Thursday

On the upside, this is it: the day that annuals can be planted. I have mild trepidation, because of course, before mid-May, anything can still happen. A mean wind from the north could destroy a crop of flowers. But looking ahead at the forecast, I think it's not likely. And so I take out all that I lugged into the kitchen and I put on my agenda for the day the purchasing of tub blooms. Yes! Finally. Instant color, by this weekend.

On the downside, we're not getting that string of sunny days that would give a boost to everything that's already in the ground. Cloudy, with a chance of rain. Like Scotland, only less variable. 

But this isn't what starts my day: first, I have to take a picture of myself. I need it for my Great Writing Project. Now, any of my kids, or even some of my grandkids, to say nothing of Ed, would happily, happily do this for me, but I don't want to tax anyone's patience with my fussiness and so I do it myself. In the kitchen, with the self timer. It is a funny handful of minutes. Lots of running back and forth. Lots of retakes. Finally, something that "will do." And no, you don't get to see it. Unless you buy the book. I'll let you know when!

The walk to the barn? Oh, fine. Still not exactly a crowd, a host of daffodils (...) fluttering dancing in the breeze (Wordsworth), but enough now to give some color to the landscape.

Breakfast? Well, I'm trying to reinterpret it here at the farmhouse. Ed has fallen into a schedule that just does not work for me. He's up too late. Yes, I can wake him for breakfast, but it seems unnecessary and unkind. So I eat alone.

And then he complains that I didn't call him down for it. You can't win!

I have a lot of small and large details to attend to. A call with my Polish friends to finalize a meet up this early fall. An appointment to check off one of those things you regularly need to check off. A delivery of some treats for the young family kids. And then, finally, a trip to pick up some annuals.

This is both exciting and frustrating. The garden center is empty because no one (except for me) wants to pick out annuals when it is just 47F (8C) outside. Still, I need to do several trips (my car cant hold everything I need) and so I may as well start today. Planting will move full steam ahead starting tomorrow.  Gazillions of seeds, a whole lavender patch, and the dozen (more?) tubs -- all getting their season's stock, late and in borderline weather, but in they will go. I am determined!

 

 

In the late afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop. Not at school today and we did have a cut in our farmhouse time, but she insisted that short is better than nothing at all, so here she is... 

 

 

 

... settling into her usual!

And boom! Day is done.

Honestly, I don't know how a day can have so few hours. I should be strolling mindlessly through the garden, or reading my book, and working on my next project. Instead, I'm zipping from one task to the next, like someone who is about to take off on a year long trip and needs to get her house and life in order before heading out.

All this is just fine, of course. We go about our business, doing stuff we love, in peace and tranquility. How good is that!

With love...

Wednesday

Why do we have such a strong attachments to trivial habits? Why, for instance, am I incapable of buying flowers in even numbers? In Poland, it was absolutely essential to always purchase an odd number. Three roses, seven tulips, 1 carnation. But why have I carried this habit over here, so that I cannot imagine buying an even number of blooms for my daughter's table? It has to be odd, or else! (Or else what?)

(Breakfast with Primrose...)

(hey, how about me? I can't eat granola, but I sure like to keep you company!)

I'm in Chicago just for the half day. The mom is back at work, the dad is taking the older girl in for a check up, I'm with the babe. And of course, it's a school day, so after her check up, this big girl will be heading out to school.

Two sisters, each following her path on this beautiful if a bit chilly spring day.

Oh, and speaking of habits, is there ever a visit where I do not take this timed release selfie with the big girl?

How full of smiles and giggles she is! I have grandchildren whose default expression is one of joy, at the smallest thing.

(Me too! You should see me laugh when mom or dad blow soft puffs of air on my forehead!)

Yes, a happy babe with a sweet and gentle disposition. 

(Mom breaks for lunch with me and for a fleeting check-in with Juniper)

It's a short visit for me this time, but a longer one is coming up in a few weeks, when both parents will have resumed work and the day care has not yet started for Juniper. Like her sister, she'll start "school" when she is just shy of six months. How fortunate these kids are to have it all -- great parents, good schools, and all the joys of each season right there before them!

(Or, am I the one who is endlessly fortunate? Like the woman in Japan who lived until her 117 birthday, celebrating her small passions every day -- in her case, a love of chocolate and coca-cola. I have my share of wee passions, that's for sure, though some of them are growing up to be big kids pretty fast!)

Home again tonight. Plants are still indoors, safe from tonight's hovering temperatures, right near the freezing point. So, instead of gardening thoughts, I have grandkid thoughts. Beautiful and warm grandkid thoughts.

With so much love...

Tuesday

Time to drive down to Chicago. Kids and especially babies grow fast. You blink an eye and they're no longer newborns, but grinning broadly at your silly face. Or sitting up. Or moving into their college dorm room. I pack my bag for a visit before they're out the door!

I could not have picked a better spring day for it. Meaning -- I cannot do a thing in the farmette flower beds. I'm stuck waiting for the bitter cold air to pass through. 

And so soon after breakfast, I get into Blue Moon and head "south." And it does feel like I've gone south. Spring is at a far more advanced point in Chicago!

Primrose and Juniper (one girl is 4 years the other girl is 4 months) have grown a lot since my last trip to see them in late March. And that growth is measured in ways other than mere size: they have had a spectacular road trip vacation, which of course, means they have raked in new experiences and tasted new foods and breathed mountain air and smelled early spring flowers -- something we're still waiting for here, in the upper Midwest. 

But of course, the core remains what it was: solid sweetness, clever game play, excitement at everything that the new day generates!

First, a quick visit with Juniper:

You know, the girl with the eyes filled with amazement...

Next, I walk over to pick up Primrose at school...

We have our own dedicated playtime at home.

In the meantime, Juniper watches, happiest when family activities are close to her. In her own way, she participates.

We have a lovely birthday dinner. Whose birthday? Well, mine!

A feast of a trip! In all ways.

With so much love... 

Monday

A people day: morning with friends, afternoon with Snowdrop. Evening with Ed, though that shouldn't count -- we can go a long time without provocative conversation!

A quick morning walk, a bowl of fruit, cut up for later.

And a rush to a coffee shop to have coffee with my friend who flew into town for a few days. I wish I could say that we were completely silly and inconsequential in our time together. But, being good friends, indeed, great friends, sometimes requires something more. So we shared that something more -- the issues facing her, facing me. You know, the usual stuff that needs a review and sometimes input (but mostly a lot of good listening).

And from downtown Madison, I hurry back home, so that I can connect with Warsaw (on Zoom).

This, too, cannot be lighthearted. I caught the short-lived breezy cheesy moment here:

 

Fact is, it's just not a time in history where you can brush aside the events of the day and plunge into the inconsequential. We review what's happening in the Ukraine, and importantly, what is happening in Russia. None of it is good. And still, it needs to be talked about, if only for the shared experience of comparing stories, readings, our understanding of this moment in time.

After a couple of hours, I have to take off, almost in midsentence. Even though Monday is typically not a Snowdrop day, this week is different and so the little girl comes home with me after school.

Seeing the flowers outside reminds her of Giverny and, too, paintings of flowers, because she has me reading a book about Impressionism.

 

 

 

I wish we were going to Paris again -- she tells me. I ask her -- what is it about Paris that draws you to it? I'm wondering -- is the art? The parks? The baguettes?

Oh, I so want to go back to the amusement park there!

She is a seven year old, that's for sure.

 

After this unusually peopled day (it's cold outside -- no garden work today or for the next handful of days), Ed and I settle into our evening quiet. We're finishing up a series that has been exceptionally pleasant to watch. Ed found the shows on Tubi and they're called The House that 100 k Built.  We're back in the UK and this time we watch people with limited funds (always less than 100 000 pounds) build houses of their dreams. We love it for its simplicity and clever use of materials. Small, uncomplicated, but, too, unique and eye catching. And always well suited to the landscape. 

And outside, the winds howl and the temperatures once again dip below freezing. All annuals are carried into our kitchen. We're waiting out this period of spring cold together! Strength in numbers!

With love...

 

 

Sunday

It's become almost a truism to say that negative emotions are the triggers for change. In other words, there's a positive in the negative. It pulls you out of a rut. To be graphic about it -- if you're stuck in a mud hole, you're not going to throw up your hands and say -- oh well, this sucks. You're going to try to get out and spend the night instead in your warm comfy bed, head resting on a soft pillow. And you'll take a different path next time. That is, if you get out alive.

See, this is the other truism that could be floated: a mishap will make you stronger, if it wont knock you down flat. But it's not as if you long for mishaps to happen, just so you can feel your strength. You don't want to spend a night or two in a mud hole, no matter how strong you may feel afterwards.

(This, of course, is a matter of opinion. Ed, for example, would disagree. No mud hole? No mishaps? May as well stay home.)

I was thinking about this as we face another brilliant day, where positive feelings tumble one after another. It wont be quite as hot as yesterday, but still, it's warm enough. Short sleeve weather!

My first job is to pick up some baked goods at Bloom Bakery. This is a new visit for me. I've been stuck on Batch and Madison Sourdough for years now and I hardly notice the appearance of this new kid on the Monroe Street block. There was a family proclamation that there should be a birthday cake for dinner tonight and so I preordered one at Bloom's. 

I was pleased that Bloom's was very crowded this Sunday morning. I like the fact that Madisonians care about their baked goods. Bloom's is a mere 12 minute drive from our house, and I quickly decided that I should come here more often -- it had that feel of a special place, with all the smells of a really good kitchen.

It's windy today and so I opted for breakfast indoors. With Bloom croissants and pain au chocolat. 

A delicious plate of treats! A magnificent discovery.

And now you see the creeping in of that word from yesterday -- magnificent. Soon to be followed by beautiful (because it really is a beautiful day) and splendid, and I bet more than anything -- sublime. Am I amassing too many good feelings these days? Does spring keep you rooted in place, because so much of it is so good, you don't want to risk upsetting the applecart? 

I dont think so. We've had so many bad weather days and pandemic days and worried days this year that I think we deserve to coast with the superlatives for a while. 

And so we revel in the magnificent: we go outside, look around at all that's suddenly exploding in our yard and think -- what's there not to love!

In the evening, the young family is here.

... for dinner, and for cake of course. Lemon today. Light and airy. Sort of like the vision in my right eye!

Happy birthday celebrating indeed! Oh, and happy election results in France today. What a splendid week! Yep. Simply sublime!!

With love...

Saturday

It is as good as I remember it. All of it. The warm morning, the walk to the barn to the sound of birds, with pauses to take note of what's growing along the path...

The truly sublime gentleness of a summer like breeze, allowing us to easily spread out our breakfast foods on the porch...

And the market: no chill today! Indeed, about as opposite to last week as we can get! A high of 80F (yes, really!). That's 26.6C for you nonAmericans. I meet up with the young family for a walk around the square. 

It's crowded. Lat year, this alone would have given me pause, but this year is so different! It truly feels like a walk in pre-pandemic times. 

The kids are spirited and energetic!

Sandpiper is transfixed by what he sees. All those people! A stroller walk with a leaf of spinach, a bit of croissant, then, too, a cookie -- what is this place?

The spinach is a hit with Snowdrop as well. So long as you don't "ruin" a veggie by pouring a weird sauce over it, she'll eat any and all, especially raw and freshly picked. 

A magnificent day calls for work in the yard. I have to say, it is impossible to dig and pull, let alone plant without bending over. I do defy the doc's orders, but I try to go easy. 

And when my eyes are pouring tears and my sinuses scream "enough!" I take a break. On the porch. And it's heavenly!

Is it because the last two summers were so abnormal? So difficult? Or is spring always like this -- the explosion of growth and the promise of happy moments with a feast for the eyes and of course, for the soul as well?

I know we still have to barrel through the cold coming at us from Canada this last week of April, but this day reminded me that it's all worth waiting for. Fantastic! All of it, so fantastic!

Earth Day

Grateful for the showers today. The earth is damp, the plants are pumping water up their growing stalks.

Of course, you can never keep everyone satisfied. Yesterday, two clumps of daffodils exploded in color. One of them decided that the rain was just too much. The flowers are leaning hard under the weight of all that rain.

You really cannot please them all. Nor should you despair when those you'd think would be reaping this season's rewards turn out to wilt at the slightest setback.

I know someone who is thinking about getting chickens, except she has this (warranted) fear that it will be a constant struggle to keep them safe from predators. I know another person who is embarking on gardening, though visions of a failed crop are holding her back. I can only nod my head in sympathy. Plunging into greater involvement with nature is humbling. No matter how experienced you are. We've had chickens for nearly a dozen years and I've been growing perennials for nearly forty years and in the case of perennials, we're talking massive plantings of huge flower beds. Yet, the coop gets raided (we lost a pullet just last summer), and ask me in September how I feel about the strength of my flower beds! Each season nature shows me who's boss and how, despite all my efforts, readings, instincts, copying of masters, I still manage to botch things, to lose control, to be outwitted by an unanticipated menace. Ed would agree. His tomato project always starts strong and then... well, sometimes it stays strong, other years it withers.

Still, we keep on trying. We never assume that we will achieve perfection or even anything near what we would imagine as grand. We expect a fair amount of failure. We're not scared off by it. We adjust and try again the next year.

In the meantime, the rain comes down and we wait to see what's next.

Snowdrop is here after school. It's definitely not a beach day or even a farmette outdoor play day. 

(That pot of flowers may add color for now, but do notice that the crab apple buds will soon offer some competition!)

(another source of color? the Venice umbrella!)

But since it is Earth Day, I bring out some reading stuff that's easy on my eyes (meaning she can handle it herself), and fitting for this important day where the natural world nudges us to take note and take care with all that grows around us. Books about plants. About butterflies.

Evening. The rain stops. We are anticipating the second and perhaps the last beautiful day of April tomorrow. Since April has been stingy with the warm sunshine this year, we get excited with its fleeting appearance. It's like living in Scotland, except without the sheep and the whisky. On the bonnie bonnie banks of Lake Monona.