to the fullest

I don't really buy into the idea that you have to "live your life to the fullest." It seems if you wake up, take a leisurely stroll, eat a lovely meal and then read a book all day -- that may appear tame to someone on the outside, but mightn't it also be heavenly? And full? In my mind, all days are full.

But I do think that some days are just packed with significant moments. They come flying at you, one after another and at the end of it all, you're happy, exhausted, whirling from the pace, yet deeply satisfied.

And you have no time to reflect, to write about it, to offer commentary. Midnight's awfully near, and your feet are aching, and you don't trust yourself at the computer: you may end up resting your finger too long one one key and dozing off, only to wake up later with pages upon pages filled with F's or A's or Z's. It's happened more than once.

Today was very very full of those grand moments. Perhaps to the Ocean reader it seems ho hum: get up, eat, go to market, cook, eat again, clean up and go to bed.

Oh, but wait! It's all in the details! I don't have time or enough oomph to write about it, but let's look at the photos together.  People, doing very ordinary things. Thrilling, ordinary, beautiful things.


Up early. I have house guests! I have to run through my morning routines before they stir. And they are early stirrers!

I snip lilies, just enough to make the flower fields look happy. Some 500. And when I look up, I see that Primrose and her mom are on the porch. Throw down my pail and go inside.

Hi little girl!






Do you want to walk the magic path with grandma to pick blueberries? Yes? Okay!






The girl does love blueberries. Straight off the bush -- they're heavenly! Primrose's little fingers deftly search out the ripe ones...






The path is pretty nice too!






Breakfast. First at the table? Primrose and Ed.






Soon to be joined by parents.






My two little girls....






Today is the first day that our local corn growers (Stoneman's Farms) are selling corn! To eat sweet corn picked early that same morning is bliss. So we drive over, just four minutes up the road and let Primrose sit in their tractor...






And, too, I let her pick out our dozen+1 ears.






A trip to Stoneman's always involves a visit with their goats.











From there, it's straight to the downtown Farmers Market, where we meet up with the other young family.






I have quite the list. Peas. Asparagus, 'cause someone still has it. Dill. Basil. tomatoes and carrots in many hues. Flowers. My bag fills with the essentials of summer.

Eventually, we turn toward the shady lawn of the Capitol. It's a warm day. We rest.


My awesome threesome.






Well, some of us don't rest for very long!






Slow down, little ones! Sit with us!






Later, I'm at the farmette, I'm getting busy. I'm cooking dinner for ten. I fall back on a menu my daughters loved when they were young ("crunchy chicken"). It goes well with pasta and today -- corn! For dessert, I look for what's growing in the garden. Rhubarb. Lots of it. And of course, blueberries. I bake a rhubarb-blueberry galette (from Ottolenghi's book).






They're all here! Time to get that photo that I covet twice a year -- once in the winter, then again in the summer: me and my brood!






Dinner. Despite the heat, everyone votes for the porch.

(Two young families, a good friend, and Ed...)






Old and young. Big and teeny...





Happy, just to be sharing a meal, at the two tables pulled together. Until the light grows dim and the little ones get a little tired and the big ones get very, very tired.

A full and beautiful summer day!

the week of people

You have to admit -- Ed and I lead pretty quiet (one could almost say reclusive) lives. We can go for days without having adult conversations with people other than ourselves. Yes, there are Sunday dinners. And there are always kids at the farmhouse. But as compared to others, I'd say we're pretty tame when it comes to socializing. We love our close friends, but for reasons of geography and circumstance, we just don't see them very often.

The week before us (starting this evening!) marks a departure from this. There will be people, grownup people, with whom we'll eat meals every day. There will be family. There will be friends of family. There will be friends who are almost like family.

I have wanted to get ready in slow increments, but life kept getting in my way. Too, Ed is the original pokey puppy when it comes to ticking off tasks in preparation for gatherings. And so, much of our efforts got pushed back until this day. And as a result, things got a bit hectic.

"Ed, the microwaves have to go!" "Yes gorgeous."

These are the kind of conversations we have been having all day long.

Of course, I do get up early and I do snip spent lilies, and I count them once more, just to see where I am at with these flower beds. I am shocked that I come in at 1025. Not a record, but close to the high of a few days back. Yes, it's been quite the lily workout for me this year!

Three garden photos!
















Breakfast. Goofy guy.






View out the porch...





And then I'm off to grocery shop for the week. (It takes forever. You have no idea how much time I spend in the produce section alone!)

By the time I come home, unpack, and put away foods, I have only a second, to gulp down a coffee, and then I spring right back into the car to pick up Snowdrop.

She is excited. She has something for me! It's a secret.

Finally, revealed: a couple of not yet ripe blueberries...
Should we let them ripen on the window?
No, they're yummy!






At the farmette, she tells me -- today, I want to follow the path to the meadow.

She says this because yesterday, when I had wanted to show her the newly mowed path through the young orchard, all the way to the blueberries, she had said -- "no, I like the path to your house best." But on this day she is adventurous.

Walk with us!












... all the way to blueberries. Call it a blueberry Friday!






... and back again.











One last book in this week of Katie Morag books.







Evening. The light always hits the back of the bed...





It grows dark. Fireflies do their stuff. And later, so very close to midnight, the young family arrives.

Thursday

You should never plan a kitchen with a built-in microwave. Never. Someday, your microwave will cease functioning and even Ed wont be able to fix it. The model will no longer be available, so the bracket and space for it cannot be re-used. Finding another model to fit will be impossible. And so you're stuck.

Just sayin'.

After living for nearly a year with a gaping hole over the stove and the sheep shed's funky little black microwave taking up counter space by the stove, I finally pressed my easy goin' guy for a resolution, in time for the weekend. As a result, we have a dismembered huge microwave in the sun room, a rejected new microwave from Home Depot in the mudroom, Ed's funky black thing on the counter, and a new little microwave that somehow will be suspended from the cabinet resting on the kitchen table for now.

If I wanted this day to be one where the farmhouse tidying project was near an end, well, I would be disappointed.

Still, the sun is out, the lilies are blooming, the mosquitoes are reasonable. I spend several hours in the morning tending the gardens.
 




















(The wee kittens, figuring out where all that delicious cat food comes from...)






Breakfast.






By afternoon, the microwave situation hasn't really progressed and so I take out the small mower and trim the front yard and then the young orchard, wanting it to look presentable for the weekend.

And then I pick up Snowdrop.

(Leaving school...)






(At the farmette...)






(Home drop off; I stumble across Sparrow!)






(A warm greeting...)





By nightfall, a tiny microwave is installed. The kitchen feels light and airy once more. There's tidying to be done, but I see that wee light at the end of the tunnel. We are on our way to an ordered and neat farmhouse for the weekend

Wednesday

No counting today. Once you've tallied over a thousand spent lilies in one day, you have had enough of running figures in your head. Counting takes away some of the zen from the moment. Best to simply snip and study the flowers left behind (and maybe listen to the smart phone streaming in your t-shirt pocket).

I'm still very much focused on the garden -- how can I not be? Its beauty is very real. But I understand that I've coached it through its toughest moments. Perfection is no longer the goal. Appreciating any and every pocket of color is enough.











(The cheepers, running to see what cat food still remains in the dishes...)






A rarely displayed flower bed to the west of the porch.






Lilies everywhere...






Breakfast.






The Big Bed once more, keeping in mind that each day, it is different.






In the afternoon, as Snowdrop and I drive home from her school, I spot cranes just across the road from us. I'm not surprised. We hear them nearly every day.






As we walk to the house, she asks if she can pick a flower. I don't know why she loves doing it. Perhaps because I usually say no. (This time, she got a yes out of me...)






(A new Katie Morag book!)





If it's Wednesday, it must be dance class day. As I wait for the class to be over, Snowdrop's mommy shows up, along with Sparrow, and also her friend whom she has known for years and years and who is visiting right now.






Snowdrop is dancing a Snow White story. I swear I've seen her in this costume before, but if she has had it, she makes no mention of it. 






She is tickled to see all of us at the end of class.






Evening. Perfect light, perfect cool breezes.





Such a joyous, color-filled summer! Only no more counting spent lilies. I get tired at the mere thought of it.