May in Mineral Point

Perhaps you have read previous posts of long ago, where I visited Mineral Point with Ed by my side. Or, you are from Wisconsin and you've heard about, or visited this small town (pop 2 600) yourself. It is about 50 miles to the south and west of Madison. Keep on going past Mineral Point and in an hour you're in Dubuque Iowa.

 Mineral Point began as a lead mining town back in the 1820s. Settled by Cornish immigrants, it boomed. (Did you know that in the 1830s, it surpassed even the population of Chicago and Milwaukee?) More mining took place in the 1870s, this time for zinc. 

How important was this city back then? You could say that it is where Wisconsin began. This is where our first governor (Henry Dodge) was inaugurated. Big time events happened here. Construction of homes exploded. (The town retains the mid 19th century architecture.)But by the turn of the century, the focus shifted to agriculture. And the town shrank. And then the focus switched again -- the town reinvented itself as one that drew in artists and crafts people. As early as 1935, a couple of enterprising dudes began the preservation of historic Cornish mining houses here. This alone is why many want to visit Mineral Point. 

*     *     *

I wake up early. I want to do morning chores and be ready with breakfast by the time Diane wakes. I don't quite succeed, but she is a patient house guest.

(morning walk to feed the animals)

Breakfast (finally!) is just for the two of us. Ed is not an early morning riser!

And not too long after, Diane and I set out to pick up Barbara. We grocery shop, eat lunch and I point Alpine Blue southwest toward Mineral Point.

 *     *     * 

We have come here for three nights. None of my previous visits to Mineral Point were inspiring in terms of rentals, so I'm trying a new place -- an AirBnB right on the main High Street. 

 

 

 

The rental is big: an entire house of some historical significance. It's called the Jones House. I've seen a photo of it from 1895, with two gents standing in three piece suits in front of it. Right now, it is a beautifully restored home and some would say it has a modern Scandinavian aesthetic. Not being a fan of antique-laden rentals, I am thrilled with the looks of the interior.

Of the days we are here, today offers the best weather, tomorrow brings a day of medium okay weather, and Tuesday offers the most miserable weather you can imagine for a May day in southern Wisconsin. It is imperative to explore now, while we're still on the dry side of things. Two of us set out, one stays home and puts her feet up.

Mineral Point is pretty. It is also geared toward weekend traffic. Most places are closed on weekdays and certainly on late afternoons Sunday.

We check out the cafes and lunch spots for future reference, and we do go into the one shop that is still inviting visitors. Pottery, done by a very chatty potter. 

We learn a lot about porcelain and stoneware. 

Our dinner destination tonight? Popolo's. And Italian place serving pizza. It's open only on weekends so it's our one chance to eat at a restaurant in town.

Well that was nice!  Three pizzas and three salads later we go home.

 *     *     *

We're at the Jones House now, deeply satisfied. Sure, I wish we were having a string of warm days -- like last week! There's a porch here, the walks in the area are lovely. Not for us this time: we are likely to spend a lot of hours inside, with the furnace running. But of course, we're together -- the rare gathering of all three. Not yet stuck in the past (dont old friends reminisce during their meetups?), we talk about the present. And yet, sometimes I feel like we are back in the days where our kids are just tots, and we are still law students trying to manage little ones and school in one big exhausting breath. I could not have imagined then where I'd be right now. I'm sure this is true for my friends as well. We've had a lot of good things come together in our lives. Drama too, but good things stand out. I am grateful. We are grateful.

with so much love...

May friends

I suppose it's misleading to title my two Law School buddies "May friends." I've known one since 1981 and the other since 1982. and we have certainly covered all months of the year over our 45+ year friendship. We've done so much together (including travel to Poland -- both have come with their husbands to visit me there)! Nevertheless, the time we meet up as a threesome has fallen to the month of May for several years now and so I can't help but think of them, of us, as a May threesome.

One came to Madison a few days back (she lives in New Mexico but has family here), the other arrived this morning (she lives in Florida but loves coming back to a town she once called home). Tomorrow, the three of us set out for an AirBnB stay in the southwest of Wisconsin. Today, we're just hanging out at the farmhouse.

Of course, the morning starts with my usual.

(walk: allium, that purple ball, is my transitional flower, linking spring to summer)

(breakfast)

But then I'm off to pick up Diane at the airport. With a stop at the farmers market, because this is peak asparagus season and the tail end of tulip/lilac season.

(every other vendor has plenty of it)

Lunch is at the farmhouse. Barbara joins us for a simple meal of Madison Sourdough stuff and farmette eggs. Ed, before you take off for your hike, can you take a photo?

The afternoon and evening disappeared in the way they always do when you lose yourself to the company of friends. I did go out for a bit to water at least parts of my flower fields. It's certainly not enough, but some of my flowers are clearly asking for a drink. I'm really hoping for a solid rain in the next week, even if it does mean that our May retreat will have a wet day or two. We've had the storms, we've had the warm sunshine. It's time for umbrella weather!

with love...

May side-step

I wont bore you with the details of how I ended up spending most of the night and a big chunk of today in a hospital, having my heart tested and retested for signs of trouble. This kind of day may not be typical for Ed, but for many people in our age bracket, having the heart evaluated in this fashion is not out of the ordinary. Some people knit sweaters or chisel wooden flutes, others have their hearts subjected to tests. Some do both. In any case, for a good part of the day, instead of on flowers, I looked out on this view:

Our hospitals have some very nice windows! (And my heart is fine. I outperformed stress tests from the recent years. I'm right up there with when I was... 66!)

Ed came over with breakfast (I have no great love for hospital Rice Crispies), but I was not allowed caffeine, which hurts! First thing on my list when I get home later today -- make myself a nice cup of steamy milky coffee. 

*     *     *

Well what a ridiculous idea! Coffee instead of a nap? I feel like I've just landed after an overnight flight to Europe, during which I forgot to fall asleep. But oh, what a delicious indulgence -- a cafe latte to savor, because it was indeed sad to go through the morning without that little perk.

*     *     * 

I think about this short 14 hours in the hospital (I would have stayed longer had there been a need for that). The last time I came to this hospital was to see my mother here, a year ago. She hated everything about the place and she shared her views with anyone who came into her room. Obviously what she really hated was the fact that she felt weak. She did not like being 100. No medical care could help her shed a decade or two, but she never stopped believing that somehow people weren't trying hard enough. And here I was thinking just the opposite today: every single staff person I encountered was superb.  Friendly, tactful, encouraging, knowledgeable.  Our delivery of health care in this country sucks in the way that we pay for it and access it, but as for the facilities and staff (and this is at the smaller of Madison's three hospitals) -- they're all rather extraordinary.

*     *     *

I am home. There was no morning walk and indeed, there'll be no early evening walk either. Storms are passing through once again and though they are not as vicious as the ones that tore down buildings in Wisconsin yesterday, I personally do not like being out and about during a thunderstorm. One quick look at the garden to make sure all is in place...

And yes, I do pluck a few weeds out of the still dry-ish earth and then I go inside to sit back and think how lucky I am to have escaped dire medical verdicts and outcomes. 

with so much love...

May quiet and thunder

When I was a kid -- say in the age range of Sparrow (almost 7) or Primrose (7) or Snowdrop (10), my school days (and therefore the month of May) were in New York City and I cared not at all about the weather. If a day was beautiful, I didn't notice it. If it rained -- I suppose I got wet coming home from school. Summers of course were different. I was either away at camp or at my grandparents' home in rural Poland and the weather set each day's agenda. But I never knew what was coming! No TV meant no tracking of a forecast. My grandma would get the Polish newspaper and I suppose there was some rough prediction of what would take place in the week ahead, but I wouldn't have looked at it, or asked her to tell me the forecast. The way we judged weather was to look outside at the sky. 

I ask myself -- when did I become so tuned to (my daughters would say obsessed with) meteorological forecasts? Was it a maternal instinct that had me pay attention so I could protect my kids from adverse conditions? Was it gardening, because May frost, May drought, May storms -- these are important to take note of in your planting schedule? Or was it my frequent travels (because I had to pack accordingly)? Maybe all of it. Fact is, I track weather more than I track the stock market. (One influences my day's activities, the other -- my retirement.) I check on what's coming each day, each week, and even the week after. And I take seriously predictions of storms. And because my daughters are more relaxed about the whole thing, I make sure to send texts and reminders if I think a strong system is about to descend on us.

Oftentimes, the threatening whether does no materialize. It goes somewhere else, or disappears inexplicably from the forecast. One minute I see a 95% chance of storms with possible tornadoes, and the next, we're down to 71% and there's no mention of tornadoes. This is of course good news, but it does mean that over time, I lose credibility with all my warnings and precautionary suggestions. I remember a few weeks back texting my daughter, warning her that she should ready for an evening in the basement, with maybe the kids' favorite stuffies for comfort and passports placed downstairs for safekeeping (because these days citizenship seems to be an all important marker of friend or foe in our country). Not only did the storms never come, but in fact we got not a drop of rain. Which is fine, though I'm sure my girl rolled her eyes at this morning's message from me, because experience has shown her that... I... can... be... very... wrong.

And still, I continue to watch, monitor, and spread the word when I think storms are brewing.

*     *     * 

I get up early. Ed is going off to work more on the machining project and I want to have breakfast with him, so it's early or not at all.

(Morning walk: it's still about lilacs, though I see one of the clematis vines starting to bloom; white flowers, big, bold and beautiful)

(breakfast on the porch)

And then I study the weather maps. With strong storms predicted for the end of the school day, I send a message that I can't be the one doing the pickup of the two older kids. I don't want them to count on me and then have me not show up because we have a tornado warning. (The parents live close to the school, I do not.)

This leaves me with a very quiet day. Cats are sleeping, Ed's away. I listen to the wind. It's strong! And yes, it is hot, but the breezes are significant enough to move air around so I don't feel the mugginess that was with us yesterday. 

I work the flower fields. Weeds have been awful this year. Who knows why -- the soil is dry, you'd think they'd slow down, but no!

But it's not all garden work: I take out my bike and do our regular old 40 minute loop. I cant let that kind of activity slide! Gardening is hard work and as a result, I pass on stuff that normally fills our days -- walks, rides, leg movement! Today, I'm back in the saddle.

And then I come inside and wait for the storms to come barreling down on us. And when they don't come at 3 and Ed returns from his machining project, I bravely go with him to our local market. I need good asparagus! (There is no good asparagus. But we do take some rhubarb over to the bakers. We have a lot of rhubarb.)

On the drive home I think -- last week we saw a sandhill crane family crossing the road here.

Wait, who is that? Same family??

What are the chances...

Of course, it turns out no bravery was required for the market trip. The storm that came our way once we returned home was short-lived and inconsequential. The flower fields are still thirsty, but on the upside, there is no damage in Madison from the high winds, the hail was (only) pea sized, and no tornadoes touched down here. We surely ducked that one! I am really, really grateful. 

 

 

with love...

May heat wave

A second (or is it third?) day of steamy weather, and it will intensify tomorrow. We're told to expect highs of 88F (31C). In Mid May. Before dropping down to 40F (4C!) by Sunday morning. If that isn't a bounce around the extremes, I don't know what is.

For now, so long as there are no destructive storms, I take it in stride. There are benefits to a warm day. A misty, pleasant walk in the morning...

(Purple Allium stalks are starting to bloom)

Followed by a drive downtown -- all lost to a thick fog... 

...To meet up with my friend Barbara at Madison Sourdough. We eat outside. It's such a treat to take your meals outdoors, even on a busy street (and of course, to spend time with friends you've known most of your life).

And then it's back to the flower fields. The two W's: to weed, to water. It's hard to accept that I need to water in May. That we have had more dry days than we'd like this season. Last season as well. The new plants cannot survive a drought and so I uncoil the hose once more. Unlike Ed, who hurries back inside once he has stepped out and felt the heat, I am not yet tired of days that are this warm and I am not tired of hosing down the newbies. And still, I do hope this isn't a pattern for the growing season. The established plants have deep roots that know how to search out moisture, but in time, they, too will need help and that's a big job for one person with 11 growing fields (to say nothing of the meadows).

 

 

Eventually I throw down the spade and hose and go out to get the two big kids. They had outdoor races today -- normally a great set of fun activities for kids and parents alike, but in this heat -- they were sweltering. Lucky them -- they go to an air conditioned school. And here's perfect timing: Wednesdays are ice cream days!

(working through the frustration of not having all his running laps counted)

 

 

 

 

In the evening Ed bikes, I do some spot work outside -- not because I feel the need to do it, but evenings are in fact beautiful now: the heat recedes, the colors are sublime.

A month ago, there was so little color still. The flower fields were barely sprouting. And now? An avalanche of plant life out there. And flowers. Fresh and magnificent. To admire and to love.

 

May pause

It's not all garden work this month! (Although it is true that not a day passes where I don't reach down and pull out a few weeds.) Sometimes it's good just to take a prolonged break -- say on the porch, over breakfast, listening to the birds. Sparrows, Blue Jays, Catbirds, Robins, Goldfinch, Starling, Thrush, Orioles, Warblers and birds with the unfortunate name of Killdeer (so named for their piercing cry). They are all out, claiming their airspace this morning.

Ed is on a long morning call again and so I eat alone, listening, reading. And looking! I'd done my morning walk to the barn, took in the lilacs and the fields around the courtyard and along the path.

(I planted a stem from the big lilac by the Writer's Shed... and it grew!)

(The big one by the house is having its best year since I've moved here; one more closeup!)

 

 

(And one more look at the daffodils: triplets in yellow...)

 

 

 (Triplets in white.)

 

 

The porch has a splendid view to all but the roadside bed. Here I could stay, for a long time. 

But I do return outside -- the real outside. I have a couple of edging pinks to put in and I do some spot watering of new plants. This kind of watering that I like, quite a bit. I stand with the hose and hum to myself and my mind clears. Because I am so still, twice today I had a humming bird (one with a beautiful red neck) come over to the plant I was watering, to taste the liquid that had fallen on the leaves. Each time, the bird came to within a foot of me. I could hear his wings -- like a wind up toy going at full speed. I had my phone in my pocket, but I know these birds -- the minute you move unpredictably, they take off. It's not the time to take a photo. Instead, I look at it with great admiration, feeling a little like a birder who has scored a big one.

 

In the afternoon, the kids are here. The day warms up substantially: from just warm to steamy warm. Might there be rain?

No such luck. We speculate if it will be a dry or wet summer. It seems it's either one or the other. I'm not sure which, from a gardener's perspective, does the least damage to a flower field. Maybe we'll get lucky and get a nice balance! Sunshine and light rain. One can hope.

with love...

May summer

First word that comes to mind for this day: it's hot. A high of 84F (29C) is so not May weather and yet, here we are.

The petals from the fruit trees are mostly off now and those that remain are getting to be covered over by the robust leaf growth. The tulips are on their home stretch, the daffodils? Only the late triplets remain. This is what the last third of spring looks like. 

(I start with a look outside from the farmhouse kitchen window...)

(just a few remain...)

(fewer flowers, stronger leaves...)

(the incredible lilac, helped tremendously by a vigorous trim...)

(morning walk...)

(the triplets -- three blooms to a stalk -- are a late daffodil...)

 

I eat breakfast on the porch. Ed is already lost to his work and so I'm there with my book, which is actually okay because I'm on the last chapters of a Tana French novel and I'm completely lost in it, loving her characters, her Irish smarts, her ripe with detail sentences.

And speaking of stories, have you ever experienced something that has absolutely no logical explanation? This weekend we had just such an other-worldly event! Here's what happened: on Saturday, the tree removal service was hauling away fallen limbs from our maple and in picking them up with a bobcat, they dug in too hard and ripped a coaxial cable in half. Instantly, we lost internet service. Ed called our provider -- they said they'd be out the next day. In the meantime, he spliced the broken cable with a temporary fix and our Internet was restored.  On Sunday, the guy came over and began work on putting in a new cable. Ed asked -- why aren't you merely repairing this one? The guy answered -- because I tested it. It's dead.

There followed a prolonged discussion and much further testing of everything. We had internet service. The cable was taken out. It lead to nowhere. The guy shrugged his shoulders and left.

What just happened???

It's obvious that there must be another cable running, one that was not broken. And yet, until Ed fixed this  (turns out) useless one, our reliable-never-fails Internet had come down. A sympathetic outage?? Restored when Ed spliced a useless cable??

Don't you just love the mysteries of life?

After finishing my book, I go out to do what is a very boring chore: I feed the tubs and pots outside with spiked water. Fertilizing tubs really is very helpful if you want your annuals to bloom all summer long. But I have nearly 30 tubs and pots and each one requires nearly a full watering can of water, and filling-mixing-carrying-watering takes a ridiculous amount of time. But it's done!

Did I mention that it is hot out there? I am reminded of why I like to live in the upper Midwest: We don't have year-round heat and that's a good thing! 

And the lilac scent is profound (I'd say it's at its peak today) and the birds are at their loudest.

I go to my daughter's place to deliver the (um, remaining chunk of) cake. I'd bought it at Madison Sourdough for Mother's Day: buckwheat with lemon simple syrup, rhubarb jam and covered with a layer of whipped cream. Both Ed and I loved it, but it's too much cake for us. Besides, it was meant to be shared.

The kids aren't in school today (another teacher in-service day) and so I am free of childcare. It means I have time to grocery shop and then return to my flower fields -- trimming bushes, taking out saplings. 

Yes, it was a shorts and tshirt day. Summer in May, only without the mosquitoes. And a full Flower Moon tonight. Take a look if you can. And celebrate the season of blooms.

with love...