first day of fall

What a gorgeous day! Could it be more beautiful? I don't think so. Simply stunning. You can't ignore it. That inner voice shouts "go out! go out!"

And we do,  but not right away. Fall mornings here are cool. And this first day of fall is no different. Breakfast in the kitchen.






This corner of the porch always gives me a seasonal bit of beauty: lilacs in the spring, lilies in the summer. Today, there's that last burst of lilies, lots of golden coneflowers, and of course, the purple aster sprigs.






The cats love the warm sunshine!

(Little Gray is nursing, Dark Blue Tulip is snuggling...)






(Dark Blue Tulip wants a turn! Yo-Yo -- the newly named little guy -- comes in as well. Dance is a true milk machine. But she also teaches calm and sharing to all the cats here. She's a fantastic matriarch!)






Purple and gold: it defines the Big Bed now...






(the occasional reblooming lily)






(Dark Blue Tulip and Tomato: cats and cheepers get along very well...)






(Happy wonders if he could ever climb the lilac in the way that the cats do...)






Ed asks if I'm up for biking to the disc golf course for several throws of the old frisbees. You cannot say no: it's an outdoor day. A soak in all that wonderful sunshine day. A retired person's dream day.

(Quick lunch afterwards...)





And in the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop.

I suggest a walk to the coffee shop and playground.

Oh, yes! Definitely!

At the coffee shop, she asks about something that's been bothering her since our reading of the third Beverly Cleary Ramona book. Remember, this is a series from the 1950s and in this particular book, Ramona has a first grade teacher who is prissy and staid, even by the standards of that era. The teacher has a favorite little come back for students who complain about the behavior of a classmate. "No one likes a tattle-tale!" -- she repeats again and again.

It strikes me that this was a big thing in the decade when we were blind to the problem of bullies, of sexually inappropriate touching, even of stranger dangers.

And so we spend a good while sorting through what Ramona's teacher may not have wanted to hear and what definitely calls for teacher notification. Now if I can only find a good explanation for why bologna sandwiches have gone out of favor in school lunches and why most moms these days do not stay home and bake chocolate chip cookies while their kids are at school...

We walk to the playground energized by the brilliance of the day!






We spend time on the structure, and of course, she swings with wild abandon...






But today, she also wants to go to the beach. And into the water...


(time to tie up those skirts...)






(no, Snowdrop, you cannot go swimming!)






She gets wet. Of course she does! And who cares -- it's the first day of Fall!






Eventually I figure out a way to get her home, wet clothes and all.

We read more of Ramona, we play.

And in the late evening, Ed and I sit at the picnic table and watch the cats do their own evening dance. Cats, like people, know when the going is good, when the weather is golden. Perhaps they suspect that the cold season is just around the corner. Play now, play hard! And they do... Yes they do...

Sunday

And now there are nine (cats in the garage)!

Such rains fell on farmette lands all night long! Heavy enough to make puddles in the driveway and to knock down a tree limb from one of the ancient maples. And it continued into the early morning, so that when I received a text -- "we're on our way!" -- I couldn't help thinking that there was a lot of drama to the scene before us!

The message came from my friends, who were picking up two of the littlest kitties. Lucky guys! (Both friends and kitties.) Well, lucky once everyone makes the adjustment!

We had established a feeding routine in the morning that would have made the transfer a cinch, but the rains messed with the normal. I ran to the garage, turned on the lights and tried to keep all felines on course. Luckily, the little guys are not at all skittish and they pounced on the food and I whisked the two away before anyone noticed.

We were rewarded later with beautiful photos of the little guys being cuddled in their new home. Everyone there seemed content!

As for the tribe remaining here -- I'm sure Dance, the mom, notices the absence of the two. But what does she make of it? Does she think the rains washed part of her litter away? Might she wonder if they are hiding? Who can tell.






Breakfast, on the porch, with the patter of rain on the glass roof.





It's otherwise a quiet day, here at the farmhouse. Well, except for the noise I made when I wasn't looking where I was heading and crashed into a table that happens to be on wheels, sending everything and everyone careening in a wild and crazy spin before tumbling to the floor. I spent the remaining hours of the day nursing whatever sores and bruises I sustained, remembering the old adage: use frozen peas, not steak and resist the impulse to rub! Easy enough: we have no steak and frozen corn is as good as a sack full of frozen peas any day.

No family dinner today: remember? Sunday was yesterday. Tonight the young couple is celebrating seven years of marriage. Stay happy and strong, you two! Never hold back that joyful laugh!

I shift my elevated wounded knee. Ed, can you feed the cats tonight? All nine of them? 

(note chicken feather on little guy... the cheepers spent a good many hours with the cats during the heaviest rains today)



 


Turns out it's 9.5 cats. Stop Sign returned -- a little bruised, a little angry, but trusting us to feed her once again.

Saturday

It could be Saturday, it could be Sunday. We have elements of both.

The pace is slower. Yes, the day starts early -- it always does, on account of the animal feeding and, too, because I like mornings and I'm used to getting up with the light, especially when the light comes to us so late! (Sunrise today: about 6:45, though honestly, when the day is this cloudy, it's hard to talk about a sunrise.) But there is no hurry.






Tomorrow, two of the little ones are going to their new home and so I watch them one last time as they climb, tumble and scamper about.

(this one, who will be leaving, is the smallest of them all, but she is also the friendliest...)






(this one, whom we have taken to calling Gray Cloud, is staying...)






Because the day threatens rain, I do not meet up with my granddaughter and her mommy for a protracted farmers market walk. Instead, I take my scooter out very early and do some essential market shopping on my own (corn, peaches, pimento peppers, flowers, cheese)...

(it's the grandmas who arrange the bouquets; they're small women and they tend to hide in the mass of flowers before them...)











(Door County fruits, still going strong!)






(scooter basket is full!)






After picking up breakfast treats, I scoot right back to the farmette. Breakfast on the porch.






And now there's a flip to the day: we have a Sunday-ish family dinner.






You don't often have a chance to see Sparrow, so I'll end with a photo of the little guy playing blocks with Snowdrop. Sort of.






Despite the drippy weather, it's a beautiful evening. The kids are happy, the grown-ups -- full of plans for the year ahead. And the fresh corn, picked this morning -- you know what I think of that! Farmette life at its best!

Friday

I do love young people. They have convictions. They want to see a better world than the one to which they are born. They look for strength in numbers, because alone, they often feel small. They look beyond their back yard. They march.

My own morning though is more like that of a retired person: I go out... (foggy!)


 



(front bed flowers...)






(autumn reblooms...)






I feed cats. Call me the cat lady who fell into this role inadvertently.  And I pull some weeds. And for breakfast, Ed and I go to Finca Cafe. With our computers. Because we love this leisurely way to share space and a morning meal.






Just after the noon hour, I do something else that no young person would bother with: I go to thumb therapy. Yes, really. If you have thumbs like mine, you'll appreciate small tips and maneuvers to make those fat little fingers work more efficiently. My thumb person herself is young and cheerful and she laughs at all my jokes as if they're really funny and in addition, she gives my hand a soak in hot wax, which is truly original and somewhat Halloweenish. (It comes out caked in ghostly white wax.) A half hour well spent, for any number of reasons.

Snowdrop is here in the afternoon.






We read and continue with the trip to Snowland game.






Later, as I drive her home, I ask her about the bad kids in her class (so described by her). I ask for examples of bad behavior. I'm surprised that the examples she gives me are of verbal misdeeds. In the Ramona books we're reading, the little girl is naughty in physical ways (pulling hair, destroying another child's art project). She says plenty of no-no stuff, too, but I can tell Snowdrop is fascinated by the behavioral outbursts, ones that seem very edgy to someone like Snowdrop, who has a better control over her own impulses. (I'd say that as a child, I was probably half way between Ramona and Snowdrop.)



These days, my daughter and I try to set aside a few minutes to sit down together at the very end of a very busy week. No kids, just the two of us. Tonight, my Chicagoan girl happens to call at this time. I sit back and listen to the back and forth for a while and think -- listening to your grownup kids talk to each other is just grand. I suppose it's not unlike when your kids first play together and you sit back and think -- well, now, this is just so fine!





Well, now, this is just so very fine.

Thursday

A little rain, a little thunder. Enough to keep us indoors this morning. Attending: to paper work. To others. To future plans and today's necessities.

After breakfast of course.






A morning, washed away by useless (for us) weather. But, I filed all necessary documents for my share of the jackpot in the Equifax Credit Monitoring Breach Settlement: if all goes well, I will get some fraction of $125!  The morning was not a total wash!


In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop, who would very much like to show you how heavy her backpack is.






In an unusual twist to our routines, I take her straight to the Fitchburg Farmers Market. It's a special one: kids are the focus of it. There are wagon rides, crafts, treats. For Snowdrop, there is the double fun of being allowed to climb onto Farmer Natalie's truck to pick a huge number of tomatoes for our freezer. It's all great fun for her! As Natalie said to me -- Snowdrop is just like her grandma -- all smiles and happiness! I consider it the greatest compliment to be viewed in the same league as this:

(a ride)





(tomatoes!)





(cheese curds!)










(making a spider..)






(another ride!)






And toward evening, there is Storybook Ballet.





The day ends quietly. Meditatively. Autumnally.

Wednesday

Is it the last of the really beautiful days? Or will we have a rerun in later fall? Perhaps we should embrace it as a final hurrah, reveling in the splendid warmth, the sunshine, the gentle breezes. Yes, never assume a repeat of perfection. Love what's before you.

And we do.

(morning garden walk: the Big Bed...)






(the way things look out by the porch...)






(sunshine on our faces...)






(happy, who continues to be... happy)






We play disc golf. It's such a perfect day for it! In future years, as I recall these disc golf days, I'll think of this day, with that smell of sunshine hitting the golden rod. And I'll feel the wet dew from the grass which we soaked in with our bare feet on the disc fields.

(on the ride there...)






(it's bad news when your disc flies into the flowers and prairie bushes to the side...)





And we're not done with the day! We return to our county park, convinced that on this sunny day, we'll have a full swarm of Monarch butterflies.

We see not a single one. They've moved on!

(these guys, on the other hand, have not...)






As always, Snowdrop comes to the farmette after school. No, Snowdrop, I don't know if that flower is edible. Best not try!





We do a lot of indoor stuff. It just worked out that way. We read, we build with Legos. We play airplane ride to Snow Country.

And we tell the farmette animals they'll have to wait. It's not dinnertime just yet.





But oh my, are there a lot of them! Too many, right? Definitely too many...

Tuesday

It was a unique morning. I could give it many titles: "at long last..." fits well. Or, "it's now or never!" Or "big steps." Or perhaps a combination of some such words.

We wake to fog. That's not unusual: yesterday was quite the same: dense fog greeting me as I go out to feed the cats.

But wait, where are my favorites? The four little ones and, too, the teen girl with the furry tail and the incongruous name of Dark Blue Tulip (Snowdrop at work) do not show up for feeding time.This is a little disconcerting. Why are they hiding?

I follow Dance after she gobbles half the food in the bowls set out for the remaining cats. She knows I'm behind her. She leads me through a thicket of brush on the floor of the old orchard. Then she jumps on the almost hidden stump of a tree Ed chopped down. Her kitties are on it. She settles there to nurse them.

I have no explanation for this behavior. Were they spooked by yesterday's evening fuss? Do they know we may be packing up two of them and sending them away? Did some other cat or animal chase them out of the garage?

I let them be. I'm in a bit of a hurry, because at 8 I'm to meet the young family at school. They're introducing Sparrow to his classroom -- he'll be starting school in three weeks. Since I'll be picking him up, I want to get a sense of stuff. (Even as the class and teachers are the same ones Snowdrop had three years back.) As I get in the car to drive off, I see Stop Sign trotting up to the house.

I call Ed. I mean, it's good timing: the chickens aren't out, the other cats are fed. She has been going into the cage (set closely to the farmhouse door) to eat for several days now. The clinic is open this morning.
Do you want to try to try to capture her? -- I ask, then drive off, not really waiting for an answer.

At school, the family is excited to start this new chapter in Sparrow's life! We're all here to encourage him.






(soon to be "school boy!")






Sparrow is not yet solid on his feet: he'll be by far the youngest in the class, but he is a happy boy and curious about those around him, so everyone's optimistic about the year ahead!





I return to the farmhouse and note that Ed's car is gone. So is the trap.

And so there was success! We have finally gotten fertile myrtle to the vet!

We have a late but celebratory breakfast. On the porch.






And now Ed returns to bed and I review my options. Perhaps I should play with the kitties? If we want to get the others to be less skittish, we have to spend more time with them.

Or maybe I should take out at least some of the weeds in the places where I want to put down seeds?

I give it a go. Just a little. Say around the tee-pee, to give the clematis there a clean slate. Maybe also around Ed's marigolds. And while I'm here (with the cheepers at my heels -- suddenly they have me stirring up the soil again... bugs! worms!), maybe also around the birch? All the way to the sheep shed?

I work a solid two hours. And yes, I got maybe 75% of the weeds out of there. I mean, the weather is beautiful and the seeds, ready for sowing, are plentiful. If I create a hospitable space for them, maybe finally we will have beaten down the invasive weeds that tend to dominate the space at that end of farmette lands.

And then I sit down with a sandwich and a coffee on the porch and refuse to move. I am spent!






In the early afternoon, I'm out again. It's time to pick up Snowdrop.

Today, when I suggest a neighborhood adventure, she enthusiastically agrees. We start with a snack at the coffee shop.

(Snowdrop thinks she likes doughnuts more than she actually does...)






And we move on to the playground. It's so incredibly gorgeous today!

(Some things don't change: she still wants to play ice cream shop.)






That smell of autumn! A little dry, a little crispy, with a touch of mowed hay. It's with us now. Fall may not come until Monday, but today surely offered a good imitation of it!






In the evening, Ed brings home a very displeased Stop Sign. Predictably, she flew out of the cage when the door was opened. But she did not run wild. When I brought food to the writer's shed (she was hiding under it), she came out to eat. We're not sure whether she is lactating, but if she is, it will be her last run.

If two little ones go to a good home this Sunday, we'll have only two remaining that will require a vet's intervention in another month or so.

Phew! It's been quite the busy day! Uniquely beautiful!