work day

Two months of a significant mosquito population at the farmette may not have stood in the way of day lily maintenance, but it most certainly gave me the excuse (was I looking for one?) to neglect much of the rest of the yard.





(By the way, there are still late lilies blooming... and late frogies snuggled in the fading blooms...)





Today, a somewhat cool and cloudy day, is the day to finally do some weeding -- in flower beds, pathways, and in places where the camera never goes -- like along the face of the farmhouse, where a vinca minor and a lily of the valley crop covers an uninteresting terrain. Significant weeds have crept into every corner of the farmette. Time to dig in.

And so right after a very cool breakfast (sweatshirt weather!)...





I attack the invasives, while Ed picks up the power saw to cut down a tree that had fallen during one of our summer storms.

There is a lot of beauty in these early autumnal months. The yard is different, yes, of course...






But it still has sparkle and color. And so I give it an all out effort. Scotch and Henny keep me company. (Java is yet again "roosting" on nonexistent eggs.)





Snipping, digging, pulling, all the way into the afternoon.

(The front bed: so lovely in its pinkishenss!)






Wait -- is that all I do today? Snip dig and pull? Seriously? That's it?

Of course not. Ed and I make one final run to Stoneman's for their corn. They held a dozen ears for us -- a dozen prized delicious ears.  (This is the very last stack for the year...)






(Ed sits down and visits with their pygmy goats... Should we take in a couple of these small lovable animals ourselves? The recurring question: what animals might we take care of at the farmette?)





A full day, don't you think?

September gold

A nip in the air, a blue sky and a burst of gold -- this was our September greeting!

I fold up and put away my mosquito garb. I wont be needing its protection any longer.

Breakfast is still out on the porch, but I'm wearing my fleece. Ed scoffs at that, but I think 60F (16C) is bracing!






It's my weekly grocery shopping morning. I'm happy to see plenty of berries, cherries and peaches (Snowdrop favorites) in the store, but I know that these are no longer from the Midwest. I'm supporting the fruit growers from other parts of the country!

In the afternoon, Snowdrop's parents are at work and so I take the little girl to her new class/new teachers orientation. She'll be on the young end in a class of bigger kids. She wont mind: Snowdrop takes exactly two minutes to shed her shyness toward others.

Though in fact, she is not totally in a world of strangers. She seems to know teachers and they know her. And the class room is just lovely! I predict a good year ahead.

(With one teacher...)






(Out in the big kids' playground: bliss!)






(Yep, I think she's going to like it here!)






At the farmhouse, she has a million ideas on what to do before nap time.

Ride a bike. Read a book.











All to the tune of "just one more minute, Gaga!"

Finally she settles into an extended game of "restaurant" and I know I'm losing the nap battle big time.

I need to sit my babies at the table!






Just a few carrots!






And pineapple! And mushrooms! And pizza! And sushi! And and and....






Ed returns just then from his techie meetings. And now we all have to "eat!" Babies, be quiet in a restaurant! Yelling hurts my ears!






Oh, Snowdrop! You're getting to that age where a whole lot of life happens every waking hour and I don't know a fraction of it! I used to know every whim, every fancy, and every peccadillo of the little babe. Not anymore. She is, in other words, growing up fast!


September. Sunshine, cool nights, golden landscapes. We're ready for all of it.

Thursday, or the day before Labor Day weekend officially begins

Thursday... Last day of August... You feel suspended between summer and fall. Between vacation and the school year. The long Labor Day weekend and a work day.

Of course, for me it shouldn't matter. I retired from teaching three and a half years ago. Holidays, school years -- what import do they have?

Because of Snowdrop, they've become significant once more. Her schedule this week is unusual because her school is closed until after Labor Day. And as I take her to this place or that, I feel that restlessness all around me -- of children with perhaps too much vacation behind them, even as they cling to the last scrap of play in the middle of a fine grand half autumnal, half summer day.

The school year, it turns out, anchors us all. Even as the drift in the interim, is not at all unpleasant!


My morning is, let's face it -- luxurious. I always wake up early, but honestly, I don't have to spring out of bed. And so I don't. I read. Ed reads. He dozes off, I read some more, I doze for just a few minutes, then, still in bed, I review the day before me. Such luxury!

In fact though, I'm so programmed to get going, that most often I nudge myself to get at it at a very early hour. Today, I drive over to the bakery to get fresh croissants for Snowdrop's snack, but hey, as long as I'm in the bakery at a dawnish hour I may as well pick up a few yummy croissants for us!

(You don't have to write and tell me that Ed's pinkie finger looks weird. I know it does. He mangled it in one of those Ed adventure episodes a very long time ago.)






When I drive out to pick up Snowdrop, I encounter the sandhill cranes once more. So you're still here, you lovely birds! Are you telling me that we're still in the thick of summer rather than creeping into an early fall?





And now I have this dilemma: what should I do with Snowdrop? Too cool for the pool. She's with me briefly today, so too little time for a protracted period of play at the farmhouse...

I have this idea, inspired by my Polish architect friend who just sent me an email with photos of a family hike in the Polish mountains of Bieszczady. Their four year old made it to a summit which frankly would have strained many among us.

So I'm thinking -- perhaps Snowdrop would enjoy training for a long hike?

I tell her we're heading for an adventure in Owen Park (yes, yes, I went there just yesterday). We will be hiking!

She looks puzzled, possibly because no one has ever used that word with her before.

I explain that I have a backpack, food, and good shoes. We will hike!

She is excited, even as she doesn't fully comprehend what's in store.

But she is a trusting child and if I say -- let's go down that trail! -- she will indeed saunter down that trail, happily embracing the unknown.

... With pauses to admire the bunny rabbits and the butterflies and the heavenly prairie flowers.







(Here's that beautiful pond I first noticed yesterday...)





But as luck would have it, toward the bottom of the hill, she develops a blister. A hiker's worst enemy! I suggest taking off her shoes. And she goes along, but still, she is uncertain as to her stamina at this point (and so am I).

We pause for a snack of fruit and croissant.





She is revived somewhat, but still, there is the matter of a blistered foot and shoes that rub mercilessly against it.

Gaga, can you carry me?
You mean up that hill?
She snuggles into my arms to let me know that this is exactly what she has in mind.
Snowdrop, you are heavy... I would have to be very strong to carry you up that hill!
Gaga is good... -- she says in her sweetest voice.

Fine little one... Up we go!


My plan had been to take her then to a new playground, but she has other ideas: can we go to the zoo?
The zoo? I guess so... Do you want to see the polar bears?
No, I don't want to see the polar bears.
The giraffes?
No, I don't want to see the giraffes.
The lions? Tigers?
No I don't want to see the lions and the tigers.

I must say, at this point I am just immensely curious: what on earth do you want to do at the zoo if you do not like viewing the animals?

After a stroll through our small but serene zoo (well, mostly serene: on this Thursday before Labor Day, there are a lot of children here), I still do not have an answer to this question.

But I do know this much: when we get close to the merry-go-ground, and when she spies that it is open, she is one happy child!






(The serene flamingos also cause her to smile.)





Adventuring done for the day. I return her home and now Ed and I settle into our Thursday (end of) summer routines: a trip to the farmers market, where I discuss the corn prospects for a Labor Day supper.

 This is it, I'm told. Today, tomorrow... the end of the season.

No!

Yes. In case you haven't noticed, summer is a thing of the past.

last bits of summer, continued

Summer is leaving lovely imprints and memories for us here, at the farmette.  These last days of August are warm but not hot, sunny but not sweltering, buggy but not painfully so.

I did some garden trimming yesterday -- taking down spent monardas and phloxes -- just to create a textured fall garden. The challenge now will be to make something of the entirety, even as I have only pockets of blooms to help move everything forward. And honestly, I like this phase of gardening. It's far less demanding and much more forgiving. Every bit that you can give will pay you back in fistfuls.





Breakfast.





And a spot look at several favorite corners of the yard, including this one, with late blooming day lilies!






And this one, where the lavender has taken on a second life...





I have a dental visit in the late morning. I work hard at scheduling things in ways that one thing doesn't inconvenience the next, but I miscalculated today's set and so I find myself with a big chunk of time before I am to pick up Snowdrop.

And so I go for a walk in the nearby Owens Conservation Park.

I used to live just a few blocks away from this place and I've always loved it for it's short but lovely trails. But oh, how it has changed in recent times! Infinitely gorgeous now, on this tail end of summer.





The restored prairie is beyond lovely.






The flowers of gold lay a carpet around a small pond. So beautiful!





A deep sigh of peace...

And now I am with Snowdrop. She's sporting a sweet pony tail today!






I tell her it's pool time for us! And here's a surprise: Ed will be joining us today! That makes for one happy girl.






Ed is a fish. I mean, when you see him in water, you know that he is as comfortable moving about in its depths as he is taking a leisurely stroll up a country road. Snowdrop feels this immediately and they go on some wonderful "swimming" expeditions together.






Oh, happy girl!






Maybe you're a bit of a fish too?






Last bits of summer... last days of pool laughter...






How good it is to have a day like this one! The end of summer, with a splash.

last bits of summer

We are so on the heels of Fall! In the twelve days that I was away, my granddaughter seems to have grown two years and the garden transformed itself: everything about it shouts "end of summer!"

Breakfast on the porch.  Gold. Everywhere I look I see gold.






Take the Great Flower Field now:  it's all purple and gold, with that autumn look of grand old age. Perhaps you can see, too (in the upper right corner of the photo), the appearance of red crab apples? So Fall-ish!






The bees are extremely busy. They're all over the false sunflowers...






... and all over the sprawling ruby red sedum (with a view toward the writer's shed).






As I drive out to pick up Snowdrop, I note that the sandhill cranes haven't left yet. But they're at the edge of the fields. As if thinking about taking flight?






This is the last week that the community pool is open. It's not exactly hot outside (a partly cloudy 71F, or not quite 22C), but the water is warm and Snowdrop is happy to return to this favorite summer place of ours.

But the pool is nearly empty. You'd think we'd both love that, after a summer of shoulder to shoulder kids. We have so much space and quiet! Well yes and no: there is plenty of space to move around, but the little one is always on the lookout for kids to observe and imitate. Scant pickings today!







At the farmhouse, she settles into play. (She needs help adjusting a toy. Here, let me do that for you -- I offer. No, I want ahah to fix it! Well, she's got us pegged!)






And always, always, she gives time to her babies.






Snowdrop joy: feeding her little ones toy ice cream.





Summer treats from a summer day that is slowly slipping away...

Of course, fall in Wisconsin is a beautiful season. And seeing the patches of blue in a gentle sky today can only make us feel grateful. Texan families are struggling under intense flooding and rains. We here are the lucky ones.

So very lucky.

and now I am home

Storms were predicted for the evening of my return home on Sunday. But the storms never fully developed and my flight, like all the others on this trip, was on time and Ed (eventually) showed up at the airport and we headed home -- by way of a local mostly organic grocer, where we picked up some mishmash of foods for supper.

I carried the foods and my backpack into the farmhouse, Ed carried the travel bags. And as soon as I put my stuff down, I was out again, madly snipping a few spent lilies.

I don't mean to sound insane. Nearly every lily is long done blooming. Things are looking really autumnal in my garden. Still, the countless spent blooms tell a story of finality. I don't think we're ready for that yet.


Early the next morning, Ed sleeps and I'm out grocery shopping. But not before throwing an eye on the yard.

It has certainly changed. None of the light and airy wall of flowers.

But not bad either.






The front garden -- the one by the road -- is dominated now by the strawberries and cream hydrangea.






I do some necessary snipping and then I am off to grocery shop. (Yes, before breakfast.) I am to care for Snowdrop this afternoon. Might she not like a croissant? And so long as I am at the bakery, maybe I should pick up a thing or two for breakfast back home?

Yes, to both questions.





And now I go to a radiant and joyous little one and I sweep her up and take her back to the farmhouse where it's as if she never saw her toys before!






I tell her it's raining outside and she insists on interrupting her play to check it out...






(Did you notice how autumnal it all looks?)






Inside, she flits from one toy group to the next...






Oh happy girl! What a beautiful smile you have!






Beautiful little one -- how you love your most precious spaces!






And in the evening she goes home and I go back to fixing supper for two and it's as if I've never ever left.