too soft?

Age brings with it all these interesting new considerations: infirmities of the body, perhaps infirmities of the mind, but also maybe wisdom, and greater freedom (for many, but not all), perhaps tighter pocketbooks, but a decreasing need to buy more stuff. These are all known to us events and statuses. You just have to wait and see which package of goodies will be yours.

I've been wondering if age is also making me soft. I'll work damn hard outside -- but only at tasks that bring me some degree of pleasure or at least satisfaction. I'll travel tons -- to destinations that are safe and often known to me. I try out few new recipes, and if I do, they will be easy peasy. I can go on like this: examples of toning down exertion, experimentation, adventure. 

And here's one from today: Ed asks -- want to throw the bikes and kayaks into the truck and go down the river? This is something we've done many times. We take the bikes to a takeout point and leave them there. We drive over to the put in point and unload the kayaks. We leave the truck, paddle to our bikes -- some two hours away -- then leave our kayaks, bike over to the truck, come back for the kayaks and go home. There's a pretty stretch of river, flowing into Lake Kegonsa, and the weather is lovely. Ed is all up for it. Me? It feels like such a bother.

Can't we do just one or the other? Bike, or kayak on the lake? I know he'll say nahhhh, and he does. Lake paddling is boring and biking -- well, he does his weekly ride without me. No need to go on a mini ride now. 

Normally, I would just go for it. I never regret these combination rides and paddles. And there is such a limited number of activities that are suitable for him and for me. And yet today, I say -- it's too much. Think of something else. 

Maybe it's age. Maybe it's the mosquitoes. They really wear me down. This morning, I snipped a good 450+ spent lilies, fighting bugs all the way. You have to really twist my arm to go out again. The great outdoors feels hostile and the inner sanctum of the farmhouse feels grand. 

Of course, the garden is getting awfully close to its peak. I should have taken photos earlier, before the sun hit some of the beds, but I'm rather methodical in my lily work, paying little attention to light or even weather. I snip and move on to the next one. Snip and move on. So, you get a bright morning garden today with colors that are not subtle! But the fields are cleaned up and ready for their day of blooms.

(this bed was tough to establish: it sits on top of what was once a gravel driveway; the rains really helped it along this year!)

(better luck sitting in this flower!)

(The sun is out! My camera recoils at the brightness of these girls!)

(I will feed you after I am done here!)

(So satisfying to see the roadside bed well cared for again...)

(Big Bed: view 1)

(Lilies on all sides of the courtyard)

(Big Bed: view 2)

(upon closer examination...)

Breakfast, with Ed and Dance, on the porch is very late.

This is actually amusing since I have an early lunch date with my New Mexico friend again. That's okay, we both choose breakfast foods for lunch, so you could view it as one extended morning meal. Bravely, we eat outside. They tell us the bugs arrive here, at Lakeside Cafe, in the afternoon.

 

 

I am really surprised at how suddenly, I'm all on board with Rosie the moped. I hop on her almost automatically as I head out to meet my friend. It is, in fact, my fourth ride in just one week. Indeed, I rode her dry today and had to refill her commodious (ha ha) gas tank. Though maybe I shouldn't be surprised. Yes, it's summer, yes, she is fun to ride on rural roads...

 

 

But maybe, too, it's a sign that even my electrical bike is sometimes just too much effort! Riding Rosie has the fun without the work. And so once again I have to ask myself -- am I getting to be too soft?

I go out for an evening bike ride. Okay, it's not impressive. Short and with an electrical boost. Soft, but not a total Squishmallow.   

with love...

 

a wet one

It was a brutal hour of bugs and rain. Cursing under my breath (and sometimes not under my breath), I wondered how I could continue to love my flowers and care for them in such an inhospitable environment. The rains have sprouted a new set of weeds, too. I should be pulling out those today, but I can barely get through the lily snipping (385 today). The mosquitoes are at their worst.

I had purchased a non-DEET bug spray with rave reviews. "We live in a place full of mosquitoes and this spray offered total protection!" -- those kinds of accolades. I don't know what mosquito world they live in, but it's not ours. Our bugs buzzed around me as if I came with an invitation to attack and conquer. Long pants and a sweatshirt (despite the muggy air and occasional drizzle) gave them a tougher path to reach me, but reach me they did. After all, there were always my face,  my fingers, my ankles. Long socks next time. (I hate using netting over my head. May as well put prison bars between me and my flowers.)

I did take some flower photos. I suffered for it, but beauty always survives at times of pain.  I can't say they are original or well crafted but I like them anyway!

(reminds me of little girls in ballet tutus)

(froggie, I don't want to put pressure on you, but please, start hunting down those damn bugs!)

 

(a great big beautiful smile!)

(hey, no frowns allowed!)

 

 

(we always use the back door: a brick path leads to it) 

 

 

 (to one side of the brick path)

 

 

(to the other side: my first lily field, which isn't just about lilies anymore) 

 

 

(the Big Bed: some day I'll measure it's length) 

 

 

(the plantings viewed from the porch are important: they get the most attention) 

 

And by 9 am, I'm done with all morning chores and am on the Capitol Square, meeting my friend who is in town once again. This visit of hers is memorable because it's one of her last. With deaths in her family closing some doors and opening others, her trips here will be limited. Basically I will have to travel more to see my friends, because some will never come (you know who you are!), and the rest will come maybe once a year. Not nearly enough for me, especially when we are all in our 70s.  

For now, I listen to details of her life and throw in a few of my own over our usual coffee at Wonderstate.

At home again, Ed asks if I want to go for a walk, but my head is still buzzing from the sound of early morning mosquitoes. I cannot venture out into bug-o-rama territory. But he persists: we can turn back if it's really buggy. I hesitate. You can ride Rosie over to the park. The rain has stopped, the clouds are moving to bother someone elsewhere... Fine, let's go. 

It is a little buggy and we almost turn back. But at the second we decide to turn around, the wind picks up -- just enough to allow us to go forward after all. And the fields of prairie stretch before us and it is in fact very beautiful!

The thing is, I've missed our walks. They're quiet. They're strengthening. They're perfect.

And of course, taking Rosie out on a summer evening is awesome.

 And speaking of rosy, but with a "y," how about these babes back home? Yes, it is lily season here at the farmette!

 

 

 with love....

the gift of a summer breeze

The mosquitoes weren't yet here. Then they were. Then we got rid of some of them. Then they came back. And I mean really came back. I'm out early, snipping away (367 spent lily heads today), hating that bug buzz, hating their attack on my arms, face, everywhere. I had used a repellent and I suppose it helped some, but not a whole lot. When you enter a dense field of lilies, swarms of mosquitoes come up. I'm disturbing their peace and they are brutal in their attack. And still, I continue with my work. All those months of garden thoughts, plans, purchases, all those days of digging, clearing and eventually planting and weeding -- they are for this summer month of blooms and I am not going to give up the fight now. I am determined to have fields I can be proud of.

 

(Big Bed)

((this year, even the roadside bed is well cared for)

It takes me a little over an hour at this point to get the job done. In a week or two, the lily numbers will grow and it'll take me twice that long. But today I'm done by 7:30. I feed the animals and then take out Rosie once again, this time to go to the downtown farmers market. 

A moped no longer holds the advantage of easy parking: it requires a meter in downtown Madison, just like a car. Nonetheless, riding Rosie on a summer morning, particularly after a buggy workout in the gardens, is enchanting. The wind is in your face, there are no pests to annoy you. I feel dizzy with the sheer pleasure of moving forward, without effort, not too fast, not too slow, on this gorgeous summer morning.

I don't have a lot to buy at the market -- just carrots from Snug Haven and flowers from anyone who sells them. (I use this opportunity to commiserate with farmers about the horrors of working in a buggy field.) 

(so often it's the "grandma" who sits at the side and pulls together flowers for a bouquet)

 

 

Still, in the earlier hours, the market isn't too crowded and I walk through most of it just to soak in the beauty of stall after stall of freshly harvested produce. 

Ed and I eat breakfast on the porch. Three times I send him scurrying after tiny frogs that seem to have found their way onto our porch. We have a great many little guys in our fields. I'm not sure if they're babies or if they are a small species -- either way, they are amazing bug eaters and so we take great care with them! (They also have quite the long life span for something that tiny -- 5 to 20 years.)

 

 

And by afternoon, the wind picks up. So welcome! Mosquitoes haven't enough strength to work with or against a stiff breeze and so I can actually sit down for a few minutes outside (just to look at my flowers) and not be bothered by bugs. What a gift that is! 

One minute you think you've lost your moments of tranquility in your gardens, then everything changes and you are one with your flowers again. 

A gust of wind. That's all it takes. 

Toward evening, I drive over to the newly relocated chocolate shop -- CocoVaa. I had visited it once in its former location (and written about it on Ocean); today I wanted to see its bigger better shop. Syovata, its founder and owner, used to be a student of mine some 25 years ago -- a fact that she remembers all too well, because she had just given birth to her daughter and had no childcare, so she asked if she could bring her baby to class. She hit the right person with her request. I had had both my babies while a law student and scheduling issues were brutal for me (as was everything else then -- studying, working, cooking, and so importantly -- taking care of wee ones). Syovata has cut back on her own lawyering so that she could work on the business of creating exquisite chocolates. I'd heard about her summer candy creation -- a chocolate with strawberry and basil center. It sounded so good and of course I want to support this incredibly dynamic and enterprising person.

I know bits and pieces of the owner's life story and when I think about it, I'm struck by how nonlinear it was for her, and frankly for most of my friends this side of the ocean. So much movement in work, in personal circumstances. Shifts, adjustments, restarts. I dont think you have it in your head when you're young that adulthood is one big adventure and that opportunity often (but not always) follows calamity. Kids want to grow up, make decisions, reach some level of stability. But is there such a thing? How do you explain to a young one that the joy is in what you have now? For me, at this second, it's in a box of chocolates with strawberry and basil inside. 

with love...

 

it's only (the) fair

July 4th. It rained, the bugs returned. As did the heat. And yet, it's July 4th. Such an important date for us, that you can forgive the sometimes superficial trappings that go along with it. Here are a few that have a very clear association with this day, for who knows what reason: grilled meats (150 million hot dogs will be eaten in America on the 4th), firecrackers in your back yard (only 10% of all fireworks are set off professionally; the ER visits this evening will be numerous), red-white-and-blue something -- t-shirts, maybe paper plates for that picnic, or the dessert served after all the grilled meats. I'm thinking cupcakes with red white and blue sprinkles, or "cherry lemon and grape" popsicles.

And yet, this year, it's very hard to think about We The People, when we the people have such different ideas about what makes a country great.  

I read many articles today about what it means to be an American. And how we should think about celebrating the 249th "birthday" of the US. Our own take on this day is... well, our own! Somewhat predictably, it had no grilled meats, it had absolutely no firecrackers, and we aren't really flag types, so not much of red white and blue was in display on farmette lands. Just some flowers: blue flax in the meadows, white alyssum in the tubs, red lilies scattered throughout. 

So what did we do today that was singularly special? We went to the Stoughton Fair.

 

The morning was wet. The rains stopped just as I stepped out to clip lilies and feed the animals (315 spent lily blooms today), but the garden was one wet canopy of leaves and petals. If it weren't for the Return of the Avengers (aka mosquitoes), I'd say it was especially beautiful in its dripping state. More lilies had opened up, and once the sun poked through the clouds, the garden sparkled!

We ate breakfast on the porch. Dance was in disgrace (she has been a messy farmhouse girl) and we pretty much ignored her as she sought our favor.

Ed looked up the program at the Fair and we set a time for our visit to it.

Stoughton is a small town just to the south east of Madison. With strong Norwegian roots, so that even on the 4th, the flags on Main Street are a mix of American and Norwegian.

 

 

If you travel at 35 miles per hour it will take you 35 minutes to get from here to there. (Guess how I know that?!) And every year (for 99 years now) it holds a very traditional fair on its fairgrounds, right on the weekend that is closest to the 4th of July. 

We've gone to it before. Many times. We love the farm animals on display there, and it is especially awesome to watch the kids take such great care of them (most of the animals at the Fair are presented by 4-H clubs). They're farm kids of course. Who else is going to give love and attention to a cow or a goat? You really get a slice of rural America when you go to such fairs, and it's a slice that leaves you smiling all day long, despite everything.

Ed suggested I take Rosie (he follows behind on his motorbike). That was a brilliant idea! The day was perfect for it and the ride there and back was along rural roads that were empty and beautiful. 

The Stoughton Fair is free (though there are rides and booths as well -- we ignore all that) and you can just park your moped, or car, and walk around to your heart's content. Which is what we did. I'm going to post just a few photos from our walk. All you need to imagine is the rumble of fans in the animal sheds and the smell of hay and manure. And very many, very beautiful animals with their caretakers hanging out, napping, or working hard to make their animal shine.

(prize winning "Polish" chicken, though by name only as this breed originates in the Netherlands)

Ed had noted that there would be a pie eating contest in the main hall at 1pm. We make our way to it.

Anyone can participate and you get your choice of banana or chocolate cream pie. It's all about speed. You cannot use your hands. 

(on the left, the second place winner, on the right -- third place)

The top three were all men. No surprise there.

(the winner)

 

It is actually quite gross to watch, as the eaters eventually have to dump the pie out onto the table and sort of lick it from there. The announcers assured the audience that the tables were sanitized  beforehand. Maybe.

Once the winners were announced (first place guy ate it in 6 minutes), Ed and I wandered over to the other displays: a craft contest, a corn growing contest...

 

 

... a baking contest, even a photography contest. I'd say that the animals at the Fair were all first class stuff. The rest of the displays and awards? Well, it was very... local. I would, for instance, have no trouble beating the baked blueberry muffin entry. Though honestly, I would not be able to score high in the cake decorating contest, given the judges' preferences:

And then it was time to ride home. Such a good way to spend this day! (Capped for me with a long Zoom on the porch with Bee back in Poland.) As for dinner? Well, I have all these veggies from our CSA box. How about a stir fry of peas, asparagus and scallion, with some shrimp, in a Vietnamese sauce? And Swiss chocolate for dessert. America is a compilation of nationalities and ethnicities. And so is our 4th of July dinner.

Happy 4th to you!

with love...