back to the wonderful same old

A Few Words about Photography (skip this if you find camera talk boring)

In the days I was sick, I accomplished what to me is a milestone and a miracle. (With Ed's help.) I sold my old camera on Craigslist. And bought a newer version of the same online. This was a huge, time-consuming, not unstressful deal. I've been trying to do it for a long time and having this window of time allowed me to plunge.

The problem with me and photography is, well, multifold. I first began taking pictures when I was eight years old. With my Kodak brownie. When film was expensive and flashcubes came in packs of little lightbulbs that sizzled before your eyes when you clicked. Those were the days! When we were leaving the U.S. to return to Poland, I was thirteen and fully into the photography business. True, my ambitions were low -- I wanted a Polaroid! Meet the Swinger, Polaroid Swinger, It's more the a camera, it's almost alive, it's only nineteen dollars and ninety-five... (I have a very good memory for commercial jingles.) No point in getting that for a return to Poland. No Polaroid film there. 

In my teen years, while in Poland, I learned to work a real camera with manual everything and when I returned to New York at age 19 and signed up for college classes, I immediately took one in film developing.

It's been downhill since then! Why? Because the world of cameras got better and I got lazier. 

I stopped playing around with developing because it was too hard to recreate a darkroom and I hadn't the time to use someone else's. And as the automatic functions crept up on us, more perfect every year, I'd default to A way too much: autofcous, auto aperature selction, auto shutter speed... I basically tuned out of the developing capabilities in photography and concentrated on just taking pictures. Lots of them! And when digital photography became the norm (just when I started Ocean), I just plunged right in. Since those early years (time of my divorce, time of Ed, time of Ocean...) I dont have a day where I dont have a camera around my neck. Not a day.

Still, I rarely leave the Automatic mode. It's just too easy to let the camera do the thinking.

Except when I get a new one. Then I relive all its fantastic functionalities! I get re-excited. I'm tickled at the new developments. (And after a few weeks, I go back to Automatic.)

Perhaps this is why I love getting a new camera and I do it fairly frequently -- very two or three years. I sell the old one so that the outlay isn't too great and hound the Internet for what's grabbing everyone's attention. At a reasonable price point, because otherwise I'd just get a Leica and be done with dreaming! For those who don't know, Leica compacts are the gold standard and they are so expensive that I cant imagine anyone stepping out into the real world dangling that thing around a neck. Asking for trouble. Plus it would pay for someone's whole year in college which, frankly, is a better investment. I exaggerate, of course, but still...

The trouble is the market has been weird for cameras that I love (and turns out other serious amateurs love as well): compact, semi-professional stuff. (Meaning small and light but with many of the functions of a larger camera). It's been pretty flat and uninspiring. Why? Because people have so massively switched to phone photography that the major players feel it's not worth the effort to develop this technology for the few remaining enthusiasts out there. 

They have miscalled the demand. When Fujifilm announced a new compact camera this year, the demand  has been so strong that they are months if not years behind in meeting the preorders alone! For me, this meant, well, two things:

1. It was tremendously easy to sell my older compact Fujifilm (you cant get the older ones either -- all sold out).

2. It was tremendously hard to find the new compact  Fujifilm.

While I was sick, I accomplished both and now I am in my window of photographic excitement! You wont notice an iota of difference in the pictures I post here. It's all about how I approach picture taking going forward. What I take with me on trips (I've been lugging my wonderful but OH SO HEAVY camera through Span, through Scotland, wishing I could get behind my compact one...). What I read/watch/learn from the various tutorials on line.

When the person drove here at high speed all the way from Milwaukee to buy my camera, Ed did the sale (I was inside with Covid). The guy asked -- why is she selling this? Ed -- oh, she always wants the newest thing. I'm sure there was an eye-roll with that statement. It's not false, but it's not true either. I want the newer model if I think it will add something to this activity that occupies a huge chunk of each day for me. (Photo shooting is only step one. Photo editing can take... a while!) I am so excited to get behind this very, very fortunate purchase (only one store in New Jersey had just received a supply and they had exactly one box in stock -- it was meant to be!). 

I write all this for two reasons -- I should give some mention here to this project that takes up so much of my time (thinking about and equipping myself to do photography) and, well, I'm super excited about it! It's a big deal to have received (last night) a new small fixed-lens camera! For me it is, anyway. 

Okay, back to the business of writing about my flowers.

 

Flowers, Flowers, and More Flowers

Out snipping, early on. (And bug swatting.) It takes a long time to work through close to 500 flower heads, which, by the way, are wet and juicy and sticky and require a hand rinse with the hose every few minutes, especially since I am also dangling a camera at the side. (The clunky big old camera for now.)

Every now and then, I look up and take in this world of flowers.

(the trumpets are in bloom!)

I know the good positioning by now. You dont stand in the thick of flower fields every single day without taking note of how things look from this way, from that way...

And yes, they're looking good. Snip, squash oriental lily bugs, snip.

(triplets! Their one day of glory...)

It's late by the time I'm done.

 

This is It

A Polish friend of mine recently asked, in a speculative way -- how do you practice happiness... I immediately answered. Not because I have great knowledge here, but because I love this topic and it makes me happy just to think about it.

Here's what I do know: everything, everything about breakfasts on the porch -- leisurely breakfasts on the porch, makes me happy!

In preparation for this, I biked over to the new development, first to check on Steffi's House (nearly done!)...

Then to Tati Co coffee shop -- they'd just gotten a fresh order of pastries from Madison Sourdough!

 

 

 

Croissants (almond and chocolate, split), summer red berries and ripe peaches, milky coffee. And Ed. That feeling of contentment, indeed, in this case of happiness runs deep.

Back to Photography 

People often ask me -- what camera do you use? And I always say -- it really doesn't matter, it's not the camera that makes the pictures, it's you. And I really believe that. Particularly for those of us who mostly post online or make photo books for our kids (whether they want them or not!) -- taking many pictures, using a good photo editing program -- this matters so much more than spending money on a camera. 

However.

For those of us who do take lots of photos, every single day, the camera is a part of you. It's your third arm. It's your friend. It doesn't have to be fancy or expensive, but you do have to really like it.

And I love my new little friend. Maybe it'll last way into advanced old age. Maybe. I take good care of these guys that hang on my shoulder. My new buddy will be my one reliable travel companion in future trips. In the meantime, here are just two photos, taken still tentatively, with the newbie.

with love...

July nights and days

I woke around 2 or 3 listening. That was a real thump in the room below. Maybe a quiet door closing? We dont really have many doors downstairs. One that squeaks loudly and one that's locked. What was it then? Should I go down? 

I must defend the farmhouse against invaders! (Ed is still sleeping in the sheep shed because of my Covid.)

I get up, walk slowly toward the stairs thinking -- I should have a weapon with me. (Subsequently I thought the best weapon would always be my phone, ready for an SOS call. I mean, it's not as if I'm going to pick up a kitchen knife and stab an intruder. Or am I??)

I walk down. Slowly.

Suddenly everything is very still. I know I have interrupted something. Oh please, let it not be a skunk from the porch! We've suspected that some animals go there at night to raid the remains of the cat food dish that we leave out for Pancake, the most feral of our feral cats. What if said skunk entered the house??

I turn on the lights. There are three cats: Dance, Friendly and Unfriendly. The ones that sometimes do come in to sleep downstairs. They are all sitting up on alert. What the hell is going on here??

I look under couches, behind doors. I flip switches on, half wondering where this courage is coming from. If someone is in the house, I should hightail it out of here!

I find nothing and no one.

*     *     *

In the morning, I'm coming down at my usual time. A cat is meowing for food, another is watching me, waiting (for what?). I glance at the carpet. Oh yuk! A decapitated animal. Only the head remains, and some apparently untasty inside organs. I can't get myself to examine the details. Dead animals don't necessarily gross me out, but we have a strict division of labor here: disposal of them? That's Ed's job!

Ed!

The sweet guy has been doing morning chicken duty for me (I mean, he's right there, next to them. Besides, he's been dealing with racoon issues as well -- so far our hens have escaped their sharp claws. Wait, did someone say that taking care of animals is fun??). I call him in and he deals with the mess while I go out to snip lilies.

And there are many spent flower heads (though a few dozen less than yesterday). Hundreds of them, among dense swarms of mosquitoes. We are going to spray garlic on the mosquitoes this Thursday!

On the upside, all those spent lilies speak to that abundance of color that is so characteristic of July. And indeed, this morning as well, it's absolutely lovely out in the flower fields! (The photos are, of course, always after Ive snipped off yesterday's loot.)

(a chicken, exploring, tasting...)

*     *     *

Ed and I eat breakfast on the porch. Together.  At a distance still. 

But not for long! Today I came in with my first *negative* Covid test! Covid infectiousness usually lasts between five and ten days from the onset of symptoms. Typically if you have a mild-moderate case, it's closer to five-seven days, if you have a more severe case, it's closer to ten, and if it's totally dire it can go on for even longer. I'm on day six today. A negative test is a real plum, because oftentimes you remain positive even if you are no longer contagious, leaving you in a total quandary as to how to proceed. Happily I am not in that camp!  Now, no rebound please!!!

*     *     *

How is it that I missed World Chocolate Day (this past Sunday)? Must have been the Covid fog. I'm not a chocoholic by any means, but I do have a square or two, these days milk over dark, unless it's a truffle or an infused ganache, each evening, so I give chocolate shopping a lot of thought. When you get older and realize you can't down so many calories anymore and still live to talk about it, you really pay attention to what you ingest. When Ed is on the couch with me in the evenings, we share the chocolate moment. A small detail perhaps, but it feels good to do this together.

And speaking of senior status (no, I'm not going to add to the political discussions taking place right now, though I must admit, I found Jon Stewart to be very very funny on this subject so if you want to laugh and cry all at the same time, you can listen and watch here) -- I have another thought about getting older: frailty is only embarrassing if the person who is indeed frail hasn't the perception that things (your movements, your thoughts, your sentences) aren't quite as cogent as they once were. And this leads me to think about Ocean: I'm 71. Will I know when ideas expressed here will become more and more... well, banal? I've heard very senior people state their convictions forcefully, wishing to communicate an idea that is rather, well, obvious even to a very young person. As I slip away into cerebral toddler-hood, will my daughters send each other texts like for instance -- wow, that's pretty embarrassing, her explanations about the earth being round and the sun setting to the west... Um, should we tell her that this is a known fact? No, no, let's leave her alone... it keeps her busy...

I recently read an article about Paul Theroux. Do you know him? He's a really famous author person and he's written a very large number of travel essays and books. Back in the days when I was too busy and too poor to travel much, I used to go to Borders (remember that book store?), pick up a couple of his books and leaf through them over a cup of coffee. Total immersion into travel through his stories. I imagined that someday, too, I should take that train across Siberia to Vladivostok. Well, Theroux is 83 now (the age either presidential presumptive nominee would be at in office if elected) and I read that he is in the middle of writing yet another travel book. One might say -- if he can write a book at 83, then one can lead the US at 83 um, sorry, I meant to say write a blog at 83. Except even in this slight shift -- from book authorship to blog writing -- there is a huge difference, because no one edits Ocean. I am 100% responsible for its content. 

One of my daughters used to sweetly send me a text the morning after a post appeared indicating a need to make a spelling (or other some such) correction. She doesn't do that anymore, most likely because it happens too often. I do reread my words before publishing them, but believe me, rereading at 10 pm when you are 71 is like planning a trip five minutes before you board a plane: it's not going to come out perfect! (I often go back to a post the morning after and fix typos then. Lucky the person who reads it on the late side of the morning!)

I can see my girls sitting me down one day, say in ten years (when I'm 81), should I be lucky enough to still be around then, and doing the needed intervention: mom wom, perhaps you might want to switch to knitting?

*     *     *

I use the day to clean the house. Washing all linens, towels, etc, vacuuming, with windows wide open and fans blowing. Get those Covid particles out as much as possible!

And of course, after that, I need a rest. 

(busy bees: lavender honey in the making)

I'm feeling very fortunate with this bout of Covid and happy that everything is moving in a good directions, against the backdrop of all those flowers...

with love...

 

 

surge forward!

At night, I woke up thinking -- gee, I haven't had much energy for several days now. I wonder if that's the new normal for me? I mean, you shouldn't thing that you can do something just because once you could do it. (I learned that one climbing a summit in Scotland -- or rather not finishing the climb to the top). You should accept your limitations and enjoy the new normal.

Sometimes, though, the new normal, thankfully, isn't the normal at all. Covid, unlike senior status, does go away for most of us. Especially for the vaccinated types. 

So today I wake up, cough, cough, snort, cough, shower, go downstairs and think -- hey, I'm feeling a heck of a lot better! Almost normal! A bit tired still, but it's only day 5 after all. And being inactive for all these days contributes to fatigue: the less you do, the less you can do.

Well now, this is good news indeed! 

I go out to snip lilies. 

And it's a good thing, too, that I've got a bit more oomph because there are a lot to take off today. I stopped counting at 555...

Let's take a look at the farmette flowers:

(these orange spiders bloom right by the front door and I always think of them as my wild girls! they're huge attention grabbers!)

(the view from the porch is from behind the lily field, onto the Big Bed in the distance)

(Notice that I'm ignoring mention of the bugs. They are there. 'nuf said.)

(another pair of attention getters: such strong color!)

(in the Big Bed, the Hollyhock is mixed with the true lilies; this year all the true lilies have been hit by the lily beetle. I should have tried some remedies early on-- neem oil, for example -- but I wasn't here when they first started ravaging the plants. thankfully they only eat oriental lilies; but it is a shame to lose a good number of the flowers to these pests... I wont use the chemical sprays out there, so we'll just have to lose some lilies. These, for example, are surviving well enough. I handpick and squash what red bug I see on them -- it's become part of my morning routine: red beetle squishing!)

Breakfast is beautiful but short-lived. I put in a call that concerning my mother's benefit renewal and it came through just then and it could not wait. Half an hour on it, and so my time with Ed was cut short...

And work with my mother's papers and then with issues surrounding her strong resistance to care took up the better part of the morning.

But in the afternoon, Ed asks -- want to go for an easy bike ride?

I do!

Imagine, I do!

As we bike, not too fast, not too much, I think to myself how typically, after a trip, I come back physically stronger: hikes, long walks (so many steps!) make me feel like I still have some muscle in me. This time Covid wiped that slate clean: just five days of basically couch time zapped my energies. So I'm rebuilding! Without the ambition of getting to some past strong point. Just rebuilding.  

(a pause at Lake Waubesa: like a swallow has learned to fly...)

As we pass our county park, Ed suggests we do a short walk up to "turtle lake."

We don't see any turtles, but oh how beautiful it is along that prairie path!

(tall flowers! Can you find Ed in there??)

The flowers are stunning, the birds are amazing, the dragonflies are finding a great bounty out there!

(these are called "Michigan lilies...")

And on the ride home, we pass these two guys in the wheat field:

This is when I think -- I'm happy it's summer. Not done with my love for this month. Not ready to move on. Bugs notwithstanding. It's just too warm and pretty and altogether fine!

With love...

July challenges

Here's a fun fact: yesterday, England celebrated National Meadow Day. It always falls on the first Saturday of July. Meadows are important (they attract pollinators, they improve the soil), though we don't talk about them much here, in the Midwest. You'll see a lot of reference, instead, to prairie restoration. Meadows thus fall by the wayside. What's the difference between the two? Well, technically prairies have more warm weather grasses and meadows have more spring cool season grasses, but that is really a very artificial distinction because many grasslands have a little of each. 

I've worked on building up meadows in two spots at the farmette, but as usual, each year I run out of steam -- or, truthfully, out of waking hours to do the job right. Still, it's been rewarding to see flowers come up in both!

(peach tree meadow)

(new orchard meadow)

Which brings me to the subject of farmette flowers. People often ask me - why grow day lilies? They're so fleeting! A day for each bloom and then it's gone. And I always say -- yes, but what a day it is! 

Of course, that's not the full answer. One plant, if healthy, will produce multiple blooms. One, maybe even two week's worth. And if you fill the beds with day lily plants, the effect can be grand. Though I have to admit, I'm not 100% behind lilies. They're important, but I actually like them much better if they're mixed with other perennials. The question is -- which other perennials? This is a challenge, because not many plants look good next to day lilies. Their leaves take up so much space that you cant easily create a dense bed full of blooms if you're going to put in day lilies. This is why I rarely see them in herbaceous perennial borders in, say, England or Scotland. The flower per soil space ratio is on the low side. And once done with a blooming period, they just take up space.

On the subject of short blooming period -- well, most perennials have a pretty short blooming period. That's your challenge: fill your border with flowers that will ensure a continuous bloom. 

Yet, there is always a "best period" for most borders and though I haven't asked, I'm sure most serious perennial growers will whisper to you what that period is. For me, it's mid July.

Oh, you mean now??

Here's the rub: it is so buggy this year, that as I keep repeating to Ed, the joy is there, but it's being pummeled from all sides by the pernicious mosquitoes. In the early morning, as I plunge into a field to snip spent lilies, swarms of these guys rise in the air, ready to attack, to annoy, to disturb the peace. (We of course had even more rain this morning, and there's no wind to speak of so they are at their worst!)

And so this year I'm being challenged from two fronts: the bugs and of course Covid. Yesterday (Day 3) was indeed the worst. This morning, the fever's gone and only the cold remains. (But what a cold!) Energy levels aren't soaring yet but they're a hell of a lot better than yesterday's lows. So, I'm gettin' there. But, of course, I'm sure I'm still contagious (I'll start retesting tomorrow, though I'm less eager to do this frequently because these days you have to pay out of pocket for tests, which, perhaps, explains why most don't bother). But the point here is that even the few people that usually pass this way and who can appreciate the flowers have to be cancelled out because Nina's contagious. The young family is back from their road-trip vacation. Can they come for dinner today? No, Nina's contagious. Friends we invited for lunch this week -- will they be here? Not if Nina's contagious.

So, a fleeting garden, horrible bugs, and Covid. I said to Ed this morning at breakfast -- I'm ready to give up.

I didn't mean it, of course, but still, this year's July has presented interesting challenges.

Let's get back to the start of the day though, because this really is the start of the best week out there in the flower fields.

(opening the farmhouse door these days is such a pleasure!)

(blooms, on all sides...)

Again, a challenge to photograph, what with all the bugs, the sneezing, the wetness out there, but I persevere!

So much strong color, so much delicious density!

The Big Bed is finally coming into its best days...

It's so wide, that you have to look at it separately, from both sides...

Okay, let's walk back to the farmhouse.

It's a while before I'm finally all bugged out and ready for breakfast. Ed joins me again and it is wonderful to have him here.

I tell him about Meadow Day and he proposes we take a walk to examine my two meadows, because he, too, finds them delightful! And while we are by the Peach Orchard meadow, we may as well walk over to the veggie patch. I pull some radishes and pick some lettuce leaves, we admire his tomatoes, and the lavender, always the lavender!

Next meadow, in the New Orchard -- also looking good! While there, we check on the new blueberry bushes. Also good!

As are the pear trees. Looks like this year will be the year of the pears!

He helps me stake the hollyhocks and we plan to do some serious mowing later in the day (when things dry off a bit) and it's at moments like this that I remember why I do it. Why I plant and grow things. Why, despite the challenges, it's all worth it. It's for him, for me, for those who pass this way, if and when they do, for everything that's good about planting and watching things grow, by your hand, with your effort. 

The rest of the afternoon belongs to... couch time.

 

 

with love...

a pause

That's the best way to describe being sick with Covid right now: everything is on pause. Oh sure, the wheels of daily life grind on, but very slowly, tentatively and more out of necessity than because hey, it's July and the weather is (for once) splendid and shouldn't we seize the day? 

I do not want to seize the day. I'm on the couch, hoodie on (despite the warmth outside), tissue box right next to me. If the second and third day of Covid are said to be the pits -- well, I'd agree with that. Feverish and tired, sniffly and croaky. I'm looking forward to the fourth day. No one said anything horrible about the fourth day.

I did get up with the usual determination to snip off spent lilies. 350 today. It was so buggy outside that I grabbed a netting jacket and sprayed it with Deet. Unfortunately it was Ed's netting jacket so now I have to decontaminate it and, too, it was very frustrating to work in the garden because the sleeves were too long and they'd fall all over the plant I was snipping. A messy messy way to proceed. Too, I could not see past my nose (all that netting!) and so delightful photo opportunities did not present themselves to me. I had to finish the work outside, then take off the jacket and go back out again, to see what's actually beautiful out there. 

I kept thinking that threatening to quit gardening might be a persuasive way to convince Ed that we really need to spray for the bugs. So I tried it.

Ed! -- a shout from me. I'm quitting gardening!

Oh, okay. Too much work, eh?

Well that didn't work.

No, not too much work -- too many bugs. The hollyhock have been slumping for days and I haven't the will to get in there and figure out how to build a support system for them. It's like that: I do the basics, but I don't finesse anything, I don't improve, I don't even weed anymore. Weeds? Who cares. Let them flourish.

Still...

When I finally do look up, it is very beautiful indeed (Ed's garlic plantings in front of the lily bed notwithstanding).

I cant quite get a good photo shoot going because I'm just too tired and impatient to be done with it all, but trust me: it's all lovely.

And as if that wasn't "normal" enough for a July Saturday morning, I then get in the car and drive to the farmers market downtown. This would have been the perfect day for walking the market, but of course, I am with Covid, so I can't join the crowds (others may not care if they're sneezing out Covid germs, but I do!). I drive over to the flower vendor I like so much, get out of the car and shout to her -- here's some money! I'm sick, but I want you to pick a bouquet for me and put it on the street. Anyone will do!

And she does. 

So much for market shopping. I dont even know what they're selling right now -- it's been such a long time since I've actually walked the stalls.

I then drive over to Madison Sourdough where I preordered a box of croissants and such. Same thing. I call them on the phone: I'm outside, I have Covid, I don't want to come in. Can you bring my order to the driveway and just place it there for me? They oblige, holding their breath as they approach me (I'm still several dozen feet away!). 

 

 

 

I am a known pariah. So many people walk with their Covid -- after all, that's how we all get infected, right? From those who walk with their Covid, knowingly or unknowingly -- and in our innocence we pass them, talk to them, buy from them, sit next to them. But once you know someone's tainted, you know to stay away.

And that's my exertion for the day.

Best part of this July beauty? Breakfast! On the porch. At first with cats...

... but then with Ed. 

 

 

 

We sit far apart and he doesn't stay long, but it is indeed glorious to have him there for a few minutes so that my life wouldn't be a complete pause -- it continues, rolling forward with these diversions but forward nonetheless.

Having time but being without energy means that I read a lot of news stories which of course is up there with mosquitoes in terms of how pleasurable it is. I know all about stubborn denial and paranoia in the very old. Trust me, I know. Where reason ceases to be a guiding principle and you witness something akin to a cemented positioning of belief systems. Nothing, nothing you can say will change a mind. The self-preserving convictions are that strong. 

So here I am, or, here we all are with this pause in our regular summer progression. Everything seems to be standing still. Waiting. For what? Well, in my corner, for the fever to go away and for Covid to recede. Elsewhere? For sanity to prevail.

With love, always with love...