Sunday

Snowdrop, our sleepover guest, isn't really an early riser. Except when she is at the farmhouse. I hear the call for Gaga when I'm still in bed. I ignore it, because I know she'll turn over and resume sleep. She does. Not for long.

Alright, little one! Let's start the day!

She has her routines here: her usual breakfast mush and yogurt...






... followed by a bath and then we're onto pancake making!

The real breakfast. The girl has as much joy for our morning meal on the porch as we do (three photos, because exuberance is best displayed in more than one).
















I should be taking Snowdrop home now, but she is feeling energetic and so I pause for a while and watch her run from one end of the house to the other, again and again (four photos, because exuberance is best displayed in more than one):




















There! Done!

Ready now to go back home. With baby. No, not with Java! Just baby.






And now let me put up some garden pics (three photos, because....)

















And now comes the time for Ed and I to do some mild adventuring. We hop on his ancient Honda motorbike, ride past our neighboring farmers who are tilling, plowing, planting...






...Around the corner and then around another corner and now we're at our local county park. It's hot and so we're not ambitious. A gentle walk, through the forest, past the lake and then alongside the lovely prairie meadows. Four photos from our mini hike. You know why.










(selfie!)









As we leave the park, Ed swings his motorcycle by the boat launching dock. Whoa! The parking lot is full of cars and trucks hitched to boat trailers. Further down, we pass through an RV campground. Packed!

It's how America welcomes summer... Ed tells me. Boats, RVs in campgrounds...

I think about how different this is from where I grew up. Regular people, you and I people, non-fishermen people, non yachty type people -- did not have boats. Indeed, even today, and even though I have some European friends who have done well in life, I really do not know anyone there who owns a boat, let alone an RV. Perhaps our distances aren't that great. The mindset doesn't bring up images of road trips.

Here, space doesn't seem to be at a premium. Houses are large, cars are larger, roads are huge and multilane. Gas is cheap, boats require only a downpayment. Summer in America may be full of boats and RVs and BBQs. Across the ocean -- less so.


Afternoon. The young family returns and the girl is running, playing, eating cherries. I sit back and keep an eye on stuff, her parents rest, Ed munches cheese curds.





Not a typical Sunday afternoon, but perhaps "typical" went out the door when summer rolled in a tad early, a house went up for sale promptly, and a little girl shifted from being just a two year old to being a tall and chatty two plus a handful of months year old.


Evening. Unusual as well, since the young family has other commitments and so it's just Ed and me, eating take out Thai, discussing the possibility of picking up a couple of alpacas on craigslist (very low maintenance and adorable, but they do spit...), wondering if the heat will break and if there will be rain soon. Farmette thoughts. Pleasant musings on a warm (almost) summer day.

Saturday

A hot and windy day. On the one hand, you like the wind: it tosses the hot air in ways that make it seem less, well, hot.

On the other hand -- newly planted perennials don't like the early and constant heat, nor do they like the wind. So I have to reassure them. Usually standing over them with a stream of cool water and soothing thoughts is enough. But it does take time.

In the morning, I cannot give them time. I focus on breakfast...







And then I hurry to the young family's home so that we can do our weekly walk to the farmers market downtown.

The market is crowded. And it truly is very very warm. And yet, this little girl loves these outings as if they were excursions to an ice cream parlor. It's in her genes!

I make many stops. New this week: sweet peas! And of course, strawberries. And late spring asparagus. And a bunch of flowers. And perhaps the most important -- mushrooms.






Jaime and Diane (from Indian Farm Mushrooms) are my weekly mushroom suppliers: shiitake, oyster and more recently -- lion's mane. They've been at the market for some twenty years. I don't think I've ever passed their stand without buying their mushrooms.

Snowdrop's mommy and daddy are both at the market this week -- this, of course, makes the girl very happy.






As always, she has her moment on the green lawn.





And then we walk back to her home.


Afternoon: Ed is off examining a forty year old tractor for possible use at the farmette. (Well? Did you like it? Nahhh... It leaks oil. Among other things...)

I take stock of our farming efforts.

Discouraging!

The peaches have all been devoured by squirrels. The strawberries from the strawberry patch -- by every living creature at the farmette except us. The peas -- I expect them to go any day now. And today I see that 90% of our cherry crop has been gobbled up.

But wait! The strawberry-in-pot experiment is working! The plants are bearing fruit, and with few exceptions, the fruits (behind the netting) are holding up well!





I'm happy about this for many reasons: first, we think we can expand production to many more pots going forward. Secondly, our berries are good! We planted the Mara variety and their flavor  is excellent! Finally -- well, I get some pleasure in knowing that Snowdrop traced the process from beginning -- when she pushed in wee strawberry shoots into the soil -- through periods of watering and monitoring, until the end -- when the berries appear and are ripe for plucking.

But I save the plucking bit for later. Right now, she has just arrived and she is ready to eat supper with us (pizza -- how unclever is that!)







(And strawberry ice cream, which I took an inordinately long time selecting, because if you look hard at the freezer section of your store, you'll note that most ice creams there are not ones you especially want your grandchild to eat, even if you're feeling indulgent, as I am tonight.)






(Here we are, picking the ripe strawberries. Oh, how good it feels to have given her that!)






And though it's past her bedtime, I still have one idea for this day: after all, it's warm. The bugs are not out in full force yet. The grass is freshly mowed. Snowdrop is with us for the night.

This confluence of good factors convinces me that this should be the night when Snowdrop discovers camping.

Oh, not for real: I do not want to experiment with disturbing her great sleeping habits just right now. But what if we just put up our tent and let her see the beauty of lying inside, as the breeze passes from one side to the next?






What if I took out my sleeping bag and let her feel its comforting softness?







What if we all watched the sun set from inside the screened walls of the tent?






Well, she loves it. I mean, really loves it!






She tries hard to convince me that she will very quickly fall asleep if I only let her stay  right there, beneath willow branches and the clear skies.






We can't, Snowdrop. Not tonight, But soon! You have your whole childhood ahead of you! Good night, good night! Sleep well, sleep tight. Inside the farmhouse.

Friday

There is a house for sale in Madison. It's really cool and it abuts Wingra Creek just as the little river flows into Lake Menona (one of the two big lakes that define our small city). You could tie a boat to your own pier and take it out on the lake every morning if you lived there. It's walking distance to coffee shops and schools. And to the downtown farmers market. I know, because I've walked these walks -- with Snowdrop of course.

Yes, the young family is likely to be moving and though their new home will be in the greater Madison area (so still close enough to the farmette), nonetheless it does mean that changes are in the air and there is now a constant flutter of activity surrounding showings, searches, viewings and the like.

On the upside, I get to see a lot of Snowdrop -- who, of course, hasn't a clue as to what this is all about. On the downside -- well, there is no downside really. Just the hope that all the pieces will fall into place and the young family will happily move into a new home that they will truly love.

Me, I'm just trying to remember which day of the week we're in -- not helped by the fact that today the little girl's school was closed and so it really felt like a weekend.

Thank goodness there is that predictable, leisurely breakfast on the porch to get me off to a good start.






And the garden walk of course.

(To me, summer is synonymous with day lilies. Their appearance in the lily field makes it official! Summer!)






(For many, June is the month when you watch the roses bloom...)






(Splashes of color in a sea of green...)







It's a hot day and my first Snowdrop task is to take the little one to the playground so that her parents can set everything in order for the numerous showings that are popping up. Houses on the waterfront are rarely up for sale and so interest is high.






As she and I play on the climbing structure, two sisters (ages five and eight) join us. How old are you? They ask her.
Two -- Snowdrop answers confidently.
Really? You're tall for two. When is your birthday?
When I have a birthday party. Okay, she hasn't gotten the calendar down yet. Geez, she's only two!







The girls like her and she likes them and if there is an age disconnect, she doesn't feel it and they don't mind it. I think once more how good school has been for the little one!






After, we (the young family and I) all go out to lunch together. To Madison Sourdough Bakery, which, I swear, is becoming a second home for me. They greet me there by name and ask if I want my usual croissants and cookies (the cookies are for Ed). Not today!







And then some of us retreat to the farmette. Snowdrop "swims," the parents come and go, Ed is away -- all very confusing unless you're Snowdrop. All that matters is that some combination of the people she relies on are there with her.

(Show mommy where your pool is!)










(While the cheepers watch, hoping for a magic appearance of worms and stale bread...)






Oh, the simple pleasure of warm air and cool water...






After her nap, the Snowdrop smiles continue. And why shouldn't they -- give the girl her family, a few pieces of fruit, and her babies to cuddle and she is one content child. We should all learn from that.






Evening. The late post dinner evening. Ed mows some portion of the lawn, I water some portion of the flower beds. The air is warm, the breeze is gentle, the scents are of flowers and firs and cut clover. Six months from now, in the dead of winter, I'll tell myself -- you didn't know how good you had it then! Except that I do know. So very very good...

Thursday

It is a day with its own twists and turns -- none of them harsh, none of them surprising.

To start with -- my day begins with an early errand. And because I am downtown in the pre-breakfast hours, I pick up the day's bread supplies early. And I think -- what's to stop us from having a Parisian breakfast today? I never break from my oatmeal habit at home (which amuses Ed no end), but why shouldn't I stray from the predictable every now and then?

It's odd how I have bifurcated my eating habits: those at home, which are fiendishly (attempts at) healthy and those during travel, which are decidedly less so.

Maybe the reason some of us love to travel is that it tears us away from tiresome routines? Maybe if I occasionally ate croissants at home, I'd be less excited to rush to Paris for my fix of wicked breakfast fare there?

That's probably an overstatement, but still -- today, this is breakfast:







Oh and a garden walk! Yes, there's that. There is always that.

(The dancing iris!)






(The venerable farmhouse.)






And then, because we're like every other civic-minded American, we watch the Senate Intelligence Committee hearings. Many, many years have passed since I clicked on the TV before the evening hours. Today, the set stayed on all morning.


The day gets a little tricky then. I pick up an eager girl at school...






And we do go to the playground, but so does the local kindergarten class. Snowdrop is transfixed: all those kids dashing madly this way and that! She sits in her swing and from this perch, watches and listens and then, deciding it's safe to participate -- adds her own two cents on what's happening around her.

Only when the class leaves, does she want to go back to her climbing routines.

(The captain of the ship!)






(Back to liking the slide...)






(Duck gets tail-end of croissant.)






The clouds roll in and though it's supposed to reach 80F (26C), it doesn't really feel like wading pool weather. She settles for playing with ahah in the sandbox...






... while the cheepers take advantage of the pool.





And of course, Snowdrop gets so sandy that I decide to throw her into the wading pool anyway, just to rinse her off. Once in, she doesn't want to leave.

Nap comes very late today...


In the evening, after Snowdrop is back at her home with her parents, Ed and I go to our local farmers market. It's a Thursday late in the day event and both he and I love it, though perhaps (or maybe not?) for different reasons. I love (among other things) the preview of what we can expect from the fields in the days ahead. He loves picking up cheese curds in exchange for our farm eggs.

And here's a fantastic surprise! Strawberry season has begun!







These berries are exceptionally flavorful (I'm fussy: I find most strawberries at the market very average) and we pause to talk to the farmer (and his daughter) about how they handle berry-lovin' groundhogs, chipmunks and squirrels. (Once again this year, we lost our entire ground berry crop to these critters, though we still have some hope that our raised berry pots may deliver fruit!)


And now the day ends. I wish I could show you a photo of a full June moon (called "strawberry moon" -- with good reason!), but the clouds have taken hold and besides, the full moon is due tomorrow. Even as the strawberries appeared today.

P.S. To the commenter whose question dangles unanswered because I lost my way in the demands of the day -- I buy perennials at Flower Factory, and bulbs -- well, there's always Farm and Fleet, but for the more unusual, you might want to try out the fall catalogues of White Flower Farm in Connecticut. I've been their customer since 1988 and I they've saved me from many gardening disasters with clever ideas and good solutions.

Wednesday

A Wisconsin winter has a beginning and an end. There is a definite progression, a movement forward as you count the weeks until spring. Minutes of daylight gained each week are a treasure. And when the day comes when you find yourself eating dinner by the light of the sun, you rejoice.

Summer is different. Oh, there are those who can't wait for the hot and humid and oftentimes buggy spell to move on. They talk wistfully of the crisp autumn day, the colors of fall, as if these were the highlight of the year.

They don't fool me. No one looks forward to the coming of winter in the way that we all look forward to the coming of spring and summer.

We're in a string of perfect days now and perhaps they seem interchangeable here, on Ocean. One day there are lilacs, on another I'll post peonies. The porch breakfast is here to stay. Snowdrop has her daily outing to the playground and at the farmette, she is beginning to appear rather regularly in a swim suit. If not tomorrow, then the next day -- it's all a mixture of the same, no?

To a person who pays attention to what's growing all around us, the answer is no. It's not all the same.

In the garden there is a season of change. Flowers come, flowers go. I know what's coming. I know tomorrow will not look like today.

The irises of May and June:






And yes, the peonies: early ones, late ones.






(They always make it to the breakfast table.)






And there is a difference in the light, no? Early spring is gentle. Early summer is bright, so bright that you welcome any shade, just to temper the light around you.






At the farmette the routines don't shift much, but that's because we haven't had our fill of outdoor time. The sandbox just went up less than a month ago.

(Java is ever hopeful that it will be a source of chicken treats. No, Java, there is nothing in it for you!)






And Snowdrop -- she is developing a summer look. Despite the daily use of sun screen, she has the appearance of an outdoor child. Too, her hair turns blond, her eyes sparkle.






(Ahah, your hair is all white! How true...)






(Umbrella play: the shade is always welcome!)






(The power of a waterfall...)






That grin belongs to late spring. Or summer.






Will it be different tomorrow or the next day? Yes. Like the summer season, she changes. Constantly and beautifully.

Ed and I -- well, we grow older and wiser. Hey, I'm just repeating the words of my doc, who today, looking over my skin for signs of trouble (none) pointed to a few marks here and there and said -- signs of wisdom.