end of long week-end

The heat wave continues. On this Memorial Day, a quiet, contemplative day, we hit a record high yet again. Yesterday we broke news with 95F (35C), today we're likely to repeat that headline: hottest May 28th ever.

It's like summer. Someone commented that we only had three weeks of spring this year. But it's not really summer. You need only glance at the garden: so much confusion! A peony went from a tight flower bud to a full opening in just a few hours.






The irises are exploding -- if you were to be away this week, you could well miss their entire period of bloom.






 
I don't typically water much in the spring season, but this year, I'm taking out the hose daily to help the very youngest plants build stronger root systems. And in the shady areas, there's no question -- we have an unusually early arrival of bugs. But unlike in the summer, the nights are cool. We shut off the air and throw open the windows. And this morning, a delightful breeze kicked in. The really doggy days of summer seem many weeks away.


Perhaps you'll have read in yesterday's post -- I went to sleep fretting about a kiddie pool for my grandkids. Such a seemingly easy task -- to create a bug-free, cool splashing spot out on the porch for Snowdrop (and whatever other grandkid might come this way on a hot hot day). But how to do it? The CDC says skip the inflatable kiddie pool. It's unsafe, and the water quality is terrible (though no one knows how many kids really get sick, as no one collects data on this). If you do have such a pool, they suggest you dump the water every day and dry out the pool each time before refilling it. And give kids a shower before they go in!

Dump and refill an 200+ gallon pool daily? Where does the bleached or chlorinated water go? In my garden?

I wake up thinking -- enough. Deflate the big pool that we just set up on the porch. Send it back. Bring in the tiny splash pool  and let Snowdrop splash in it on the porch to her heart's content.  It takes two buckets of water to fill it! For big pool stuff, take her swimming in the community pool once it opens in a few weeks. Bingo! Not hard at all! Decision made!

Ed and I get to work on creating a splash play area on the porch, between our big pots of flowers. With a comfy place to sit for the adult (me!) watching the little one. So easy! So perfect!






Breakfast on our beloved porch. (I'm bringing in fallen irises - they make great vase flowers.)






And shortly after, Snowdrop comes over for a visit. She is excited about splashing around. Who wouldn't be on this summery day?






But I want to start off slowly. Let the water warm up a bit. Let's read!






... and eat cherries. I found gold ones yesterday. So very delicious!






Finally. Outside. Splashing. With grandma, comfortably looking on.






... and with the sweet scent of alyssum in the air.






With a young child (or any child), there is, of course, always some risk. Snowdrop moves with lightening speed from one thing to the next. But at least I know the splash pool has fresh water, filled if the whim strikes, easily dumped into the garden at the end of the day.






It's a great place to enjoy watermelon! Snowdrop is very good at sucking out the juice, but the dribbles are inescapable!






(Afterwards, as is her routine now -- do all children love their small routines? -- she asks to put on shorts and her favorite tshirt here. The pinkiest of pink shorts.)






It's a beautiful day to be hanging out on the porch with my grandkid!

When she leaves, I return to the yard. I wont list the big and little jobs that are always there for me. Today, they seemed especially tame, giving me time to think, to admire, to feel grateful.

I leave you with a photo of the very delicate and beautiful flower stems of the Baptista (false indigo). Everything that's lovely in a flower can be seen in this slender stalk.


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Oh, and a last one of Cupcake, trying hard to find a cool spot in the garden.






I hope your long weekend was restful. Serene. Lovely.

long week-end, continued

Sometimes (today, for example), I feel like the farmette was clapped together with the pioneering spirit of adventure. The place used to be a working farm, but the barn burned down (smoldered for years, the neighboring farmers said), the farmers grew old and eventually rented out the farmhouse to people who thrived on neglect. About fifteen years ago, Ed moved in and mostly with his own hands, graded, fixed, rebuilt and added on components that make it a safe and welcoming place. When I moved in, we really went at it and revamped the interior of the farmhouse.  And of course, slowly we have been reshaping the gardens, extending flower beds, sowing ground cover, planting orchards, pines and anything else that enters the imagination.

In many ways, the farmhouse looks very ordinary. One bathroom, two bedrooms, a common space  and a basement where we do laundry.

But I have learnt that it is not an easy place to manage. When everything works -- it's lovely. But every now and then, something malfunctions. Well of course. That's true in any home. Yet at the farmette, it feels different. Things function in ways that I don't fully understand. Sure, after several dramatic events, I've learnt why the sewers back up and who to call to pump things out and get things moving again. But the water pump is a mystery to me (even though Ed and I replaced the thing ourselves one very cold November day). The internet is beyond a puzzle: the way the routers link the sheep shed to the farmhouse and how it all fits together -- I don't really get it. The roof sort of kind of has a leak, but since after a careful stomping up and down that slanted slope we can't find anything amiss, we leave it alone. Until someday we'll find ourselves with a flooded attic crawl space I suppose. Not that I've ever been there -- I leave that nasty job to Ed.

I write this because once again something broke today (the internet -- completely, totally) and honestly, if Ed weren't here, I would be clueless as to why and how to go about fixing it. (It's not the provider, he tells me. How does he know? I haven't the foggiest.)

Before he and I started our adventure together some dozen years ago, I was in all my adult years in charge of household maintenance. I may not be handy, but I am savvy enough to know who to call when something breaks. But it is imminently clear that I am over my head here. It feels very strange to say it, but it's true: if it wasn't for Ed's grasp of the mechanics of this place, I could not live here. The adventure could quickly turn into a nightmare.

So, today, we are without internet. Oh, and the truck has developed a brake issue. The tomatoes are succumbing to some unknown something. Ed spends the day on working on all the above.

It is, nevertheless, a lovely day. True, it's hot. Very hot. I worked in the garden in the early hours of the morning pulling out ferns and moving things around a bit, but I couldn't keep at it for too long. The searing heat and the mosquitoes eventually won that round. I retreated to the farmhouse.

But do not think for a minute that I didn't notice or appreciate the emergence of new flowers! Things are moving so quickly now: in all the flower beds there now are accents of brilliant color. For me, each flowering stem is best viewed in its setting. Yes, an iris is beautiful, but it is downright stunning when nestled next to, oh say a false indigo. Mixing things around in a flower bed is an art and I am not nearly as good at it as I should be by now, but still, any combination is better than staying with a monolithic display of the same flowers, all looking indistinguishable from each other.
















Breakfast is on the porch, but with a fan turned on to give us a gentle breeze.






Afterwards, we cart off my beloved grill. I agreed to give it up in favor of moving a kiddie pool onto the porch and we have a taker! The young family! We strap it onto the truck and proceed to their place, spending a few minutes with Snowdrop while there. She has developed fantastic puzzle solving skills!











(And she is in love with all the paraphernalia that is now in place waiting for the arrival of her little sibling.)







By evening, the internet problem is solved and we address the issue of moving an inflatable pool into the porch.

We overcome the challenges: there is a perfect tarp to lay under the pool. We find a spot that is far away from any electrical outlet. We position it just so. Ed inflates it to 80%, as per requirements. Chairs set neatly around it -- perfect! Tomorrow, it's going to be a searing 97f (36C). I told my daughter -- bring Snowdrop over! We'll swim!

Not so fast. With the functioning internet, we start reading about how we should treat the pool water. True, the pool is away from the elements and away from any animal life. Too, Snowdrop will be the only swimmer. Child to child contamination is not going to happen. Still, if you read the articles on pool safety you can get overwhelmed. Bacteria, algae, slime... Use clorox, use borax, scrub it daily, measure chlorine, measure PH levels, do this, do that, oh my! And then dump it all out every few days and start again.

And here's an ominous threat: don't do any of this if you don't care about the health and safety of your child.


My grandmother spent many years alone in a village house in Poland. The house was hard to manage, especially in the winter, but if you did the work, it rewarded you with an uncomplicated livable space. There were few surprises. In the summertime, we played in the meadows where cows grazed and chickens squawked. We swam in a river that probably wasn't without issues (note cows nearby), but it certainly looked clean. My grandma worried about keeping the house spiffy and neat and warm in the winter. She worried about having food on the table. She most certainly did not fret about kiddie pool ph balance or about the computers talking to each other across the courtyard.

I don't long for her days. I would not want to live with her crude and basic burdens. Everything about her life was hard. Still, I do wish I could have put out a darn kiddie pool on the porch, sat back in one of our gently rocking chairs and watched Snowdrop or later Primrose play and splash without feeling anxious about chlorine levels and borox amounts in the water. Life was tougher then, but it's way more intricate and complicated now. We have more information -- surely that's a good thing. But we also have to respond to it. And that's not always easy or fun.

long week-end

I hadn't picked up Snowdrop from school yesterday (Friday), I wont be picking her up on Monday, and Sunday's family dinner at the farmhouse has been moved to today (Saturday). Moreover, my regular Friday grocery shopping hopped over to this day and, too, here's another reason for confusion: we reached 90F (32C) this afternoon -- unheard of in May. And it's only going to get warmer in the next few days.

Routines are off the table. We have a mixed up weekend and the heat has set in.

Ed and I are up very early. He wants to plant the field in the back of the barn with leftover buckwheat. I want to do grocery shopping. Before breakfast. But not before a spot check of the garden! And yes, the irises are now opening up for us!






And the chicks greet me as if I hadn't seen them for ages!






Mid-morning offers breakfast on the porch.






And late morning is reserved for a trip to the downtown farmers' market. I meet up with Snowdrop and her mom -- everyone is happy to have a pair of sunglasses on hand!

(Waiting in line is tough for a little girl. Unless she decides to practice more interesting standing positions.)






Gaga (we're back to gaga these days), you can push them up when you're in the shade!






My daughter is less than three weeks away from her due date. A pause in the shade is de rigeur.






But what Snowdrop really loves and looks forward to each time we walk the market is when she can shed everything -- hat, sunglasses, stroller, market, the whole thing...






... and have an unrestricted romp.







Back at the farmhouse, I take stock of the garden. Most of it isn't suffering from the heat, but the new plants probably would benefit from some water. Look! Another iris -- this one from the siberian group.






And now it's evening. The young family is here and Snowdrop is keen on taking out new markers and a coloring book she just received from family friends. The girl is a very adept colorer, especially if she is let loose with purple and pink.






Dinner at last. On the porch! We do have a fan going somewhere out there, at its lowest setting, mainly because a very pregnant person isn't going to love the heat of this day. The dish panders to the tastes of pregnant women and little girls. The pasta is stirred with sauteed mushrooms from the market and sun dried tomatoes, which Snowdrop has long asserted are her favorites! Pea sprouts, also from the market, add a real spring taste to it all.






(Stuffing herself with the sun-dried tomatoes.)






Dessert? Cut up donuts and bits of cherry and other berry.






And perhaps this is the best part: on a day like this, there is no hurry. No school the next day, no schedule to consider.  We linger.                                                                                                                                                                                                                      





It's a beautiful evening for it. 

Friday in Chicago

For a split second, I am reminded of Paris. I wonder how this could be: Chicago hasn't an architectural style that is reminiscent of any city in France. Maybe it's these kids who are doing what so many French kids do -- using a scooter to get around (except here, we pay attention to scooter and bike safety -- kids wear helmets).






Or maybe it's that I'm in a city and it's warm and it feels green (unlike New York, which, in all the years that I lived there, never felt green).






Spring is so lovely in any place where you can watch things grow.





And speaking of watching something or someone grow, it's been three weeks since I've seen my youngest grandgirl, Primrose. She is almost two months old now and honestly, she must change daily because she surely is not the wee one I held on my last visit with her!

She is all smiles! There must be a gene that is shared between Primrose and Snowdrop -- the grin gene. Or, is it that both girls are happy kids?






Breakfast, with my daughter. Primrose horns in!






Someday little girl, you too will be begging for a bowl of oatmeal with kefir, fruit and honey!






Her mommy has stuff to do out and about. Excellent! Primrose and I can hang together. She's well fed and I'm told she should sleep soundly now.

Primrose has other plans.








Sweet girl, you must sleep! Let me walk you.
Okay, you're fine with that. But the good sitter is one who allows the child to fall asleep by herself!
Ah well, today, we do the walk-sleep.







Mommy's home. Eat, play, rest. They are simple routines, but each time, the play is more complicated, the girl is more eager to engage and be engaged.











Duckie? Sure, I'll play with duckie!






But Primrose, you must nap!

My visit ends. I leave them to their quiet rest.






On my way out of Chicago, I had wanted to stop and get some delicious Mindy Segal cookies for home, but none were available. Go get some donuts at Stan's instead. They're great!

I get some donuts.






This is the beginning of a long holiday weekend and I fully expect the highway to be packed, but it's not. The bus zips along at a good speed and by late evening I am home, at the farmhouse, where Ed and the cheepers and chicks linger, waiting perhaps, on this warm, summery May day.

and on this sunny summery splendid day...

Ed and I pay some modest attention to the farmette lands, we then take a short hike through the county park, and in the afternoon, Snowdrop comes to play. After, Ed and I sow a field of alyssum seeds. Then, in the later evening, I catch a bus to Chicago.

Remember how late spring was this year? Well, it more than caught up with itself. At a galloping pace, it raced through the early stages of the season and then plunged right into summer-like weather. Today's high is 87F (31C). Do we mind? Of course not: in May, warm air feels good! Sunshine is delightful! The shedding of long sleeved, long legged, long anything is grand!

But the arrival of the first bugs -- well, we could do without that.

In the garden, the race is on for which plant blooms next. There are plenty of peony buds, just a breath away from popping open.





But I think the next show off plant is the iris. I will be very surprised if we don't have delightful bearded German girls coming into full bloom this weekend.

And right alongside of the iris, we have Baptista -- the false indigo, making an appearance in all my flower beds. It can be blue, it can be purple, or it can be yellow. It's delicate and oh so very pretty!






Breakfast, this time not too late...


 


... followed by a little more garden work: a few weeds come out, the peas (so far untouched by the groundhog and rabbit families living under the wood pile!) get a sprinkle of water. That's it.

All this gives us time for a ramble in the county park. Nothing ambitious. Just a quick look, now that the browns have receded and the greens have taken hold. Remember when I dangled the camera from Ed's favorite oak tree for a cross country skiing selfie of the both of us? Well now, here's the spring version.






The pond where the turtles, ducks and geese hang out is a showcase of greens.






So is the main path through the park: we ski here whenever there is snow. Today, there is no snow.





We cut across to the prairie segment of the park. It's not really splendid yet and perhaps it never really is splendid. Prairies need attention -- from nature or you, take your pick. This one looks like it could profit from a fire. But the birds like it!






And now I am at the little girl's school. Snowdrop is in fine spirits: they're finishing off "nap time" in the playground and she is thrilled that I remembered to bring her sunglasses. It's quite bright outside.

(She and her teacher pose with their sun shades)






At the farmette, Snowdrop once again asks to pick a tulip. They're nearly spent, but I probably would have said yes anyway. I remember the childhood pleasure of holding a flower clipped from the garden.






Snowdrop is satisfied!





There isn't even a question: this is pool weather! I had commented to Ed that this kiddie pool is really to infantile for her. True, she can spend a long time pouring water  between cups and splashing everything in sight, but I am tempted by something bigger. I've resisted because once the bugs come out full force, it's not fun to sit there chasing away mosquitoes.
Why don't you put it on the porch?
She needs something bigger.
Sell the grill and put a bigger pool there. Ed never wants to acquire anything without giving up something first.

No one is going to buy a rusty old grill...

Within an hour, the grill, which I never use anymore because it's just too much trouble, is on Craigslist and we have three offers for it. Next week we'll be carrying buckets of water to fill "something bigger" on the porch.

But today Snowdrop is in love with splashing madly in the little one. And isn't it the perfect place to eat watermelon? Drips are easily washed away...






Snowdrop, it's getting late. We really should go inside.
I get a big wallop of water sprayed on me. Gaga, I'm busy splashing!






"I'm making jump ropes!"





Yes you are.


It's nearly midnight now and I am in my room in Chicago. There's that familiar view onto the city, from a somewhat a lower floor this time. I wont take out my camera -- you've seen it.

Tomorrow, I'll be spending time with the littlest of the little girls in my life.