Wednesday

A few morning clouds in the sky put us a little closer to spring than summer. But that's fine! Why should we shorten this beautiful season? Why not give it its full run? Summer will come in due course. For now, let's enjoy what can only be enjoyed in April and May!
















Breakfast is a bit hurried. I want to weed portions of the flower fields closer to the sheep shed. The raspberries, too, should get a once over. This is the way I move through the farmette -- from one field to the next, staying more or less (very more or less) in control of what goes on in each.






My schedule with Snowdrop is a little different this week. There are a lot of comings and going's in her home and I'm fitting things in around the rhythm of her house. I do spend a lovely afternoon with her...






...and we do a lot of the old...






...and some of the new.






And of course, it is warm and so a walk around the small lake is essential!









(passing the big lake)





(purple house, pink flowers)


In the evening, I have my monthly meet up with my small group of (mostly retired) law school buddies and once that draws to a close, the day is done.

It is amazing to me that the longer daylight hours seem too short right now. In winter we make do with so much less and now, with the abundance of sunshine and with the long twilight that lasts past the dinner hour, we're spoiled, wanting it to go on and on until we're spent and it's time for bed.

Is it really the end of April already? Amazing!

bucolic, cont'd

Another beautiful day with no raw spots, no edgy moments, no tedium, no frustration. Brilliant, sunny, warm and full of possibilities.

I suppose I must admit that it almost did not turn out that way. We started off just fine -- with a beautiful breakfast in the sun room (still too cool in the morning for the porch)...





...and then Ed set out to repair the roof. Now, I appreciate the fact that Ed will try to repair most things himself. I do love this about him and I admire his determination to teach himself anything he needs to get through life -- from figuring out the Tax Code to learning how to install and then replace a water pump or a portion of a fallen roof. I bow down with deference and respect to that kind of patience and fortitude, I do. But seeing him position a ladder on a sloping portion of the roof in order to reach an even higher piece of the roof, then watching it slip as he totters on it, watching him try again, with the same dangers still in place -- well, that takes some degree of calm belief in good outcomes that I can't say I always bring to the table.

When Ed works on something dangerous, I typically hide and do my own thing, listening carefully for that wail that would surely come if he fell and snapped his spine in many uneven fragments. But when he is on the roof, I need to be close by so that I can pass up tools or dropped items. So you could say these were tense moments. But, the dislocated roof pieces were successfully attached and life, thank God, moved on in that gentle way I described at the beginning of the post.

I nearly complete planting the new flower field...






And I work on filling the flower tubs with annuals. The cheepers are mostly cooperative and not even too intrusive. I say "mostly" because there is a caveat here too, but it does not come to pass until later in the afternoon, when Snowdrop is here for her Tuesday visit.

She is, by the way, totally awesome today! There is not even a shadow of a grumpy mood.



(giggling: is the poulet tickling her ear?)





(I put on her bandana bib in preparation for "lunch")


I think Ed would agree that this is a baby who knows how to chill...












(Her newest acrobatic skill is to roll back and forth from her back to the side. She loves it, is good at it and if there's an audience (me!) rooting for her -- so much the better!)






Ed and I take her for a very long walk -- all the way to the bike trail and beyond..












We work our way back through the truck farmers' fields, where, too, another grandma is keeping an eye on her granddaughter!






And back at the farmette (and here comes the caveat!), I want Ed to take a photo of Snowdrop amidst the annuals on the picnic table. The cheepers are under the table and this is when Oreo decides to go after my shoe. Peck, jab, peck.


 


Ah, but wait! Ed hands me the water machine gun and I squirt the old feathered fiend! It's so satisfying! Kicking, hitting, screaming, petting, feeding -- none of this worked in the past, but the spray of water sends him scurrying! Sweet, sweet revenge!

And so I have no bad words for this day. It is so utterly beautiful, so exhilarating, even with all caveats. During the short, cold winter days, remind me of this moment. It's worth waiting for! (Snowdrop agrees!)









(cherry in the old orchard)

bucolic

If what follows is a string of posts that have one theme and one theme only, forgive me. We have a set of sunny days, warm days, blossoming days and life this week takes on that sweetness that reads like a gentle book -- a feel good book, with the same old story, one that you hope you never have to put down.

The cheepers are in that same springtime trance. Oreo's rough edges remain well concealed and the pack moves from favorite spot to favorite spot, sometimes getting bread from me...





...sometimes getting nothing at all except a dose of the familiar.


After breakfast...






...I go to a local greenhouse that I think has the best assortment of annuals. I am confident that the good weather is here to stay. I want to start filling my flower tubs.






Today I just look and pick a few small containers. In the days ahead, I'll return to planting.



(cheepers! get off the alyssum and pansies!)




(ready to plant)


Then, of course, there's that wonderful afternoon I spend with Snowdrop, whose nickname now is but a reminder of the month of her birth. She is the flower that never fades, never loses its petals. She just keeps on going!






... rewarding me with fist-in-mouth smiles.






We go for a walk around the lake with her mom and this, too, is lovely, effortless...



("oh, go ahead, grandma... take the photo!")



And finally, back at her home, we sing. I swear, mouthing words with big vowels really gets that girl going! Her attempt at imitation is beautiful!






Evening at the farmhouse. The cheepers move slowly toward the coop. It's quiet. There is a smell of fresh growth. Of cherry blossoms and new strawberry shoots. And it will continue, tomorrow and the next day. Utterly bucolic.

Sunday

There is brilliant, warm sunshine outside (and it's slated to be with us all week long)! It's a sign! Most obviously, it's a sign that the growing season is truly upon us. Typically I do not feel confident about putting things that aren't hardy (yet) into the ground until mid May, but looking at the weather maps gives me confidence. We're to have a real heat wave by the end of the week. I can start planting!

That clear sky (and a good night's sleep) also gives us a bit more clarity in the vision that Ed and I have for our travel adventure (together at last!) in July. The short list of possibilities gets severely slashed: Nova Scotia? Out it goes! No long range hikes with wilderness camping (that is not so wild as to send chills up my spine). Long flight connections. (Me, I was pushing for it: imagine all the lobster shacks lining the waterfront!) Maine -- another cross out. Too wild (in the mountains), too busy and private by the southern coast. Too many ripples in the water and dangerous swells and sea tides for kayaking (by my estimation). And so we cross off and toss out ideas, until finally we are left with just one  -- something we keep coming back to. Something that appeals to us at some level (as you can imagine -- different levels for the both of us).

I'll let it dangle like that for now. After all, we may wake up tomorrow and cancel yet again. Or we'll go. And while I have the floor, let me assure you, I'm making far more compromises to reach a common ground! Far more! (If Ed had the floor, he would say the exact opposite.)

Alright. New flights booked, old ones cancelled. Several calls to distant places to make sure what we want (what Ed really wants -- again, I have the floor!) actually does exist. And then we put it all aside for another day. Finessing the details need not happen until later.


And now is the time to take out the shovel and dig up the garden -- both in the new flower field and, too, to rework portions of the old ones a bit. I have not one, but TWO water pistols (one looks more like a water machine gun) to keep Oreo at bay, but honestly, since his day away with the chicken mama, he's been rather less feisty.

Immediately after breakfast...






I go out to work the soil in the new flower field. (The cheepers follow. Oreo does too, but a little to the side of the action.)
















Picking out new plants and putting them into the ground then spraying them with a hose to settle them in -- this is the gardening routine that I love best. All the preparing, weeding, clipping -- all that is just background noise to the wonderful act of pushing something new into the soil, firming the dirt and stepping back to let nature do its magic.
 


(last year's expanded field)





(the beloved farmhouse, reflecting the blue sky)


In the evening, the young couple comes over, along with a friend, and with Snowdrop for a Sunday dinner at the farmhouse. A vegetarian meal tonight: roasted asparagus and radish, porcini mushroom and red wine risotto. I just get a wee glimpse and a brief cuddle with the baby. Snowdrop has plenty of doting hands to comfort her when the going gets tough!




 











Such a beautiful day... Inch by inch, row by row...

Saturday

Most of the daylight hours were spent on an exasperating, frustrating, inconclusive search for a July travel destination for the two terribly picky and not altogether compatible travel partners: Ed and me.

I have finally agreed to go back to some of our earlier adventuring (meaning: no prebooked overnights, tent and camping gear packed and ready for use, with lots of hiking and/or paddling thrown in). For Ed, the negatives of travel are not only in the prebooked tidy and pretty rooms, but, too, the hassle of taking complicated flights to distant places and being stuck there no matter what the weather or inclination -- until the flight back. Group adventuring is, for him, out of the question (you mean I have to talk to people and listen to what the guide says?) and campgrounds are where you go when it's midnight and you have no quiet corner to pitch your tent. Meaning when even the ditch by the side of the road is unavailable.

Me, I'm really squeamish about paddling where there are big ripples (I reject anything over grade I, especially given my attachment to traveling with my laptop) and I'm not too fond of bears, mosquitoes, big ocean waves and cliff-edged trails.

Do you see why there is so little overlap?

Right now, we have booked flights, but we intend to cancel them tomorrow. (I have invited my nephew to come stay at the farmhouse, so that should we choose to go somewhere, there would be someone to care for Isie boy and the cheepers, though if he comes and we go nowhere at all -- that'll be just fine!)

And so I have nothing, absolutely nothing to show for the day except a couple of useless flight reservations. Of course, there was a breakfast...






...and I did poke out on this cold and gloomy day to admire my flowers...






... and I said hi to the cheepers (it's so green outside already!)...






... but apart from this, we are bleary eyed from staring at our computer screens and not very enthusiastic about any of the trip options we have on the table right now.

At the end of our search efforts, Ed muttered -- maybe we should just go down the Wisconsin River for a few days... And you know, suddenly that just doesn't seem like such a bad idea. (Even though we've done this trip. More than once.)

We take a break. We run errands. We come back a touch more optimistic. We'll sleep on it. Yeah, we'll sleep on it all.


I bake Tartine Bakery brownies to fill the house with aromas that distract us from the cold day outside and the tedium of surveying open travel computer tabs inside.






In the evening, the energy level shifts. Snowdrop is our guest and she keeps us entertained.






In answer to the commenter who asked about her hand to mouth activity, consider Snowdrop and the mouse:






Or Snowdrop and striped piggie:






Or why not aim big -- Snowdrop and the Minnesota moosie:






Or Snowdrop and the upside down cow:






Or Snowdrop and the right side up cow:






All from tonight. How can you not smile and smile at this little girl?!


The evening passes. Snowdrop goes home.

Ed and I laugh at our earlier indecisiveness. Even as we have no Einsteinian moment as to what direction our summer adventuring should take.

Friday

If it's Friday it must be a more hurried breakfast...






A less thorough inspection of what's going on outside...






And a protracted trip to the grocery stores, to do the weekly shopping. All this must be finished by the afternoon hour, when I go and spend time with Snowdrop (...who is so acrobatically inclined right now that all you can do is watch, marvel and applaud and use all your skills to keep her calm during a feeding or reading of a book; the girl wants to go and practice her new skills!).



(sitting is not nearly as exciting!)





(I'm on the move!)



It's interesting how quickly I ascribe talents and inclinations to her. As if they were permanent, not merely a passing thing. In fact, we can't tell, I certainly can't tell if her her energy will always guide her to be as active as she is now.


 



But it sure does not seem like this child will retreat meekly in life and count the minutes until the end of the day.  This is a girl with spunk!






The rains begin to fall in the afternoon and they will continue to dampen the earth (though not our spirits!) throughout tomorrow. I'll be missing the second farmers market of the season (who wants to stroll around the square in the rain...). That's okay. I need a quiet day at the farmhouse -- the kind where you have inconsequential thoughts and you scheme and imagine and maybe bake something and maybe pick up your writing pen again.

Or not. The nice thing about being retired is that you can spin new plots and ideas for yourself when you wake up in the morning.