Friday - 42nd

A good day is one where you can eat a meal or have a drink with someone you love, or, in the alternative, participate indirectly in someone else's feasting. By such measures (and by many others), I had a very, very good day. (Despite the cold damp air outside.)

Let's start with an old farmhouse favorite: breakfast. It was with Ed and it was therefore lovely.






So long as we're food themed today, here's what happened next: the baking of cookies, at the hands of Ed:






And now comes the call from Chicago. Primrose is eating lunch! I "join" her in this. Let me show you the set up:






We linger over every last piece of carrot and I follow along as she cleans up afterwards. Here she is, at the kitchen sink...






Oh, and here's a fun and rare moment -- three generations, all on one tiny screen!






Soon after, Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse. She is past her lunchtime, but there is always a fruit snack waiting for her here. Still lucky to be getting mangos and berries...






(Don't forget the baked stuff: ahah, you make the best cookies!)






(In between eating, there's play.)






(Ahah will you teach me how to dribble?)






And after our play time, I take her home and I linger there for a short drink with my older daughter, returning home to a dinner (of leftover soup) with Ed.

Many would say a shared meal is fabulous only when there is a crowd around a table, or in the alternative -- you're in a tête-à-tête with your sweetie, at your favorite gastro pub. Well now, I'm suggesting there are many ways to share food and drink with people you love. Agreed?

Later, much later, Ed pops corn and we watch the last episode (of season 1, so there'll be more!) of a very good but very gory British crime drama (Luther). I don't know why we found ourselves sucked into it, but we did. All I can say is that a lightweight comedy show always follows and closes the night for us.

In the course of the evening, indeed, the whole day, we think about the good people working 18-hour days to get us closer to a time when we can indeed be safely crowded around tables again. Thank you, all of you, down to the person who cleans the labs, or drives the bus to bring you home to your own families.

With love.

Thursday - 41st

The last week of April is, weather-wise, a crap shoot in Wisconsin. There are bound to be disappointments. Last year, after a nice, bouncy spring-like set of days, the weather turned mean. We had snow on April 28th. Ed and I had to carry all flower pots with annuals indoors. It was brutal!

This year isn't so extreme, but nor are we sustaining any warm spells. One good day is followed by three or four cool ones. Nothing terribly damaging, but still, you prefer to stay indoors.

On the upside, our flowers, trees, shrubs -- they're racing ahead. They aren't going to be fussing about a nippy 50F (10C). Look at today's bloomers!
















(Cheepers, leave the alyssum alone!)






Breakfast.






Both kids come to the farmhouse early. For whatever reason, it is one of their super good play mornings.


 







After our reading time...






... Snowdrop goes over to the sun room (where I keep the drawing paraphernalia) and sets up an art station. I note she has put in place three chairs.






Lately, we've been drawing together. This is Snowdrop's idea. I am not terrible with a sketch pad, but nor am I particularly talented. I can draw the basics, in that people can more or less tell what I'm getting at. Still, I discovered with my own two kids that little ones really love it when you draw with them. And if you don't try to outperform them -- so much the better! And so, while Snowdrop works on her Super Pigs books and Sparrow practices making circles and squiggles, I work on pages from a Gaga "book" called The Family of Five. Snowdrop and I decide the content together (meaning she improves on any idea I come up with) and, too, she contributes to my picture with her own additions and colorings.

We can keep going like this for a long, long time. (Sparrow had enough after about an hour, but was willing to stick with it longer when I shifted to adding apples to his picture. The guy loves counting apples.) There we are: she on my page, me on his, he on his own, me on my own, she on hers. Markers are flying!






Lunch.






Post lunch downtime.





And then I return the kids home. (A reminder -- the young family, like us, is following a strict quarantining, which allows us to cocoon together.)

On my way back to the farmette, I stop to refill the car with gas. Two things of note:  first, the price is at $1.14 per gallon. Second -- the fact that no one at the station was wearing a mask. So much for compliance with (admittedly weakly delivered) recommendations.

In the evening, I cook up a pot of vegetable soup with those cannellini beans that are taking up space in the pantry. Someday we will have warm weather again and the idea of hot soup will seem passe. That someday is not today.

My thanks today? Every day it grows. Endlessly grateful to all the people who have to go out to work, feeling a level of stress way over and beyond what we, the stay-at-homes feel. During a recent car ride, Snowdrop and I took turns listing all the essential workers out there. An impressive list of such an impressive group of people.

With love.

Wednesday - 40th

So it's Earth Day. As one opinion piece writer said -- don't celebrate, get active!

In many ways, Ed and I (but especially Ed) think about the planet every single day. We have to, as we make choices about how to treat the farmette lands: what to grow, what to cut back, how to encourage pollinators, how to work with our three compost piles. But we also worry about the larger issues that extend way beyond this small bit of land. There isn't a nature show that we wont watch, or a science based climate themed article that we wont read. And on this Earth Day? Well, I'm kind of big on small gestures (in addition to big themes and daily worrying) and so I will surely tend to my flowers, even as the weather continues to be a tad chilly and there is a day-long threat of rain.

But first, breakfast. A working breakfast, as Ed does some last minute research on one thing or another.






A glance outside...






Maybe a walk first? But where to? It's getting complicated! Parks closed. Rural roads -- too many zipping bicycles, to say nothing of the occasional speeding car. With limited time, we pass on driving out to points along the Ice Age Trail. Instead, we go for the nearby Nature Conservancy.

There is a narrow path and so you dont want to be hiking here when there are many others, but the tiny parking space has just one car in it and so we set out with a modicum of confidence.






And it is a pretty walk!






Almost warm when the clouds scatter and the sun comes out.

And soon after, Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse. Not that she wants to come inside the house. She spots the hose instantly. Playing with it has always been great fun for her. And on this, I have no reason to reign her in. The beds are dry. The plants probably appreciate the light dumping of water.







more watering options!






And the cheepers discover the white alyssum plant and now everyone is just tickled pink.

Evening. Frittata with spinach and mushrooms. And cheese. Thanks, cheepers. Thanks, grocery delivery people! Honors to the whole lot of you.

with love... 

Tuesday - 39th

Tomorrow is Earth Day. You know that, right? April 22nd. The day before it (meaning today) happens to be my birthday. So, celebrate, right? But celebrate what? Surely not the headlines we read in the paper these days. Celebrate reaching 67. Celebrate life!

Life, with all its riches, hurdles and complexities. With its loves and tears and calamities. And flowers and seasons and families and friends. Beautiful, precious life.






It's sunny here, in Wisconsin. I'm not surprised. I was born in the northern hemisphere, and I continue to live "up north," where late April days often have blasts of sunshine. But today it's so sunny that a prudent person might dab on sunscreen if she decided to spend a lot of time outdoors. But that's not me today. I have too much to do and it is a tad too cold. A high of 48F (9C).

Even before breakfast (well, our breakfast), Primrose checks in from Chicago.






She is all sweetness and song and watching her romp and play and listening to her explain her world to me is totally grand.






Okay. Ed! Breakfast time! This morning, I jump into the photo frame. You make allowances for yourself on your birthday. (Crab apple branches from our big crab tree are blooming in the vase!)






The rest of my morning is with Snowdrop and Sparrow at their house.










Birthdays are exciting to kids even when they are not their own special days. They love to give!






And present opening -- this is thrilling to a five year old, if only for the delightful tearing up of paper and rescuing a pretty ribbon.






Oh, the sweet little ones in my life! Facing everything that's fragile bravely and with such enthusiasm!





My daughters always treat me royally on my birthday and I have to admit that this is stupendously wonderful, especially this year. In such a strange and tough time, you feel you do not have permission to be happy. It's not the emotion that rises to the surface easily when there is so much distress in the broader community. Nonetheless, I'm willing to open the door to a feeling of peace. Of appreciation for all that's so very good out there.  I'm still trudging along, my beloved family is fine, my friends are looking for ways to stay close despite it all.


I drive up the farmette road just as Natalie (from Natalie's Greenhouses) is making a delivery of annuals for farmette planting (and baskets for the porch). Such beautiful colors!






I'll put them into their pots, but not today. The running refrain is the same ditty sung again and again, all day long -- too cold, too little time.






In the late afternoon, I visit with Primrose once more. It's her snack time and the little girl worries that I seem to not have had my own strawberries delivered yet, even as she enjoys hers.






(she asks for birthday candles so that we can "blow them out" together...)





The strawberries are coming, little one! Indeed, surprisingly, our weekly food delivery request, put in yesterday, brought up a drop off time today, so I'll be washing groceries soon -- a most unusual birthday activity, don't you think?

Somewhere in the middle of all this, Ed hands me a card. I truly have to smile at this. In past years, he would go to the store with me and agonize over which card to get -- one that was gushy enough to please me, yet succinct enough to represent his true non-emoting self. This year proved to be a challenge. No store trip. I eased it somewhat by giving him a stack of blank cards to choose from. He chose the sheep, wrote his sweet words inside -- done!






Evening. What food for a birthday meal? A lovely slab of salmon from our Alaska fishing crew, some perhaps slightly wilted asparagus, and Minnesotan wild rice. And wine and leftover cake and the one saved chocolate from the box Ed purchased for me, for us, back on Valentine's Day.









Such different times they were! But really, the essentials are the same: the love you feel from those who care about you, the beauty of this planet, that glorious sunshine, and added to it -- the spring flowers, the sweet voices of children singing happy birthday to you...

Celebrate life!

With so much love.

Monday - 38th

A string is a string and I foretold you that we would have a string of three: glorious sunny days, wonderfully brilliant days, ones that give meaning and luster to outdoor work.

I start off with animal care. This is only hard in the winter. Right now, a run back and forth between the barn, sheep shed and farmhouse is actually thrilling. It offers an opportunity to take it all in! All that spring stuff!






And I actually do that run several times, because we decided that the spinach, planted a while back, desperately needs water. I lug a watering can from farmhouse hose to the veggie patch, back and forth, several times. It's good, happy work.

(picking fallen daffodils along the way)






Breakfast.






The kids are here once more. It is still a little cool outside, but I coax them to at least try out my new path in the Big Bed.






I'll say this -- Snowdrop appreciates the daintiness of stepping from one flat wooden disc to the next. Sparrow doesn't quite see the point. Why not just wander around the bed itself?






Careful, little guy! Maybe we should venture out to more open spaces!






Inside, we read, then the kids draw.












And pretty quickly, it's lunchtime. (Snowdrop demonstrates blowing to her brother. He appreciates the attention if not, perhaps, the cool bursts of wind in his face.)






After the kids leave, I again dabble in the garden. Not much new stuff to plant yet. My Flower Factory purchases wont be picked and boxed for curbside buying until next weekend. Other stuff, too, appears on hold. Somewhat desperate to move things along, I call one of my favorite day lily growers (Oakes, out in Tennessee) asking them if my lilies are on the way (I had requested a mid April delivery). The salesperson speaks to me (with an exquisitely southern speech pattern) sympathetically -- why, you're in Wisconsin, aren't you?
I am...
Well now, it's cold up there! We wouldn't want to ship so far north until your freezing weather is done!

People have such funny ideas about our state.

I assure her I'm ready for her lilies.
Alright then. Maybe next week.
I want to tell her by then our growing season may be nearing an end (haha)! Ah well. A grower needs to be patient.


Evening. Last moments of being 66. Usually, one is tempted to reflect on the year gone by. I resist it this time around. The fact is, I consider myself to have been immensely lucky. There is a global crisis in place right now, yet my family is doing okay: no one is sick. I am on the same retired person's income as before. Ed and I have cheepers that lay eggs and flower beds that deliver a riot of color each year. All that is so good! 

We eat a supper of leftovers, feeling grateful. For all that has not gone awry. And so very very grateful to those who under the most difficult and stressful conditions continue to work hard to keep us all healthy and well fed.

With love.