markets, clinging to spring

You know that we're on our last days of that splendid season that transforms our environment and reminds us what's at stake out where the wild things grow, right? I love spring to pieces, but I am not sad when we slide into summer. Summer casts its own spell. Spring explodes with new growth. Summer explodes with color.

Today, after the morning animal care...

I rush to repeat what I had done last Saturday: first, I drive to the bakery...

(along the shores of a misty lake where the early fishermen and women cast their nets and lines)

(A long line! No big deal -- I always preorder and pick up without a wait. And I do love it when a good bakery is popular!)

I am to meet up at the usual spot with my daughter and her brood for a walk around the downtown farmers market. I'm early so I do a quick solo jaunt to do a preliminary shopping round.

I haven't enough words of praise for the last June market! The flowers are still delicate, favoring peonies and cornflowers and dainty flax.

There are the berries (the farmers who did not get that cold blast in April or whose varieties bloomed later, have the bigger redder berries; all are delicious!)...

And the last of the asparagus and baby carrots. It's all crisp and wonderfully fresh!

Here's the awesome foursome! They get berries as well.

And flowers. In containers and precut ones.

It's a little more packed out there on the square today, but not so that you cannot move! It really is a fine day to be out and about!

I'm back at the farmette before noon. In time for breakfast!

And then I return to yard work. (Here are my own berries: the first is a fraise des bois, the second a more conventional Mara)

I return to watering, while Ed works on my my moped. Remember that little machine? I used it a lot before the grandkids were born and before our mayor got it into his head that mopeds should not be parked on sidewalks. Once they fell under automobile parking regulations, there was no benefit to riding the little guy rather than driving Blue Moon. So I want to sell it and get, instead, an electric bike. Ed is making sure the moped works -- reliability was never its greatest feature.

The watering of the lily bed alone takes a couple of hours because I throw into the deal the west bed -- definitely the most neglected field of all the ones I planted (too much shade, too little attention; it looks good when the daffodils are blooming... at other times, I give it over to a few lilies and mostly to milkweed for our butterflies).

I pause for a few minutes, but I'm restless. I go back out.

The new meadow needs water, so in the late afternoon I drag the hose there. Oh, come on! Two baby groundhogs?! I mean, I love their multigenerational family that lives here because none of them eat chickens, or birds, and they leave the cats alone (and vice versa). But they have singlehandedly eaten most of the sunflowers I so carefully planted this year and I see that they are really enjoying the tender shoots in the seeded meadow. Ah well. This land is not really our land. We must share what grows here.

I work my way to the back of the barn to check on the newly planted peas. I water those, I water the melons. And I attend to the lavender field. Do you remember -- I started that project last year and it's sort of moving along. Some of the varieties have flourished, others have died. Unfortunately, the chickens have dug up the tags so I'm not quite sure which variety is best suited for our inhospitable growing conditions (lavender does not like clay soil), but come Fall, we can take clippings from the robust plants and continue this project (of creating a lavender field) indefinitely.

And now I am spent. I'm sure my PT guy would do a tsk tsk and remind me that the therapeutic window has long closed. Still, I do not stop. I hose down the new shady bed out front and I give a good soak to the roadside bed. I just want to get the mega watering job done!

And by late evening,  I do get it done. I'm stiff, sore, tired. And hungry.

Forget about a lovely meal for tonight. We order pizza. To which I add a huge salad of lettuces, radishes, carrots -- all wonderful spring stuff straight from our CSA farmers. Thank you! And good night!

Judy Blume, therapeutic window, and the color purple

Continuing with my stacation week, I have an agenda for today that includes many things, though sitting with reading material, legs elevated, cool drink in hand is not one of them.

Worth mentioning is the fact that our air quality has improved overnight. Yay kind winds that blew it all away (sorry if the smoke went in your direction). The morning walk to the barn was pleasant. I took note of what's blooming out there and seemed to have photographed lots of variations on the color purple.

(lavender!)

(Penstemon!)

(sweet pea, continued)

(another Clematis)

(another Iris)

(and a bunch of pink and whites, continued)

What's ripening out there? Cherries!

It's cool enough for us to eat breakfast inside. A lemon blueberry cake and a black walnut cranberry loaf from market bakers. I like both. And here's our special early summer treat: peaches (not local yet)!

I then have a presentation to go to. While the boys have been driving everyone nuts at home with their week off from school (well, especially one little guy!), Snowdrop has been attending a week-long program for kids at UW. The topic (this week) is broad: history. She has loved everything about it -- her classmates, the UW cafeteria lunches, and, too, the subject itself. They worked on presenting historically important figures of their choice in a clever show of a "Wax Museum," and a reenactment of their character's accomplishments. Today -- the final day of classes, family members were invited to attend the reenactments. At the last minute, the sitter called in sick and Snowdrop's dad had to stay home with the boys, but I got to meet up with my daughter in her office and walk over with her to watch the presentations.

There were many significant moments to all this: first of all, I should remind you that I retired from teaching at the Law School just about ten years ago. I haven't been back since. Why? Mostly because my daughter now teaches there and serves in an administrative capacity and I feel this is now completely her turf. And even though I taught at the Law School for a full 25 years, I have moved on to other projects in life. I hold onto an interest in some aspects of the law, but I don't need to attend Law School events to track legal things that interest me. And so it was very nostalgic for me to reenter that building!

I ran into someone from tech support and this was lovely because that particular staff was absolutely crucial to my happiness then -- they worked through many a computer issue with me. They were my heroes!

And then, in looking for my daughter's office, I got lost.

Now, some of you may do a tsk tsk on me -- gettin' old, are we?? But this is not the issue. The building has a complicated level structure and you may think you are on level 3 even as you are on level 5 and if you go down one on the elevator suddenly you are on level 2. Don't ask.

Eventually, with the help of tech support (the irony!), I found her and we walked the block to where Snowdrop's classes were held, and we watched each of the 12 kids do their show. Snowdrop, like several others, chose a big name author to act out. Judy Blume.  Her mom had helped curl her hair this morning  (Blume has notoriously frizzy hair) and she wore a loose mom cardigan, so fitting for the author.

It was all extremely lovely.

And not long after this, I zipped over for a meeting with my Physical Therapist. As usual, David, my chief PT guy, gave me a few raps on the knuckles and a chunk of praise.

No, you should not put cream on your scar yet. But the skin's dry! Until the very last scab falls off (there's one left), you want to keep it dry and keep those microbes out. Oops.

Are you doing all the exercises? Sure, except for the ones that have me doing those same movements in the course of my garden work. Perhaps that's why your quads aren't getting stronger: you're compensating with other muscle groups. You need to focus on the specific exercise! Yessir.

Am I doing too much? Is three hours straight of yard work and watering too much? My wife does the same thing: three hours of watering. I ask her -- why dont you turn the sprinkler on and let it do the work for you? David is an exceptionally good physical therapist but I can tell you right now -- he is clearly not a gardener. 

I retort -- I cant be doing too much. On the one day I did nothing, I could hardly sleep! What do you think, that doing too much ends the body's recovery that same day? You have to stay within the therapeutic window: do too little and you're doomed. Do to much and your body screams for a long time after. How do I know what the therapeutic window is? You have to figure that one out yourself. Thanks, David.

I am giving myself the two week challenge: strengthen those quads! Leg lifts and knee squeezes, here we come!

In the afternoon I do return to watering. I hose and weed the new sunny bed and the one next to the parked cars. Not too long -- I dont want to jump out of my therapeutic window! Tomorrow I'll do the lily field and the front road field and I will be done! For now. 

In the evening Ed and I go out for a walk. Short and sweet. Not for the exercise, but for that feeling of peace and well being that comes from a ramble just before sunset on a sunny June day.

water, trash, and strawberries

I've been repeating this again and again, like a stuck soundtrack -- my flower fields need water. Dane County, where I live, is experiencing a Moderate Drought, which is better than a Severe Drought or Extreme Drought, but worse than Abnormally Dry. Typically, June is our wet month (in competition with August for THE wettest month). This year? Dry as a potato chip. So I need to water.

I'm up early. Not because I want to be up early, but because my surgically improved leg dictates my waking hours and today it decided that I should be up in time for the sunrise. But of course, there is no good sunrise to observe because we are also getting a day of Canadian fire smoke and haze. The air quality is poor enough that we close all the windows. It doesn't feel bad out there, but the readings are miserable, so we take precautions.

(Walk to barn: hen can't reach the berries; hen goes for the flowers)

(Back to the farmhouse: cat, keeping tabs on burrowing animal)

(close-up)

And we eat breakfast in the kitchen. Hazy and cool. We skip the porch today.

And then I water. I cover the Big Bed and the driveway bed today. As I water, I also pause to spot weed. In all, I spend a good three hours on tending just those two fields. But it feels just a little bit nice: the spring blooms are mostly a thing of the past and we're in that exciting moment just before the summer colors fill the spaces (where there is no shade! Ed!). I see the first lily buds. I redirect some of the climbing vines. It's all rather satisfying.

Ed has a meeting with his machining people. He comes home with a question -- hey gorgeous, want a plastic red Adirondack chair?

It appears that the nearby town of Dunn is having a "dump out your old useless stuff" day. People have been piling trash and broken down furniture at the curb for pickup. Ed is forever interested in what people are throwing away and he spotted a cheap (but not unattractive!) chair that he thought I may like.

We drive out, checking out other trash piles along the way. Normally, I'm not keen on adding junk to our junk by picking up other people's junk, but honestly, a bright red chair somewhere in the farmette fields just seems so ridiculously appealing, (This in addition to another plastic chair that he picked up on his own yesterday -- I already scrubbed down this one and put it in the courtyard.)

And by the time I'm done with the chair project, it's time for us to go to the local farmers market. I haven't been going the past weeks, because it's in the hours that I typically have Snowdrop, but the girl is happily ensconced in a summer program on campus this month and so I am free to tag along with Ed (who is a regular, taking our eggs and rhubarb to the various vendors there).

We head out on Ed's motorbike and in retrospect, I think this was a mistake. I knew I could climb on behind him without issue, but what really feels uncomfortable still is a sustained bend in the knee and the passenger on a motorbike has to keep that knee at an angle, or else! 

I am, unfortunately, very familiar with doing something fun with a leg that still refuses to feel anywhere near normal.

The market itself is lively and fun. 

It's the beginning of strawberry season!

Having said that, I'll add that we are (thus far) having a very wimpy strawberry season. Cold weather stunted many berries and we're are seeing that now in small fruits, with a very subdued red color. Still, the flavor is very nice.

Our fruit season here is, in general, very short. You start thinking of what to do with all those fragile berries and before you know it the season is done. Ditto with cherries. Blueberries last a little while longer, but really, it all seems terribly brief to me. 

(we drop off some more rhubarb here and pick up a blueberry lemon cake)

After the market, we ride over still further, to pick up our monthly CSA produce box. I have tremendous guilt for not supporting our farmers with a more consistent pick up. When the pandemic struck, we were so grateful for a weekly box of fresh produce! But after two years, we cut back to every other week. And now this year, I decided to just do a once-a-month pick up. Selecting veggies at the market is much easier if you want to be the boss of your own kitchen and in charge of planning the week's menu. I love my farmers, but I also love sticking with endless asparagus when it's asparagus season and peas when it's pea season. Still, today's box was lovely: beautiful (if sandy) lettuces, radishes, kohlrabi, baby boo chow, a Napa cabbage, some herbs and a little box of... strawberries!

We are rich with local foods. 

The haze is lifting. The temps are warming up. It's a beautiful time to be thinking about gardens and berries and all the growing things around us!

Wednesday

I will give myself credit for this much: I do not under-appreciate my good friends. I love them, I look forward to all my moments with them and I would do a lot if I thought it would contribute to their happiness. 

Many people think of friends as wells into which they can pour their troubled woes. And I know this is an important function that close friends can play. Some people are also talented in listening in return  -- this of course is beautiful: you share a life's journey. Intimacy grows. You have a bond that's deep and enduring.

Me, I'm a little different in that I am not a woe sharer. It's not that I hide troubles, but they would have to be pretty big for me to want to unload. 

So what role do friends play for me? Why are they so important?

I enjoy them. It's that simple. They distract me from myself! I love the exchange of information. The story telling. The challenge of finding ways to make them laugh. I love it when they, too, find pleasure in our friendship: they understand what brings out a smile (and of course, you know enough about them to understand what makes them smile). The pleasure is in doing things together, in stepping outside of your troubles and releasing yourself into the flow of the moment. With joy. Or at least with a smile.

I have a friend like that in town -- one whom I have known exactly as long as Ocean has been in the works (because I met her through her husband who started blogging at the same time I did). This morning, we met up for a walk together. 

First, though, there is the usual stuff: morning barn walk, breakfast with Ed.

Then I'm off, to the local park. 

Our walk is longer than the ones I tend to take with Ed (she clocked it at 3.5 miles) and so this was a bit of a challenge for me: can I move beyond the usual 40 minutes with that fake knee? 

I can. And we do, and we see birds and cranes and herons and it is all so beautiful!

The air is warm once again and I'm glad we did all this before noon. The knee held up, the pleasure in her company was there as expected - it was a fine start to the day!

In the afternoon, I uncoiled the hose. Just a few spots to douse, and of course the tubs need a drink. Another stable hot front has moved into the Upper Midwest and there is zero rain in the forecast. I know what I'll be doing in the days ahead!

Toward evening, I meet up with the young family at a baseball diamond. Snowdrop is on a softball team and today is their first game of the season. I've come to watch.

So have these two!

(on the field)

It makes me happy that these kids have such a broad range of interests. Childhood isn't the time to place limits based on some imagined aspirational skill set of personality type. Now is the time to be the dilettante, the adventurer. To sample, to enjoy. 

(up next!)

It's a lovely evening! 

("good game!")

At home, I cook up some chili -- ready for us when Ed comes home from his weekly biking. Hot chili on a hot day! perfect, don't you think?

with love...

Tuesday

Today we are to have the great cool off, or the continuation of it, since it really began on Sunday. With rain, but you know how that goes -- one person's definition of rain may be another's "insignificant drizzle." We have our bucket out. I'll let you know.

My car, Blue Moon, had a scheduled check up and so we do not dally in the morning.

(sweet peas are blooming!)

(pinks are blooming!)

(Unie is eyeing the ripening strawberries in the baskets)

Breakfast, and then I'm off.

Sitting at the car dealership has me thinking about how car ownership has been a strange thing for me in the last decades (since partnering up with Ed). I went from buying something for $600 (yes, it was that old), to upping the ante and spending all of $3000 on the next one. Then, in the course of the pandemic, I bought a new car (on payments). Blue Moon. I went from complaining about cars to loving the newness of the mechanics (nothing ever breaks!) on the new model. Still, I don't imagine I'll be buying a new one again until the less expensive electrics become commonplace. While waiting for Blue Moon to be ready, I followed the suggestion of the mechanic and went over to the Subaru showroom to examine the electric model that they had on the floor.

It was a monster car with a monster price tag. 

How is this possible? Are we all heading toward a time of huge cars all over again? Having grandkids pushed me toward getting a hatchback, with places for three (just barely) in the back. I dont need to pack in the whole town along with them! And the driver seats? They're like the new movie theater seats that would fit anyone and their mother. With a divider that surely has room for ten beverages.

I patted my tuned up Blue Moon and drove home, vowing to never go to a depressing showroom again.

At home, I bake a cake that I know Snowdrop doesn't much like -- an old fashioned strawberry one (from the NYTimes) that came out good but not extraordinarily so. It will do for our snacking inclinations and our breakfast lust for baked goods.

In the evening I scramble eggs and sauté mushrooms. And steam asparagus, because we're nearing the end of the season and I know I will miss the freshly picked stalks that are such a favorite of mine!

(Friendly and Unfriendly, waiting for their evening feed)

The "rains" have stopped. We check the bucket. Not even a quarter of an inch. I may need to water the fields this week after all.

with love...