adventuring

When Ed and I first came together, oh, more than 18 years ago, he showed me his favorite bike circuits along rural roads, and, too, we took his kayaks out on the rivers that twist and meander through the Wisconsin landscape. His favorite outing, which became our favorite outing, was a double whammy: we'd take his old pickup truck (and I mean old -- now 32 years and aging!), load it with two boats and two bikes, drop off the bikes at one point along a river, drive to a more distant point, paddle down to our bikes, ride them up to the truck, head back to pick up our boats and finally head home. A regular bike and paddle. It took the better part of a day to do all that.

Lately, I'd been less ambitious. I let him do the lengthy bike rides alone and I rarely have the time to go out on the kayaks. It's a big production and, too, I have some aversion to paddling between fallen trees and branches. It takes skill to keep your boat clear of them on these often narrow stretches of water and I'm less enthused about flipping the boat on ripples and over hidden limbs (even as I have only ever flipped once and it wasn't in Wisconsin but in Scotland!). I admit it -- I have tamed down my physical ambitions. Much to Ed's disappointment, I'm sure. I'll go on the lake, we'll bike around where we live, but big, ambitious outings are rare.

But this weekend, Ed persisted. He pumped up the inflatable kayak (it cannot flip, gorgeous, it really cannot!) -- one which we last used along the Dordogne in France, he cleaned up his truck and said -- let's go on a paddle along the Sugar River. He's done it numerous times. he assured me it was a piece of cake.

And the weather today is perfect for it.

And I need a break from weeding. And from the demands of my ever displeased mother. 

So I said okay.

Morning walk to the barn...

 

(meadow daisies and the occasional lupine...)

 And a lovely breakfast on the porch...

And then Ed loads the truck -- boats first, bikes on top, not an easy feat because my electric bike is heavy! -- and tells me "we're ready!"

I dont like his truck. It rattles. I has a busted windshield. It smells of disuse. It's loud. But he's keeping it going, because it is small and he tells me you cannot get small pickups in America anymore, they just dont make them. So he's stuck with this smelly rattling piece of junk. Not that he minds!

I also dont like the pile-up of boats and bikes -- I'm convinced that one big bump will send the top bike tumbling onto the road. (Trust me! -- he says. And I do, sort of.) Still, we get in and drive the load to Paoli -- our bike drop off point. From there, still by truck, to the edge of the river. Where we unload the kayaks.

 

And finally -- on the water.

I have to admit, it's beautiful. All of it. The river, the blue heron that takes flight again and again. 

 

 

 

The few clouds, the wisps of warm sun, the ripples in the river, the trees along the riverbank, the swallows nesting under bridges -- all of it.

Really beautiful.

And though there are tricky bends, and not a small number of fallen trees and branches, and one stretch of small rapids...

... for the most part, it is an easy paddle. And here's the thing -- my mind is wiped clean of all that awaits me round the clock now back home as I try to figure out how to handle my mother's incessant complaints about... well, pretty much everything. On the river, I hear only the birds and the rhythmic splash of the paddle.

We kayak for about 90 minutes and then we take out the boats in Paoli and pause there at the Creamery for a cookie (and coffee!). 

 

 

A short but hilly bike ride later, and we are at the truck again. Drive back to Paoli, load the boats, with bikes on top again, drive home.

(the entrance to the secret gardens of the farmette... )

The whole adventure so reminded me of those early years when Ed and I were just learning to live together. I still worked, he still ran another business on the side -- we were busy, though not with kids and not with an aging parent. And not so much with flower fields -- I didn't move to the farmette until we were well into our life as a pair!

But oh, it has been a great set of years! And on this June day, we continued on our adventures, even though getting out of the boat is less straightforward now, with a new knee, and even though a portage of two kayaks (from the riverbank to the truck) has us panting. 

They may be small adventures, but they always leave us calm and happy, and so full of joy!  

In the evening the young family is here for dinner.

(the arrival of the older two + mommy)

They all glide so smoothly into their farmhouse routines. A chat with my daughter in the kitchen, with or without one or two of the kids listening in... Toy foods, brought over by Sandpiper. Stinky cheese on long crackers -- beloved by both boys. And because it truly is a glorious day today -- we eat on the porch. (Ed's petting Dance, who, for the first time, did not run away when the five of them showed up.)

You wait for good weather, for porch meals all winter long. When it finally falls into place, it's magic. Flowers on the table, a light breeze maybe, birdsong, food, love. It all comes together eventually, doesn't it...

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...