Earth Day

To have the day after my birthday designated as Earth Day is a gift. On one day I celebrate life, on the next -- I celebrate nature and the interconnectedness of all living things. And here, there is so much to celebrate.

I do know that planting flowers in tubs or baskets and putting these out on a porch is a strange way to give thanks for all plant life that is budding out there, but the beauty of these flowers is so great that I feel it provides that needed connection to the growing world (a connection that is otherwise so lacking on Sally's porch).

So, let's start off with a photo of breakfast on the porch. With flowers.

The morning is cool, but I don't care. The sun is out. It's going to be one heck of a day! Right Millie?

My pup is apprehensive when I start moving around as if to go somewhere. At her age and with her sensibilities, she'd rather keep things the same every day. She's not going to get her wish today! I do want her to have exposure to the new, the different. Already she got used to giant looming Ed. And she quickly learned to love the farmette lands. She has a good time at Tati's. She pulls to get into doggie daycare. And still, when she sees me getting ready to go down to the garage, she hides under the couch. I have to drag her out!

And today's adventure is extra challenging for her: I'm going to bicycle over to the farmette with her in the doggie carrier.

I think it's a fabulous ride! It's a perfect doggie seat because I am able to wrap my arm around her if she gets nervous and reassure her with kisses even as I am pedaling away. And of course, I feel immensely proud of her as we pass curious onlookers. Sweet pup, out for a ride!

 

At the farmette, Ed is digging away at the invasive buckthorn, back in the old orchard. Honestly, I think he does it just for the exercise that you need to put in to get these bushes out of there. He cant really weed the flower fields -- he has no idea what to pull or dig out, and he is a careless gardener, often stepping inadvertently on baby plants when going after a weed. So the flower fields remain untouched, but the buckthorn is slowly disappearing in an area which no one cares about.

It's a beautiful day to be at the farmette!

 (bucolic in the extreme)

 

 

 (she loves to roll in the cool grass, then sniff the air here...)

 

 

 

 

 (the new orchard)

She could stay here for a while, but I have things to do!

I come back to Sally's house and plant some alyssum in a tub. I love this annual for it's fragrance and I always had it in tubs at the farmette, but there the satisfaction was short-lived, as the chickens loved it equally much, and a favorite activity for them would be pecking off the tiny flowers. I can put a whole pot of it out on the porch and no one will eat it (right Millie?) . Remarkable.

Millie still hesitates to go out on the porch with me. She loves the openness of the farmette, but otherwise prefers the safety and comfort of enclosed spaces.  A crate, a toy basket, a snooze under the couch, or under the chairs. I know what she's thinking: maybe my human will leave me alone there... Maybe, Millie. Maybe!

Wednesday is a day without childcare. I zoom with friends: Diane has a dog that looks so much like Millie, even though their genetic heritage is completely different (hers is a Tibetan Terrier)!

 

 

And in the late afternoon, I take Millie out again -- this time to the dog park. Not exactly the one where Henry and Sadey loved to run. (And indeed, that whiff of sadness is strong for me as I pull up to the same parking lot.) Next to that park, there is a smaller enclosed space for smaller dogs. Given the fact that Millie has had tummy problems, I hesitated to take her there to run around with dogs, perhaps sick dogs, perhaps unvaccinated dogs, but in the middle of a Wednesday, those encounters are few and far between. And she does love to let loose her zoomies.

We bike over. She is a little terrified still, but again, I can wrap yourself around my pup and snuggle her as I ride along. From my perspective, it's a lovely ride!

And at the park, we encounter just two dogs, at different times. Neither is particularly interested in Millie and she's sorry about that, though she focuses on showering one of the owners with attention and love to compensate. And she runs. And sniffs. And has a great time.

The thing about this girl is that she hasn't yet accepted the fact that a call of her name and especially when thrown out with the command  COME, means that she has to run to me like crazy. Since she doesn't especially crave treats, there is little to motivate her to give up on sniffing other dogs across the fence in the big dog park and return to me. So I wait until this social girl gives up on them -- they are, after all, beyond reach -- and comes running back of her own accord.

I do think she is way overdressed for this weather. It's positively hot outside in the sun, and she is panting, and I did not bring water. We dont stay too long. And next time, I'll bring a thermos!

 

On Earth Day, I feel it is our obligation to plant something. My alyssum flowers feel a bit like it's a token effort, but I did weed a small corner of a farmette flower bed. Does that count? I'll do more when I move to Steffi's House. I promise.

 

 

with so much love...

73

I can't believe I started my daily postings on Ocean when I was just 50! What compulsion! I wrote a book about the first third of my life, the young part, I wrote Ocean about the latest third of my life, the, um, older part. I wrote journals about the stuff inbetween, but I threw those away. Thank God. When you write just for yourself, or at least when I wrote just for myself, I forgot about the part where a writer needs to learn how to edit even more than she needs to know how to write. 

So here I am at the unremarkable age of 73. Though I do think it's remarkable that I am up and running still at 73. When I was a kid, I hoped I'd make it to 50. That was in my gloomy adolescent period. Which lasted past my adolescence, though there were high points. Rarely on my birthdays though. Birthdays started being fun when the kids were born. It took me until then to realize that I really am not a party animal. So, small celebrations with people I love. Plenty special.

Do most people feel this way about their birth date? April 21st always loomed so large in my mind. Inflated, out of proportion to the event, which, after all, is just one birth out of trillions of others. Despite the insignificance of one human, one grain of sand in a multitude of others, I feel, quite selfishly actually, that this date is mine. Forget the fact that the date also belongs to Queen Elizabeth, John Muir, Charlotte Bronte and the less awesome Joe McCarthy. I might note that April, at least in America, is the second least common birth month (February, by virtue of its shortness takes the number one spot). But I think it's the most fabulous. And April 21st? What can I say, it thrills me.

I wake up, check the messages, the emails. As promised, this day's weather is just superb! Best April 21st ever. Sunny, in the 70sF (about 24C). I'm drunk with the spring feel to it. 

Millie is too. A happy pup!

I decide to do breakfast on the porch. With some of the plants outside now, to make it a little sweeter.

Millie isn't convinced that this is a change for the better. She permits a photo, then retreats to wait inside. 

 

 

Next on the agenda? We pick up Ed at the farmette...

 

 

 

... And drive along the beautiful rural roads...

 

 

 

... To the flower greenhouses that are my favorites: Natalie's and Kopke's. Not for the usual annual flower purchase this time. Just a combo pot (or two?) from each.

(Natalie's: "I want to go that way!")

("have you picked something yet?")

("Yes!")

(Kopke's: "not sure I like this cart...")

And back to the farmette lands. Oh, does Millie love walks  in the thick grasses here!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then: lunch with Millie and Ed, at Tati's.

(At home: flowers from Ed)

 

 

After, Millie returns to doggie daycare, I pick up the kids. Sparrow, Snowdrop. I walk Goose, who is at home with a kennel cough.  The kids and I come back with Millie to Sally's House. 

(As usual, both kids fuss over Millie as if she were a delicate little butterfly) 

 

 

And the gang comes over, along with Ed, for a celebratory aperitif. We split a half bottle of champagne and we don't even finish it. This is what a 73rd birthday looks like! 

And there are presents. Lovely ones, picked by the kids, my daughter, friends.

(a photo of me with the three of them)

 

 (wait, lets get the parents into this!)

 

They leave, Ed brings a pizza, we turn on a show that is more my choice than his, though I tend to always want stuff that I know he'll like because it's more fun that way, so it's him deferring to me who then picks something that defers to his taste palate.

And finally, I watch a very special video from my two in Chicago...

And the day comes to a close.

How can I not be nuts about this moment in time when joy, love abound? So much good in my life, our lives... So much! I'm very, very grateful. An ancient 73 year old is feeling very very grateful. And, if I allow myself to ignore on this day the news of the world, I can indulge in feeling just plain happy.

with all my love... 

blue skies

Every year, April days bring the cold, the rain, the shudder, the disappointment. And every year, we are then blown away by the clearing skies, the sunshine, the return of warm temperatures. This lifting of the weight of winter is taking place this week, which happens also to be my birthday week. I've always felt lucky that in places I have lived, the coming of real spring coincides with dates that are personally important to me.

True, there was frost in the wee hours of the morning. When Millie and I went out for our first walk, I could see the white shading to the clover and blades of grass. It quickly melted away though. And the radiant sunshine charged the spirit and the day felt warm and kind. Not too intense. Just enough warmth to bring out a great big smile to anyone lucky enough to spend time outside.

 

Millie is, as usual, full of high spirits. That's not weather dependent, that's just her. I watch my pup trot beside me and I think -- this girl suffers from being too darn cute. You expect less of her because she already delivers at some level. She's cuddly and she is social. She doesn't need to do well in math. Hmm... perhaps I should change my mindset. Henry the serious intellectual, Millie, the charming agility school drop-out. Well, not quiet yet! We'll keep on truckin'.

Zoomies, play, walk again, breakfast, rest.

And then I take some shelving out onto the porch, order another cheap stand to increase the plant space, and promise myself an outing to Kopke's and Natalie's on my birthday for the annual flower basket purchase. If I surround myself with flowers, maybe I can enjoy a breakfast out on the porch when it really warms up.

 

Millie and I have a fun afternoon. An informative one! Here's our order of operations: first, to the farmhouse to pick up a rosebush, to empty the compost bucket, to get more good dirt, to pick up Ed. 

The farmette flower fields right now look so good, so healthy, so perfect. I've always said this -- in spring, the weeds have not yet exploded, nothing is wilted, mildewed, chomped off, misshapen. 

 

 

The question remains: will I be able to withstand it as the need to water, weed, trim, stake, and weed some more grows? I don't know. I hope so.

 

 

 

We pick up the farmette guy for a lunch outing. Him and his two girls! We drive to Tati's, forgetting that the place is now closed on Mondays. Ed proposes our old favorite -- Oasis, but I remind him that only Tat's, no other place in Wisconsin, will allow dogs. But, the weather! Oh, the weather! We could sit outside...

In the drive to Oasis, we pass the park where Ed plays pickle ball. He wants to show me the courts and I have to smile at that. I mean, they are just courts. But he is so proud of his games!  We go to inspect them. Millie likes the walk!

And the run!

 

 

At the Oasis, everyone is huddled inside, many patrons staring down at their computer screens. The outdoor tables are empty. We grab one in the sunshine. Bliss. Truly bliss.

From there, it's back to the farmette, where I finally remember to trim Ed's beard, and then I have another task before me -- the planting of a second rosebush at Steffi's House. 

Now, if you remember, I supervised the installation of a solid fence in the small yard there. I am delighted to let Millie run free. And she does.

And then she crawls right out from under the bars and goes trotting off to explore the rest of the neighborhood.

Sigh... Time to get in touch with the fence installer to see what can be done about this. 

Is that it for today?? No! One more thing! As long as we're out and about, let me start acclimatizing Millie to her new bike seat. Straight from the biking kings and queens of the world! (That would be the Netherlands.)

Here, too, I need to make an adjustment so that I can get on and off the bike without great difficulty. All works in progress! 

No kids today -- school is closed, they're busy. It's just Millie and me, with the occasional appearance of Ed. Still, a fine beginning to a great week. One that just gets better and better!

with so much love...  

 

Sunday

I don't even know what a "normal" Sunday looks like anymore. Early spring Sundays meant, for years and years, garden clean up time. Not this year. And I have to say, though I don't miss it, I don't feel great when I visit the farmette and ignore the weeds, last year's growth, the tubs with dead annuals. I've noticed a swell of irritation as I walk among the flower beds. At no one in particular, though Ed gets to hear it since he's there. Also for many years, Sundays meant dinner prep for the young family. It still means that, but in recent months, I've skipped these more often than not. They're sick, the dog's sick, the weather is lousy, other plans -- you name it. This fall and winter, Sundays meant dog park outings. Well you know how that ended. With a bang. I don't see myself taking Millie to Prairie Morraine -- that huge, beautiful dog park that Henry loved so much. She doesn't need that much exercise and I have a slight fear that she'll be clobbered by uncontrollable big dogs. It's one thing to expose her to them in doggie daycare under the careful supervision of the staff there. It's another to let her loose in a park where any dog can be set free. Too, she tends to pick up things she shouldn't pick up. I can't even count the number of times she has come back from a walk with a food chip or a twig in her mouth. She doesn't need the freedom to pick up anything in an off-leash park. And finally, those parks do present contamination issues. Dogs with parasites. Dogs that are sick. Henry seemed impervious to all that. His immune system had been conditioned by months out on the streets. Millie is far more sensitive to such stuff -- witness her ten days of digestive issues. So, no dog parks. I have to rewrite my Sundays! But not today.

Today is ridiculously cold. At night, we'll have a deep frost -- rare in the second half of April. I'm glad that it's just a few days of this, but I surely am not motivated to do anything adventurous in this weather.

 

Millie and I do start off with what is becoming an established pattern. I get up, she waits, I get ready, then take her out of her crate and we go for our walk. It's short. Because of the weather and because she is more interested in returning home to eat than to walk a mile.

She eats, then plays. I love this wild moment when she is deeply happy. Wild, with total zoomie abandon. Big dog zoomies are... frightening, but Millie is just so darn cute as she runs from one room to the next. (She's way too fast for me to use my camera on her.)

I fix my own meal, take her out quickly again and settle in for my own quiet breakfast. As always, she waits at my feet for me to be done.  

(farmette daffodils)

And right after, we both exhale on the couch.

My newest Sunday activity is to take Millie to puppies agility class. Today is the second of five (or is it six?) classes. 

I have to smile -- it surely is a "be careful what you wish for" situation. I wanted a social pup. One who loves people, other dogs. Millie goes completely overboard on her enthusiasm, not for the class, but for the people who run it, and the dogs who participate. 

Since she is not very treat motivated, getting her to follow my treat filled hand is impossible! Some of the dog parents are dead serious about the class and they remind their pups that this isn't play time, it's time to learn. But when we're in the holding pen waiting our turn, Millie wants to romp, jump, roll with them. And when it's her term to do the jumps, climbs, tunnels, she takes her time, sometimes taking a long pause right in the middle of an exercise. 

I would say that she is the least interested in performing well of all dogs there and perhaps all dogs that have ever taken the agility class! 

 

 

 

She is five months old today and she has lived with me for two weeks and a day. It's not really surprising that she doesn't come when called, doesn't leap on command, doesn't climb out of the tunnel when asked to do so. She is one goofy girl. The class clown, without knowing that she is indeed the class clown.

At home, I just finished an article in the NYTimes, (gifted for you here) titled  In Defense of Dumb Dogs. I thought of some of the dog parents in class today who seemed so hell bent on having their dogs do well. In the article, the author noted that most dog owners think their pooch is above average in intelligence. And I think doodle parents truly do believe their dog is over and beyond intelligent. One reason for mixing retrievers (or other breeds) with poodles is to ostensibly pick up on the poodle intelligence. 

It made me think about Millie: do I care if she is smart or not so smart? Henry was very intelligent and oh so hard to keep busy and stimulated. Perhaps I care that Millie master potty training totally and soon. That she knows I'm her human and will protect her. That she is surrounded by friends. The rest? Nah... She can be joyful ,and bark at her reflection in the window at night, and sit in the agility tunnel all she wants. I don't care who is watching and laughing! 

Oh, but I love that girl!

 

In the evening the young family does come over today. I'm told the kids can't wait -- not to have our meal together, not to play here, not to see me, but to see Millie. The dog who lives for the moment! And she is so happy to see them, to play with them...

 

 

 

She'll let them carry her, even little Sandpiper.

And Goose? Well, I think he misses the big guys. He knows his 100plus pound body could crush the little girl.

So he leaves her alone and finds a comfy spot on the couch.

(dinner)

And where is Ed? The guy has become a pickle ball fanatic. He plays with seniors at the senior center, he plays outside on the courts with the "way younger" set. When he's done for the day, he collapses. I believe he's trying to get past the moderate -intermediate stage. The seniors are not quite intermediate enough, the "way younger" set is a bit past the intermediate stage. We'll see if they can teach that old dog even better tricks! 

In the evening, Millie rests. I should think she needs to recover. It's been a full Sunday.

with so much love...