a cooldown

No, it's not chilly outside. The clouds rolled in, but the temps remained unseasonably warm. The daffodils are in their prime.

 

But at the farmhouse, I sense a real cooling of the jets. We came close to finally doing something productive and environmentally friendly with the back acre of farmette land. A forest. Such a fine idea! Perhaps a little late in our life -- after all, what one footer is going to grow past my height in my lifetime, but still, it was a good way to ensure that there would be trees and the weeds would have healthy competition. 

The stumbling block is that the project manager (Ed) cannot move quickly on brazen ideas. And computers have slowed him down even more, because he has to read everything on any matter before moving forward. And because the planting time is right now, and nursery supplies were running thin (Nina, did you know we could have ordered the trees from the Department of Natural Resources? I hadn't known that!), there isn't the time that the guy needs to proceed with implementing the forest plan. Heck, my sweetie can't finish fixing the base wall of the sheep shed because he has to contemplate possible solutions to the crumbling wall. And remember how long it took him to finally agree to a plan to fix the front entrance to the farmhouse? All those years of rotted steps -- he wouldn't budge because no idea on how to proceed fully appealed to him.

So at breakfast today (outside, because it really is warm enough for it)... 

 

 

 

... I told him -- let's forget about the forest. It's really not fun to work with him on a project when you know he is in psychic pain every step of the way. It's like traveling -- you sense the gloom. You don't want to be doing something with someone whose attitude exudes weariness.

What happens then to that acre of weedy land? Nothing much, unfortunately. Ed suggested we aim for next year. I laughed, which is the equivalent of rolling your eyes.

My April is now going to be focused on the grandkids, the garden, and on trying to move my mom to a different residence. 

And speaking of grandkids, here are two of them!

(The spring flowers are never too far away...)

(He is "telling a story." She has that look of benevolent indulgence, liking his effort, even as it is the effort of a two year old who wants so much to be like his six year old sister.)

(Today she also discovers the joy of tree climbing... He tries it, but very quickly asks to be placed on more solid ground.)

(We haven't done a timed release selfie in a long time!

The day does have an element of the extravagant: for the first time since last February, I meet up, face to face with a friend. I cannot believe we are not on Zoom! She is (finally!) in town to visit her parents and since we are both vaccinated, we set aside a piece of the afternoon for a coffee.

Fourteen months without coffees with friends. And at least the "no cafe visits" record remains in place: every cafe in the area is closed. We sit outside pretending we're at a cafe sipping coffee.

So weird to be back in that particular saddle again! But of course, I had many decades of cafe life with friends before the pandemic, so sitting down with her (unmasked, but outside) feels like there was no year without friends at all. It feels normal. 

When I return to the farmhouse, Ed tells me -- I've talked to another guy to see what he can tell us about clearing the land for planting. I nod, with mild interest. That is so Ed -- pack it away, cool it down, then slowly reconsider.

So are we planting a forest? Who knows. Probably not. Or maybe yes, but only if the stars align themselves just exactly so for us this spring.

happy spring, happy Easter, happy healthy sunny days

What total perfection! Sunshine, a mild and gentle morning, a warm afternoon. This on Easter is so rare in Wisconsin, but this year, at least in terms of weather, we are hitting gold! 

 My Easter postcard for you, if you celebrate this holiday (and even if you don't!):

I'm up early. I have an errand to do: bakery treats from Batch are waiting for me at their curb. Driving downtown, I notice how utterly still the lake is...

I've picked up some stuff for the young family and so I head out there first. They're just getting up... Happy Easter, happy kids!

By the time I return home, Ed is up and on the big mower, trying to make a dent in clearing the land for a forest planting. Somehow I could have predicted that he would do at least some of the big job himself. I call him in for breakfast. Wait, that's wrong -- not in for breakfast, but out for breakfast. Our first meal on the porch! Always important and memorable and utterly wonderful.

Unfortunately it cannot be a put-your-feet-up kind of day. Weeds. Always the weeds. I really need to get the new plants in soon or I'll be forever weeding the waiting beds.

Here's a welcome pause!

Happy Easter, little Chicago girl...

Happy Easter to all of you!

 

 

 

And now it's time for dinner. The local young family comes over and yes, it's an outdoor evening! 

How can this be? April 4th, out on the porch? For every stumble in life there is a good surprise nestled somewhere in there. This weather surely is one of the best gifts. April delivered. And then some.

 

 

 

Let me end with something sweet: two little cakes. One -- raspberry, the other -- chocolate. I did not bake them, but I do think they add a holiday touch to the post. So -- happy Easter to you if you're celebrating. And may spring bring us closer to all that we are missing right now.

forest hopes and summer breezes

This morning we did the sensible thing: we met with one of the brothers who operate a "forest service." Here's a lucky break -- they're just up the road from us. Two guys who are in the business of removing and chipping trees, clearing lots and, too, helping you with all your tree problems. And we surely did get ourselves some 75 (possibly more) new problems, coming to us later this month. I am so hoping that Ed will get on board with hiring these guys to help us clear the land for the new, baby forest we will be planting.

We also talked to our neighbor from across the road. He did something similar on his property, only his forest is predominantly firs and pines. I take photos of them after heavy snowfalls -- they're gorgeous then. Too, he planted possibly twice as many trees as we're about to do. In other words, he has experience. And he was adamant: protect your saplings well because they will be otherwise destroyed. He lost a significant number to rabbits. Did you know a rabbit can take down a tree? Chomp chomp -- gone.

Other weekend happenings? Here's proof that this day is magnificent in its warmth and spring-iness: we take the nearly six week old chicks outside for the first time. It feels like summer (almost)! We eventually climb to 70F (21C).

The cats stop by to visit, as do the big cheepers. Palpable excitement (and slight apprehension on my part, but we protected the chicks well from unwanted intruders) on all sides of the fencing.

Somewhere in this rather early and very busy morning, there was breakfast.

And soon after, my daughter arrives with the two kids. Outside time? But of course.

Snowdrop is buoyant. Sparrow, on the other hand is terribly worried that his t-shirt sleeves do not reach his wrists. He finds safety in his hoodie.

If there is one pose that would shout "quintessential Snowdrop!" -- this would be it.

Sparrow is a bit more tentative...

Though his smile, their radiant smiles are never far away.

As the day warms up, Ed, as if to negate the fact that we've taken on too much to do on farmette lands, brings out the old plastic cups and leftover seeds and proclaims it's time to start the tomatoes!

Well yes, sure, but if we are to grow tomatoes again, we must prepare their patch and, too, we must provide fencing because we did lose 90% of last years crop to deer and whoever else chomped down on ripening fruit all summer long. And so another project is added to our heaping cartful of projects!

Oh but on a day like this, who could possibly mind! Gloriously sunny, unseasonably warm, spring at her finest. I'm writing this in the early evening, sitting out on the porch (first time this year!) listening to the songs of birds, spilling over each other as if they were in a chorus, with their very first unpracticed rehearsal! Happy weekend indeed!

the next hurdle

And again, we're swirling with tree decisions. No sooner had we forged a plan to clear the land where we will be planting our 75 baby trees, than we meet our next hurdle: how will we protect these saplings from deer (and groundhogs and who knows what else)? I always assumed we'd place cages around them. We have some material to make those. But of course, the effort is so much more than that! Securing adequate wiring to the ground, chipping the base of the tree, accessing the sapling so that we can continue to weed each little guy until it is well established -- real issues requiring real effort, multiplied by 75.

We have no regrets, but it's becoming abundantly clear that the purchase of these trees was the least of our problems. The work before us is daunting!

But, the skies are clear, the temperatures will be rising, and we are onto the second day of April.

Breakfast, with my favorite table flowers. Well, the concept of "favorite" rotates, but it is true that spring cut flowers are to me the most exciting. 

And then there is a scramble to get stuff done. I want to move my mom to a different assisted living place and that will be a super scramble -- not one she especially wants, but nonetheless, I'm of the opinion that it has to happen.

Apart from indoor work, I have the garden to pull me out once again. Weeds! Many of them. Ones I had forgotten existed sprung up in a "cleared" bed. Yes, it happens -- beds with lots of empty spaces, waiting for new flowers tend to sprout weeds. 

And in the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop and bring her to the farmhouse.

Well, sort of to the farmhouse. I ask if she would like to take a walk in our favorite county park. It has a forest, a lake... She wants to go! Right after the fruits and book session on the orange couch, of course.

We did not count on it being so windy! 

The outing did not last long, but it had adventure written all over it! Pigs copulating, burned prairies, snakes chasing each other, hounds barking, kites flying over the lake.

A girl, flying down a hill.

Who said your local county parks are boring!

In the evening, Ed and I try not to dwell on the obvious: we've bitten off more than we can chew with the farmette lands this spring. Still, if we don't do it now, while we (sort of) can, then when? Plant saplings when we're ancient? Dig weeds out of new beds when our knuckles wont bend anymore? It's now or never. We choose now.

foolish ventures

I do so love April, in the way that one loves the night before a very special event. The excitement! The promise of new growth, not next month or next week but tomorrow! The opportunity to get even closer to the natural world! It happens now.

In Poland, the first day of April is affectionately called Prima Aprilis. It sounds a lot better than our old April Fool's, but the intent is the same: we fool family, friends, anyone with something slightly annoying, potentially unpleasant, definitely funny. I read, for example, these small suggestions in a Polish newspaper: take a raisin, cut it in half, roll a half out into a thin string-like formation and put it in someone's sugar bowl. It really does look like a worm. Or, put a hard boiled egg in someone's egg carton. Or, if you're like me, send a text with some absurd announcement to your daughters and hope that they have forgotten it's April first. I do this every year and usually I manage to fool at least one for at least a handful of minutes. Why do we do this? Because small foolishness can lighten the heart just a little bit! And who doesn't need a lighter heart these days...

A less beneficial foolishness is one where you decide to stay up late with your tree planning maps. It's after midnight before I am satisfied that I did my best effort, placing some 75 trees on the two acres behind the barn and behind the new orchard. Drawn to scale, I hope.

And still less beneficial is then getting up before dawn because Ed chooses to discuss at that moment how to prepare the overgrown jungle out there for the arrival of the new trees. This is a huge deal and the stumbling piece that has kept us from doing anything for years. I used to try to mow down the weeds that grow there, but I routinely broke the tractor and the power mower over boulders, vines and invasive shrub stumps. Since no one ever ventured to that stretch of land and I left Ed burdened with the constant struggle to keep the machines in good repair, I gave up. 

Now that the trees are coming, we have to confront reality: a six inch high maple or a one foot chestnut cannot go into a jungle of weeds and shrubs and vines. We have to in some way clear the land. To some degree. The dilemma? To what degree and who should do the job (Ed, Ed and Nina, professionals and if so -- which professionals). So much to decide and though my input in such matters is sought out and welcomed, ultimately Ed follows his own predilection. Me, I would just pay someone to clear the land. There is now a growing industry of forestry mowers -- people who clear the invasives in forests and presumably on our overgrown land. It's ecologically friendly, as they mulch all that they pick up, and it prevents erosion. No digging or tilling. How expensive can it be to hire someone to do this for us a couple of times each year?

At breakfast...

... we go over the possibilities. Or rather, I lend an ear and offer my vote. By late morning, we've made progress: we ask someone to come out and give us an assessment. 

Okay, enough about trees. Why am I not outside? Well, it's sunny, but still cold. 

 

 

 

So the morning is spent finessing the details of my flower and now, too, tree maps.

In the afternoon though, we want to grab that sunshine. Snowdrop is on spring break and so I do not pick her up today. Ed and I could always do more yard work, but I suggest instead that we take a walk. We've been pretty farmette bound in the last few weeks. Time to see how spring unfolds in other parts of the world!

We head out to our local county park. I believe the last time we were here there was still snow on the ground. Not anymore! And indeed, we see that they recently did a controlled prairie burn.

Ed puts that on the table as well -- maybe we should consider a burn... 

No, we should not.

But we do pay close attention to the forested part of our walk. We study the maples, the shagbark hickory...

And in my head, I immediately redraw our own tree plan. Walking through a native forest helps me visualize these trees as they will appear long after we're stardust (or, in the alternative -- nutrients feeding the roots of these giants!). It's a slow paced walk. Truly we are taking a forest bath...

 

 

 

The evening calls for a frittata, don't you think? I cook it while chatting up Primrose, who is always fascinated by the culinary exploits at the farmhouse.

 

 

 

Yes, I stir in lots of local mushrooms, brussel sprouts, corn. And cheese. I must admit, the cheese is not from Wisconsin. As I said, sometimes, you just have to go out and taste something from a more distant part of the world.