summer follies

This is when you start doubting your sanity: when you are up at 6, snipping lilies, hoping for moderation,  and at the end of two hours you realize that the number hasn't moderated at all. It stands today at 921. Yes, that's 921 lilies that bloomed yesterday and moved aside for the new arrivals this morning. Filling one bucket, and then another. And you shrug your shoulders and think to yourself -- oh well. Lots of lilies. Like it or not, I guess I'll keep on snipping for a few more weeks this summer. 

Because you cannot imagine stopping now. You've got your strategy all laid out, you know where the hidden passages are so that you can hit the center of a bed without trampling down the flowers growing toward the front. You know, too, which lilies snap like a pea pod -- crisply, easily -- and which require a secondary push with your middle finger. 

Wait. You're skimming the post, aren't you? Looking for content that has more substance, that moves beyond lily talk. I can understand that. When Ed and I watch the video postings from Just A Few Acres (about a farming couple in upstate New York) I can't wait for the ones spelling out the details of old tractor repair to be over. Give me anything -- mowing hay, herding cattle, even cutting down brush -- just so that I don't have to listen to the minutia of replacing parts that I'd never heard of before, and likely will never come across again going forward. You may feel the same about lilies. Or even flower gardens in general. But I have to put in a tiny plug here: the post isn't really just about my flower fields, is it? For me at least, it's about waking up to a new day. About patience. About cultivating positive emotions as much as about cultivating flowers. About routines that give pleasure at the same time that they maybe make this place slightly better, more cared for, loved. 

And of course, Ocean is so seasonal! Remember those winter posts where my best photo from the day was of the same path from the barn to the farmhouse, in its plain, unadorned state? Isn't it incredible that six months later it should be all about an abundance of color?

So, here's today's lot. Lilies and phloxes, and gladiolus, and false sunflower and real sunflower, and hyssop, and nasturtium, and daisies, and roses, and clematis, and sweet peas, and so much more. 

(day lilies that look like tulips)

(these orange lilies, affectionately labeled by me as "nymphs and shepherds" because they nearly always have me break out in the Purcell song when they start their bloom period, are not yet fully opened in the early morning hours)

(I mean, just sublime!)

(bold!)

(I may have to rein in the phloxes next year!)

(a welcome lily resident)

(and another...)

(hiding in plain sight)

(this field gets the longest period of sunshine; lilies love sunshine!)

(lilies and sweet peas)

(I planted a lot of sunflower seeds throughout. Deer ate the tops of all of them, except for this lovely, if a bit twisted, lemon one)

 

(somewhat surprising is the success of this new meadow, planted where a giant maple once stood out front)

 

 

(one last glance...)

 

Yes, there was a breakfast somewhere in there. In the coolness of the kitchen.

 

 

 

Alright. It's noon. Time to pick up the two older ones from their summer Shakespeare program. We are a week away from the first performances and they appear to be "all memorized" and so spirits are high. 

("I want a solo picture!")

("me too!")

 

Lunch is at the farmhouse. And it's been a while since we picked up the book that we're reading (about three Polish children and their struggles during World War II). We get through very many chapters to make up for the long break.

Thursday is our local market day and at least three out of the four farmhouse people today (the kids, Ed and myself) are really enthusiastic market shoppers. I know you can't tell this by studying the kids faces, but there's an explanation for the seriousness: I'm being pokey, and Ed is not there yet.

Finally, all here, cookies and cheese curds purchased.

We have on and off rain. Nothing significant, but still -- more wetness in the yard for tomorrow's work. At least the mosquitoes will have moderated, even if the lily count remains high. We did a third "natural"  spraying today -- the last one for the summer. That usually chases about half of them away for a handful of days. I intend to do a last big effort in the flower fields over the weekend. After that, I slow down. Because, well, summer days are supposed to be lazy, aren't they? 

with love... 

summer

People do not like hot weather. Judging by the level of air cooling that takes place in public spaces around town, they'd much rather be too cold than too warm. I have to agree that heat and humidity are a killer combination. I certainly wouldn't like to be stuck outside for a day of both. Nonetheless, if you have the luxury of controlling your outdoor time (and I do), and if you have the luxury of air conditioning in your house, which you can also control (we do, and we keep it at 77F/25C), then I feel a summer season isn't complete unless it delivers for you a string of very warm days. We are at 91F/33C right now and I have to admit it -- I like it!

Sure, the mornings can be tough, because I absolutely have to wear long sleeves to avoid most of the bug bites when I work outside. Both mosquitoes and chiggers are at play, and I'll say this -- chigger nibbles have to be the worst, because the itch lasts forever. We're talking very many days of pink bumps in inopportune places! 

But once I shed my sweatshirt, I really do like the feel of warm air. Of sunshine. Of light summer breezes nudging at you as you take a stroll between fields of flowers.

This morning, I snipped lilies reluctantly. The sweatshirt, sure, there was that. But, too, we had had a heavy downpour in the early hours and everything was droopy and wet. The phloxes suddenly keeled over and the dense foliage of all plants soaked my shoes, my shorts, my hands. (I've given up on gloves. My hands get dirty anyway so why bother.)

My lily total stood at 653. That's a little higher than yesterday. I'm hoping that it's an anomaly. I'd like to get down to under 500 for the rest of the month.

The flower fields do look great after they're cleaned up. The frogs are enjoying their colorful perches, the wet petals sparkle with drops of rain, the bees circle around my hyssop plants.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summer, at her finest.

With breakfast outside.

I've gotten to like the small Wednesday farmers market downtown. Natalie comes to it and she has great corn.

At this time of the year,  there are some pretty cool flower bouquets. Which two should I pick? 

I've rediscovered Rosie (my moped). It's perfect for a quick trip downtown. Easy to park, cool to ride, especially on a classic summer day.

Home again...

 

 

 

And where are the kids, you ask? Busy with their summer program, giving me a few days' break, just when I need it most. Obliging little guys! 

(In delivering flowers requested by my daughter to Sandpiper's preschool, I once again hop on Rosie. This thrills Sandpiper no end!)

(Back home, in the golden light of a gorgeous summer evening)

So have I become a total convert? Have I turned my back to a love for all four seasons? No, I haven't. But in July, I'm still reveling in the feel of summer. Not tired of it yet! Not even a little!

with love... 

 

it's for this...

Ed has never had children and has never wanted them. He makes no secret of it and would announce it to the world if asked. At the same time, he cares deeply for my kids and grandkids. His level of concern and interest in their lives is about as high as it gets and when they ask him to do something, he'll oblige, whether or not it's convenient. I'll never forget the days when Snowdrop was a wee little thing and she would ask him to be a pretend groom as she played the bride and "marched down the aisle" with him. Nothing about that scene aligns with Ed's take on life and yet every time she asked, he was there, by her side. 

Ed's antipathy toward being a parent is understandable. As a child, he had a rough go of it with his sibs. And, a population explosion worries him (he cares about the planet way more than the average person). Too, he cannot understand why someone would want to burden her or his life with the monumental job of rearing a child. "It's so much work!" -- he marvels as I chase a kid, fix a meal for her, or clean up yet another mess, all the while telling the culprit to tone it down with the noise level. Why would anyone fill their lives with all this additional work and worry? 

Why indeed...

In the last few days, I had the answer before me, as clear as could be: as I sat across the table from my younger daughter over lunch last Friday, listening to her daughter chatter away about her Camp experience, and then today, as I sat with my older daughter over breakfast, while her son munched on a brownie and gave me a wickedly sweet smile, I thought -- it's for this. You do it for this. For a chance at this perfect moment when your kids are grown, maybe (but not necessarily) with kids of their own, sharing a few moments over a meal or a coffee with you, in the full bloom of their adulthood, beautiful in every way, while you sit back in a state of total happiness. Akin to childbirth only without the pain! 

 

In other news, the lily snipping count did go down today to a mere 615. This is good news. It's not that I want the lily season to be over, but I have too many mosquito bites to be happy about snipping away for hours on end every morning. At the level of today's count, I am content. The lilies are radiant, and the cleanup job isn't overwhelming. 

("for this is Flora's holiday... whilst you express your jollity, nymphs and shepherds come away!")

("when are you going to feed me??")

 

 

(you are so pretty! don't hide!) 

 

 

 

 

(a lily, a frog, and a clematis) 

 

 

(a lily and a frog, without the clematis) 

 

 

From snipping, I went straight to breakfast with my daughter and Sparrow. He had had a doc's appointment and they needed a ride back home (their car is in the shop). I got a lovely few minutes at a cafe with them for my efforts!

From there, I went to Madison Sourdough. Strange to be picking up breakfast treats after breakfast, right? But the fact is, I am slated to be on a low fiber diet this week (old people's stuff) and so I said to myself -- well that's good news! I can chomp away at all those croissants and cinnamon rolls guilt free! Load 'em up please! 

 

(no, no bread today; though it sure looks pretty!) 

 

 

There is nothing so decadent as having a croissant for lunch. With milky coffee. I tell you, life is so good at the moment. 

To keep up my spirits I have cut back on news reading/watching.  For a while I told myself -- I need to know. Ignorance is not going to get me through a tough period. But the level of anxiety that comes with reading the details of news stories as they appear in mainstream media is too high. If I'm going to go down, I'll do it in blissful ignorance. Just the basics, please. Keep those gory details for the history books, so that future generations can learn what foolishness lead us to where we are today.

I return to my flower fields in the afternoon. A few weeds to pick, yes, always that, but mostly to just look. Why clean the beds if I never give myself time to admire them in their best dress? 

 

(deeply pink with a hint of lavender and a yellow throat) 

 

 

(ruffled butter for sure, in a double lily!) 

 

 

 (it's called a spider lily for a reason)

 

 

It is nothing short of a miracle to have a lily bloom so perfectly, with petals that are pert and so pretty, and stamens that beg pollinators to come calling -- only to disappear overnight. Most everyone associates a fading wilted flower with demise, sorrow, loss, even death. I can't think of a single poem that finds beauty in a day lily that wilts after just a few daylight hours. But to me, the "take turns" nature of a day lily is nothing short of awesome. Spotlight is on you! show us your best face! And the next day, her sister takes to the stage. And of course, the memory of each beautiful lily remains.

 

(peachy melon, or maybe a rosy apricot?) 

 

 

(a lemon tart, maybe with cream at the edges) 

 

 

(watermelon in golden sunshine) 

 

 

 with so much love...

a clean garden but...

... a messy house? Who, me?

Yeah, me. At least it hasn't yet reached its minimalist goals. Can I blame the kids? Okay -- I blame the kids.

It really got out of control during Grandma Camp. The kids found sticker pads that I put aside. They made toy arrangements that they swear cannot be touched for eternity. And the fairy gardens? Well, they loved doing them but what happens next? They are big. The Chicago household already nixed the idea of one traveling back with Primrose to their home. And there are craft materials thrown into an Amazon box along with... lollipops for air travel, rubber duckies from wading pool days, magnets, and very tangled threads for friendship bracelets.

I know craft people who have these little drawers with neatly organized supplies. Everything has a place. I admire that amount of care given to random pieces of plastic, paper and fabric, but as I've said before, I have never loved creating stuff out of paper straws and pipe cleaners and if I bring in such materials for a kid project (which is so rare that the kids associate it only with camp), I haven't a clue as to what to do with them once the project is behind us. Same goes for random small nothings accumulated for kid use over the years.

Well, today I attacked those boxes and made Goodwill piles that are impressive! I'm not done and I'm not really motivated to do a whole playroom overhaul, but I have to say, few things give me more pleasure than clearing out old stuff. And so count this morning as being almost joyful.

Of course, first, I did clean up the flower beds. The air quality was not great (those Canadian fires again), and the mosquitoes were spiteful, but I kept at it. 859 today, but judging by today's flower display, I'd say that tomorrow I should start going down in my count. Which will be a relief.

In the meantime, here are the lilies of today. With their flower (and froggie) friends:

 

(early morning light) 

 

("you're not going to snip this one, are you?")

(hiding under the petal)

(my "nymphs," in full bloom)

(beautiful color)

(In bright sunshine)

(lemon yellow, next to a sweat pea)

(Big Bed colors)

(Big Bed from the middle, looking toward the farmhouse)

(a true lily that did not get eaten up by lily leaf bugs)

(By the porch: lilies, phlox and... garlic.)

The day disappeared for me. One appointment, many errands, and all those cleanups!  

But of course, there was breakfast. With Ed and Dance. I'd just baked fresh granola. And, too, we still have two weeks of peaches coming our way.

 

 

Lunch and dinner were far less exciting.

I have a string of days before me where the most important thing I'm likely to do is bake granola and snip lilies. I can think of worse ways to spend a summer week.

with love...