family

How I love the Sundays when we all come together here, at the farmhouse for brunch. Especially on a fine May day. When no one is sick. Nor in a rush. When the kids' moods soar. When the farmette lands are at their best.

I move quickly this morning. There's food to prepare!

 

 

 But not too quickly. In May, you have to pause, smell, take note. These are the weeks we've been waiting for for such a long time!

 

 

 

 (The daffodils are still radiant. Most of them. The tulips are, of course, the attention grabbers.)

 

 

I chase the cats away and put a leaf into the table. This makes it just long enough for the 11 of us.

 

 

 

The first arrivals, finding their way along the secret path.

 

 

When everyone's here, the big three go off to plot something. When I ask for details, I get nothing. You'll find out after brunch!

 

 

 

But I can spy! I see that it involves the new orchard...

 

 

 

A pause in their scheming for brunch. Which is easy and wonderful in its variety and ease. (I did manage to bake a chocolate cake this morning, but even that was pure simplicity.)

 

 

 

 

 

Okay, the kids are ready to make their announcement.

 

 

 They are going to run for dollars (or pennies, depending on the grownups' generosity). Each of us pledged a certain amount for every lap completed by one child. It was suggested we pledge a $1 per lap. None of the other grownups followed this suggestion but dumb me didn't know that. But what the heck, my runner was little Juniper. How many laps around the new orchard can she do in a mere five minutes?

 

 

 

Turns out quite a few. She simply, um, cut some corners. Before I knew it, I was handing over my life's savings to the Cousins' Bank (for a future use).

 

 

 

A pause, a book, shared stories...

 

 

 

And now it's time for them to leave. Ed does the group photo...

 

 

And they are off and away.

There will never be a departure and dispersal that'll be easy or fun, but on the other hand, as I clean up the house, I know how completely happy they are in their chosen lives. There is nothing more that I could wish for them.

The late afternoon warms up a little and so Ed proposes a walk. Maybe the Brooklyn Wildlife Area? I'm reluctant. I'm tired and couch time seems awfully tempting. And yet...

I've never regretted taking a walk with him. And in fact, the trail is magnificent on this fresh May day. Full of apple blossoms and dogwood blooms and puffy clouds in a deeply blue sky.

 

 

If this weekend isn't a model of good energy, good spirits, beautiful celebrations, fantastic cousin games,  walks, talks, foods, shared and loved, then I dont know what is. And all on a weekend of blossoms and beauty that only May can deliver. Total heaven.

with so much love.

 

family

Yes, family. All of it. Younger, from Chicago, slightly older from this neck of the woods. Wonderful daughters, husbands, kids. Together here, for the first time this year. Celebrating, playing, eating, walking, running, joyous -- all of it.

I have little time to think about it, let alone to write about it. Let's stay with photos. They speak volumes.

1. Morning walk. Finally dry out there. But cool!

 

 

 2. First iris of the year.

 

 

3. Tulips, hanging in there!

 

 

 4. Breakfast, with spring flowers. Ed sleeps. Me, I'm in a hurry to go downtown to the farmers market.

 

 

 5. For more flowers from my favorite vendor...

 

 

 6. But mainly to meet up with these guys!

 

 

 7. My most awesome five.

 

 

 8. They all wanted lemonade. I'm not sure the younger two loved it.

 

 

 9. A time of play. Many games. Running, tagging, climbing.

 

 

 10. From there, to the Arboretum -- where the lilacs are blooming!

11. So much energy!

12. Keeping up with the big ones is not easy. They slow down for Sandpiper. Sometimes. (The very youngest one, Juniper, is napping.)

 

 

 13. In order, by age.

 

The big kids, joined now by Juniper, come to the farmhouse. No photos from there! I was busy chatting to the Chicago parents!

Of course, one could say that the important event was the dinner -- officially the family dinner celebrating my birthday.

14. Lucky break: a young woman at another table actually knew how to work my camera. To her I owe this wonderful group shot.

15. A group hug to grandpa Ed who was our official dinner host.

16. We walk over to an ice cream shop. It's close to 8 and yet the light is still with us.

17. Final moments together. Over ice cream.

I have to say, despite the cool weather, despite anything and everything, because of all that these people bring to my life, it was an incredibly wonderful day. Every single minute of it!

With so much love!

a busy Friday

Typically, people love Fridays. You begin to wind down. I'm sure productivity is at its lowest then, because who wants to put in an all out effort toward the end of the week? I remember in the years that I taught, few of us wanted to hold classes on Fridays because students would grudgingly attend them. That habit of winding down at the end of the week has stayed with me. I don't like to clutter my Fridays.

So why is today so crazy??

A rescheduled appointment required a trip to the hospital (because that's where the proper testing tools are located). Just getting in and out of that monstrosity (our university hospital building is huge -- the size of a village!) requires patience and time. And once I was done with that, I was close enough to the grocery store that I decided to do our weekly shopping then and there. By the time I got home and put stuff away, it was the kid-pick-up hour. 

Of course, the early morning proceeded quietly. A walk (to feed the animals) without rain. Nice!

 

 

 

It's a cooler weekend and so most of the crab apples are still withholding their bloom. Nonetheless the pink buds are there already, just waiting for a sunny day. The daffodils are fading but the few tulips are holding their own. The lilac is days away from exploding. Things are looking good.

Ed came down for breakfast. I joined a flower farmer CSA this spring and we had our first wee bouquet there, on the table. Lovely stuff!

And then it was just one mad dash.

Of course, for the kids, Fridays remain joyful. A weekend ahead. Yes!! I tried to suggest that the weekly ice cream could be postponed to a sunnier day, but the opposition to this idea was fierce. Guess who won that one!

 

 

 

I may as well end the day with more un-Friday evening behavior. Why not vacuum the upstairs and wash the blankets that cover the couches (to protect them from cat hairs)? 

I have the deep satisfaction of knowing that much was accomplished on this day. Still, it seems so wrong to dump so much on the last official day of the work week. Even if you're not exactly employed anymore. Slow-go Fridays. Has a nice sound to it! 

with love...

 

a wet May 1st

I wanted rain. We got rain. Heavy at times, drizzly at other times. Like England's Lake District where gardens flourish! 

Ed has a week of intense work, introducing his machine design into potential manufacturing. The rain has him sleeping later than he had hoped, so that when I do nudge him, he is suddenly in a hurry. Breakfast comes first, before I even head out to feed the animals.

And then he is off, and I wait for the steady rain to subside. Poor wet chickens! They dont like the weather, nor the feeding delay!

Ah but when I do step out, I am reminded why May is often thought to be the most beautiful month. There's something about the shades of green, the pink blossoms, the wet grasses, the clumps of opening buds...

French people take their vacations in July and/or August, but they fill the month of May with dedicated days off and this year, three of the national May holidays fall on Thursdays. This begs for Fridays off too, naturally. I can completely understand the desire to be free of work now. (And indeed, in many countries of Europe, May 1st is their Labor Day.) It's tough to focus on tasks at hand when the world outside is bursting with vitality, when nature displays her cleanest and finest, when tulips are followed by peonies, when lilies of the valley (the May 1st flower of France) fill the air with their sweet fragrance.

Eventually, I take advantage of a pause in the rains to put in more glad bulbs. The Abyssinian ones that gave me such gorgeous white blooms late in the summer last year. All fifty of them, spread out randomly through three of my eleven flower fields. Let's hope they repeat their stellar performance.

And then I pick up the kids.

Since our schedule this week has been muddled, the after school treat timeline is also off track. And since it is both cold and wet, I hesitate in taking them to the Fitchburg farmers market (which starts today!) -- a lovely late spring ritual for me and for them. Remarkable how weather can muddy your thoughts and expectations. This May Day, or at least my May Day and their May Day, ends up being mostly a farmhouse one. 

(old toys come out)

(his boots match the daffodils)

 

In the end, I go to the market alone, toward evening, after dropping off the kids. Ed is still busy with his design project and we have eggs to drop off in exchange for cheese curds. 

True, it's much more fun to go to the market with him, or the kids, or both! Nonetheless, it was good to see the vendors back in action. I've missed the first couple of downtown markets. Too much to do in the flower fields. This small local one, however, is an easy five minute drive. And of course, you get to know all the vendors. It's grand to be meeting up with them again.

Ed comes home deeply satisfied with the progress of his machining project. A good May 1st for him, for me as well. 

with love...

April tailend

April roared. Not with ferocious weather -- at least not here in south central Wisconsin, but for me -- with travels, events, spring work, each day offering both opportunities and challenges. That's my view of it! I've done most of spring planting -- except for 150 bulbs that I ordered in bulk (many are Abyssiniam Gladiolus) and now I'm wondering why I went down that road... I need to figure out what to do with them! Should I mark their planting? Should I just do a random dig? None of them are hardy here so I'll have to remember to lift them out come fall. What was I thinking?? I am going to revisit the idea of garden scheming in January. Strange ideas percolate then!

It's a pretty morning.

I feed the animals then go off for one more appointment -- a total waste of time because it was mis-scheduled.  I need to come back another day. This bothers me not a whole lot, except last night the lilies did finally arrive and so I am in a hurry to put them in before tomorrow's rains. (There is zero chance that I'll plant 150 bulbs before then.)

Breakfast is thus late. After the non-appointment.

And then I do my last-day-of-April planting. 

I took a chance this year, counting on no frost from my birthday onwards and it looks like I got lucky. (Had there been a frost forecast, the backup plan is to move all tubs to the shed and hanging baskets to the kitchen -- a horrible job, but it can be done!) This is why, after putting in my last lily into the garden extension Ed created (by eliminating one of the paths), I put down my shovel, water my new plantings and wish them all good luck for the season. I'm done with planting! (Except for the bulbs.)

As the sun poked through the cloud cover, I noticed that the tulips are looking especially lovely against a lingering sea of gold...

But, too, that the first crab apple is opening up. We have several crabs, and when they bloom, they absolutely draw your attention away from everything else. So, in the next week, guess what I'll be admiring?!

I stop work when it's time to pick up the kids. 

It's not a long farmhouse visit because the two older guys have a school concert tonight -- one that I am not attending. I wish I had it in me -- I love school choir performances and this is the last Elementary School show for Snowdrop (next year she will be in Middle School), but trekking to the other side of town in the evening after a full day is just a little too much for me. I am an imperfect grandparent, consoled only by the fact that my grandma never attended a single event with me in it, and I loved her deeply anyway.

In the evening, Ed goes off to bike and yes, I do hit the bulbs and plant a whole bunch of them. I don't want to count. I'm sure I'll think I did too few. Nonetheless, I am entering May with a switch of focus -- from energetic prepping and planting, to spot correction, weeding and maintenance. (Well, once I get the rest of the bulbs in!)

with love...

magnolias, etc.

I love the magnificence, the grandiosity of a blooming magnolia. But I'm glad there isn't one here, on farmette lands. I lived with one in the past and I learned its seasonal performance: stunning flowers, appearing briefly, very briefly, followed by fallen brown petals. Large leaves that in autumn turn brown and crinkly. For gardens with limited placement opportunities it's a space hog. Nevertheless, it's really beautiful when in full bloom.

*     *     * 

For most Americans, the stress levels here are high right now. Should I list all that might cause you to break out in sweat? The demise and destruction: of support for science, of jobs, of freedom of speech, of research, of freedom to walk without fear, of financial security, of international solidarity -- let me just stop. The list is too long.

I catch myself looking for calming devices. (No, I cannot stop reading about it -- when you are immersed in this destruction, details become important.) I have a few that typically work for me: labor in the garden, take a nature walk, especially with Ed, pick up a book that totally pulls me in -- these are the obvious ones. Today I used all three.

*     *     * 

Oddly enough, I've had a number of thoughts recently about my mother (who died in September of last year). She would have been besides herself with fear and anxiety had she lived into this year. Perhaps it's good that she died just before all this happened. 100 days of the current administration would have killed her for sure (she was very politically engaged until the last half year of her life).

My mother did many good things in her life, but providing a good model of a path forward into senior years was not one of them. She made sure I understood that anxiety and a diminished life would be mine very soon, as inevitable as taxes. You could say that I spend a lot of time teaching myself a different strategy -- one that has to erase over time the bleak images she painted for me, daily, for the past few years.

Which brings me back to magnolia viewing, gardening, and books. Strategies all!

*     *     * 

Morning viewing of the flower fields: I'm still focused on the daffodils, but not for long. They are April's flower.

I see that the tulips are really coming into their own now. I love tulips -- who doesn't? But their total life span is short. Most should be dug out after their first and only bloom. That's a real bother! I always want to take the chance of leaving them in for a possible rebloom next year (because some of them do do that) and what I get then are scraggly leaves the following spring. Too, animals love to chomp on tulip heads, so I need to spray them regularly with hot pepper powders or else I wake up to empty stalks. Decapitated! Still, I cannot resist planting at least a few pockets of them. They're just so beautiful!

After the non-storms of yesterday, we do have cooler temps today. Breakfast is inside. (I bake yet another batch of granola -- Bircher Muesli will have to wait until this addiction of ours passes!) 

And then I wait for the lilies to arrive. Fed Ex is proving to be a challenge! They were promised last Saturday. Didn't come. Then Monday. Didn't come. And now today -- early evening and still not here.  But I do have a box of sweat peas to put in! I love these guys and always find room for them in the garden.

*     *     *

I suggest to Ed a walk in the Arboretum. I love that place especially now, in early May (we are almost in early May!) and then again in mid October. The colors of spring here (and later, of autumn) are remarkable. I'd read that it's almost time for their lilacs to burst into bloom. And it's true, we found a few that are just opening up. But what took the cake today were the magnolias.

Well, the crabs were pretty magnificent too.

But the magnolias were the show stoppers!

Unfortunately, Ed is at a very important point in his machine design work and so his phone went off pretty early into our walk. I left him on a bench and continued on my own.

Into a forest with a canopy of delicate greens. Incredible!

And then we exit, together... by the magnolias.

 

 

*     *     * 

I have a glass of Negroni Sbagliato before dinner (with sparkling wine instead of gin). In celebration of April 29th! (What's that all about? Listen, reading through the news today and coming out sane at the end calls for a celebration.) It is a sinful pleasure -- one that I know I should lay to rest, along with red meats (which is easy), and croissants (which is not easy). And on some days I'm as virtuous as a person hell bent on living to 100. But not on April 29th, 2025. The day deserves this special treat as I wait for my lilies to arrive. Delicious! With an open book at the side -- a fabulous Irish mystery. Escapist? Oh yeah!

with love...

 

will there be strong storms

Strong storms? That is the question. And by the time I post this, maybe I'll have an answer. Much has been written, warnings have been issued. "An unusual system" "a confluence of unfortunate events" -- all leading to strong storms this evening. The day is warm, very warm. Winds are picking up. It's all rather ominous, but it flusters Ed -- not at all. 

My morning walk -- lovely! Ed tells me -- there are so many more daffodils this year! Well yeah! All those bulbs put in last October produced blooms.

Huge, gorgeous blooms.

 

 

 

Everywhere.

 

 

A feast of daffodils. Enjoy them -- they wont last much longer.

 

 

 

Breakfast? We eat outside!

And then I listen to the winds and I spot weed and wait for one more small shipment of lilies. 

That's the good stuff! In other news -- well, I'm still working on getting the pair of shoes ordered from Spain for Snowdrop -- cheap, cloth ones -- to be released from some unknown Fed Ex location. I Filled out forms. The seller filled out forms. Nothing moved. I call. I get passed on between six Fed Ex reps, one after the next telling me that it's not within their area of responsibility. I get nowhere. In addition, a letter comes requesting customs payment of $35, despite the fact that the law does not authorize customs collection on such small purchases. They fall under the De Minimus exception. (Fed Ex --"Tell that to Customs and Border Patrol! Here's their phone number." I call it. They're not picking up.) Back to endless tracking down of Fed Ex people; the last one tells me -- "in any case, we're still looking for the package." Me -- you mean in addition to everything, you lost it? "No, we just don't know where it is."

I go outside again and weed. And seed. 

Meadows and annuals. I have to admit that I am very lackadaisical in my meadow maintenance and in my front roadside flower field care. Creating a meadow in Wisconsin is tough going, especially with our soil, our lack of consistent rainfall and our deeply rooted soil structure. You have to understand grasses, because not all of them are created equal. I thought that doing a half-assed job would suffice and up to now, it has. Parts of both the peach orchard meadow and the new orchard meadow always delivered a nice array of both grasses and wild flowers. But this year, I'm doing little more besides sprinkling additional seeds on top of what's already there. That's like throwing a rubber duckie into the ocean and hoping it swims to the next continent. (It may, but I wont hold my breath.) The meadows suffer from being enough out of sight that I can't see them as being worth my time. As it is, I have a large swath of land to take care of on my own. I need to prioritize.

But why neglect the roadside bed? This is the only flower field that is visible to anyone passing the farmhouse. Why not invest in that? 

I dont have a good answer, though I have a couple of flimsy excuses: that field is visible to others, but it's not visible to me. Not in the way that the courtyard fields are. And the soil there is awful -- full of roots from the maples that hover in the background. I planted flowers, sure, but their output is meager. I'm thinking about working there next week, because one of the maples is going to be brought down (it's rotting), creating perhaps an opportunity to make something of that bed again, but I wont guarantee my commitment to it.  We'll see how my time pans out.

I did another type of seeding today too. Not just the meadows. In addition, I put in nasturtium and cosmos seeds -- my two favorites for growing from seed each year. Where? It's really random and I never remember where I plant them, so that I am surprised when I see seedlings emerge as the summer progresses. (I also planted sunflower seeds, but those are almost always devoured by animals. Groundhogs? Deer? Rabbits? Pick your bandits!) So long as we may be getting storms (i.e. rain), I may as well plant seeds now, so that I myself don't have to soak anything!

And what about the kids? Where do they fit in? Well, they have appointments and so I am free of child care obligations, both today and tomorrow. Effectively, it means that I should really forge ahead with outdoor work. And I do. I really do. With an eye to the weather tonight. Because, well, the warnings continue: it's not looking good out there!

Evening: well now, what just happened? Did we get lucky, or what? At this bedtime moment, there is no sign of a storm, no sign of tornadoes passing through, not even a drop of rain. It all went to the north of us. A day of waiting for strong storms that did not come. I am so grateful!

with love...