Friday quiet

Ed went from being somewhat preoccupied with his machining projects and oversights to being consumed by them. I keep tabs on all angles of his work, because it's all interesting, and he's interesting, and because it is all outside my comfort zone, so that I consider it to be an education in how things work in the real world. Still, his days are abuzz with activity right now. So much so that he was up at dawn and out of the house (on a mission!) before I even began weighing the hefty question of whether it was time to feed the animals already.

Since he was away for a good chunk of the day, I decided to act like a July gardener rather than a September gardener. None of this "meh, why bother weeding" stuff! Lets get out the clippers and cut spent flowers and pull at least some of those weeds out. Oh, and while I'm at it, there's hand mowing that needs to be done. Normally I'd offload that to Ed, but like I said, the guy's preoccupied.

So I worked. All morning I worked. Most of the afternoon I worked.

We're moving into that phase where beauty lies not necessarily in the abundance of blooms, but in the juxtaposition of, say, a small handful of blooms against a mixed canopy of foliage and a few lingering flowers. So it's different, but equally lovely and compelling. See if you agree:

(these are "autumn" lilies, so I guess we're into autumn now!)

(where will the froggies go after the lilies are done for the year?)

(Happy, always the easiest to photograph because he stands still!)

(Cherry, the jumper! With wing assist.)

Breakfast, by the way, was at noon, on the porch, alone. A rare thing!

Eventually I do think about dinner, though there's not much to mull over. It's obvious I should do a frittata. We are awash with eggs and with veggies and mixing the two is just so delicious! Today I'm reaching for green beans, corn and mushrooms. And a few leftover broccoli flowerettes. And I'm using the tiny eggs of our youngest cheepers, so twelve instead of the usual eight. (We eat the frittata over two days.) Since I like putting most of the shredded cheese on top (most others would throw a big portion of it into the egg mixture), all my frittatas tend to look the same at the finish line. So let me toss in a photo of it when it's still not cooked and before the cheese goes on!

It's my last photo for the day. And just to let you know, I have a busy weekend ahead. Sane people would put aside blogging when days and especially evenings fill up with activity, but I have long abandoned sanity in favor of daily posting, so you'll get something here, even though I'm not sure what!

The evening is cool, the air quality -- well, a bit hazy from the western fires, but honestly, here, at the farmhouse we are feeling enormously lucky.

A good night to all!

With love...

storms

I did not bother going upstairs at midnight. There were to be storms with hurricane force winds. We have a couple of tall thin pines out front that could well snap in a storm and though they don't seem to be pointing in the direction of the farmhouse, you never know. When things start swaying and shaking out there, I like to be far from whatever might hit the roof.

Within an hour, the sirens began their wail and a merely heavy storm suddenly turned into a tornado warning. 

We were at the western edge of the trouble spots. What to do? Well, sirens really do mean basement time, but our basement is unfinished and dusty and not fit for human habitation so I usually opt to hunker down in the corner of the mudroom. If the house were to be ripped up and carried away, like, say, in the Wizard of Oz, then the mud room wouldn't protect me, but the corner of it is windowless and has a door leading to the basement just in case things got really violent, so I see it as a good compromise. 

Ed gauged the risk to be small (he said the winds didn't sound strong enough) and the inconvenience to be large and so he stayed put. I know, I know, you could raise good counter arguments, but, I suppose probabilities were on his side so there's that.

In my mudroom enclave it was anything but cozy so I moved in a kitchen rug and tried to make do with that. Nope. Not good enough. Next, I carried down a sleeping bag and a pillow, thinking I could at least rest. Nope, couldn't rest. And then Ed let the cats in (they are scarred! they have the sheep shed, get them out of here!) and the cats thought my resting in the mudroom was very very strange, so yes, Ed did finally chase them out of the house and by that time the tornado warning was over.

I got very little sleep last night.

This morning, we noted a half an inch of rain in our measuring cup. The air improved, from 97% humidity levels last night to something more summer normal this morning. I found it easy to work in the garden, even though my motivation is slowly (maybe not so slowly) diminishing. I only snip lily heads visible to "an average passerby" (even though there are no passerby types, average or otherwise, passing through here ever).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An hour into it I consider myself done. Breakfast!

And as I sit there thinking how absolutely delicious that milky coffee is, the kids arrive!

(purple on purple)

 

 

 

 

 

I'd say we concentrate on three things: sampling flowers, reading books and doing art. Oh, and eating fruit, but that goes without saying. It's a gaga thing.

(What? Sampling flowers? As in tasting them?? The answer is yes. We have some edible flowers in the yard and the kids were checking out the flavors!)

 

 

(We did also admire stuff without ingesting it!)

 

 

(When I return the kids home, I check in on Sandpiper. Nope, not awake at the moment!)

And in the afternoon? Market time! For the cheese-egg exchange. For checking on what's growing these days.

One last item on the agenda: garlic harvest! We'd started growing garlic by accident. Somehow a bulb got planted. And within a couple of years, we seemed to have a patch, right in front of the lily bed. Lately, we've been much more deliberate about it: we harvest, we cure it, we plant cloves from the biggest heads. Today was harvest time!

In the evening I feel I could fall asleep early, no problem, but the Olympics are on and the air feels good and the mood is gentle and sweet. We hang out on the couch. Our beloved purchased on Craigslist four years ago couch. So much better than the floor in the mudroom! No, no storms tonight. Just a moon out there, shining down brightly on us all.

sandwich

In the middle of the night, lightening took over the skies. Thunder claps followed, but really, it was the lightening that made me turn on the bedroom lamp and give up on sleep for a while. I'm not a sound enough sleeper to withstand someone shining powerful fog lights in my face, nor can I sleep through a chain of lightening flashes turning the night into a Halloween spectacle. So I stayed up and waited and eventually the skies settled and I settled and Ed came up and soon enough it was morning. 

I almost sprinted in my eagerness to see what the storms had delivered! And what a disappointment! Less than a quarter of an inch of rain in our measuring cup. Really?? After all that flashing we got just a trickle of wetness in the garden? Now that's just plain frustrating. 

The rain must have come on with some strength though because many of the phlox blooms were knocked off the stems. It's bound to happen now. The flowers are transitioning to late summer. Still ravishingly beautiful, but more fragile now.

(late summer colors)

(very unusual for me color choices...)

Breakfast on the porch. 

And now what? No kids today, no real motivation to work much in the garden. An hour, maybe hour and a half and that's it. I no longer pay attention to detail. It's like the farmer who complained in a recent email newsletter that in spring, every weed mattered and now, a whole field can be taken over by weeds and you shrug it off. 

I spend a good many hours in my Adirondack on the porch, writing. Not the finished text -- I'm done with that for now, but something else. I'm experimenting with a new idea. We'll see where it goes.

But honestly, the day feels like the insides of a sandwich, the cheese or salami that's stuck between two pieces of stormy bread: we had one slice of storms last night and we're getting the second, possibly more violent storms tonight. In between, the air is warm and humid and we can't wait until the whole bit -- the whole sandwich of bad weather -- is done with. 

In the evening we move the cars from their parking space underneath the big willow. Those branches can come crashing down if the winds gust as fiercely as they're predicting.  And then I cook up some soup. I know, you're thinking that's really a weird choice for a hot muggy day. But my CSA farmers (Tipi Produce) suggested a recipe for all that corn and green beans and zucchini and I think it's a good one and it really is perfect for late July or August, because of the absolutely sublime corn: cut off the kernels and boil the cobs (with smashed garlic) to make corn stock. Then, it's the normal soup procedure. Sautee onion, add chopped green beans, then zucchini, then corn, herbs and broth. And a few chick peas! Cook it up, squeeze in some lemon juice and sprinkle some parmesan. Thank you, farmers. It's delicious!

Okay, it's back to storm tracking for me. Let's keep the roof on the house tonight, okay? We would so appreciate it!

excellence

Ed and I have a different approach to the Olympics: I love watching medal rounds, he finds the commentary to be excessively nation focused. Why gloat if your country sweeps up the medals? Who is left behind then, disappointed? 

It is true that we have been increasingly preoccupied with the competition of nations rather than individuals. We get less and less background about athletes from other countries. Still, you can have your own meter of what's exciting in the Games and for me, it has always been about individual excellence. Watching young athletes rise to such heights after years of work -- it's just beautiful. Not unlike watching a chef preparing her finest dish or a painter putting finishing touches of his masterpiece.

So in the evening, I slow down and take to the couch to watch the young women do their Olympic routines, and Ed revs up and gets off the couch and goes out to water the young trees we planted, and we are both content.

The morning, on the other hand, was tricky: it began to rain just as I snipped lilies and clipped spent stalks. I was too quickly delighted with the prospect of showers. I stopped my work and went in to fix breakfast and the rain stopped and we got hardly a trace of water out there. 

A few photos for you. Can you tell we are nearing a bold season finale? 

Breakfast, on the porch. 

 

 

 

It was pleasantly cool there, but within an hour we soared back up to the 90sF (above 32C) and I was glad that I had a date with Snowdrop at the farmhouse so that I would not feel compelled to finish my work in the flower fields.

 

We haven't been to the orchard meadow recently. Ir's lovely now!

The young girl missed her morning swim (because of the light rain and threat of storms) and when I proposed a walk to the playground in the new development, she was happy to get up and get moving.

It's funny -- I'd been looking forward to having a playground to which we could walk ever since the grandkids started coming here, but the play structure has been up for a couple of years and this is the first time she and I actually walked to it. I'm sure it wont be the last. Snowdrop loves climbing, hanging and doing all those other kid things that seem to me now to be impossibly difficult. I say that after allowing myself to swing from this very same wheel (Snowdrop insisted I try, like five times).

(Back at the farmette, with her fav)

(When I drop off Snowdrop at home, nearly always I get a super greeting from little Sparrow.)

 

 

(Sandpiper is more modest in his excitement. At two months, his excellence, I feel, is in his intense stare into your eyes as you make silly faces at him. Here, he's getting ready to head out with the family for a parent colleague picnic in the park.)

 

It's dark outside and the farmette is exploding with fireflies by the time Ed comes in and fixes us popcorn. Did I mention how good that popcorn is? Talk about excellence!

hot but lucky

Oh it's hot alright. No sitting out on the porch today. I'd stick to my chair. But honestly, every year brings us a few readings in the 90sF (so above 32C), and we are staying in the low 90s, and only for a couple of days. So I see it as typical summer weather. (But we need some rain!) (Though thank you for banishing the mosquito population from Madison and the farmette this year -- we deeply appreciate it!) We are grateful that the air quality is moderately good and the storms are not touching us (so far). I'll take hot for a few days.

But it's crispy and dusty out there right now. It kept me inside for breakfast.

Where is Ed? Asleep. His work has completely flipped his sleeping habits (what habits...?). Last night (is it even fair to call it night?) he came upstairs to sleep at 6 in the morning. I protested that this was starting to interfere with my sleeping cycle, but my words had little impact as I then promptly fell back asleep. For another hour or so.

Oh, there is early morning garden work of course. And flower photos for you (and me).

(right now, one of the most colorful views is when you first step out the door...)

The lilies are rapidly diminishing in number. It is, after all, the end of July. Too, they had an earlier start this year. I expect there to be one or two hundred each day for the next few weeks. That's a small number when spread over ten beds. 

 

 

 

(A late summer garden spider - the agriope (rhymes with calliope) loves the lilies)

 

 

(secret path...)

 

 

 (Big Bed: a  little of this, a little of that now...)

 

Still, late July and August have their own crispy charm. I start letting go of my gardens then. I watch them slowly recede and fold up for the year. There's a calm in the late season that you appreciate after the frenzied hurry of spring and early summer. Sort of like being a grandmother who no longer has to worry about the daily needs -- physical and emotional  -- of her offspring. You come in when you want and retreat to rest when you need to put your feet up. 

Mustn't get too restful though. You're still needed, albeit at your slower speed -- both in your garden and with your grandkids, or at your jobs or projects. Indeed, in the evening, Ed goes out to water the new trees we planted and I turn my attention to Primrose in Chicago. She and I talk about corn: she's eating some, I'm fixing some. I will bet anything hers is from Wisconsin!

And at dusk, I go out to do some spot weeding. I clip off spent stalks, too. No more buds for this year. Many of the plants are just done.

All the more reason to love what's still going strong.