Sunday

I'm thinking the bears got it all wrong: napping in winter? Bad plan. Moving around in subzero temps energizes you. Keeps you warm. Come summertime, you want that nap, if only to get you away from the hot sun. This, at least, is my explanation for the utter lethargy that took hold of us today. Yes, we worked -- Ed even more than me. We had an invasion of Dame's Rocket -- the foe to all fauna in Wisconsin -- in the rather established meadow of the new orchard. Ed pulled them all out, one by one.

Too, I (mostly) finished seeding the new meadow by the peach orchard. That required sprinkling some top soil (Ed) and watering the whole expanse (Nina). And we cleaned up the front of the house a bit (leading Ed, of all people to conclude that we need some shade plantings out there because right now, if you look at our house from the road, all you see is a strip of weeds by it). So we weren't idle.

But in the afternoon, despite the brilliant sunshine, the perfect temperatures, the lovely perfumed air outside, Ed took to one couch, I took to the other and we both slept.

I should note that the morning in general was about as normal as you could have it. I fed animals and we ate breakfast on the porch. Lazily!.

And in the late afternoon, I mustered my sagging energies and fixed dinner for the young family. 

This, too,  is a porch affair.

I suppose that sounds like a full day, but honestly, compared to winter months where I would keep going from sunrise til late in the night, without pause, without naps, today felt rather... gentle. 

(another Clematis opens up)

with love...

Saturday

Well that was a morning marathon! The thing is, I didn't feel it to be that until I sat down in the afternoon and thought -- my, but this left leg could use a nice ice bath! All components of the morning were wonderful. One of those May days that English poets celebrated with such perfect verse (I'm sure many others have as well, but somehow I associate poems about meadows and wildflowers and May sunshine with all those nature loving women and men who lived in the vales and along lake shores of northern England where meadows are as ubiquitous as the spring showers that feed them. Think: Blake and "Spring:")

Sound the flute!

Now it's mute!

Birds delight,

Day and night,

Nightingale,

In the dale,

Lark in Sky,

Merrily,

Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year!

A very early morning walk.

And then a quick trip to Madison Sourdough to pick up breakfast treats. 

(on the drive to the bakery: that's how blue the sky is!)

The treats are for later. Breakfast is going to be more like brunch at our house. I have a very important event before I can even think about cutting up fruit and frothing milk for my coffee.

The thing is, Sparrow has his dance "recital" at 9. Like Snowdrop, he takes dance at the Storybook Ballet studio and they open up the last class to family, going through some of the moves with the kids and ending with a few choreographed steps to music and a story line (in his case -- Rapunzel). 

Sparrow loves this class. All the others are already into their second year of dance, but it's his first. 

(the last quarter hour is "in costume")

Still, he is a musical boy and he has a pretty good sense of rhythm, and he's happy as a clam to have his mom and me in the audience. (His dad and brother are with Snowdrop at her violin lesson, which actually works well for me, as only two guests are allowed per student.)

(congratulatory hug!)

Back at the farmhouse Ed and I sit down to breakfast. Outside!

And now we are out again, working on that meadow by the peach orchard. 

There isn't any rain in the forecast for the next dozen days, so Ed works the hose over to that side of the barn and I give it all a good soak. And still, we need more seeds! To be continued.

And this is when I realize I've been up and running without a good icing of the knee. Pause. Ice. Back to work!

Our afternoon adventure has us going back to Natalie's to pick up additional watermelon and melon seedlings. They were our success story last year and we surely have the space in the back of the barn to let those vines crawl along the ground.

And of course, as long as we are at Natlaie's, we pick up just a few more phloxes because I found another corner of a field that has been taken over by weeds and wouldn't it be nice if I cleared it and filled it with some place holding perennials? Yes, I do realize this is more of a major project -- so big that I had let it slide last year, even when both knees were functional. But of course, the more you let something slide, the harder it is to get a grasp on the situation. I'm perfectly capable of bending both knees (somewhat) now -- in something like a crooked Warrior Yoga position! You can dig a lot that way!

So I get to it. 

And now it is nearly evening. Ed sits down to plant all those baby melons and cucumbers, with Dance keeping him company...

... and the grasses are getting so tall that I get back on the tractor mower to cut down this paths again!

(tall hens hardly visible in very tall grasses!)

It's way past supper time. I cook up shrimp in a stir fry with lots of young green garlic. Ed really overplanted the garlic seeds this year and many have crept into my flower bed. This is a gift, actually. I pull the extra ones out right about now -- they lend a delicate garlic flavor to any dish.

A beautiful day. A tad on the busy side, but with many, many outdoor hours in the mix. You could not ask for a finer May 20th.

Friday

Well, I think David was right. In fact, in most instances, my PT guy has been extremely accurate in his assessments and predictions. (Snowdrop, who is familiar with PT protocols because one of her brothers has needed to do physical therapy for a while now, calls them Physical Tormenters.) David says that uniformly, people with knee replacements have reported that the three week moment is transformative. Suddenly things shift. You begin to feel (almost) like yourself again. And that's true. Today, three weeks (and two days) into the game, I didn't need to get up at dawn to unstiffen the tortuously stiffened leg. The morning seemed (almost) normal. Nap? Not necessary. Exercises? Swift and helpful. Transformative!

Morning walk.

The lilacs are fading, but the Allium is throwing up its purple spikes, and the first Clematis is ablaze with large white blooms!

It's supposed to be a cooler day, but we eat out on the porch anyway. Warm enough!

And then I put in my last sweet peas and my one green bean, and Ed and I work on putting in more seeds into our newly tilled meadows in the new peach orchard. It's not the end of that project. The piece of tilled land is larger than I thought. More seeds are on their way!

What a kind spring season this has been for us!

Snowdrop is here this afternoon. 

She is the only kid without The Bug in her family. Maybe she had it earlier on, maybe she didn't, but in any case, she is fine and peppy and happy to be listening to birds again.

She leaves, I nap. I guess I'm not totally up and running yet. Close, but not fully operational!

And in the evening Ed and I do a big exhale. The last few weeks haven't been easy, but we powered through and things are looking good out there on the farmette lands. Yes, tending to the plants is a constant project that has no end (though for me, toward the final days of August, I feel like I want to hit the pause button for sure!). Or, more accurately, we have a million little projects scattered over every square foot of land. I'm certain I know every plant out there. Every tree, every invading weed. I can't walk two feet without wanting to bend down to pluck, redirect, support one thing or another. Yes, this place has swallowed me, swallowed us whole. And you know what -- I do believe that's a good thing.

Thursday

And it's back to David, the PT head that put me on the course of knee functionality some two and a half weeks ago. Ed laughs at my pre-appointment mad dash through the exercises. Competitive, aren't we...

David is pretty impressed. Only one degree off on the straight leg challenge and seven more degrees added to the bend. Nevertheless, there is a tsk tsk about him: you're not working your quads on the knee. It's loose still. You need to tighten it. 

I find this to be challenging: I can't tighten something I can't feel! -- I protest. Sure you can. He concocts yet another exercise, though he admits I have too many on my plate. I tell him the balancing one can be scratched since I am a balance superstar (there I am, bragging again!). He laughs and says -- I was at an orthopedic workshop last week and they made me be the guinea pig. (David is very fit, so I think that was an unfair model to work with, but oh well...) I had to balance, then stand on one leg, then walk along a straight line. Easy, until they told me to close my eyes (I nod, knowingly -- I did this, pre-surgery, all the time!). Then they told me to count backwards from 100 by the count of 7. (Gulp!) So, my exercise for you -- stand on your one leg for thirty seconds, with eyes closed and count backwards from 100 by 7s. (Oh! The stinker!)

David suggests that I do challenging balance exercises all my life. If one becomes too easy, throw on another sensory twist. It's a great way to ensure continued stability as you age.

All this happened after a busy morning resting with the ice pack machine running! I've been under-icing the knee, thinking that it looks so unswollen that I should be done with that apparatus, but no -- the surgical center nurse told me to keep at it, and David agreed. The swelling has abated, but much of it is inside and icing helps. Besides, I've been missing my naps!

The walk to the barn is a tiny bit late.

It still feels chilly to me, so breakfast is in the kitchen.

And then I had those hours of therapy, followed by farmette bird listening, and slowly beginning an exploration of watching for them too. And here's the thing -- by weird coincidence (is it coincidence, or is it that we are all discovering nature in a new way this year?), the Washington Post has an article today (I'll put up the link here, but I think they are stingy with permitting public access) titled "Why Birds and their Songs are Good for our Mental Health." It appears that seeing or hearing birds reduces mental fatigue and stress. The recommendation? "Be aware (don't take them for granted)... be curious (get the apps that help you identify them! check!)... be involved (backyard is fine, but maybe you can find a birding group?) ... be present ("birdwatchers who paid attention to the joy they felt for each bird reported greater mental health benefits than those who merely counted the birds they saw.") I do not count. And at this stage at least, every  time a new bird appears, I feel a thrill of the unexpected, the sublime. (This morning three newbies popped up on my app: an Eastern Wood-Pewee, a Common Yellowthroat and a Least Flycatcher!)

In the afternoon I bring Snowdrop to the farmette. She picks some asparagus, but is no longer enthusiastic about eating it raw, from the ground (I agree -- the stalk was too thick for that).

But she is very excited to see my bird spotting phone app. We hear an Indigo Bunting -- a lovely bird with deep blue feathers. And she is enchanted with the simplest of them all -- a Field Sparrow. 

Be aware, be curious...

And in the evening, after returning the girl home, I stop by for our first Community Supported Agriculture box of the season. Among loads of other goodies, we get... more rhubarb! Ed had given away most of ours to some of the vendors at our Fitchburg Market today. I guess I'll need to bake another cake soon. A good thing since yesterday's is all gone. 

with love...

Wednesday

Several things stand out for me today: first of all, we're feeling the effects of something called the Pneumonia Front. Doesn't that just sound sick? It's a rare meteorological event that happens to communities proximate to Lake Michigan, where the temps suddenly drop very very quickly. We are not exactly proximate to Lake Michigan (about 100 miles away), but I think we're getting swept up in the cool air because it is very chilly out there (even as it was warm yesterday and will be warm again tomorrow).

Secondly, Snowdrop is fine, but other members of her family are now sick so we have some afternoon shuffling to do, especially since this is the day of the girl's end of year school concert. Managing all this will require major afternoon adjustments.

Thirdly, I talked to my docs about the Issue of the Stiff Knee at night -- something that keeps me up for more hours than I care to admit and their advice was -- either get back on drugs or get up and walk. Yes, in the middle of the night. Yes it helps! I told Ed that he is doomed to hear shuffling of ghosts and goblins in the middle of the night again. Scraping and scratching, grunting and creaking. 

Fourthly, I'm almost completely caught up with my spring gardening work.  I have a couple of sweet peas and a bean left. True, there's the seeding of the new meadows still before us and poor Ed will have to plant most of the baby tomatoes because I cannot stay low to the ground for long, but still, I am pleased with how everything in the end did come together for us this spring!

Fifthly, I bake a rhubarb cake for breakfast this morning. It's not that I especially feel energetic for this, but we have a rhubarb overload. We'll have to set up our roadside stand (free rhubarb!). This plant is out of control, covering everything else in sight. So, I take down some stalks and bake.

Breakfast is a little late.

Outside, we're entering the "green phase" of spring. At this time, we'll get the peonies and irises, but otherwise, the beds thrive and get big, but they do stay green. Once the tulips fade and the lilac is done, things quiet down out there. The next big wave of color wont come until the end of June.

(the first Clematis...)

Okay, Snowdrop pick up time. To the farmhouse!

A quick read, lots of food to give her strength and then we go to pick up Sparrow,  the one un-sick brother, and drive over to her school for the end of the year school concert.

And to her joy, Sandpiper is fever free and able to attend as well. A last minute surprise.

Both brothers are a great cheering squad... for her singing...

And for her special xylophone group.

Afterwards, they go home, I go home. Ed is biking. I listen to the birds tonight: Chipping Sparrow, American Goldfinch, our resident Northern Cardinal.

Such a good way to end a helter skelter day! Exhale and smile...

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.