picking up the pieces

What can I say, animals get sick, cameras break, smoke lingers. That is the start to my Sunday in August. We don't keep many farm animals, but there are the six chickens and six cats. We chose the chickens, but the cats were the ones who chose us. Thus far, they all have shown incredible resilience. I swear one of the hens has been slumped and moving at a snail's pace for the past week or two, but it could be old age. They are getting on in chicken years. And the cats? Wow. They never show signs of slowing down. Pancake gets beat up sometimes and looks then like she had just gone through a major war, but otherwise they eat, they sleep, occasionally catch mice and chipmunks and somehow manage to avoid disease, parasites, poisons. They dont even come home with fleas. Ed checks, routinely.

And so it is a surprise for me to find one of the hens deeply in slumber at feeding time. I poke her. I hear a groan. Then nothing. I report back to Ed, who treats disease as some rare phenomenon that occasionally comes around and then disappears on its own. Not surprisingly, he shrugs and says -- she's likely fine. Let us hope so. With the bird flu still a concern, I wouldn't even know what to do with a dead chicken. Do we ask for an autopsy? Do we have to disinfect the coop? Cross fingers that this resolves itself in the way Ed thinks it will.

As for cameras and smoke -- bleh. I treat my camera as if it were my appendage.  I carry it daily, most everywhere. It has more nicks and bruises than most decades old cameras have on them. Still, like the farm animals, it is resilient. Some functions are a little off, but for the most part it works like a charm. But every few months I bang it just a little too hard. Today I not only banged it but also dropped it. I shattered the lens filter. That's okay -- it's replaceable. But I also put a dent in the lens rim. That means that taking off a shattered lens filter is a job for... Ed. Between fixing the roof, going to the store for cat food, working on my camera, repairing the faucet, and hauling a carload of stuff I've cleared out to Goodwill -- well, I'm keeping him busy today!

 

 

 

Me, of course I snip lilies. I'd say there are a few more days left of this and actually if I stopped now, it would be okay, because the number of blooms is starting to drop off considerably. That's good. I love my gardens but I hate the bugs. I have itchy bites on parts of my body that I could not describe in good company. It's been such a buggy month!

And it's been a smoky month. The levels were so high this morning that I put on my face mask to work outside. I dont really mind it, but when your hands are dirty with sticky lily juice and you have an itch under that mask -- it's torture. 

On the other hand, it's been a happy day. I have the deep satisfaction of completing the garden sweep.

(this is what a healthy hen looks like!)

(... along with her healthy mates!)

 

 

(still a few buds left on this lily) 

 

 

(a frog, a lily, and sunflowers) 

 

 

 (a lily here, a lily there...)

 

(a Tiger Swallowtail which, they say, represents transformation, joy and new beginnings) 

 

 

I also harvested a bunch of gladiolus stems that were slowly keeling over. They're beautiful in a vase and useless lying down on the ground. In that way, they are less rewarding for me than, say the gladiolus mureale, which stands tall no matter what.

(the rare glad that still is upright)

 

(many more are now in a vase)

 

 

Turning now indoors, I have to say, it is a satisfying day socially. I have breakfast with my distant Zoom friends. This is great for many reasons, not the least of which is that my weekend is otherwise quiet, so a little adult chatter is most welcome. (The young family is not here for dinner because they have a visiting other grandmother.) 

 

The week ahead is going to be interesting. I am to embark on some travel. I prepared for it mentally, and not at all physically. Once again I'll be in places with vastly different weather systems (total cold rain in the first, mostly warm sunshine in the second and third). I should get myself ready, but, as always, I put it off. Packing well and reasonably lightly requires effort and if you remember, this is my weekend of moving slowly!

Tomorrow I'll pick up the pace. And see the kids. And bake some granola. And freeze many bags of corn. And look for a missing chicken, because guess what -- one disappeared on us this evening. Farmette stuff. August stuff. With good outcomes all around, I hope.

 

going slowly

Did you ever notice how July lingers and August sprints forward with alacrity? Is it because you want summer to linger a while more, or is it that you hope to squeeze every bit good weather and vacation out of it before returning to the grind? Or maybe it's that kids start school again, or at least get ready to start school again? It does feel to me like one day it's August 1st and then next it's the 31st.

So today I slow down a bit. I get up later, spend more time cleaning up flower beds, and think at length about what to do about breakfast: granola or cinnamon roll? And only after breakfast do I go to the downtown farmers market, which puts me there just as the crowds swell, with shoppers and protesters. It's hard to tell who is there for what reason. I suppose my blueberries and flowers are, along with me, momentarily, part of the protest.  It is past noon by the time I get back home.

And it is late afternoon when Ed suggests a walk in our local park. Not too buggy. I am grateful. 

This, to me, is a day at a crawl. Am I deliberately slowing down summer? Seems I'm going against the current. Maybe slowing down is something you should reserve for the dead of winter. But for this early August weekend, I'm giving it a try.

Let me post some photos from my slow-moving day.

(a delicate double)

 (three yellow lily plants in three shades of yellow)

 

 

 (these guys are not afraid, as my hand weaves around them, snipping away spent lilies)

 

 

 

 

 

(bees do like day lilies, but I think other pollinators like them better; bees go crazy, on the other hand, around my hyssop blooms and they're pretty attracted to these heliopsis heads as well)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 (breakfast: granola won)

 

 

(at the market: my flower-growing friend and her granddaughter)

  

 

(shoppers and protesters and tourists and me)

 

 

(the last blueberries of the year)

 

 

(back at the farmette, Ed picks the first peach from our young peach orchard) 

 

 

 

 

 

With so much love.... 

 

August 1st

Today I snipped very many lilies and it took up a lot of time. I have also begun to cut off empty stems. More time. But I have stopped counting. It's August: instead of numbers, I now have songs in my head. 

A few pictures, a few more frogs, a lot more color:

(where is the frog, puzzle no.1)

(where's the frog, puzzle no. 2 for beginners)

(where's the frog, puzzle no. 3)

It's a significant day -- it is my older girl's birthday. In combination with this, we have the opening performance of Midsummer Night's Dream -- the Shakespeare play (full length production) in which both Sparrow and Snowdrop have parts. This makes for a complicated and very busy day! 

We could not fit in an evening birthday celebration, what with the Shakespeare play and the call times for the two older kids, so we arranged to have a late breakfast feast for my girl, with her two older kids and me, at Ancora coffee shop.

Happy, happy birthday, oh incredible daughter of mine, with a heart of gold and a whiz-bang head on those lovely shoulders! With thanks for all those years of passion and infinite enthusiasm!

It was a very beautiful morning.

Meanwhile, back at the farmette, the wild turkey family comes for its daily visit...

 

 

 

Ed attempts to patch up the roof over the mud room...

 

 

 

And the flowers are blooming their heads off, letting us know that August can be just as showy as July.

 

 

 

In the late afternoon, four grownups (two grandmothers and two parents) meet up for a pizza before the show.

And then the play begins. 

I know I should not be nervous before a grandchild's performance. In the scheme of things -- it's just one show and the significant benefit of being in the cast has already been achieved -- it's in the work you put into learning your role, your lines. In working with the group to do it right. And because the performers are young people (between ages 7 and 18), you can assume that the audience will be mostly family and friends. So why spend time fretting about any of it?

And yet, it is Sparrow's first appearance on the stage and he is by far the youngest in the production. Can he handle being Egeus? And quickly change costume and play Snout -- a part that requires a wickedly energetic stage presence? And will Snowdrop, who plays the love struck Hermia, be solid in her character, her many scenes, many lines? Of course I want them to be happy with the night!

And they are happy. And with good reason. Three and a half hours of Shakespeare (with two intermissions) and they churned out emotion after emotion (that would be Hermia), strength of will (as Egeus) and a hilarious playfulness (as Snout). 

No photos during the show, but here are some from right after (Sparrow is in the end in his Snout role):

 

 

I drive home smiling.

with so much love... 

 

hazy days of summer

We knew it without even looking at the local numbers as compiled by air quality monitors. We are in the "unhealthy for all" category. It's so hazy outside that I feel like I just stepped back a few decades to a summer in New York City.

A beautiful, sunny day, not to be enjoyed outdoors. 

I have no idea when the Canadian forest fires will let up and stop sending smoke our way. Maybe tomorrow, maybe in a month. For now, we live with hazy skies and polluted air.

I hesitate with lily picking -- a whole hour, outside? --  but only for a minute. It is the last day of July and July belongs to my flower fields. I missed only one time of lily pruning -- the day I went to Chicago. I don't want to end the lily season with a messy garden. I put on my KN95 and go outside. Bugs, smoky air, wet foliage. Am I having fun yet??

Well, you know the saying. all good things come with a price tag. One not measured in dollars or Euros.

601 snipped lilies today. So ends July, the month that belongs to lilies.

(can you find the frog?)

Breakfast, inside. That goes without saying.

Everything is inside.

There is one outing for us today: the local market. Ed and I both wear masks. The air is that bad, even as the temps are lovely and the sunshine -- a welcome change from yesterday's rains.

I think back to winter days: I worry then that my physical activity slows down too much when it's bitter cold outside. A few walks during the week hardly count for me as exertion. But I tell myself -- never mind, I'll make up for it in warmer weather. And I do -- in spring I work steadily and heavily in the fields. I rediscover my bike. Ed and I check out the awakening world of prairie and woodland in our local park. And then comes summer. Sorry, but lily snipping doesn't cut it. It takes time and keeps me off the couch. What a low bar that is! So I try to fit in bike riding, as does Ed. When the air quality allows for it. And when it doesn't? Here we are, in the farmhouse living room, doing our "living," eyes glued to reading material. 

[Hey!  -- cries the flip side of me -- I do balancing exercises when I wait for my milk to heat up for my coffee! The goal is 60 seconds on each foot, eyes closed. And there's more -- I clean, wipe, cook, water, feed others. Mightn't that count? You're right, it doesn't. Thank goodness for travel. I still push myself each day on the road.]

There's no such thing as a perfect gardening month of course. But if a lily count is an indication of anything, then surely this year has been just outstanding. So much so that, given the work involved, I'm not totally sad to be moving into August.

with love...