movement

Spotty frost last night did me the favor of avoiding most (could I hope for "all?") of my vulnerable plants. A farmer we know just south of us lost her asparagus crop to it. Such a menace! I think it's the end of these night time dramas, but I am knocking on wood, just in case.

Morning walk in that early sunshine that is so inspiring, especially when your crab apple is still blooming and your lilac is splendidly flowering as well:

(Are you wondering how the little chicks are adapting to free range life? Magnificently! Again, knock on wood going forward!)

 

 

 

Breakfast, with some pinched white lilac buds from bushes that grow along the western edge of the farmette lands.

Immediately after, I head over to my mom's new residence, even as the movers are already packing and stacking her stuff at the old place. Many phone calls between movers and me confirm what I already know: moving is never easy and never fun, but luckily, this is such a change for the better for her that I shrug at the snafus and small issues and look forward to an easier set of months ahead for the both of us. 

(her new home)

(in her new room)

 

I stay with her until it's time to pick up Snowdrop at school. 

Yesterday the little girl was tired after a long day. Today, the sunshine charges up the energy levels and we again spend a few minutes outside...

... before going in to read and draw. Did you know she still likes to draw super pigs in action while she is here (and only here)?

Evening. I have to water some of the new plants. We're rainless again. By the time I start in on cooking an asparagus and mushroom frritata, it is very very late.

There's talk of frost here and there in south central Wisconsin tonight. I'm shutting it out. We will make it to that warmer part of the season. I'm sure of it.

With love...

frosty thoughts

Officially, Madison's frost date is May 15th. It's not that you can plant your tomatoes outdoors after that: those fruity vegetables require temps that stay consistently above 50F (10C), otherwise they stage mini rebellions. (Believe me, you do not want your young tomatoes to engage in protest!) But after May 15th, you're supposed to be able to plant your annuals with confidence that no frost will eat them alive. (Some say that actually you should have that confidence after May 2nd, while others say you are guaranteed no frost after May20th, but most stick with May 15th  as the date after which you can go ahead and plant.)

I usually aim for earlier. I fill my tubs with cold-sensitive plants right around May 1st and I put out porch flower pots then as well. Every once in a while, a threat of a hard frost has sent me lugging plants inside or at least covering them with blankets, but for the most part, we've survived.

This year is a little different in that we have had a cool first half of May and we are getting another frost advisory tonight. That consistent cold has made most of the tub plants grow ever so slowly if at all. They are not happy campers! I'm really hoping that we'll get through this night without damage. These chilly nights are for the birds!

This morning, I had an early appointment and Ed had an early appointment -- each of us functioning within our own domains (his, for example, was with a Craigslist guy who tinkered with weed whippers and sold parts to your own machine). All this after feeding the animals and walking the farmette lands of course. 

Breakfast was very late and you would have thought this would have pushed us out onto the porch, but no: too cold for that!

Still, you have to tell yourself that this is summer weather for, say, northern Scotland. So, maybe chilly by your radar or my sensibilities, but not too bad in the scheme of things. (A high of 53F, or 12C today.)

But I am feeling doubtful about getting Snowdrop to spend some time outside with me after school. She has had three cold outdoor recesses at school (when 53F was still but a dream). I'm sure she'll want cozy indoor time!

I'm not altogether correct on this. Gaga, you said you had asparagus to pick?

(Yes!)

And once out in the fields, she just cannot resist the dandelions.

And for a grandmother, for this grandmother, a child with dandelions is everything that's wonderful about life and the great outdoors: the simplicity of it, the pleasure of picking, sniffing ("they smell like honey!"), blowing, and even feeling the sticky milky juice which I believed as a child was the perfect antidote to warts (my generation worried about warts!), and honestly, the sheer beauty of the puffs and of the golden flowers -- all that is so grand, and the thing is, children instinctively know this. They're drawn to these flowers each May. And all I can do is follow with a camera and smile all the while as I take one photo and then another...

Evening. Last minute details of my mom's move to arrange. And leftovers for dinner. And finally, I take out my sketches and maps, aiming to attack the tree planting plan again. I make a dent! I have some rough ideas and Ed is too spent to challenge them much!

Now, can we keep the temps a little higher than a frosty freeze tonight? Okay? Thank you!

With love.

moms out there

Wishing you all a happy mother's day is like sending out a merry Christmas message to everyone you can think of: you're going to miss the target, since the good wishes apply to only a minority of humankind. Most people out there are not mothers, cannot be mothers, have no intention of taking on mothering responsibilities. Still, can we all agree to celebrate the concept together anyway? Because moms really are indispensable, undervalued, ingenious, and for the most part passionately committed to raising the next generation of human folk. Even the most lackadaisical mom has put in her share of labor to get you to where you are today.

Since so much of what happens on earth (and to this planet) depends on the work of mothers, I think it's a fine idea to take the time to celebrate their efforts, even if you yourself are not a mom, or if your mom is no longer with you to hear your words, or if you're one of those whose mom isn't particularly interested in hearing from you, nor you from her. It does us all good to stop and pause and think lovingly about mothers today. Motherhood is a huge deal. Let's cheer on its magnificent contributions to our daily lives!

So, Happy Mother's Day to all!

We wake to another cool day. Yes, I'm ready for a warm up and a return to breakfasts on the porch, but it's just not going to happen until maybe later in the week. Cool, brisk, but still lovely -- this is the story of this year's early May in south central Wisconsin.

With breakfast most definitely in the kitchen. Special today -- imitating a French morning meal, just because. (Pain au chocolat.)

Needless to say, we work on our outdoor projects. For me -- repairing chicken damage in the garden, pulling weeds, planting a handful of monardas. For Ed -- well, everything. We try to strategize tree planting (which will likely take place within a week or so), but give it up for now. He's too meticulous in his approach and I'm too much in a hurry. We'll return to it over popcorn this evening.

In the early afternoon, I have a fantastically wonderful screen visit with my daughter and her family.

I can't believe this growing child is the daughter of my daughter! It's a beautiful image, really it is!

Somewhere in there I have a call with my mom who is moving the day after tomorrow. I'll see her then, but for now, we exchange greetings by phone. 

And then I'm off to the nursery where just a trio of flowers is waiting for me. It's such a bucolic ride! Hello, sandhill pair!

And still  later, my older girl comes with her family for a farmhouse visit and celebration. My girls are the greatest gift givers in the world and we spend some time opening presents. And they are also caring individuals who know how to make a person feel ultra special.

(another call from Primrose!)

And then it's time for dinner...

 

 

 

... with the cake I spontaneously picked up yesterday at the bakery.

If ever there is a day for more photos, this is the one! Of my daughter, as a mother to these two (and a third one so ready to be born!)

And what the heck -- let me insert myself into that bunch, adding a generation of motherhood.

And after all the dishes are cleared and tucked away, I sit down with Ed and we should be contemplating where to place a chestnut or a maple or a hickory, should be reading all those planting details he likes to pull up, drawing charts, sifting through the alternatives. But we're too tired! This from Ed -- I get tired after doing stuff that never even made me a little tired before!

 

A typical farmhouse Mother's Day, no? With all the delights of the day, with many contemplative moments, with many reasons to feel so very very grateful. Happy day indeed.

this is who we are...

By now, all the vaccinated people I know have returned to at least some degree of shopping. (What a winning strategy we have -- you protect yourself with a vaccination and perhaps more importantly, you protect your community from further spread/mutations!) I bet you wont be surprised to learn that I have not yet shopped. Indeed, I still haven't been inside a grocery store (or cafe, or restaurant) since.... oh, early March. Of 2020.

There are really only two reasons for this store avoidance: first of all, even in normal times, I hardly ever shop. Grocery stores -- yes, in the past: routinely and with some degree of pleasure. But otherwise? Almost never. Secondly -- I hate to admit it, but I have gotten rather fond of having someone else bring our groceries to us. It's a 90 minute savings for me (if you count the round trip travel) and at this point, I need all those minutes for yard work (and grandkids and mom stuff). 

But today, I broke that long spell of abstinence. (And last week, Ed broke his long spell too.) It happened in the late morning and by accident.

I'd been taking care of the animals and picking a weed here and there (but mostly admiring all that's growing and blooming right now)...

(lilacs!)

(still the crab apple...)

(the last of the tulips...)

(the first of the irises)

And we sat down to breakfast (with The Cat, and inside, because we're in a cols spell)...

And we reviewed what work still needs to be done. For Ed, the list is suddenly huge. We thought the trees we ordered were lost somewhere in transport or that the tree farm simply forgot our order, but no! Turns out they are on their way! Expect them next week, the growers tell us. As he lists his tasks -- preparing weed mats, cages, finishing chopping, pruning, mowing, starting in on digging -- I almost want to tune out. It's a hefty set of chores!

Mine today is considerably lighter (but not light enough so that I can help him make a dent in his). And it starts off with picking up local asparagus from the market drop off site and, too, picking up a couple of breakfast treats for tomorrow's Mother's Day breakfast. I know -- bakery items should be fresh, I should do this tomorrow, but I'm afraid I wont really want to bother tomorrow and I do miss my French breakfasts an awful lot. So I head out.

 

 

As I pull up to the bakery, I give myself a firm little scold for making them do a curbside delivery when I am perfectly capable of stepping inside the store. So I park the car and go in. And I don't just pick up the paid for treats. I look around. I spot beautiful cakes in the display window. 

I chat to the seller. And I cannot resist it -- I buy one of the cakes for tomorrow's dinner. That constitutes shopping!

[Ed's break out into the world of stores happened when he went to Harbor Freight to pick up a tool part. Isn't this just so us? He breaks isolation by shopping for a tool, I break my spell by shopping in a bakery!]

In the afternoon, I put in four more perennials and, too, I feel it is safe enough weather wise to plant the sweet peas. This last job is a bit of a chore since I have to build chicken wire cages for the plants. The sweet pea flower is extremely vulnerable out here: the groundhog thinks it's a better treat than a cake out of a bakery! To each her own.

(pausing to watch a bee coming in for a landing...)

Evening: our quiet time. I have no doubt Ed will zonk out early. Spending a day outdoors does that to you. Me? I'm enjoying too much the popcorn he popped, a glass of Chablis and my delicious mystery novel. So him, so me.

"two" is more forceful than "one"

If asked where I got my love of beautiful gardens, I'd say two things in my life happened almost at once: I spent a summer in England (pregnant with the younger one and holding the little hand of my older girl) and soon after, I visited Giverny -- the place where Monet planted his garden. Either trip would have spurred me to look differently at my own garden, but the two, within years of each other pushed me over the cliff. I've been planting herbaceous (perennial) borders and beds ever since. I consider a patch with some sunlight and decent dirt to be a gift, to be used wisely. You have have the ability to turn it into something beneficial and sensual.

April gives us the thrill of first flowers here in south central Wisconsin. May -- well that's a garden in full swing. Whichever way you look, there will be something to awe you.

I'm up early. There are animals to feed. This, too, is an opportunity to take that morning walk. The colors are beautiful then!

Our friends linger for breakfast before they take off. Too cold for the porch, especially for these two (they just came from Hawaii).

But even from the inside, the eye is drawn to the garden. The lilac is coming into bloom and the crab is not yet dropping petals. This, too, is a confluence of two powerful garden beauties. Early spring anchors: apple and lilac!

I do spend time planting -- but I only have a couple of hours for it.  By early afternoon it's time to pick up Snowdrop. 

 

 

 

She had been learning about famous painters in her school art class and I thought this may be a good moment to introduce her to a book that was extremely influential for me, for my kids when they were school aged -- Linea in Monet's Garden. Kid books are supposed to open their young eyes to the intricate wonders of our planet, but the very best books are as important to us readers as they are to the intended audience. Over the decades, I learned a lot about Monet's work, but none of the new information was as eye opening to me as what I'd picked up from this young person's book. 

Will Snowdrop (or Primrose or Sparrow) feel the pull toward these late nineteenth century painters? Toward the gardens that became Monet's obsession and now mine? 

It's a cool day and we'll have a cool weekend too. There's even a danger of light frost, though I'm not too worried. It doesn't feel threatening. It feels crisp and lovely and hopeful. 

 

(with the young chicks)

 

 

 

Much much later I consider what to make for supper. Leftovers win. It's just the two of us. Both tired, but happy to have had so many good days of productive work outside.

new paths

For someone who seems to be stuck in familiar repetitive patterns, I have to say, to me it feels like I am forever tweaking things and making adjustments. Life demands adjustments. Gardens demand adjustments. Grandkids and especially parents of grandkids and babysitters of kids -- they all have schedules that demand adjustments. So today feels to me very different even if you're thinking -- oh, she's doing the same stuff.

The day starts off cool and cloudy. We had rain showers overnight and the world smells damp and wonderful.

There's no going back: the beauty of this month will not recede. 

But breakfast is definitely in the kitchen.

 

Immediately after, Sparrow comes over. This is the new pre-vacation normal. Thursday mornings belong to him, here. 

He is agreeable. I want at least a few minutes outside. He's up for it.

But not too long. The bulk of our time is spent inside the cozy warm farmhouse.

The afternoon? I'm back in the garden. Just for a handful of hours and no, it's not the same old digging in new flowers. Now that the flower beds are filling in, I see where I really need to make adjustments. Paper plans just do not fully explain how gardens grow. And so I try out some new designs. I create a Virginia bluebell patch. I put in some lilium bulbs in bare spots. Tweaks. New stuff. Some of it wont even grow this year. I'm planting for next year and the year after.

But toward mid afternoon I stop. Here's something really new for us: Ed's college friend and his wife are in town and fully vaccinated. It feels strange and a little unreal, but they in fact do come over and do eat dinner with us and do spend the night here -- just as they did before the pandemic.

 

 

 

You'll tell me  -- ah, you're slowly returning to the old life. This would be untrue. There is no going back. My Polish friends asked me if I will be traveling to Warsaw this summer. In the old life, I would think -- well now, that's a good idea. I should do that! This time I responded -- no, I'm not feeling it's right to travel right now. And with our friends -- we're not going out to dinner and indeed, it very much feels like we are navigating a new landscape. 

Still, a pretty landscape. It's May and life for us is a heck of a lot more normal now than it was a year ago. A new normal, but still, not a crazy isolated pandemic times normal. And for that we are so grateful.