68

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64. Remember singing those lyrics back in 1967? I was 14 then and I thought 64 was really old! Heck, I thought 50 was over the hill. 

Those early years, when anxious longing was so much part of my everyday! Where do I belong? What contributions are mine to make? Much much later I read Mary Oliver. Her words, as usual, well placed.

Tell me,
what is it you plan to do
with your one
wild and precious life?

When you are young, you don't know any of that. You latch onto one thing, but pass on something else. I passed on my 7th grade teacher's excitement over Wordsworth. She had us memorize these thrilling lines:

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze

I thought it was a chore. Living then in New York, I could not imagine a field of daffodils. 

Now I can.

 

Notice the sunshine? April doesn't promise endless days of sunshine, but most often on my birthday I get at least a little!

(True, today we also get a snow flurry. Never mind, it was fleeting.)

I am 68 today, happy to be alive, grateful for all the privilege that has put me where I am right now. Grateful for my beloveds, family, friends, Ed. (Over breakfast, with a card which he managed to find on the internet. Lovely.)

I bring in boxes of plants. Arriving now, full speed ahead. Only I have to shelter them in the mudroom because we are to have another freezing night. Just one more!

I am also scheduled to pick up a plant order from the Flower Factory. We drive over, enjoying the landscape that is suddenly perfect. A thousand shades of green. Oh! Want to see what a controlled prairie burn looks like? We pass one on the way.

And from the perennial nursery, we head out to Owen Woods. An FB friend tipped me off: bluebells are in their fullest moment! To repeat: ours, on this side of the ocean, are Mertensia virginica. The flower heads are almost identical to the English bluebell (Hyacinthoides non-scripta). Downward facing bells. True blue. (There are very few true blue flowers out there. You'd think it would be a common floral color. It isn't.) But they are not the same as the English bell.

 

 

 

It seems dreamy and magical to sit in a patch of blue bells and so I do just that.

 

 

 

The Bronte sisters wrote poems about the bluebell, but I like this simple verse better -- it comes from a book of flower fairies (by Cicely Mary Barker) -- one that I think my grandkids would like, not as a school chore, but as a stepping stone to their treasured world of magic and make believe:

My hundred thousand bells of blue,
The splendour of the Spring,
They carpet all the woods anew
With royalty of sapphire hue;
The Primrose is the Queen, ’tis true.
But surely I am King!
Ah yes,
The peerless Woodland King!

We stop at my older girl's home for a birthday drink. And cards and presents. And cake! With candles! And kid hugs.

Candles lit. Ed, take a picture!

 

 

 

And now for something we haven't done in well over a year: on the way home, Ed and I pick up take out food. We go to Taigu Noodles and load up on Chinese boxes of favorites!

Day isn't done until I can visit with Primrose, another spring girl in my life! Her rendition of the happy birthday song is incredible!

And so I get used to that new number: 68.

Past middle age, I did finally come around to Wordsworth and Neruda and especially, in my ancient post 50s life -- to Mary Oliver. What nature loving soul does not also love Mary Oliver?!

("Wild Geese")

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Life. Yes, so beautiful, if you can free yourself of nonsense, often not of your making, to soak in its subtly magnificent moments.

Happy birthday indeed.

 

color your day

What colors your day? What leaves you feeling giddy, relieved, satisfied? I know poor weather can dampen the spirit. Cold air can send you indoors to hide under a warm blanket, preferably with a mug of hot tea in hand. But so many things can truly add pink tones to your mood! Here's one -- today a friend told me that for once she had some good medical news. Imagine -- she went from feeling apprehensive, like her days were numbered, to feeling euphoric. Granted a reprieve. I was delighted.

All this happened in rapid succession -- early morning wake up and walk to feed the animals...

(tulips, looking like they're huddled inside themselves trying to keep warm!)

Early morning appointments, a rush out, a trip to the UPS store, and finally, a leisurely breakfast with Ed, during which we talk about medicine and how it can deliver good results and at other times -- push you down a rabbit hole of never ending question marks.

But in the end, it is a day for farmhouse hibernation. Oh, not for the chicks -- the three young girls now have to get used to every kind of weather (so long as it stays above freezing). We plan on integrating them into the coop by the weekend. Sure, it's been good to bring them in for the night, knowing that they are safe and warm in the farmhouse, without (yet) the older chickens to harass them into submission, but they are growing and they do smell and it's been eight weeks. Time to make the house chicken-free once again.

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. I wish I could offer her a nice romp in the garden. We do play outside a little. But just a little.

 

 

But it does feel good to get back inside. To the couch!

And that's fine. But I am looking forward to Earth Day  -- when sweet sunny spring returns once again with all that she delivers. Hey, maybe, just maybe some of her goodies will color my day even before Earth Day! Come on, surprise me with some sunshine tomorrow! Please. If you can. It's alright if you can't. But I surely would welcome some break in the clouds, just as a special Wednesday treat, okay?

new schedule

On this chilly, really chilly day, we make a few adjustments. First of all, I turn up the heat and pull on a very warm sweatshirt. There's no dilly dallying during the morning walk. Feed the animals, return home.

 

(still plenty of golden color out there...)

Breakfast in the kitchen. I feel it would not be inappropriate to light a candle -- something I reserve for the darker winter months. But, I hold back. I have a little guy here today. Candles and little ones are probably not a good combo.

Sparrow is here alone because his sister's school is now in session four days a week. I'm not a great substitute for Snowdrop, but at least the farmhouse offers a change of pace for the guy. 

 

We play. And I mean "we." Sparrow used to love to play by himself for a long stretches of time, but he's been in a world of babysitters and Snowdrop. I'm roped into everything.

 

 

 After lunch (he really holds his own on that strawberry, a member of the dreaded fruit family!) ...

 

 

 

...Sparrow really wants to go outside. This surprises me: he is usually reluctant to face the challenges of the great outdoors. And this day is an exceptionally cold day.

 

 

 

He hangs in there for a little while...

But not too long. I drop him off at home and then go over to Snowdrop's school to get in line for the pick up of the little girl.

I take her home today and eventually make my way back to the farmette. 

There wasn't much time for yard work, but nor was there the inclination to work outside. We're in for three days of cold. Well, relative cold. Not so long ago, a high of 44F (7C) would have been welcome news. Not today. We wait for this blast from the north to pass. There's talk of snow to the south of us. Good news only because the land is dry and any moisture is helpful. Ah well, it's spring. Never think that you can outsmart and outpredict this season. There will always be surprises.

with hardly a pause

The second half of April is intense here at the farmette. Everything picks up speed. Ed and I try to keep up with old demands even as new projects insert themselves into our spring routines. For example, this morning I found Ed measuring the temperature of water in a jar. He was aiming for some perfect number of degrees so that he could begin the process of "cold stratifying" Korean Pine seeds. Why we should be fussing with Korean Pine seeds is a long story, but let me just say that when mature, these trees do produce edible pine nuts. Yes, we're fully into the tree project once again and our assortment of nut trees will include the Korean Pine. If something comes of his sprouting project.

Me, I'm focused totally on the flower fields. I look beyond the daffodils (even though the daffodils are splendid right now!).

I dig out weeds and I cover exposed roots that the cheepers are determined to scratch up, and I chip the plants for good measure. Until the flower fields are thick with perennials, this is what I have to do to keep things growing. And because it is another lovely spring day, we start before breakfast (such pretty colors then!)...

Finally, a pause:  for the morning meal on the porch...

And continuing really without pause until late afternoon, when I am happy to stop bending, digging pulling, chipping, so that I can focus on the evening meal.

This nonstop outdoor work is really good for the soul. You're not doing it for the exercise, you're doing it because you care about something other than your physical health and yet the benefits accrue exponentially: the more you work, the better the garden looks and the better you feel. Funny how that works.

(Peach and Henny have taken to laying in the cart... The girls have too much freedom!)

 

 

Toward evening, the young family comes and we spend a good many moments outside. Yes, the "magic meadow" is in play again, announcements and all.

 

 

(we're never quite sure what Sparrow understands these announcements to be, but he always participates with total enthusiasm...)

 

 

 

Everyone is hungry. Time to go inside.

And so ends a very full weekend. Not much couch time, but hey, I can make up for it in the days to come. We're slated to have a blast of cold air. April is never a smooth sail. But I'm happy as anything to have had these prep days: everything is ready. Toward the end of next week, I'll begin filling the spaces created for the newcommers to the garden. How wonderful is that!

your most splendid April day

No question -- today's a winner. Blue skies, plenty of sunshine. 

(Pepper, our self-appointed matriarch of the brood, turning her face to the sun)

 

(cherry blossoms)

Cold in the morning, true, but we brave it, taking our breakfast on the porch even in the nippy weather. 

You have hope on days like this. The potential for greatness is right there before you and your energies soar.

Well, at least ours do. Ed and I begin loading and unloading wood chips even before breakfast and we continue until my daughter arrives with her two kids for our Saturday lunch. (And we return to it after they leave. We're motivated!)

Daffodils still dominate.

But by now, it hardly matters what's blooming, because everything in our gardens is enchanting. The shades of green alone are gorgeous!

The kids do take a brief run through the farmette fields...

And I'm happy about that. A garden begs to be noticed. And they do notice.

But eventually, that old orange couch beckons. Hunger for books, fruits and snacks drives them inside.

But warm weather is on all our minds. The kids insist on playing in their swimsuits (reminding me that they need new ones for the season ahead). I hear a lot of pretend splashes in the background.

(a miracle! Sparrow eats a strawberry! the little guy's two year old rebellion has been to say no to all form of plant life)

 

 

The young ones leave. I have no great thoughts today. I clear my mind as I work outside. During a brief pause, I read the simplest stuff, for example, a fun article about the proliferation of taco places in France, much to the chagrin of the Mexican population, since the tacos don't look like anything you or I or they might call tacos. It links to a very funny youtube, where one man confronts the gigagtaco challenge: you have to eat a five pound taco in less than two hours. It's in French, but you dont' have to speak the language to crack a smile.

 

Breathe in the spring air. Go ahead, do it. Let your mind run on empty. It's splendid, really it is!

grabbing sunshine

It's cold, but not really cold because the sun is out! I don't get this -- how is it that you feel just fine, even in the shade, merely because the skies are blue? Whatever the logic, I'll take it!

We're in the 40sF (maybe 6C) and yet, I'm in favor of putting the chicks out and I'm in favor of eating breakfast on the porch. 

Afterwards, I return to the weeding, but I restrain myself with planting anything. We're getting a hard frost next week. Putting in baby plants just before is not a good idea.

And so the entire morning is spent on gardening, interspersed with  phone calls. And we get a delivery of wood chips from the Madison Gas and Electric tree maintenance guys, and I am hoping that distributing them will slow down the weed growth that's been driving me nuts the past few weeks. So, progress!

And very quickly it is the afternoon. Time to pick up Snowdrop!

She isn't fully convinced we should spend time outside. Oh, she makes her rounds: chicks, tree, flower overview...

But Fridays are tired days. She'd much rather snuggle inside with her bowl of fruit and a good book. And Gogs.  (Gogs, what did Abe Lincoln mean when he said "A house divided against itself cannot stand?" Hmmm, who knew I'd be explaining the Civil War today...) 

(The sunshine follows us inside...)

But late in the evening, after I drop the girl home, I return to the yard. Ed had dumped mountains of wood chips on the new flower bed. I can start making inroads spreading them around. Pitchfork, here I come!

Dinner is very, very late.