Sunday

Each year, the swallows come back to nest in our garage. (This year, we have nests in the barn as well: it's as if the cousins and aunts and uncles have moved in with the original crew.) This is nothing short of remarkable: they travel all the way to South America for the winter and come back late spring to find us here, at the farmette in Fitchburg Wisconsin.

Our little green frogs have a much more local habit: they survive the winter by burrowing into the rocks at the base of the lily bed and they hibernate. (Some of our bigger frogs I'm sure burrow in our huge wood pile out back -- which is home to a diverse collection of living things, including groundhogs, rabbits, and chipmunks.)

On the other hand, I like to remind myself that life cycle of a mosquito is short: typically two weeks. If I don't zap them first with a battery charged paddle (so satisfying!).

But the life of the monarch butterfly -- now that's a miracle in its own right. I am always thrilled to see this great beauty pause on one of our milkweeds.





The job of a monarch is to reproduce. This butterfly, like the mosquito, also has a short life -- maybe two to four weeks. But in that life, if there is nourishment, eggs will be laid and a next generation of butterflies will hatch. Four generations in one year.

I'm thinking we're probably on the third generation right now. It will be the job of the fourth and final one to travel -- all the way to Mexico -- to spend the winter there, before returning to reproduce here. This last generation has the burden of travel. But it is rewarded with a much longer life span -- of eight or nine months. Nature insures that they will live long enough to come back here again.


Yesterday, I was talking to someone who is considering moving to the city (meaning to Madison, from the countryside where she now lives). I nodded my head, agreeing that there is a downside to living away from sidewalks, stores, public transportation.

But I started my life living in the country and now, in retirement, I am back again, close to the world of butterflies and swallows. It is a world that you don't notice much when you live in the city. It is a world that I do not want to leave anytime soon.

A view toward the porch. The front row of day lilies is perhaps the most regal and splendid and I noticed today that the first blooms (the orange trumpets) were beginning to pop open!






Standing now by the porch (swatting at bugs) and looking out, toward the driveway...





And let me not neglect this bed that is just by the parked cars. It's only in its third year but it is a remarkable place of great variety and color.






And always, a joyful nod toward the great bed!





Breakfast on the porch. We're late getting to it. The usual Sunday house cleaning, tidying, and dallying. And we linger, watching the swallows for a long, long time.





(Again, our view at breakfast and no, it is never the same!)






In the early afternoon, Ed does some spot mowing -- meaning he goes over the grass in areas where I'm likely to wince at the height of the grasses, clovers and a plethora of other small weeds.

While he mows, I clean up the front bed. Again, it's impossible to photograph well (in my view) and so you get just a small corner of it.





Then I get ambitious. I have a whole day before me! I fight off the bugs and clean up most of the day lilies growing at the farmette. It's a huge job, but made difficult only because of the bugs. It is immensely rewarding to emerge at the end of the day with a clean farmhouse and a tidy yard!


In the very late afternoon, Ed and I do what we had intended to do last week -- we hoist the bikes onto Ed's car and set off for a cycling adventure.

In the past, I would have regarded our chosen route as a tame enough ride. (Ed still regards it as a tame ride, though oftentimes, I cannot tell if he's bluffing.) Today, I thought the hills were going to do me in.

(A very lovely beginning: with two sandhill cranes moving out of our way...)





We cover some two dozen miles of country roads. Looking very much like this:





Dairy, corn, soy. And hills. Wisconsin staples. (Here's how the corn crop is faring: one and a half the size of me!)





Your milk may well come from here...





We have to pause a few times: to adjust my gears. And to adjust my hip (!) and his leg cramp (!).

Are we getting old?

Nah. We just need more tweaking than perhaps we may have some dozen years back.






At home again, take-out sushi never tasted so good!

Saturday

I am up too early. That's it, I'm sure of it: that's the reason for the mosquito uptick. Things will settle down as the day progresses.

Wont they?

They do settle down a bit, Ed tells me later, even as I'm not there to find this out. I have only my early morning walk through the farmette lands and so I wave my arms and make do.

And it really is a lovely walk. A few of my favorite moments:

The corner of the lily field:

And here's a reason not to snip off all the spent lily blooms: our resident green frog (she is here every single year) likes the juiciness of that wilted flower!

A commenter asks about our tomato patch. I braved the bugs to go out and do an inspection. So far so good! And I got two ripe tomatoes (the first ones!) for my efforts!

The rest still are at this stage:

Back to the lilies! So tall, regal, colorful!

Here's a photo that puts things in perspective: the lilies do not stand alone. They are in the company of other perennials to the front and to the side, and even some annuals at the base of their bed.

Breakfast...

With a view.

And one more garden photo -- Ed "commissioned" this one, asking me -- did you catch that one of the golden flowers over there? The sunlight on them is incredible! Okay, Ed. This one's for you.

I have a rather early meet up with Snowdrop and her mom. We're off to the farmers market and we need to do this efficiently as our afternoon is blocked for other events.

(The market is, of course, bursting with flowers as well. Here's one family vendor out of oh so many!)

(Snowdrop admires the mushrooms I pick up every single week here...)

Smart girl: she finds it easier to move on the grass, where the crowds are less dense...

Every little one needs a respite and a hug in mommy's arms...

After the market, we pop into the toy store, just because. Snowdrop shows me that indeed, she has ridden the scooter many times (at school).

Back at her house, her mom is getting ready for a baby shower for a good friend who no longer lives in Madison but who is here for this event -- along with her whole family.

(Snowdrop enjoys the preparations which include balloons...)

Summer punch!

What's remarkable about this duo is that these "girls" first met up at the beginning of first grade. They were the new kids in school. They quickly became friends. Seeing them today, and, too, the parents, was like rolling back the clock a good thirty years...

Toward the end of the gathering, Snowdrop comes downstairs. I didn't think she had much of a sweet tooth until I saw her dive into that cupcake, followed by a chocolate lollipop.

I did not return to the farmhouse until evening. I'd promised Ed a round of tennis and I almost backed out. I'd been up and moving around since that first morning walk in the garden. I just wanted to sit. Perhaps with an Aperol Spritz.

But I didn't back out. Our tennis game in the hidden and neglected courts out there amidst pines that spray spent needles everywhere are like an escape into a world that is without chaos or worry. It's a quiet space, thick with the fragrance of spruce and pine. We didn't play well today, but it was a heavenly game nonetheless.

Later, much later, I sit on the porch, writing, watching the sparky fireflies, the diving bats, listening to the crickets and the final call of a few persistent birds. The swallows, which have adopted the farmette for their extended family use, have long retired. We'll see them again at breakfast, swooping gracefully from high above, into the garage, then out again.

Inhale, exhale. It was a full and beautiful day.

keeping an eye on things

I am not the only one who thinks we've been dealt some pretty crazy weather this summer, and with it -- a steady supply of bugs. The annoying kind. The beloved butterflies, bees and dragonflies have come at a trickle. The other devils? In abundance!

This day has flipped temperatures for us again: it is positively cool. It's as if I woke up in northern Europe, where summer can often turn on you and deliver a cold snap.

Does the cold air influence the mosquito population? I can't even tell anymore. I go out in the morning to walk the garden, bugs or no bugs. I don't dress for it nor spray for it and yes, I do sport some marks of their despotic presence, but not nearly as many as the little kiddos, who always puff up extra hard when the mosquitoes and gnats go after them. You'll see evidence of this later on in the post.


It's early morning and I'm out there, in the garden. I'm going to insert a green, italicized comment on gardening, which you can skip if you do not have any interest in growing flowers. (It is, in part, an answer to questions asked in the comments section of last night's post.)

The farmette flower fields grew not by design, but by a gradual addition of new layers. At first, I thought I only had a wee space to work with: a fragment of the field by the porch. Ditch lilies occupied most of that bed and Ed did not want me to trash them (we've "transplanted" most of them by now). The great flower field that abuts the path to the sheep shed came next, but it was not so great initially. It grew and grew and widened over the years because Ed himself grew to love the results of my planting and so he finally gave me free reign to add as much as I wanted. 

This means that some short plants were once edging a bed and now are in the middle of it! I've had to transplant many of them!

Too, it means that the fields are dense. I'm asked often how it is that I can navigate a field without paths or walkways running through it. Just watch me! I can step in and over and around without ruffling a thing. You get to really know the growing habits of your flowers!

Here's part of the great field:






... and one spectacular day lily growing within it. 





With probably well over a hundred day lily plants whose blooms last only that short day, how do I keep the garden neat? (To say nothing of the other perennials that are in their midst.) Do I leave the spent flowers to wilt and eventually tumble on their own? 

I do not. I like the beds to look their best. But with the bugs and with so many plants, it's tough to snip off all the flower heads. 

I do it anyway, cheating as I go along. Meaning I go after the ones that are in my visual field (by the path, by the road, by the porch, by the courtyard, etc.). And I surely go after the ones that are going to be very visible in a photo!

(The great flower field, looking toward the barn.)







I so love these flowers! I'll not neglect them now, when they're at their finest! 






(At breakfast, enjoying the view toward the fields...)






It doesn't take much time to snip off spent lilies, but it does stir up the bugs when I do it and so I work less than I would in more pristine conditions. 

This field lines our driveway. I rarely photograph it, but it, too, has an abundance of day lilies. And lavender.






This, of course, is the new roadside bed. I worked on it this morning. But is it work when you love your garden as much as I do? 






Where I'm negligent is in deadheading a day lily that's done blooming. I need clippers for it and it's hard to get motivated to snip away when the seed pods don't look too bad. But the fact is, many day lilies will repeat bloom and do so more vigorously if you cut off the stalk before the seed pods form, so it's worth the effort. (I don't bother with the yellow leaves. Frankly, I can hardly see them in the dense beds.)

Do I fertilize my flowers? Yes, at least once a year, in spring, sometimes again in the fall, especially the newly planted ones. I use a slow release application and possibly I don't use enough, but I am well aware of the fact that we use TONS of wood chips and before they break down, they tend to drain the nitrogen for their own use, so I feel I need to compensate.

Here's a new day lily in the front bed:






You could say then that I keep an eye on things until the end of August, when the garden shows signs of wanting to be left alone. Or so I reason!


And speaking of keeping an eye, just one eye open, here's my daily Snowdrop fare -- our walk to the playground after school...






(Do you see the problem? Some bug bite has caused her one eye to swell. She doesn't complain much, but it's there and the teachers tell me she's not the only one puffed out by the school playground bugs. They do use bug sprays, but the gentle, meaning ineffective kind.)

Snowdrop is a happy girl even with a half-closed eye.






At the coffee shop...






Laughing at a Gaga silliness.






She is disappointed that there is no pool time today, but on a cloudy day, at 63F (17C), I have zero interest in going swimming.

At the farmhouse, she is delighted to discover golden cherries.






And, as has been her habit for the past many days, she asks to read the Snowdrop goes to Paris book. This is when I curse the length of it! It goes on FOREVER, day by day, and she loves it all.






Oh, but when Ed comes in from the sheep shed, her focus is on him!

Tap your foot, it's polka time!






She studies the dancers...






... then hops to it. And insists that he join her. Not me. I can sit this one out, but ahah has to dance!






Evening. The start of a weekend. But here's the thing: for the rest of this month and the month after, none of the weekends are slated to be typical. This summer is chock-full of the unusual. For example, we're doing Sunday family dinner tonight (though without a very busy Snowdrop dad). The little girl's mom comes over, they "sip tea"...






... I grill up spinach chicken brats (I know, what a cheat for the true brat lover!) and corn (still not local, but soon!) and we have a delicious meal on the porch. It doesn't even feel that cold out there. (You get used to everything...)






What are you putting on your hot dog, mommy?
Mustard...
I love mustard too -- claims the puffy eyed wonder girl...






And as if all this isn't enough to make Snowdrop tickled and happy, I use this opportunity to introduce her to ice cream sandwiches. Does she like them?





Yes she does.
Can I have yours mommy? Please?