Ed, who is feeling "much better," and we go to Naples 15. This is a place chosen entirely by him and it's one none of us have ever heard of, despite the fact that on their website, they announce that they once hosted Tony Bennett. 

I have to hand it to Ed -- finding a place that has food and I would like (I dont want heavy, he doesn't want fussy), on a Monday, is not easy, but his random search was good! Old world Italian. Not fussy. And very tasty. With a smug grin he hands over a card. Yeah, he knows me well.

The day ends too quickly. It's always like that: on the one hand, it's like all other spring days -- loads of garden work, exchanges with those close to me. And yet, well, to me April 21st is one of those good markers of time.

with so much love...

 

holiday

If you celebrate Easter -- happy Easter. May there be chocolate eggs and storybook bunnies in your day. May you find joy.

I was told in Grindelwald that tradition has it that there will be a snowstorm right around Easter. And I know they did have one just a day or two ago. Well, tradition has it here in south central Wisconsin, that there will be cold wet weather on Easter. I don't wake up to it, but it gets here soon enough.

What I do wake up to is a sick Ed (some bug, not Covid) and a fairly decent morning out there. Maybe I can get some stuff done today after all?

Breakfast: Ed gets up for it but just barely. 

We talk about trees -- a recurring topic. I push for some pruning, he resists. And since he has veto power, nothing much happens until the next time I bring it up. (He claims to have given in plenty of times. I do not remember this. I only remember my failed efforts!)

As if to compensate for his stubbornness though, he asks me if maybe I'd like to eliminate the wide path between two beds that do still get a reasonable amount of sunshine. We don't use the path much, but navigating flower fields without one can be tough. Nonetheless I agree to it. More space for growing things! It is an offer I cannot refuse.

After breakfast I head out to Kopke's Greenhouse. I need to start filling the tubs with baby annuals.  This is always a risky proposition because it is entirely possible to get a frosty night all the way until mid May, but I'm going to bet against it. We're due for a warm up!  Gardening is a chancy thing. (Let's hope I'm right.)

I drive up to the greenhouses too early. Different holiday hours! Well that's okay, I can go for a quick walk along a nearby trail and wait for them to pop open their doors at 9:30. 

It is a very successful shopping adventure. Eighteen pots and tubs to fill and I think I've got now the foundational plant for each.  And the greenhouses are empty today! I suppose people are Eastering it up. Me, I cannot imagine a better way to spend this morning -- among flowers, with hope for the season before me.

 

Toward the end of the afternoon, the young family comes over (at long last!) for dinner... 

 

 

 

... and for an Easter egg hunt. I'm not the hider, the dad is. I gave him free reign of farmette lands, so long as everyone stays away from the flower fields!

Since Ed is feeling pretty down and out, he stays away from our gathering. Looks like he'll be staying away from a bunch of things today and tomorrow! (More on that later.)

The young ones leave, I tidy up and I sit down in my usual preferred spot on the couch. Time to think a little -- about the years leading up to this day, about the days going forward. This is what I love to do on the eve of my birthday. 

There is, of course, a lot to process: it's not been a calm year for Americans. And yet, in our coming together (and I do feel that there is energy in the movement to oppose the horror show), I see hope. The destructiveness, the hatred and evil in those that promulgate it -- they're having their moment, but I'm confident it wont last. All the good stuff  -- the wisdom, sound knowledge, concern for the welfare of your neighbor, of our planet  -- they're on our side. They're not going anywhere.

It feels good to be on the right side of history.

with love...

a day of gardening

When I first began to aggressively engage in gardening (I was 30 years old and we had purchased our first wee house with a patch of lawn out front) I had this image, borrowed from magazines of English gardeners: you had your neat little tool set, painted green maybe, you purchased your baby plants, you cleared some space for them, put them in, as birds chirped and sun rays warmed the back of your neck. Or maybe you'd wear a sun bonnet -- so attractive! Straw, definitely.

Let me describe the reality, the details of which I'll take from my morning work today.

On my early walk to the barn, I survey the flower fields. I should never step outside in spring without putting on gloves, because always, always, I'll reach for weeds and my hands will get crusted with dirt immediately. No matter. Things are looking good out there (they always look great in spring!). 

Let me hurry up with breakfast. (Finally: I took the shears to his beard!)

And get going with today's first big time planting regimen. 

I'd listed all the perennial plants I have to put in and I noted where they may go. This is a rough outline. Reality will often shift things around once I start digging.

I have three roses to plant (again, what was I thinking??). Two are trailers and come bare root, so they have to be soaked and importantly, the hole for them has to be big.

One by the house. The soil quickly turns into clay as I dig away. I kneel on my one good knee. I keep at it. I'm still congested, so I need to pause to attend to that every now and then. I put in the rose. The crown should be covered. It's not. I dig it out and return to digging. Ed had brought over some compost, but the wheelbarrow cant be put into the dense flower fields with new growth everywhere, so I have to get up and get some every now and then. No big deal, unless you are two days short of 72.

One plant in. The next one -- I chose a place next to a stump. The stump is wobbly and I decide it's better to take it out now before the roots of a new plant get established. Out comes the stump. I'm panting, but I manage to put in the second bare root rose. I carry buckets of water over. Sure, there's a hose, but uncoiling it for two plants? Not worth it. Sneeze, snort. Go over to the wood chip pile, load up a bucket of those, disperse them over my work, watch the chickens scratch them out of place. Chickens! Go elsewhere! They ignore me. They've long learned that where there is a shovel in my hand, there will be worms.

Pause to use the facilities. Oh, what's this? The first baby tick of the season on my hand! Well, at least I found it. 

And now it's noon and all I've done is put in three roses (what was I thinking??) and one clematis. My tools are scrappy, the creeping bellflower weed is again threatening all my flower fields, and the branches of all the farmette trees are shading too many of my plants. 

 

Gardening is hard work. So why do it? I honestly cannot say what drives me to it. But this much is true: I cannot imagine a spring without planting. Like with travel, I have to think that at some point I wont be able to continue. But that seems as remote to me as a day without a milky coffee in the morning. My life, as I see it, has me planting flowers by my house. It has me writing. And traveling to far away places. I cannot imagine it being otherwise.

 

I pause to drive over to Madison Sourdough. I need to pick up a cake for tomorrow's dinner -- my one contribution to the Easter holiday. Well, that and the chocolates I picked up during my travels. While at the bakery, I purchase some croissants for the week. Ah, but fresh croissants, just sitting there in a box? Too tempting. I have one for lunch, with our own blueberry jam. Outside, taking stock of my work.

And now I go back to planting. A new hibiscus -- in. All new day lilies (only six this year) are in. Clematis, roses -- in.  My glads and lilium bulbs haven't arrived yet, so I pause now. Ed tells me to go easy, but of course, it's hard not to overdo it because you want everything to have a good start. Our growing season isn't that long. The longer I wait with planting, the shorter it is.

One great surprise is in our weather: it was to be cold and cloudy and instead it's pleasant and partly sunny. I wore my Interlaken Switzerland sweatshirt and smiled recalling the day I purchased it, randomly, because I was in Interlaken and I was cold. 

By early evening, I stop. The perennial planting will keep me busy for a few more days, but, too, I want to get going on the tubs of annuals. And I have seeds that should be in the ground shortly. All this is for another day.

The skies continue to give us a mix of clouds and streaks of evening sunlight. We go out for a walk, passing sandhills on the way to the park and deer on the way home.

 

 

 

 

 

At the end of the day, as I fix us a light supper, I think about all the stuff that's growing so rapidly now. To be part of that, to structure a flower field and keep it going over the years is its own reward. From now until mid August, I'll be thinking every single day about flowers. And that's such a good thing!

with love...