meanwhile...

...back at the farmette now, up an hour (or two?) before dawn. And that, my friends, is too early. Even for me. But, there's much to sift through these days and strategizing and planning (and fretting and fuming) often percolates up to the surface in those wee hours of the morning. And then Ed comes up (having fallen asleep downstairs on the couch), and we get to talking, and before you know it, he says  -- I guess I should hurry up and fix the truck because it sounds like you'll need it, and I may as well open up the coop and feed the chickens. And soon after, I join him outside.

So what's happening in the garden after last week's heat wave and Tuesday's storms? Well, predictably, the weeds are tripping over themselves in their attempt to take control of the flower beds. But, if you look up at the flowers (instead of down to the ground where the weeds proliforate), you see the late May explosion of peonies. It should be a splendid farmers market this weekend -- the peonies have arrived!

Their tight, sticky buds are bursting with pinks and whites (and even the rare yellows).

 

 

You have to love the ants that make their way up to the sap that covers the buds! Some people are put off by discovering that peony buds invariably have a parade of ants crawling up to the flower to enjoy a drink of peony nectar. In fact, the ants are a good thing -- they protect the blossoms from more destructive insect species. 

The peony blooming period isn't long and the plant takes up a lot of space in a flower bed. This doesn't bother me: I have enough stuff opening up in the weeks after their bloom. The flower fields are not going to be without color. And I have plenty of room, especially in the Big Bed for their expansive foliage.

Okay breakfast, on the porch. 

 

 

And here's a pleasant surprise -- well, a tiny bit pleasant for me! My daughter's washing machine broke for good. You always find out this stuff just when you have a build up of dirty laundry! And so she brought her family's laundry here to clean, joining us for a few minutes on the porch.

It is a beautiful day! It's impressive how quickly we can move from good to awful to good again. (Well yes, I suppose then back to awful, but I'm not there yet!) This morning definitely belongs to the very lovely.

And so I weed, waiting to hear how my mother's transfer from Rehab to a skilled nursing facility (same complex, different room) took place.

 

I suppose I could have predicted that the transfer would not happen smoothly and indeed -- would not happen at all today. The roadblocks she is putting up are severe and the staff decided to give her one more day, with perhaps me picking out some stuff of hers to install in her new home so it would feel more like her own space.

So I spend the rest of the morning and all of the early afternoon staring at my mother's room back in assisted living, and I pick out things that I think she would regard as indispensable and uniquely her own. Photos, pictures, a quilt maybe? Her lotions and shampoos, her volumes of notes and written pages. He pencils and pencil sharpener. I think she is attached to that. Her grounding contraption which she swears contributed to her long life. I go through her closets, her dresser, her shelves and I pile the stuff on the bed (from where they will pick it up) and then I turn my back on it all. The optimal situation would have been one where she would help with these choices and decisions but she is angry and refuses to help, and so I'm left, as in all previous times, to guess, knowing damn well that I will be held accountable for all the choices I make that are not ones she likes. I have always been liked most when I solve problems following her directives to the last drop. Not so much otherwise.

I peek in on her at the Rehab Center, but I dont go in. If she sees me, she will unleash the same emotions that destroy her calm again and again. It's better to leave her in a quiet state. Besides, I have kids to pick up at school.

Sweet kids. Lovely and loving, no matter what.

 

 

 

 

 

The evening at the farmhouse is spectacular. Sunny and warm. True, we are getting severe storms again tomorrow, but I have to think they wont be of the magnitude that we had on Tuesday. Driving through Madison, you see so many trees uprooted, so many fallen branches, that you have to marvel that no one was killed or even seriously hurt that stormy evening. But tornadoes are infrequent here and severe storms without those powerful wind turbines are something we get used to during the warmer seasons. Severe, but not damaging. One can hope!

And in the meantime, Ed and I push open the patio door and listen to the birds and watch the sun dappled colors of our farmette lands. 

 

 

 

If you need a path to contentment and happiness, you will find it here, at our farmette. We do. Always.

with so much love...

still standing

Oh, we are a resilient species -- say the swallows who are building their nest in the eaves of the Prairie House outside of Mt Horeb in Wisconsin. We, too, survived -- say the lupines in the prairie stretching down the hill, albeit their pointy peaks had been twisted by the whipping winds and straight line tornadoes that torpedoed through the Midwest last night.

And the three of us -- friends, with varying degrees of weather sensitivity! -- we survived as well, though the windows shook, shook in their frames and twice we went to the basement just in case they came crashing down on us under the brute force of the storm.

(When you could still look out the window, we watched it coming...)

And now, this morning, all is calm.

 

 

 

And still standing (if a little bent out of shape).

We were lucky.

It is our last morning together. My friends will be returning to their homes, their daily routines, their neighbors and the good people in their lives today. And I will be going home as well, to the farmette, to Ed, to the young families.

One last breakfast...

And a valiant effort to finish the puzzle. 

We had to laugh: so close! We were maybe 20 pieces short of completing it and yet we had to stop. Because the clock was ticking. I had meetings and obligations. I needed to get home.

(So good to spend time with these two!)

*     *     *

In Madison again, I attend to my mother.

I have been scrambling to keep up with the real and perceived problems that appear to plague her right now. She is no longer able to control the swell of negative emotion within her, toward staff, toward pretty much anyone who tries to help her. This means that she cannot return to assisted living. (Indeed, she refused to go anywhere at all today, so she is stuck for now in Rehab.) Remarkably, it's not the physical barriers that keep her away, it's her mindset. 

I worked on a transfer to a skilled nursing/hospice facility -- same building, different floor, more attention. I've moved my mother from independent living to rehab, from rehab to assisted living number one, from that to assisted living number two. I know what I have to do and I know it will be done imperfectly because without her cooperation, I cannot fully grasp what she would like me to bring to her new home. 

I will say this much -- the new place for her is lovely, newly built, bright, larger even than her previous home. But without doubt she will not recognize the upgrade and I expect our calls and visits and emails (because she can still send emails!) will proceed in the way they have always proceeded -- with a focus on all that's not good in her life.

*     *     *

I had to leave my mother's place in the early afternoon, because it was grandkid pick up time.

Happy ones! How awesome is that!

We have a bit of a weird schedule because their dad has been away and their mom is juggling the three kids and her job demands (to say nothing of the fact that she, like me, has been coughing her way through the week, though she, unlike me, at least did not have lung deflation issues). To help things along, I picked up the two oldest kids and brought them home. Sandpiper, the youngest, had to stay home all day because Madison schools and preschools were closed due to weather damage. 

In the later afternoon, I brought Snowdrop to the farmhouse for a short reading time, stopping on the way for ice cream...

... and finishing the evening with my dropping her off at the Young Shakespeare Players program, where she is cast as Gonzalo in their full production of the Tempest. We have begun line memorization during our car rides!

*     *     *

Evening. Ed is biking, I'm opening my eyes again to the farmette lands and the emergent flowers. I'll show you what's blooming tomorrow. For now, I am delighted to report that the flowers in the fields are still standing. They promise me a summer of color and growth. And incredible loveliness.

prairie house

The storms are coming. That's my morning thought as I step out into the prairie that meanders down the hill from the house where my friends and I are hanging out.

(not prairie flowers, but so lovely nonetheless...)

Full force, tonight. The weather report calls for strong winds, strong tornadoes too. It's a rare bad weather event for our corner of the state. And it hangs over the day because it does impact our activities. And because I am known among family and friends as a weather person (I study meteorological maps like some people study the stock market), we talk about weather strategies over breakfast.

For example, if tonight's tornadoes come at us from the southwest, where should we hide out? Which corner of the lower level is best? Should we put away the car and the outdoor furniture? (Hail and winds are good for neither.) Diane, who lives in the path of destructive hurricanes (by the coast in Florida) is more like Ed: a good Wisconsin storm can be beautiful to watch. Barbara, who lives in New Mexico, is also no stranger to strong winds. Both have lived their youthful lives in the Midwest and as we finish up our morning coffee, we recall storms we have lived through in Madison. (There were not very many notable ones, thank goodness!)

 

 

 

And then we hit the puzzle. The clock is ticking! Finish it tonight or put it away!

Puzzle with pauses. For example, to go out to Verona for food. There's a pizza place there -- Sugar River Pizza -- and we're thinking splitting some pies between now and dinner (i.e. bringing home the leftovers) is a good idea. 

And then it's back to the Prairie House...

 (Prairie House: before damaging winds, tornadoes, and hail come at us tonight)

... where I deal with the endless stream of phone calls with discussions and dissatisfactions (not mine!) surrounding my mother's care. 

And we talk about the weather. Of course we do. When you read that severe tornadoes are coming your way you take note... Or, I take note.

Should we leave this house on the hill? In the middle of nowhere? Should we be happy with the one flashlight we find by the door? Should we drive into town and hunker down for the two hour duration of the passing of the storm system? 

And importantly, shouldn't I post before our power goes up and away, with the spinning house that winds up in Kansas as we stay behind? 

Certainly that. So here it is -- my post for the day. Tomorrow, I'll tell you if we survived the storms. And if we watched the rains come down and the clouds swirl, or if we locked ourselves in the basement. And most importantly -- if we walked out unscathed with nary a scratch!

Until then, with so much love...

prairie house

We wake up to rain. I am sure the farmette plants are grateful. Perhaps all plant life in south central Wisconsin is grateful. We've had a pretty dry run of it this past month.

My three day escape with my friends continues (albeit it's not a total escape: I still must process at least a half dozen phone calls this morning -- and counting! -- concerning the care of my mother and they require a focus that perhaps isn't totally compatible with a Prairie House getaway, but oh well).

Forecasts have given us ominous predictions for these days, but so far, this morning brings us mostly this:

(Across the road: Donald Rock)

We do have a flash downpour, from these clouds:

 

 

 

(Our indoor sandpipers keep an eye on things...)

 

 

While the three of us eat breakfast...

And then we drive the short stretch of road to Mt. Horeb. We thought it might be the perfect day to do a self guided walking tour of this small town that once concentrated its fortunes on the agricultural lands that surround it -- all part of the Driftless landscape that covers south-western part of the state. (Hilly, with rock formations and without the sediment of a receding glacier.)

For example, the old schoolhouse:

And the main drag, which has storefronts that date back to the 19th century. That's old for this part of the country!

 

 

 

We pause at shops -- antiques, gifts, soaps.

And then, as the rain comes back to wet us,  we sidestep into the Driftless Historium and Mt. Horeb Area Museum. Parts of it are a fantastic account of this region's economic and social history.

Some parts are a little quirky. I suppose that's to be expected. This is a town of Norwegian trolls. They make their way into many places here!

It's still drizzling when we leave and that's just fine. It's time to stop for lunch. 

There is an eatery here that is part of a small Dane County group of restaurants, all called Buck & Honey. An eclectic menu that pleases many, including us!

Fish tacos? Honeycrisp cider? Maybe a pizza? Yum!

Most people would get up and loudly proclaim that they could not possibly look at food after all that. Not us! First, we stop at a coffee shop (Bucky Bros, for caffeine and a cookie)... And then we continue! To the local grocery store. To stock up! (Turns out we do love to nosh in the afternoons, evenings, all day actually.) Satisfied with our stash, we go home to our house among the lupines. Where the swallows play.

There's a 1000 piece puzzle someone left behind and we started in on it this morning, with the intent of finishing it by tomorrow. With the storms in the forecast, I think we have a good chance of succeeding!

Except...

There's a break in the rains. Quite suddenly, one weather front moves out, and another is brewing to the west, and in the meantime, we have a streak of weather luck.

Barbara and I return to the Donald Park trails. And once again, it is perfectly beautiful.

 

 

 

Our dinner is one of lunch leftovers. Outside, the mist rolls in, the clouds are again hovering on the horizon. All this, as seen from the large windows of the Prairie House.

What I leave out of this text is those times where we walk not especially great distances, nor make great progress on our puzzles, or even on our sightseeing (our walking tour fizzled out after a few notable buildings), but it's those down times which are so great with friends. The kind of friends that have always supported you no matter what. Who have always understood your strengths and never wavered in their readiness to listen should you need that in life. Without ever trying to talk you out of being who you are. 

The three of us are rooted in such different lives and we have circles of family and friends in our histories and our current lives and we return to them at the end of these escapes, but what remains is the knowledge that we have each others backs, regardless.  It's the way it has been and it will always be thus.

with love...

prairie house

What an amazing, complicated, delightful, adventurous, ferociously grand day... So much to do, so much to think about. Highlights, as described in pictures:

Morning walk to feed the animals. Well, okay, that's about as normal as a day can get. But in May, it's always special.

 

Breakfast, on the porch, with my visiting friend, and Ed, and no cats. 

And then I'm off.

It's the day of Sparrow's birthday party! A little bit prior to the day he actually turns six, but busy end of school year schedules require some adjustments, so the friend party is this morning. The little guy is heavily into arts and crafts and so he gets to host his school friends at a place that does just that -- art and craft birthday parties.

It's too much to expect the littlest brother, Sandpiper, to join in on the fun, but the older sister is happy to participate. Here they are decorating their crowns:

 

Many craft projects follow. Wall art, rainbow making, and so on.

And of course there is cake.

Happy first of several birthday celebrations, nearly 6-year old Sparrow!

Party over. I drive back, pick up Diane, pick up Barbara and we're off to the grocery store. To shop for our Big Escape. The three of us, away from it all.

No, we're not going far. Somewhere between Verona and Mt. Horeb -- and if you know your Wisconsin destinations, you'll grasp that this is about as far a trip as one to the airport. About a half an hour away.

What we have is a beautiful spot, on top of a hill. It's an airbnb, aptly called the Prairie House, possibly because it looks down upon a stunning piece of prairie land. At the moment, the purple prairie lupines are in full bloom.

 

We are just across the road to Donald County Park. Ed and I have loved and hiked this park several times -- it isn't huge, but it's a winner, with cliffs, woods, prairies, babbling brooks and views in all directions. And so immediately after an outdoor lunch (did I mention that it is another hot day today?), Diane retreats for some quiet time, and Barbara and I head for the park.

Such flowers! I've not seen these in our local prairie fields. (It's Robin's Fleabane or Blue Spring Daisy.)

(Allegheny Blackberry, blooming in the woodlands)

(And the lupines!)

And now it's back to our Prairie House. With the sandhill cranes (ha!) in the front yard.

Dinner? At home. I actually brought over some left-over salmon from last night. A salad materialized.

Totally terrific day. And perhaps the only good weather day of our stay here. We're not fussy. If we have to sit by the windows and merely look out at the sweeping views before us -- worst fates have met traveling adventurers!

Until tomorrow then, with love, from the Prairie House.