first of June

Off to a wet start. I heard that Wisconsin went from having 90% of its land declared as suffering from drought conditions to only 1% of it deemed still too dry. Overnight. We are not in that 1%. And June is coming in... wet.

(Oh, but look! A day lily, in bloom for June 1st!)

(A poppy in the meadow)

I'm up early because I mean to get to the market early, but I have a bit of a slow down as I walk back to feed Pancake, one of the more feral cats, out on the porch. I see that there is a bird hopping rather listlessly under the table. Ed and I clear the porch of cats and coax the bird out, but it's obvious that it is either hurt or in shock, so I pick it up and move it to a cardboard box.

A tiny dish of water, some seeds and crumbs and time. Maybe that's all that the bird needs? (If you find a bird in shock, the best thing you can do is give it a chance to recover and maybe it'll take flight after a few minutes. If not, it's best to take it to the humane society. They're better able to care for it than you are.)

I go to the market. I'm there just before 8.

Because it is raining lightly, the square isn't crowded. I do a quick spin around most of the stalls and I am happy to spot the season's first strawberries!

Still, I dont buy any. I love market berries, but not all market berries. They're expensive, and most of them do not keep, and I just purchased a batch of grocery store berries yesterday. Nonetheless, just the appearance of them is something to celebrate. It's the berries and the flowers that are giving us that burst of color on this gray day.

I pick up my usual. Flowers, asparagus, carrots. I'm waiting for peas!

Bakery next. Empty at this hour. Oh, I could spend a whole morning just smelling and surveying their delicious choices...

And home again.  To farmette colors!

I check on the bird. It moved over to the water. That's a good sign, no?

Actually it's not. A few minutes later I check again. The bird fell over and I see that his side must have been injured, because the water is pink with blood. It died pretty quickly after that.

Damn cats. Must be their doing. 

These animals are such a mixed bag. Mostly fine, mostly wonderful, but also frustratingly destructive. Of tender plants (chicken scratching!). Of bird habitats (cats especially like chasing birds that look for ground worms). Yes, we love that the hens eat ticks, and that the cats eat mice. We absolutely LOVE that! But this food chain stuff is sometimes tough to watch. I suppose we're grateful that we have seven cats roaming farmette lands and only about once a month do they bring home a bird, but still, I love birds and it always gets to me when they destroy a young life. And no, it's no comfort that they can't help themselves. It still sucks.

Breakfast. In the kitchen, because it is a cool day.

I have some catch up work to do at home and I do that, all the way until it's time for Snowdrop's and Sparrow's violin recitals.

 

Neither of them are impassioned about their music. Snowdrop loves her lessons but hasn't the time or leanings to practice much. Sparrow practices more, but does not especially like lessons. Still, on balance, I agree with the parents that this bit of music education is a good thing (so long as they want to keep it going). It's like studying a language -- you get a lot more than merely using it as a tool to communicate. And who knows, maybe at some point some string of musicality will catch and they will take off. For now, they are students and they are making slow but steady progress. And given their relaxed approach to it, they both did remarkably well at the recital.

Afterwards, I ask them if they perhaps want to go with me to my mother's place. The rest of us -- myself, the staff -- are kind of stuck. We're not getting anywhere. She gets upset with them for "not doing their job well," with me for not solving her issues to her liking. According to her, we all don't care. Our suggestions fall flat. She is lost in her dissatisfactions.

 

I enter her rooms at the head of the pack. I'm apprehensive how this will play. The nurse is calming her down. She is upset because the TV isn't on her channel of choice. And then she sees the troop behind me.

 

 

Transformative. I've not heard her say a good word for many weeks. And suddenly, for the younger family, she is full of good words. She recognizes the kids, comments on their school standing, their abilities, she is a different person. 

In other words, she hasn't lost her ability to connect in a positive way. Selectively, to be sure, but I know now that she has the ability to engage. When she wants to engage. 

The visit is a total success. And the kids are fascinated and delighted with their ancient great grandmother.

(She returns to her old habits after the visit, calling at all hours to express her dissatisfaction with... well, pretty much everything.)

At home, the rain has wrapped it up for the day. I tidy some of the flower beds, but not for long. Too wet out there. Cool days, warm days, wet days, dry days -- we've had them all this spring. To the big kids, it's all good. The girl hasn't worn a sweater in weeks. Me, I look forward to tomorrow's clear skies. Out with the sweatshirt already. On with shorts weather!

end of May

How to summarize -- the month, the day, the season! On balance, it has been grand. And I'm not just saying that. It really has been fabulous. In the gardens, the soil, loosened by rains, heated by sunshine, and enriched by compost has really boosted the perennials. Last year, they struggled. This year? They are strong! Pushing out new growth! (So are the weeds, but I'm --mostly-- on top of it.)

I've been busy -- my mother's issues have filled morning hours (and the afternoons and evenings have not been unaffected), but despite what she will tell you, she is in a good place right now. Much of her well-being depends on her. Not on her caretakers, not on me. You have to prove to yourself that you're able to do more than you do each day. This is as much true for her as it is for a young child or you and me. If you only see, feel, talk about the slide, well, chances are that slide will accelerate. (I visited her today. She is as she was. Convinced that no one is properly attending to her. That her once miracle child is a miracle no more.) 

I've been busy with the grandkids too, and busy with outdoor work, and busy sitting on the couch in the evenings with Ed. It all has a place in my day, my life, this month. Such a beautiful May...

 

And now, my morning -- a promising one with a hint of sunshine and lots of warm air...

((Can you even see the sheep shed behind all that new growth??)

Breakfast is deliciously leisurely...

And after the visit with my mother, I shop for groceries, admiring the incredible wealth of produce that is available and wishing most everyone could just reach over and grab containers of berries and California cherries and lettuces and veggies and all the rest of it.

In the early afternoon, I weed, of course, and I'm reaching into the more distant beds -- a sure sign of my confidence that things are thriving and that I can expand my field work. 

And the kids come to the farmette, all dressed up, because it was  "fancy day" at school...

And we have plenty of time to play, read, the usual happy stuff.

(still purple...)

We always end our farmhouse time with a Bluey episode on TV. If you dont have kids around you then you may not know this Australian cartoon. There are a million episodes (well, maybe a hundred) and the kids have seen them all, probably several times. It's way below their age, except that it isn't really, because the show is funny and delightfully real, even if the characters are.... dogs. Importantly, from my perspective, the episodes are very short: eight minutes each, so we can do one, or two and the kids feel so privileged that they get to watch something that is so... sweet and inconsequential (though with good life's lessons!).

 

In the evening, I finish weeding and chipping the distant bed. It's so satisfying to finish something that may well have suffered neglect for the rest of the season (and few would have noticed)! I didn't have to do it. But it's done and that's so wonderful.

I come in to cook Fish and roasted cauliflower for dinner. (The cats are excited!) And chocolate. My last bite in May will have been a square of chocolate. With thanks for a truly beautiful month!

with love...

there's always that bright upswing

Clouds gone, sun's out, there is just that perfect amount of warmth outside.

Some peonies are finished, but others are just starting.

I have no appointments, meetings or demands on me for this morning.

How good is that?? 

The walk to the barn is early, leisurely, pretty. I take my time to look around.

(the peach orchard and the strawberry stand)

(meadow flowers)

(sunshine)

Breakfast, with Ed, outside. He has a zoom call. I have nothing.

Can you believe it??

I suppose I should turn to my very neglected to do list. Or not.

I go back to the flower fields. I do some quick fixes. And I do a major weed pull in the Big Bed. And that takes up the whole morning because, well, the Big Bed is ... big.

At breakfast, Ed and I talked about our work on farmette lands. There are three acres here, and all the flowers planted are my domain, and all the trees added to the new orchards are mostly Ed's domain, and the mowing of paths is mine, and the cutting down of dead limbs is his, and wood chip distribution is shared. He'll chip the courtyard and the tomato fields and the fruit trees, I'll chip the flowers. Maintaining it all is one heck of a job, though this year we are helped by a steady amount of rain and an early start to the planting season. 

As the summer season progresses, I will reduce efforts to keep all fields in order. I'll concentrate on the beds that are visible from the courtyard. The ones close to the farmhouse. Does this make any sense? I mean, all but one of the flower fields are visible only to us. Why neglect, for instance, the ones by the sheep shed? 

I suppose the progression in growth -- from young plants (in the spring), to middle-aged (in the summer) to old (in the fall) -- is not unlike the progression of age in people. When you get older you vision, your travels, your interests tend to be drawn in tighter circles around where you are. You settle into your comfy (well, the hope is that it's comfy) little world and you give up on trying to understand everything and everyone. So, too, with gardening, by the end of spring, I move away from trying to get everything in order. Just the stuff closest to me, closest to my heart.

And now it's time to pick up Snowdrop. It's a little bit different today: she gets to do something she has been wanting to do for a long long time: color her hair. Purple maybe. With black streaks? No, with cerulean streaks. Or maybe green? Being "the correct grandmother" that I am, I try to exert a little influence -- away from the dark and scary! But, in the end, it is her experiment. She just has to agree to a haircut along with the color. All this we accomplish right after school.

(before)

(after)

It takes a while to paint long hair purple! Like, the better part of the afternoon. By the time we are on the road, I got a message alerting me to a jury verdict in the Trump New York case. I couldn't stop the car, so I handed the phone to Snowdrop and she read the updates, one after the next. An interesting way (and legally very educational!) for Snowdrop to learn the ins and outs of felony proceedings! 

Even with our shortened time, Snowdrop does want to stop at our local farmers market. For the cherry pie! For the sheer fun of it!

From there -- to the farmette, where the late afternoon sunlight plays with her purple hair...

 

And only then -- to the farmhouse. For a very late snack. And a very brief reading session. 

Evening. You almost want to give up on couch time and just stay outside, the light is that beautiful! 

 

 

 

A few minutes, then hunger and tiredness push me inside. Easy day, easy dinner, easy evening. 

Yeah! How good is that?!

 

another rushed morning

How are my flower fields faring? I don't know! I've been away from them for too long! (In May, three days is too long!) And this day is so lovely and yet again I haven't the time to dive into their thicket, to prune, remove and correct the errors that are still fixable, stakable, transplantable, removable, weedable (are these even words??). No matter. Let's enjoy the brief walk to the barn together...

And now if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment to run to (so that breakfast is hurried...).

Back so soon? Great. Next meeting for today is over at my mother's nursing care facility. Staff brainstorming how to address the onslaught of negativity. Nothing new there. She remains still hostile, still miserable, still calling me, telling me who did what wrong, and what a disappointment I am for her. Why? Well, who knows why, really. Probably because I am always there. Who else will listen?

Back to the farmette. I have time for either a leisurely lunch or a hurried gardening session, but not both. I choose the latter. Because, as many have said before me -- gardening is really, really good for you. I've known that since I was a babe! (Caveat -- unless you hate it and then I really do think you should find something else to fill your spare time. There is nothing worse than a sour gardener!)

Kids now. The oldest (third grader Snowdrop) had a field trip today to the International Crane Foundation up in Baraboo (about an hour to the north of us). Oh, school field trips! Do you remember them? You look forward to that break in classroom routines and you love, love, love having all that time with your friends. Does the destination even matter? Snowdrop had a great time, cranes or no cranes!

Sparrow takes it in. I can just see his mind churning as he listens to his sister's stories and tries to prepare himself for being faced with these big kid challenges sometime in the future!

We read for a long while. Sometimes I wonder if I have regressed in my book reading -- I love my pile of novels on my night table, but my enthusiasm for Snowdrop level books is positively bursting at the seams. I cannot wait to see how the plots in her books will resolve themselves!

(this is their favorite activity to do in the five minutes it takes me to get their food together: Ed's computer)

 

 

Evening once again. Ed is on his bike, I study the garden... it's okay, it's okay... right? Not too neglected?

 

 

 

I'm cooking soup. I think about the month. Calmly now. I'm getting better at putting the turmoil behind me.

We still have a few days of May left. Wonderful.  I'm not ready to let go of this month. May is so very beautiful!

with love...

still May

I think it's coincidental. I think there's no truth to the idea that it's somehow deliberate. Maybe I'm amassing data to support a theory, because I've already bought into the veracity of this theory. Still, it does seem to me that the most beautiful month, which in Wisconsin has to be May, often strives to remind us that beauty comes with challenges. Serious life's challenges. My four gravest illnesses all came at me in May -- just as an example! And this year, I have my mother's cognitive decline to grapple with. All of it, this month, an otherwise perfect month, a merry month of flowers and sunshine and butterflies and meadows.

Much of the morning is devoted to my mother: several phone conversations with staff members, a visit -- all in an attempt to figure out what's behind her stream of acute criticism that's coming seemingly out of nowhere. One theory is that she suffered what's called "hospital trauma" where something went wrong and she spiraled it into a big event and then it spun out of control. There are other theories, irrelevant for Ocean purposes, though I'm fairly certain that I am right now a contributing factor to her woes. I'm pretty sure that my unwillingness to accept without reservation her assessments of her sorry state is a major blow for her. I always tread on thin ice when I do not feed into her iron-clad narrative. In the past, when I broke down and pushed back against her stream of complaints, it's never ended well. I discussed with the staff whether perhaps I should just accept all her stories, because, well, she is 100 and if that will bring her some satisfaction, then why not?

I suppose the answer is one that the social worker gave me: I need to protect myself in all this as well. Feeding into a fiction seems, at least in theory, harmless, unless that fiction is completely at odds with my own feelings about what is real and what is just an imagined story, unsupported by the reality within which we have lived for a long, long time. I've always thought it's best to just stay quiet, to listen without commentary, even when attacked. And now here I am, thinking that maybe staying totally silent in the face of all that's thrown at me, at the staff, is perhaps not the right way to proceed after all. Maybe I shouldn't be such a wimp! Ed has so often told me to cut short and walk away from any conversations that I don't like. Just hang up the (proverbial) phone -- he'd say again and again. And most often, the wimp in me would say -- it's more trouble to do that then to just listen. Total wimp!

I did have a few minutes in the garden in the early morning, not much more than that. (It did not help that the rains returned in the afternoon...)

And I did have a nice coffee with a friend downtown. And Ed and I ate breakfast bowls of fruit in the afternoon and pretended it was our morning meal. Sweet guy, not used to so much emotional craziness, he is nonetheless a good person to have at your side.

And then it is time to focus on the grandkids, who just loved the fact that it was hat day in school today!

Snowdrop has her Shakespeare lines to memorize every day now and so we work on that. So far she is full of enthusiasm and not buckling under the pressure (154 lines by July 15th!).  May her resolve stay with her!

In the evening, I read about the Diverging Diamond Interchange. What -- you've not heard of it? I'll link to a story describing it, only because the picture there gives you a visual map of how this works and I myself needed the graphics to fully get the set up. It's an idea developed by a guy who all his life loved to imagine and create traffic patterns. Even as a little kid, with Matchbox cars. And he had this great inspiration -- to avoid the hazards and long waits in a left turn, he suggested a diamond like pattern, where you go to the other side of the road before you make the turn. You can see the design here.

My own car accident happened due to just such a left turn (with a rogue car coming at me from the parking lane). Imagine, a less dangerous turning option! Thanks to a guy who liked to play with toy cars. You have to marvel at human ingenuity and creative impulse.

The clouds break up. There is a stunning sunset, but our trees are too dense for us to fully take it in. How about just a tiny glimpse?

 

 

 

Remarkable month. In all ways!

with love...