Tuesday

Of all 7 cats that eat and sleep on farmette lands, Dance is by far the most attached to us. Ed often says she is more like a dog than a cat, following us on our farmette walks, always being the first one at the feeding station, always asking for scraps of dinner food, always loving that snuggle on the couch or a cheek rub on the kitchen counter. Sure, she does hunt -- mice, the occasional chipmunk, and unfortunately, every few months she lands a bird. But apart from that (and her utter fear of strangers and little children), she is a thoroughly domesticated feral. Loves to stay as close to the home as possible.

So it was very strange when she did not come in for her dinner (at the shed) or our dinner (at the farmhouse) last night. Even stranger that she did not come in all night to sleep in her favorite spot (diaper table, or curled up with Unfriendly, on the orange couch. And even stranger that this morning there was absolutely no sign of her.

I wasn't going to feed the animals, thinking that perhaps Ed can carry on for a few more days, but the morning is so beautiful and I do want to throw an eye out here and there, call out her name, look for signs of what may have happened to her. 

The walk is lovely...

(the lilac once again...)

I feed everyone and walk back toward the house, genuinely worried.

(a month ago, there wasn't a leaf to be seen, and now? a transformed landscape!)

And I notice that I left the car lights on my Blue Moon. Odd how that turned out: I usually keep them on auto. Must have nudged the handle in my clumsy exit from the car.

I go to turn them off and try the engine. And who should I find staring mournfully out the driver's seat window? Dance.

Oh you poor dear! I had left the trunk up when I was carrying the Kopke's plants to the picnic table yesterday late afternoon. She must have hopped inside to check things out. Unknowingly, I shut her inside.

To her credit, she held off relieving herself until I freed her this morning. Still, the car was full of her paw prints and hairs and so Ed and I spent the next hour thoroughly vacuuming it and washing it down, which she watched nearby, wondering, I'm sure, why we were treating the stupid monster machine with such respect. Oh, Dance!

Breakfast on the porch. Like I said -- it's a gorgeous day!

After a brief rest, I return outside to put in some phloxes and hollyhock. I'm working on improving the Big Bed, a little at a time (hence the hollyhock), and I am also eager to fill in the newest bed by the walkway. I don't wish a sickly demise to any tree on the property, but I have to admit to being awfully glad to have one huge one die on us right by the house. Ed brought the tree down a couple of years ago and now we have ourselves a bed that used to be all shade and now is mostly sunshine. Slowly I've been taking out all the hostas and shade loving ground cover and replacing in with lilies, irises, phloxes, indigos, beard tongue and lavenders. In other words, the usual Nina favorites.

A quick errand... (to the House Wine shop because, as I said, I'm not done with Mother's Day!)...

Then to Snowdrop's house to do a little hair fixing for dance. She didn't go to school today (as a precaution), but she is happily done with her bug which is a huge relief for her, since her last ballet class of the year takes place today and it's one where parents and the occasional grandparent are invited to watch.

They've choreographed a short dance to Stravinsky's Firebird, and for this they have a bit of a costume...

Seeing her joyous face in these dance productions is always wonderful!

And now I am home again, cooking up a pot of soup for the next couple of suppers. Ed's put the hens away and fed the cats -- ever animal is in her or his place, everyone accounted for and that's such a good thing!

Monday

My morning thought -- nothing like an enthusiastic PT assistant to set you straight! (Yes, pun intended.)

It was a bright and promising start to the week. I woke early, as usual, slept too little, as usual, got up before Ed, as usual. I thought I might attempt to resume animal duty. Not that Ed minds filling in for me after my surgery, but honestly, what's harder - fixing a nice meal for the entire family or walking to the barn to deal with six sprightly hens and a handful of enthusiastic cats?

Besides, it's so lovely early in the morning!

My enthusiasm for a return to normal was premature. Lifting benches, moving buckets -- all these were a challenge. I managed, but tomorrow, Ed can have his subbing. I need more time.

Breakfast -- indoors, because it's a bit chilly out there.

Now comes my appointment with the PT who assists David in keeping me on a good course to recovery. His assessment? You're doing too much. Your night pain should tell you that. Can't sleep? Cut back. Work the 15 - 15 rule. [The 15 - 15 rule sucks. No one could live like that: you rest for 15 mins, then you do your stuff for 15, then you rest for 15, and so on. Nuts. No way am I going to follow that.]

But then he focuses on the knee: I was 10 degrees off straight last time, this time I'm only 4 degrees off. And the bend has increased. He tells me -- people who had this surgery on the same day as you would be thrilled to be halfway where you are! Then he zaps on to my stapled list of exercises yet another one -- this one to practice balancing, never mind that my balance before surgery and post surgery, as demonstrated in his exam room is non pareil! I mean, I may not hang well from monkey bars, I could never do a split nor a cartwheel and I could only just stand on my head when I was young, but balance? It's my super skill!

Still, I go home with exercise number 16 added to the booklet of others. And the admonition to cut back on fun stuff. 

I do, for the most part, listen to all the PT people because presumably they know more about fake knees made of titanium and plastic than I do. But the 15-15 rule is going to have to be tabled. I'll come up with a workaround.

The day is somewhat unusual in that Snowdrop is under the weather and therefore at home. Ed has plowed a huge swath of weedy land in the new peach orchard and so I start in on the seeding. The trick here is to keep the chickens off the fresh dirt. I honestly dont think we'll succeed in this, but we're giving it a go.

We walk the farmette lands, admiring the peas, the two year old nut and maple, the new orchard, the meadow there. Ed points to the profusion of quack grass, but I shrug off his concerns. I've learnt that creating meadows out of clay soil that is full of weeds and invasive grasses is a never ending project. You have to be really patient and be prepared for setbacks. Last year's meadows were really lovely (in my view). I'm sure this year's will be different, but just as beautiful.

As we walk back, very slowly (because I am still so so slow in my gait), I point out an edge that needs a quick mow. He takes out the machine and cleans up the pathway. I order more seeds, he takes out more quack grass. Perhaps you see this in my Ocean posts, but it bears saying nonetheless -- he and I are a fantastic team out in the fields, meadows, patches of fruits and veggies. We have our own tasks, but it's grand when they physically overlap and we work side by side, improving, digging, planting.

Oh yeah, I did rest. In a chunk, in midday. I'm sure not to the standards of the PT department, but it is May and the day is lovely, darn it, and there's work to be done.

Mother's Day

Most mothers today, if given the choice of filling a special day with personally selected activities or basically giving in to a long period of rest and relaxation would pick the latter. Forget the special adventures, the shows, the extravagant meals out. Just give me a set of hours where no one expects me to do much of anything. (You disagree? I bet you are an outlier.)

We are a tired bunch.

Still, those of us who are mothers, but of an older generation (meaning our kids are of an age when they have kids), should pick door number one, no? Lots of fun stuff! Outings, shows, excursions! 

Not me. I took two long naps today and frankly, I had a hard time getting up from the second one.

Blame it on the weather! Ed says I'm making up for the naps I should have taken in the weeks immediately after the surgery. In the alternative, blame it on our age.

It is a very wet and very cold day for mid-May. We expected as much and the gardens are happy to get that steady slow dose of rain -- it reminds them of what their cousins in England get all the time (and you know how good plant life has it in England!). Still, I have no interest in spending time outside. My only big excursion is to the courtyard, to admire, to smell, and to photograph the lilac, because this day is its best day. All the little flowerlets are open. It is a heady moment and I want to be part of it.

Breakfast, in between naps, in the kitchen!

My Mother's Day is otherwise fluid. I'm devoting another evening this week to celebrating my parenting of my younger daughter (because I have an image of what that would be like and I cannot fit it into this day). Today, I'm cooking dinner (slowly, one step at a time, in between rests) for my older girl and her clan. With that last minute cake that I bought yesterday! My girls look after me well -- they give gifts, they say beautiful things, they make me feel very very lucky. 

I do understand that this day is tough for many people who have lost their mothers or who had troubled relations at home. It's always hard to be told to feel joy on a day designated by someone else as special. It may not fit within your own framework of experiences. Nonetheless, recognizing the work of mothers is on balance a good thing and however you sailed through life as a child of a mother or a mother of a child, I think we can all agree that parents in some way formed you and me in the way we are today. So, perhaps Happy Mother's Day is the wrong thing to blurt out there to the world, but maybe just sending out a wish for a peaceful and reflective day (with some downtime thrown in!) will be okay for the vast majority of us children and parents? So, have a peaceful and reflective day!

In the meantime, back at the farmhouse, the gang arrives.

(Sandpiper keeps me company in the kitchen: tomato thief!)

(mom and her kids...)

We have dinner. 

Add another mother to the picture and so now we have this one:

We take a farmette walk. It's really cool out there, but still, we take a walk. Because we waited so long for the day when all would be lush and fragrant and beautiful.

And then I resist the temptation to take a nap. Instead, Ed and I settle down on the couch and exhale and I think about how wonderful it is to be alive on this beautiful lilac infused day and how utterly happy I am that my girls have sprouted such totally wonderful families! In other words, I think what countless other mothers think on this day -- am I lucky or what!!

With so much love...

gardening

If you live in south central Wisconsin (or in any number of other northern states) you know what the second weekend of May is like: it's the gardener's push to get spring work done! Never mind that it's also Mother's Day, and here, in Madison, graduation weekend. That's all irrelevant. If you at all care about growing your own stuff, you yearn to get those plants in, to tidy up the weed encroachment, to get your seeds in the ground. 

Now, granted, I rushed things this year (because of the knee). And mostly I was lucky. The weather did not screw me big time. The last frost was the night before my surgery. The perennials went in even earlier than that. Most of the Big Effort was behind me.

Nonetheless, true to form, today I worked hard to attend to some of the lagging details of planting. Work hard with a brand new, two week and three day old knee means something different than it did before my surgery. I strained, I paused, I iced the damn leg, I twisted the other way. I took TWO naps. Nonetheless, I really do believe that unless you have something going for this day (Like the birth of a child or some serious work commitment), if you are at all a gardener, you would understand because you were out there as well, digging, pulling, firming the ground. It's THE Saturday for gardeners. You can't escape it. SO I worked.

All my photos are from the outdoors. Of course they are! Indoor time was boring exercise time, or worse still --leg wrapped in ice pack time. So, let's see what the farmette lands look like these days!

A final look at the crab apple in bloom. Or, mostly still in bloom. Such loveliness! Thank you, stunning tree, now creating a blanket of petals underneath it.

And from another angle:

Okay, there is one indoor photo. I had to drive over to pick up my Farmers Unite produce (mostly arugula and asparagus) so I thought I may as well get breakfast treats. And I remembered what the PT person told me yesterday -- hey, don't over do it this weekend! If you're cooking dinner for the family (I guess I let that one slip out), let someone else bring the cake. Honestly, I never even considered having a cake, but since she mentioned it, I picked up a simple one from the bakery. So, a photo of some of their cakes:

With all the napping and errand running, breakfast was very late. More like early lunch.

In addition to working on putting in some fall blooming bulbs and, too, the replacement annuals, I took stock of how things are going. Mostly, I was okay with the state of plant life right now. The tulips are my usual mixture of colors and shapes...

The branching of the heavenly lilac is okay, though I see where I need to do some pruning this year.

I'm really happy with the gradual cleaning up of the land by the sheep shed. This field, which is very shady, used to be overgrown with weeds and raspberry canes that bore no fruit (absence of sunlight). I moved a bunch of hostas here and a few other shade plants. Eventually (by the end of July), weeds will creep in here as well, but right now things are looking pretty tidy. Too, the land right by the shed has some lovely novel hostas and lilies growing there and I experimented this year with shade seeds. SO much better than what was here before!

The sugar snap peas out behind the lavender fields are growing nicely. The chicken wire seems to protect them well enough. At least at this height. We'll see what happens once they get tall.

And the meadows -- I checked in with the big one in the new orchard. Yes, I could have taken out some more of the invasive grasses, but that would have been a huge project. In general, I think we'll have a pretty good meadow this year! (The hens followed me to see if I would do something interesting, like give them some more young plants to dig up. Sorry, girls!)

And the Big Bed -- it's been in a holding pattern for a couple of years. It's good, but I think it could use some small adjustments. The wave that used to move in a progression of color has lost its rhythm I think. Maybe next year. Or, maybe I'll just learn to love its own new creative spin! There's something to be said for letting the garden have a say in how it should develop!

I also worked on the front (road facing) bed, which is by far, the weakest of all the flower fields. The roots of the maples are too dense, the soil remains a challenge, the road salt run off is awful. But, if you lower your expectations, you can still enjoy the blooms that come back here each year. I tidied it up a bit, but honestly, this bed could use a solid week of work, done by a person with sound knees! Maybe next year!

And there you have it! A gardener's second Saturday in May. Hands roughened (because you always forget your gloves on several of your ventures out into the fields), lessons learned, spirits soaring. Hey, this calls for an evening spritz, with some of those apple mint leaves from a plant I put in last year!

To the health of all good people and great gardens everywhere!

not a straight line kind of a person

Everyone has their genius (and their weak points). This was Ed's mantra when I first met him and though I hesitated in embracing it, having in my life come across a handful of people that seemed to demonstrate a visible absence of genius in life's most basic requirements (that we all should live together in harmony), eventually I came around. Well concealed, untapped genius is still genius, right?

Today, as I let David's second assistant PT person test my knee this way and that, when the verdict was out (superb bend! extraordinary! Totally unchanged straight extension. Work on it!), I thought to myself -- maybe my genius is that I am more of a twister and bender, rather than towing the straight path ahead kind of a person. I did tell her that I thought I did plenty of stuff that was boring and straight, to which she responded -- perhaps you are doing too much of the everyday. You know you're only two weeks out after surgery. Then she adds two more exercises to my list of now 15, to be done at least 2-3 times each day. Seems that isn't inline with the recommendation to slow down! Too, I'm two weeks and two days after surgery. Humph.

So, going forward -- more of the boring exercise, less of the fun everyday. I would have exactly flipped that equation. Medical people are funny.

All this knee discussion happened after a very slow morning. I seem to be incapable of jumping into the swing of things right away. The day is gray. I'm hoping for rain. Spring rains are so important for early plant growth! I step outside: oh, those May landscapes are outstanding!

Breakfast on the porch. Ed had purchased a small apple galette at the market yesterday. We are both pretty snobbish when it comes to pies and this one isn't especially excellent, but it's solid good and a nice change for breakfast. (Outside, on the porch.)

After this comes PT and after that we have a raccoon issue and, on a way more interesting platform -- we have a plant replacement trip before us. The chickens this year have attacked the pots, loving the soil mix I used to put in annuals. The result? Not good! Broken young flowers. Darn chickens! I need a handful of new flowers. Do this again, cheepers and I'm going to cut back on your corn treats!  

(Back to Natalies, and Kopke's; Natalie's is simple, Kopke's is extravagant, we like them both)

In line with the PT's guidelines, I return home to take nap. (Snowdrop is with other grandparents this afternoon.)

Later, much later, I work outside. Admittedly, this is not easy. Your body adjusts to the new (temporary!) incapacities. That means you contort yourself in ways that are strange and not altogether welcome. Still, I plant the new additions and pull some weeds. All this in the fragrance of the blooming lilac.

This is the time of the year when I do like our exploding shade ferns. A dozen years back I put one into the ground. They multiplied. We now have more than I care to count. To me they look beautiful, really beautiful only in the first weeks of May.

And as I pick a handful of the emerging lilies-of-the-valley (putting them into the little vase that I use only now, first on violets, then on the white lily stems), I think how orderly the progression of blooms is! The tulips are in full swing, but not for long now. Almost done.

The lilies of the valley will be followed by irises and those will then be replaced by my peonies. Predictable yes, but no less beautiful each year.

I'll leave you with one more photo of the magnificent crabapple that's shedding petals as we speak. Ephemeral, splendid. 

Loved for its beauty. Simple, yet wild.

freedom!

Oh, yes! Freedom! I ripped them off and threw them in a trash can. Freedom from support stockings (that pinch your legs and slide into the most uncomfortable positions, and feel like jaws are gripping at both your legs, but especially the sore one)! Freedom from 28 staples! -- removed today, at last. Freedom to shower, to lather on the lotion on dry skin, freedom to raise bare legs to the sun and enjoy the splash of summer today!

It's a warm day, indeed a hot day and I have an appointment with my surgeon's assistant. But before that, I get to step out and breathe deeply. The fragrance in May is exquisite!

(first irises)

And the birds! To the usual, add yesterday's Meadowlark (doesn't the name conjure up images of English meadows full of wildflowers?), I have the following new visitors this morning: a Scarlet Tanager and an American Redstart. I wish I could spot the Tanager (so beautiful in the pictures!), but I don't pause too long. Not today.

After breakfast (on the porch!!)...

I have to head out to the hospital to get freed from the constraints of post operative  imprisonments. I do ask about my difficulties in keeping the leg happy at night. You're probably doing too much walking and standing. Let the pain be your guide! That again. I'm not in pain when I walk. That comes later! Ah well -- finding a balance is one of life's biggest challenges in all domains. I will continue to adjust. In the meantime, I gently massage a Botanist lotion into my freed lower extremities and it feels sublime!

It strikes me that I should be able to ride the tractor mower and I do need to mow down some paths, so right around noon I hop on (that is such an exaggeration! I slowly crawl on) and give that a whirl. At least I'm not ignoring the needs of farmette lands! This is when I get my first tick of the season, likely falling at me from a shrub branch. Country living prepares you for this. Our tick load is very low, but this season always delivers a few. 

Snowdrop is here in the afternoon, buoyed, too, by the sunshine, the warmth, and I have to believe -- the colors all around us!

And in the evening I get takeout Chinese -- my concession to the suggestion that I tone it down in the evenings. 

Ttonight, finally, I get to sleep without imprisonments.. Total bliss!

Wednesday

On this second week anniversary of my knee surgery, I can tell that I am moving around with greater confidence. For example, I head out to plant trees with Ed as if I were somehow physically able to participate in this project. On the other hand, I am not anywhere near my normal energy levels. When we get to the planting spot, I tell Ed -- maybe we should bring a chair... And after working on pulling crab grass out of fabric sheets from a previous planting project, I say -- maybe I should go rest for a few minutes. After which, I promptly fall asleep on the couch.

All this on an incredibly stunning day. Perhaps the most stunning of them all, and I say this knowing May can deliver some truly amazing displays. Three weeks ago, I would have spent near zero minutes indoors. My whole body and soul would have been transported into the flower fields, the meadows, the orchards. Buckets would fill with pulled weeds. Paths would be mowed. Endless photos taken. And here I am today, giving in to fatigue! Well, I expected as much. Ed bravely plants all five fir trees, I postpone putting in my final clematis for a while.

But the day is not lost: I do plenty of small stuff outdoors. And I did take some photos. I mean, who wouldn't take the camera to this!

(Though we're indoors for the morning meal. My fragile state told me, incorrectly, that it was too cool for breakfast on the porch. I had regrets later.)

And of course,  there was time spent "helping" Ed with the trees.

(one of the hens, wondering where everyone went...)

(It is the week for violets.)

Snowdrop is here in the afternoon and of course she, too, cannot ignore the great outdoors. So I am out again, this time with the little girl.

For a while anyway. Hunger brings her inside. 

A memorable day: Snowdrop is happy because she did 23 laps in her Hot Dog Hustle fundraiser at school ("three better than last year!"). Me, I'm thrilled with the beauty of it all (look outside!). Too, Snowdrop and I finished book five (the final one) of the Penderwick series. Never have I read a series where everything is so neatly tied into a package of hope and love!

Ed goes biking, I make an asparagus and mushroom frittata and manage with only some difficulty to put in that final Clematis plant. Small details? Maybe. But put together, they make for a glorious day.