holding pattern

It feels like I am in an airplane, circling at the same altitude, waiting for clearance to land. The rains have passed, but the clouds remain. And the mosquitoes remain. And until their population goes down, working (or even walking) outside is no fun.

Ed clings to the belief that his mosquito traps are working. That this is a swell of a new generation of bugs, and eventually their numbers will diminish, as a vast number will make their way to his traps. It's a belief born of hope, because he knows that if things do not improve, I'll start pushing for a garlic oil-rosemary-peppermint combo spray offered by a commercial mosquito service that promises to significantly deplete your mosquito colony.

Just wait a day or two. Give it a chance, he tells me.

And so I wait. For the sun to come out again, for the lilies to respond with radiant blooms (right now, there are so many buds, and so few clumps of color)...


 


...and for the mosquitoes to make their way to the traps.

(The cheepers are turning vegetarian!)





Breakfast is on the porch. Waiting for Ed to come back from the store with two more fans...






(A rare show of color in the front, street side bed...)






(Tiny fallen flowers, on my kitchen window sill...)






And now comes my visit with Sparrow. I always hit the hour when he eats and rests. And smiles to himself.





Did I mention this guy is tall? Top percentile tall? When he stretches, he takes up a lot of baby room!





See you later, Sparrow.

And at school -- hello, Snowdrop. What are you doing here on the classroom floor?
Waiting for you grandma.

She is a tired girl.






She had wanted to spend the afternoon "celebrating summer," but even her swing energies are low.






But as always, a little quiet time, a few minutes with a book or a sketch pad drawing summer flowers, and she revives.






I take her home and we continue our "summer celebrations" there.






(Sparrow is not to be left out...)






(Showing him her current favorite stuffie...)






Evening. Ed bikes, I cook, look out the window, cook some more...

The sun did come out late this afternoon. You can see it here, throwing a band of light over the flower bed.





The bugs? Ed tells me -- I think they're down by about 10%! Pretty good for day one, don't you think?

Well no, I don't think that this is great or even mildly good, but I do so appreciate Ed's efforts to calm things down a bit. And the clouds have dispersed and the garden is beginning to take in some depth and yes, even color. Could it be that our holding pattern is coming to a close? I'll let you know tomorrow.

Tuesday

Looking back, I'd say this was a day of small drama. Personalities clashed, nature intervened and upset many apple carts, the peace that usually reigns in this small corner of the world was disturbed.

And it started so gently! The noise of the machines outside has moved to more distant places in the vast area slated for development. The storms passed, the rains subsided, the flowerbeds looked refreshed and ready for their summer work.






(Tomato enjoying a nibble of her morning "salad...")






But as we sit down to a breakfast on the porch...






... I bring to the table a troublesome report: in my walk to the barn to feed the cheepers, I was swarmed by mosquitoes.

We are under attack. Time to fight back! (No??)

But first, a visit with Sparrow. Did I mention that he's a laid back little guy?






And here's another sort of remarkable trait: he's got the core strength of a horse. Or at least of a little pony. He's 2.5 weeks old, but I swear he's figured out a way to hoist himself up so that he can get that body rollin'. I mean, he can't even focus his eyes yet, but he rocks like a boat on choppy waters.






From here, I go on to pick up Snowdrop.

At the farmhouse, she repeats many times -- "I am excited!" If you look at her feet, you'll guess why.






The girl really does love to dance. Today we are to resume ballet classes.






"Is it time to go yet?" -- she asks this so often that I cave and let her watch a video clip of an Angelina Ballerina episode just to help her with the tedium of having to wait.





Her summer Storybook Ballet class starts at 5. Typically, it's a 15 minute drive from the farmette. But nothing about this afternoon stays within the bounds of what is typical. First come the storm warnings. Tornadoes to the south of us. Well okay, to the south. I mean, not okay, but at least safe for us to head out.

Then come the bugs. I run the little one to the car, snap her in, slam the door and still, I can't keep the damn mosquitoes out. So I drive, pause, swat, drive, pause, swat.

And then the rains come down. I mean, really come down, as if the heavens had a water overload and all damns burst in unison. I've never seen a child be scared of the rain, but in that drive -- a stop and go drive along the highway, because, well, things just weren't moving much -- Snowdrop was scared.

She finally dozed off and I'm thinking -- a textbook case of a child blocking the horrors of life through sleep.

Needless to say, we arrive at the ballet class very wet and just a little bit late.

So let's forget about little dramas for a while and concentrate on the loveliness of the little girl dancing out the Thumbelina classic. (You may recall from her previous encounters with this dance group -- at the end of each class, they don some form of costume and act out the story of the week.)
















It's grand to see the little girl so full of spirit and joy!


And then I return home and the mosquitoes attack me again and I tell Ed -- it's time to look into getting some help with this.

There are in Wisconsin many professional mosquito control services. For obvious reasons: we have mosquitoes. But we've only used such services once: for my daughter's wedding here four years ago. Otherwise, I'm kind of with Ed on this: we live in a place with lots of mosquitoes. It is the one big downside of the farmette. Marshlands to the south, east and north of us aggravate the problem ten fold. It is what it is.

To spray for these guys is to introduce an unknown. Who else will be affected by it? Some companies claim that their "natural" sprays have no impact on pollinators. Ha! Prove it! -- Ed will say. Much as he hates the pesky blood suckers, he hates random disturbance of the ecosystem even more.

But this year, I'm wondering if we should stay so dogmatic in our approach. Why not try one of the sprays that's based on garlic, rosemary and peppermint? It's likely that it wont work -- Ed says. My retort -- can't we at least try? I thumb through the services in town: Mosquito Joe! They offer it. They have satisfied customers. Why not go for it? (And even as I ask this rhetorical question, I know very well why he does not want to go for it...)

Isn't it often the case that when you are frustrated with a problem, you come up with an imperfect solution and then point an accusing finger at the person who stands in the way of implementing it?


Evening. Outside, the fireflies flicker -- on and off, on and off. Funny how lovely bugs can be. And how dreadful are the ones that test our patience with the natural order of things.

Monday

Minutes disappear fast. That's my observation for today. On our early morning drive to a big box store to pick up some furniture for my mom's apartment, Ed noted that we haven't played disc golf once this season. Nor have we played tennis. Don't I know it!

We have a leisurely breakfast, on the porch...





(Sunshine!)






And later, I have a leisurely snack, also on the porch (rhubarb cake, though unfortunately not my own)...






And in between, I go from here to there, always a little behind schedule, always wishing I weren't running out of minutes.

Picking up Snowdrop from school is actually a bit of a break for me: I can do nothing else now. I am with her. And today is special. Ed is with me and our goal is to take the little girl out in a boat.

Now, Ed's love of boats is no secret, even to Snowdrop. She talks about "Ed who loves boats and actually likes to sleep on them." She has rhapsodized about someday going out on a vessel with him, with the both of us. But it's all been rather theoretical.

I'd been waiting for a good weather day to finally put us on the waters and I thought this would be it: warm, but not too hot. Partly cloudy. Lovely.

I wasn't paying much attention to the breezes. At the farmette, the breezes are rarely intense.

We drive out to Wingra Park. There is a lake of medium (for Madison) dimensions. There is a park and a boat rental place. All that we need for an adventure!

And it is an adventure.

I suppose I should have taken heed when the boat rental place placed limits on rentals for the day: kayaks only. No canoes. Why? Because of the winds. And I should have listened hard when the rental person said -- we suggest you head east, into the wind. Then the return wont be so grueling.

But I didn't. This is our boating day. I am excited. So is Snowdrop, saying as much. "I'm so excited!"

Until we come to the boats. And the life vests go on...






And the boat is put in place and the wobbliness of the whole enterprise has the little girl feeling that this is perhaps too much excitement.

Gaga, I don't think I want to go in the boat -- she tells me as the attendant helps hoist her into my lap.

Would you say "okay" and abort the whole operation?

I don't do that. I sweet talk her into going along, right there in my lap. Ed will have to paddle without any assist from me. My arms are around an apprehensive little one.







She does relax as we got going.






We paddle close to to the shore (with lovely water lilies to admire) and resist the temptation to cross the lake.






Too, Ed is such a good paddler that he can keep things reasonably placid even as the waves are popping up left and right. But when things got splashy wild, I know it's time to end our boating adventure. Through my very splashed up lens, I catch the girl on the shore, looking quite happy to be on solid ground once more.






Of course, I'm glad we went. I tease her about being a land lubber, but in fact, I know she likes to think of herself as being rather adventurous. Of keeping up with Ed (so often she'll talk about going camping with us in the mountains). Of doing brash bold stuff that you read about in story books. Of course, Ed is a tough measuring stick: however bold you are, he will always be bolder. Don't I know this about him! Still, the girl doesn't give up. Not today, not any day.






We head to the playground, where she swings high and navigates ladders and crawls through tunnels.






And lets him spin her around on the twirly thing...






And then we head back...






The band of three, big and small and one somewhere in between...






....to the beloved (if somewhat buggy right now) farmette, where cherries and a drawing pad with pink markers at your fingertips never looked so good!











Oh, how Snowdrop loves to draw!

While in her head and sometimes in real life, adventures come flying.

Sunday

It's not hard for me in the summer to find many many sweet moments of contentment. Mind you, like the rest of humanity, I can also find lots to grumble about. There are distressing moments, worries and frets, frustrations and mini dramas -- they populate everyone's waking hours and I'm no different.

But on a day like this -- sunny, full of lily buds and phloxian bundles, with a calm quiet all around us, it's easy to shelve the stresses, to take a deep beautiful breath, exhale and think about the good path before me.





I thought about this as I worked in the late afternoon in a particularly tough corner of a flower bed -- the one closest to the sheep shed. Whereas the mosquitoes have receded in most of the commonly used spaces of the farmette (the work of Ed's mosquito traps? who can tell...), there are other places where they're thick and obnoxious. This corner is one of them. I wasn't properly dressed for the work and as I stooped down to do some modicum of weeding, I was attacked. It's one of those unrewarding gardening moments: I had made the mistake of sowing seeds in that area, thinking I might coax some wildflowers to grow there. I will never do that again. When stuff emerges, you have no idea if what you see are weeds or wildflowers. Most of it is one big green mystery. And it looks like a zone of great neglect. So I tried to do some pulling of stuff that sort of kind of looked weedy. I don't think I accomplished much and I surely got my share of mosquito pricks as a reward for my efforts.

But then I rinsed off my feet with a cold hose and entered the wonderfully cool farmhouse, popped open a lemon bubbly and sat down, taking in all that beauty before me, as seen from the comfort of a a chair at our super cool and spacious kitchen table (if it were closer to evening, I'd consider an Aperol Spritz, on the porch). It was a moment of great joy. Most everything outside is thriving and so is my family and so am I. That's how summer thoughts work -- even if you start with the grubby, buggy, tedious, tough moment, you can work your way to a moment of peace and great beauty.

(The garden right now is waiting for that great pop of lily blooms...)






And how did our morning progress? Differently but exquisitely. Because the young family has commitments for this evening, I asked if all or some of them would like to stop by for breakfast. Snowdrop has a play date not too far from here and so after our morning meal, she can go off with her mom while I babysit Sparrow, giving a bit of a break to the dad who typically fills in when mom is shuttling Snowdrop places.


(Table is set... with snapdragons of course)






(Here they come, Snowdrop leading the way!)






It's a simple breakfast, thrown together quickly, but the eggs are fresher than fresh, the pancakes and bacon are a Snowdrop favorite, and the fruits are abundant right now.



(Ahah, can I have some of the maple syrup?)






(You need many hands to feed us all...)






And after -- the wading pool beckons. I mean, it's summer!
Can't I just go in for a little while?
Oh, how I appreciate the easy nature of this beast: two buckets and it's plenty full! In you go!






At noon, a kiss for the babe and mom and daughter are off!






(Sparrow is trying to understand why it's suddenly so quiet here... Where did she go??)






(It's time to introduce him to the flowers of the farmette. Ooops, I don't have a hat for him. Maybe I can borrow Snowdrop's? Hmmm, a bit large...)






Back inside, Sparrow runs through the usual cycle of newborn things: doze, eat, open eyes, close eyes, focus eyes, unfocus eyes. And listen to music. Is there an infant on this planet who does not love classical music?

(Ed: he is a little bit cute...)






Funny how easy it is to find that spark. A child, a meal, a comfy seat looking out on a bed of flowers:  a little bit sweet, a little bit funny, a little bit colorful, a little bit lovely. A little bit perfect. A summer day, a beautiful summer day.

full blown summer

One of my favorite daylilies is called "Persian Market." It's deep rose in color and it has an even deeper rose halo at its throat. It's lightly fragrant and it's a rebloomer. I don't know what more you'd want from a flower!

I have planted several of these gorgeous lilies in the last two years. Inadvertently, actually. In February, I study the catalogue of daylilies and make a list of the ones that are just too beautiful to pass by. The Persian Market always makes it onto that list.

Most of them wont bloom until mid-July, but oftentimes the first season of a new planting will trigger an earlier flower and indeed, my newly planted Persian Market sprouted a bloom on the first day of summer. Today's flower (remember -- each bloom only lasts one day) is, I think, especially beautiful!






We got our summer back! The day began with sunshine and pleasantly warm temps. It's breakfast on the porch once more!





When a day is especially lovely, I feel the need to be careful how I use my time. I don't want to waste those good outdoor hours. For example, Ed asked me today if I thought it might be a good idea to trade in my moped for an electric bicycle. We began to study various such bicycles on the Internet until I finally said -- this is not a good project for a beautiful day. We abandon the idea and go outside to work in the gardens.

[Why even consider the trade? Well, nearly the entire reason for getting a moped was because it was easy to park in the city. I'd zip to the downtown farmers market, hoist it onto the sidewalk and be done. But, the city passed an ordinance that prohibits sidewalk moped parking, not even next to a bike rack and so the moped is now a problem. You can't take it into most of the downtown garages and there are few curbside spots that are open on, say, a market day. An electric bike gives you some modest assist when you're navigating hills and you can park it alongside other bikes. The downside? It's devilishly expensive. Even if I sold my Rosie moped, I'd be out a couple of hundred dollars.]

Much of this day is nicely set for me today and so I needn't fret about carving out a good plan. First on the agenda is a trip to a playground with Snowdrop and her mom. A parent of one of Snowdrop's classmates suggested a reunion of the old class (three year olds and already she has a reunion!) and so Sparrow stays home with dad and Snowdrop's mom asks me to join them for this delightful romp at a large lakeside playground.  The kids have a wonderful time swinging, chasing, spinning and doing all those grand playground things that are made all that much grander because of the stellar weather.
















And from there, we hurry for our usual walk around the downtown Farmers Market. It's the first summer market and you can see the slight shift in the produce: lots of peas, baby bok choy, delightful snapdragon flowers bouquets, some berries, and for me -- always the bunches of oyster mushrooms. 

Even though she rides the stroller for the long walk around the square, the little one needs a moment of rest after. Snuggled on mommy's lap.






What's this! A school friend here too? We do live in a small town! Energy restored, Snowdrop plays a rousing game of sticks!






And now we are well into the afternoon. I'm at the farmette, pulling and snipping my way through the gardens, admiring, too, the surprise bloomers -- like these late irises that pop open always at the end of June.





Ed chops fallen limbs, Stop Sign comes around for her late day meal, the cheepers follow, ever hopeful that I will have with me a stale end of a croissant. Typical summer stuff. Calm, lovely, and so importantly -- sunny and warm.