flowers and friends.

A day of both. Leaving me tuckered out but happy. 

It's late now, so just a brief recount here, on Ocean. Even though honestly, the flowers are at their seasonal best. My apologies to them if I don't give them their enough attention in my post. 

The day begins with the garden. I'm up early -- before 6. I have to be. The schedule is rather tight today. And immediately I plunge into lily picking. Spent flowers, into the bucket, one after another. (Today's total, without even stepping into the roadside bed : 604.)  The mosquito population is still significantly diminished. It's so pleasant to force my way into the dense thicket of lily leaves without having to swat at ravenous bugs.

Here are today's vignettes:

I'm done snipping by 8. Perfect! Just in time to put in an order to Madison Sourdough and to head downtown. Ed is with me for this one: we want to do some market shopping, which is a tiny bit of a challenge because this is the weekend of the Art Fair on The Square, so our Farmers Market has moved east to another venue. No problem! We go there, find our favorite farmers...

.. pick up the absolutely crucial for me tomatoes, along with carrots, flowers and here's a lucky break: currants! One stand has red currants, much needed by me for my food prep today!

What the market doesn't yet have is corn. A bit early, true, but I know that Stoneman's farm -- right up the road from us, is already selling it! Freshly picked!

Out next stops therefore are Madison Sourdough (lunch breads and breakfast croissants)...

... and Stoneman's Farm. And this last stop is pretty exciting for us: last year, the drought ruined most of the corn crop for these farmers. This year? They're expecting a stellar harvest. And it's starting early. Like, right now!

And now we're home and even though I have a lot to do, I insist on that breakfast pause that sets my day on such a good course.

Now, to work. We had invited a couple of friends -- old Ed pals -- for lunch, and that gathering sort of grew, so that in the end we are a group of seven. I had the idea that I would do the exact lunch I ate at Cafe Varenne in Paris on June 29th -- my last day there. I loved it then and if ever there was a season for it -- well now, we are there! And you could not devise an easier meal:

You need perfect tomatoes for it and Snug Haven Farms had perfect tomatoes (before I wiped them just about clean of their initial supply). Next -- a good prosciutto or similar ham. Then a burrata cheese (fresh mozarella with cream). Finally -- freshly shaved Parmesan. I was lucky to find a cider balsamic vinegar which pairs beautifully with this, but honestly, any good balsamic would do. The whole thing is sprinkled with olive oil. Add slices of baguette and voila!

(here, these ingredients)

For dessert? Again, Cafe Varenne's take on a summer Pavlova, which I modified a little but basically stayed true to theirs: I found meringues in a bake shop. That's the first layer. Broken up a little. On top of that -- vanilla ice cream. Then, sprinkled chopped-up fresh fruits (including the red currants, but mostly strawberries and raspberries), and a drizzle of Nina and Ed's homemade strawberry jam. Okay, you could do a red fruit coulis for this, but our first batch jam was pretty runny and thus perfect for the dish. It looked like this:

The friends came and here's the thing -- at least two of them are gardening nuts and so we spent some time walking my flower fields. It's not every day that I have someone to comment on even the distant clematis that I'm so proud of, even as it remains lost in the maze of other more commanding flowers.

(this one)

The afternoon is lovely! Ed has college friends that I leave for him to manage, but these people have morphed into ones that I find entirely pleasurable to spend time with, and rare is the stray mention of some distant unknown to me buddy, so that the afternoon zips by like a speeding train, covering vast expanses of territory and ending with the deep satisfaction that it was a journey well traveled.

But of course, now it's late and the house still needs a straightening hand and so I will end with this thought: it's good to grow flowers almost secretly, in quiet corners of your life. But it's ever so lovely when you open up those doors and let others in. Ever so lovely...

 

 

just give me that countryside...

That's a quote from Green Acres of course! Remember when TV shows were that basic? And we still laughed. (Now, they're more sophisticated, but we dont find that much to laugh about anymore. Maybe it's us?)

I thought about country living as I stepped out into the unreal world without the usual flood of mosquitoes. I tried not to think that I was like one of those people who preferred a perfect green lawn to one that's a mixture of dandelions, clovers, and grasses. (To make clear: I do not like perfect green lawns.) I had rid the landscape of stuff that naturally belonged there. Of course, I would feel a heck of a lot more guilt if our target had been something other than mosquitoes. There are three things that are hard for me to have compassion for: mosquitoes, ticks, and mice.

And speaking of mice...

This morning, Ed was gone early again and so I came down to a quiet house. Well, not exactly quiet. I hear that very specific cat meow. Anyone who has a cat who hunts knows what I mean. It announces to the world -- I have got myself a nice little toy to bring in for you to see and admire!

Meaning one of the cats has brought in a mouse.

Listen, you feline beast, you're supposed to remove them from the farmhouse, not bring them in! 

As always, the cat lets go of the mouse so that he can play with it. This is what they do: they chase it around, they tap it to provoke flight, they chase it some more. Eventually they eat it, but first comes the play. Wait! I'm not stupid -- I know what can happen! The mouse is quite capable of outsmarting the cat! So I grab a jar to try to catch that mouse and now we have both me and two cats chasing that thing around until the inevitable happens -- the mouse finds a vent and gets inside and now he is gone, out of reach, au revoir! Somewhere in the system of vents, ready to pop out at some obscure time when we least expect it or want it. 

Thanks a lot, cat!

Time to go out and snip lilies. Again, over 500. I lost count. Lots to show here, on Ocean. I consider Bastille Day (July 14) to be the peak of the lily season so I have my work out for me now. It takes close to two hours to sweep the fields clean of spent flowers.

Never mind, it's worth the effort. I think.

(lilly field by the porch)

(my Nymphs and Shepherds, 2024!)

(to the side of the farmhouse path)

(along the secret path)

(down the secret path, continued...)

(from the side of the Big Bed)

Breakfast? Alone again, naturally. (That's another song: Gilbert O'Sullivan, 1971. You can listen to it here. It is honestly one of the saddest songs ever, set to a bouncy tune that leaves your head spinning and wondering what's going on here?? The sixties and seventies were musically beautiful, campy, strange and emotionally intractable.) I bike over to Tati Co Cafe and pick up a croissant for the kids and a cinamon roll for me.

Alone now, but in heaven nonetheless. A good book, a few berries and the world's best peaches and that milky coffee with a cinnamon croissant roll. 

I do some spot work in the garden, but not a lot. I'm tired still! Rebound is still a threat for me and I want to do everything I can to minimize its occurence. Soon after I drink my milky double espresso, I zonk out on the couch. 

The kids are here in the afternoon. I hear some pleas for the pool. I can't blame them -- it's hot outside! But I'm not up for it yet. We settle for a quieter afternoon of books and play at the farmhouse. (But first, the photos, which are always against a backdrop of their choice.)

Evening. I drop the kids off and return, just around 6, when the light is so very mellow. Time to take out my new camera again. It finally has all the protective filters and screen covers on. (It's not that my other old camera is inferior... It's just clunky big!) Let me end with its one sweet shot of the farmhouse, its flower bed, in the honeyed light of a beautiful summer evening.

with love...

July moments

Ed left early today. 6:30 and he was gone. A work project requires his attention and his head is definitely in that world right now. Before going off, he put a brick by the coop so that the chickens would be trapped inside until I decide to let them free. Which wont be for a while because we finally decided to do a mosquito spraying. The stinky "natural" stuff, but we have no illusions -- we are disturbing the insect world with this and no assurance that the "beneficial bugs" will survive it, makes us feel any better. (They also dont spray the flowers so that the pollinators will continue their work.) Still, the mosquitoes are impossible right now and I thought that if we could at least put a dent in their breeding here, we wont lose the whole summer to them. And at least the next couple of days will be very pleasant! There was a summer, equally wet, equally full of mosquitoes, where we agreed to spraying every two weeks for several months. (I convinced myself that we weren't harming the good guys.) We wont do that this year. Maybe just today. But there you have it -- we need to push them away to the periphery.

You would think that I would wait to snip lilies until after the spraying. But no! I do it before. Does that make any sense at all??

Well, to me it does. I want the dust to settle, so to speak. I dont want to be in the thicket with the bugs, but I also dont want to be in the fields when they smell of garlic. (Ed claims they do, for a couple of hours.) Besides, I like breakfast to be the reward for hard work. So I do that work -- over 500 lilies snipped today! -- and just as I finish, the truck pulls in and they go about chasing the bugs away. I can feel the mosquitoes packing their suitcases as I write this.

My photos are still from the moments when I am slapping myself from all sides. It's a pretty day out in the garden otherwise. Take a look (only five photos for you from the morning! That's precious little, when you look at the abundance out there -- so many opportunities to indulge your senses!):

Breakfast is very late. Lilies, spraying, chickens -- farmette work.

(on the porch, but alone today)

It's otherwise a short morning for me because I have to take care of stuff surrounding my mother -- papers need to be signed by her whether she likes it or not! (Hint: she resists. It's a struggle to get her on board.)

And then eventually I pick up a big chunk of the young family and bring them to the farmhouse. I haven't seen any of them for too long! And because the mosquitoes have been chased away (for at least this short moment), the kids can really get into the garden and get familiar with the flowers that grow there.

(each kid wants a solo picture first)

(my daughter's here as well...)

Oh, it's good to have a mosquito-free day!

It is, of course, awesome to have the kids here again. The reading, the play, the snacks -- so familiar, yet so deeply special.

But I'm glad I have a ready soup in the fridge for supper. Ed comes home, I throw a salad together, reheat the soup and sit back to exhale. The energy levels are always the last to return! 

with love...

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...