beach day

That is a very real post heading, albeit no one is going to any beach on this hot and sticky day. The two older grandkids, however, are celebrating school spirit by showing up in beach attire. Swim suits not allowed. You cannot imagine how fun such small things are for kids. Snowdrop was plotting all day yesterday for this, as we searched for sunglasses and she deliberated on what to take with her to school that counted as "beachy." We should learn something from them: any day can be beach day, any small creative surge can squeeze a smile into your life. Yowza! It's beach day today! Without the beach.

And yes, it is muggy. Damp from all those rains, sticky summer weather. Early June has always been a low blossom period for me -- we finish up the peonies, the irises, the allium and we wait for the lilies, the phloxes and the sunflowers. It's pretty, it's lush...

... but most of the color right now is in the annuals.

(tall meadow grasses in the peach and strawberry orchard...)

Breakfast feels summery. For the first time, I dont need a hoodie out there in the morning.

Later, we take our bikes out for a quick spin to the park - the one with the Vicious Bugs. My theory is that the prairie trails will be fine and so we dump our bikes at the edge of the big beautiful expanse of prairie and take a walk.

It's humid, and there will be storms again, but honestly, this morning it is extraordinarily beautiful!

They're still building a bike trail that will cut through this quiet space. We explore that as well.

It's such a splendid corner of our world... You can never be unhappy here!

(Oh, watch out for the deer to your right, Ed!)

(he tells me later that he never even noticed its crossing the road! his head was down...)

 

In the afternoon I touch base again with my mother. And she is... better! For the first time in a long time, she is not on the attack. She reports as she has always reported -- the ins and outs of the day. Well, mainly the outs, but the harshness is gone. I dont know how this happened, but I assure you -- fingers crossed very hard that it will last!

 

And then I pick up the two beach bound (but not really) kids.

Isn't it a perfect day for ice cream?

(to the farmhouse)

They leave toward evening,  just as the storms return. To repeat: this has been a very stormy, wet spring!

But the flower fields are thriving and the kids are thriving and we are thriving too. And isn't that just wonderful...

 

with love...

last week of school

I know that some school across the U.S. have closed up shop already, but Madison's (and surrounding districts') public schools still have one week to go. I remember these last days of the school year well with my two kids -- I couldn't wait for school to be done already. Less stress for the kids -- yes, that. But what I looked forward to most was the plummeting stress levels for me. Done with getting them to school on time. With navigating their after-school extra-curriculars, while maintaining a full time job. Making sure they got enough sleep and enough downtime during the week. Keeping their test anxieties at bay, because nearly all kids have test anxieties and they increase as they move up through the grades. And the homework, often stupid homework! Fitting it in while you attended to all the above plus cooking a family dinner each night... I mean, it was nuts. So I couldn't wait for their vacation!

My grand-kids aren't in that kind of whirlwind. Yet. Nonetheless, Snowdrop has been counting down for a while now. And today marks that crucial point of "just one week left!"

I promised them a treat every day after school this week (as opposed to only when I am so inclined!) and I'm sure they'll hold me to it.  

 

It's a mixed weather bag today: warmish with scattered strong storms. Fine, sounds like a typical early summer day, right?

Still, the cats are antsy. I broke up two near-fights (Ed shakes his head at that -- you dont understand cat dynamics, he'll tell me. I'm not impressed. My dynamics are this: I dont like even innocent cat fights.)

Breakfast, on the porch of course, with two cats who never squabble. Except that today even they take swipes at each other. Must be something in the air.

I coax Ed into a walk in our beloved County Park. Just up the road a couple of miles. In between storms and cloudbursts.

I would call it both a beautiful and horrific walk. Absolutely stunning display of late spring prairie flowers, especially the wild indigo.

(normally, you can't see the Capitol so clearly from the park, but today, against some storm clouds, it really stands out!)

And we do dodge the storms. We spot lovely birds, turtles, ducks...

So what went wrong??

Well, as we entered the woodsy part of the park the mosquitoes attacked. And I mean, really attacked. Our legs were suddenly colonized by little black demons, biting away. And so ends our free spirited hiking here. We wont be back until the bugs go away. That could be as soon as next month, or as late as October. And, too, it means that this wet spring (because it now is officially deemed a very wet spring) will bring mosquitoes to farmette lands as well. The days of weeding without slapping are numbered.

It is to be expected. Still, it was a lovely run without the pests. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll surge and go away. One can hope.

 

 

 

In the afternoon, I stop by my mother's place. Mood and manner? Same. Unhappy with everyone. They're like Trump! -- her repeat refrain. Because I fail to acknowledge the similarity, I am complicit. 

And then it's time to pick up Snowdrop on her last Monday as a third grader! Holding onto her own crane...

You promised you'd go under the Arc of Total Wetness today, she tells me. I did? I guess I did. Yesterday, when going under the spray from a hose seemed so unappealing and "tomorrow" seemed far away...

We both go under the Arc of Total Wetness. It's impossible to stay dry if you go under it! -- she tells me. She is correct.

The storms continue into the evening. Nothing that would make me run to the basement, except maybe to check if it's flooded yet, but still, you cannot call it a beautiful weather day. And yet -- so beautiful in so many other ways!

 

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!