(g)rumble

The evening storms, predicted to be part of a strong system of dangerous lightening strikes and possible tornadoes, moved through yesterday with a light wiper and a few rain showers. But the nighttime storms, coming in around 2 or 3 in the morning, were something else! Ed was still downstairs and I came down to sleep on the couch next to him rather than staying up alone in the bedroom in the chaos of the thunderous night . (Yes, we can fit on that slim couch together. But it takes some squirming and adjusting!) The power did go off for a while, but not for long. And looking at the damage outside the next morning, I'd say we got off lightly once again. A few fallen phlox in the garden, a few downed limbs from the front yard maples and that's it. But my oh my, was that a vicious storm! I think our silo must have taken a hit a couple of times. It was that close and that loud.

In the morning, I had to do a motivational speech to myself to get going. All those lilies to snip! Groan... Made even heavier because they're soaked with rainwater. And there you have it: we have passed the midpoint of summer. It happens when I switch from feeling meditative and in love with my flower field work, to feeling for the first time that it is a lot of work! Really a lot. (I know I surpassed the number of snipped lily heads today, but I got distracted by a Bresse girl trapping herself in an animal cage and I lost count. Once you forget if it was 147 or 234 at last count, you may as well give up counting for the day.)

Lily snipping isn't easy. You're gently snapping off a head from a stalk filled with delicate buds. Do the snap motion incorrectly and you'll take down the whole system of buds. Each day I make a bad snap that at least once, kicking myself afterwards for being so indelicate. But I continue to clean the beds in this way every single day. Let me show you why:

Before:

After:

Before:

After:

It's a transformative change in the beds! It's also an almost two hour effort in the peak weeks, but I do believe it's worth it. And afterwards, when I clean out a field, I take a photo and I smile a genuine ear to ear smile. For the rest of the day, the farmette looks well tended and loved. (Of course, by tomorrow, all the blooms you see below will be history!)

Done. Breakfast:

In other farmette news -- we think, indeed, we know that Happy is not himself. He can't crow. He stumbles. His tail is down. 

It's time to examine him for signs of trouble: bumble foot? Flu? Mouth infection? I hold the poor guy, Ed pokes around, flashlight in hand. Poultry doctors in training! We find nothing. Let down, Happy proceeds to eat voraciously, stumbling around as he seeks out the best kernels of corn.  No need to separate him from the rest now -- they've been snuggling with him every night, to no ill effect. We'll watch him. Maybe it's just age? 

"Just age" explains lots these days. I suppose since the onset of the pandemic, age has taken a front and center position in daily life. So typical for us to steer clear of activities readily resumed these days by others: oh, go ahead and do that. But without us. We shouldn't, you know, because we're ancient. If in the past you looked to your capabilities not your age in deciding what you can and cannot take on, these days we're back to marking birthdays. Ah well: July days are for us the same, pandemic or not:  we work outside. 

(Speaking of work, it's time for me to tractor-mow some paths on farmette lands. Oh! Look at the meadow in the new orchard! It's beautiful, isn't it?)

With love...

hedonic adaptation

Mornings are hope filled happy times here at the farmette, especially now, in July, in peak blooming season. Though not only. I look out and take in the world. There's always something sweet, pretty, tantalizing, evocative out there.

But of course, you have to face farmette challenges too. Take for instance the new and rather aggressive predator we've been dealing with here. Most likely a raccoon. A very smart and very bold raccoon. He has learned to use the window cat door to get into the sheep shed. He can't quite fit in the slot allowed for the endeavor, so he pushes the whole cat door out, giving himself plenty of space to get inside, finish up all the cat food, and then take some empty cans out with him for good measure. Who knows why. He must be smarter than Ed or I am. He knows something that we don't know. In the morning, I find littered cans up and down the path to the barn.

Several days ago, Ed trapped him and found a new home for him rather far away. (He'd also been clawing at the chicken coop. A threat no matter how you look at it.) But Ed thinks this smart and bold guy has found his way back. No other raccoon has ever littered the path with cat food cans. It's his trademark. 

We can't trap him again because we have nowhere else to take him and besides, this dude wont make the mistake of getting caught again. And so today, at breakfast...

.. we talk about our options. In the end, Ed'll put up a stronger cat door and we'll be locking up the food for the night in the bathroom. The cats need to hurry up and eat before nightfall, that's all!

But this is just one of those things that comes along and sets us thinking. We can't get too concerned with small stuff. I mean, no one is gravely ill, no one is dying. Everything else is manageable. Disappointments abound, but there's always a ladder to lift you up, up and away from them.  As I read in the paper this morning -- "there is something called hedonic adaptation, and research shows that humans have a remarkable ability to get used to or get accustomed to changes in our lives." This from a professor of psychology at the U of California at Riverside, who studies happiness. Her findings are that healthy people climb out of disappointments routinely. It's true that "what goes up must come down," so that bubbles of euphoria have to burst, but, too, for most of us -- "if you experience disappointment that your expectations are not being met, you will get used to it and feel happy again."

I would call this the arc of happiness. Remember how in Martin Luther King Jr. said that  "the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice?" Let me just borrow form this and say that sometimes the arc of disappointment is long too, but ultimately it bends toward happiness.

In any case, all the animal worries are like children worries -- they pepper the days and months, but they don't surprise us. We come to expect them and we take them on. Today, for instance, Ed spent the entire day rearranging all his stuff in the sheep shed and cleaning out the bathroom for the new feeding station.

Me, I started off the morning with lily snipping. It took a while. Close to two hours. 573 spent heads snapped off into a bucket. it makes for a heavy bucket!

 The rewards? Well now! Where do I begin!

I'll limit my photos to the fields just by the farmhouse: by the porch and around the secret path. There's enough in just those two, believe me!

In the late morning I zip over to the downtown Farmers Market. For the flowers and the corn. I knew these guys would be selling it -- they're among the first to harvest a crop and also among the last to finish up the season.

As for flowers -- oh, they are everywhere! I was to pick up one bunch, I came home with two.

Well, not home immediately. I first detour to the Goodman Community Pool where I meet up with the young family... 

... for a morning of swimming. 

It's the best place to go on a weekend morning if you're with young kids because they keep big kids and people without kids out so that the chaos of shouting, splashing and bomb diving doesn't frighten the little tykes. We spend a wonderful hour on this very hot day doing some tame water play.

Afterwards, the two big kids come over to the farmhouse: showers, lunch, play, art and a garden walk. In that order.

(inside)

(outside)

I ask Snowdrop -- why the raised hand? She tells me -- I'm the Statue of Liberty. Not sure Sparrow gets the symbolism, but he'll do it if she does it.

Because of various activities and vacation stuff, I wont be seeing any of them in the next week so it was especially delicious to have the big two here today. I'll leave you with a picture from the kids in the garden. (I'm posting early tonight. We're to have a line of severe storms pass through. I wouldn't be surprised if we had power outages.)

With kids, flowers and love...

lily week continues

At breakfast, I reported to Ed that I'd snipped off 575 lily heads today. He rightly pointed out that this isn't my "highest ever." Not by a mile. So, are my lilies blooming less? This is a tough question. On the one hand, I add more lilies each year and I have a lot of solid bloomers from last year's added crop. But some of the older plants are not liking all the shade that's creeping up over the flower fields. And they're not liking the drought. Too, there is some leaf damage which I can attribute to grass hoppers. And finally, the front bed is just never going to be as robust as I had hoped. The maple trees have root systems that are too intense, and the road salt, and the shade all conspire to tame and tone down the flowers that I try to grow there.

On the other hand, I am happy with all that does grow everywhere. How could I not be??

Ready for today's dozen?

Starting off with the close-ups...

And the belly of the Big Bed...

And onto the Nymphs and Shepherds...

By the way, have you ever seen a black flower? This comes pretty close...

Speaking of eye-popping color, this group really wakes you up in the morning...

Path to our door...

From the secret path...

Oh, a pause to say hi to the swallows this morning!

Finally, by the parked cars...

Breakfast:

And one more comment about lily growing: a reader sent us an article stating that lilies and kitties are not a good mix. The plants (both true lilies and day lilies) are toxic to these animals (though not to others). But then, so are any number of plants you'll find at the farmette, including tulips and lilies of the valley. So how is it that we have had cats and these flowers sharing space here for all these years? I have to believe that outdoor cats know what to avoid and, too, they have a hardier response to toxins than indoor cats. Still, it is a concern, at least at some theoretical level. But knock on wood, there have been ditch lilies here (also poisonous) and lilies of the valley for as long as I have known Ed and of course we have had scores of cats come through here, give birth here, live in peace here, and so far there haven't been any issues. May it last. I'll say this -- cats are way smarter than chickens. Way smarter.

Toward lunch time, I pick up Snowdrop and bring her to the farmette. She is stunned and wide-eyed at the changes in the flower fields in just one week! 

She spends many happy minutes admiring the colors...

And picking fraises des bois.

Inside, she catches up on new books, including one that I bought because it's by and about a Ukrainian immigrant...

And eventually, after lunch, I take her to her violin lesson. I am told she plays. I have yet to hear this, but, she dutifully trudges to her lessons and claims to like them a lot and so there you have it. 

On the way back, we pass by Bernie's Beach. Oh, does the lake tempt her! The city does have a protective barrier, ostensibly to keep the swimming area bacteria free, but despite the kiddies splashing in the water, I have my doubts. I mean, note the geese and ducks at the edges. Ah well, she wants to wade. I cave, on the condition that we clean up afterwards.

As we drive back to the farmette, I return to chatting with her about her past trip and, too, her forthcoming trip, but she is not in the mood for that. She tells me -- gaga, shhh! I'm looking out at the universe. I glance back in my rearview mirror. She is indeed staring out at the sky. What could she be thinking? Communicating? That one is just for her to know.

Evening. She is back home, with her brothers and parents...

I return to the farmhouse. With a smile. It's true, the Chicago young family is still in the tailspin of virus activity. But they're good. And these guys are good as well.

And so are we.

With love...