Thursday

Let me start with supper, because it shows how disjointed, scattered, uncoordinated our days are right now (at the same time that it all pulls together to create a terrific whole).


 


Leftovers (broccoli soup, sauteed cabbage...), the market produce (beans, La Baguette bread), the pulled together spinach salad, oh... all of it. Neither this nor that, not anything that hangs together and yet -- we really do like it this way.

Market produce, by the way, comes from our local Thursday evening market. We scoot up to it just before it closes and lo! There's our own wonderful, irrepressible farmer Lee!





We walk away with lots of free foods and flowers from her...





... and, too, a bit of sad news -- she may have nowhere to plant next year, as her principal landowner told her -- no more farming on this land.

Perhaps we did not understand.  Let's hope we did not understand. (Farmer Lee speaks limited English.) But she continues: Planted strawberries. No. Next year no.

We want to offer her our land, but do we even have enough for her to continue to farm here? And if she can't farm those fields across the road from us -- what will become of them? Is it back to soy and corn? Endless fields of soy and corn? Or a new development?


Breakfast.






A morning greeting to the flowers of the farmette. Today's highlights:











Then a day dowtown, on campus. I know -- I'm not supposed to be working in summer months. That's the theory. The reality is quite different.

And oh, how empty Bascom Mall  (where the Law School looks out) is now! Where are all the students who strip off all sweaters, jackets and socks at the first blush of srping? One -- I count one such body.





We have a run of dry summer days before us. The winds are down so the mosquitoes are back up and out again and still, we are in the thick of summer -- that time of blossoms and bats, fireflies and butterflies. Summer!

And that is a good thing.

dates in my head

I give myself one more week to settle my odds and ends here. By next Wednesday, the leaf will be turned and a new summer focus (and a new era of Ocean blogging) will begin! For now, old focus.

But hey, what a gorgeous day this is! The humidity disappears and a wind comes a-dancin' and a-prancin' and that is enough to shoo the mosquitoes back into their green lush world, allowing us to walk along a path with only minimal slapping and zapping at them with our brilliant mosquito zappers ($2 each and worth every penny).

So I start you with a few photos from the garden, even before breakfast. Because this kind of weather just draws you out.















Okay, breakfast on the porch (note zapper on table).






And then I heave a meet up with my older girl. I haven't seen her for five weeks and so a walk by the shores of Lake Monona seems like a perfect way to catch up.

It is unfortunate that my old rosie (the moped) has developed hot flashes. It is doubly unfortunate for Ed, because he is capable of fixing even complicated, intractable motorbike problems and so it means that he is the one stuck with his tool kit open, working long hours trying to identify the problem, while I'm out taking a brilliant walk with my girl.

I do feel terribly guilty about this and vow to make a special meal for him in the days to come.

Because rosie is out of sorts, I bike to my girl's place -- a mere 30 minutes typically, but a tad longer this time, as the winds are strong and the views onto the prairie meadows along the way require frequent stops and pauses for admiration. Alpine meadows, step aside! We have this to show you!







My girl and I walk, she in her lobster dress that makes me think of Maine.






But it's not Maine -- it's Madison. with our lakes and bordering prairies and fields of corn...






At home, Ed is still working on rosie.


 



Such a small engine, such intricate issues! I zap bugs, weed flower beds...






... and come in to make sauteed cabbage and friend eggs for supper.






Isis snuggles in for an evening of affectionate cuddling (and a night of... who knows what).

twists and turns

Navigating this summer is proving to be quite the challenge. My stalwarts let me down a tiny bit: the peace of Sorede in June was thwarted a tad because, well, I felt sick. On and off, but enough to throw me off. And then there were the ticks of Slovenia. Did I mention them? No? Well, there were forest ticks and we did not catch on until too many had found comfort in our skin. Now mind you, we have ticks in Wisconsin, but we know what to look for here. They caught us off guard in Slovenia. And then, finally, there is the matter of work -- but that's an ongoing story without a resolution yet, so I'll refrain from exploring that for now.

So why didn't I write about the sore whatever it is that was sore (actually: neck) earlier? And the ticks -- why just mention them now? Well, honestly, it was all part of the inconsequential. At the time. I thought -- if this turns into a crisis, then's the time to write. Ocean isn't a repository of all my concerns in life. I have far too many and Ocean is far too precious to waste time on most of them.

Today I spent time on work in my campus office and then on doctor visits and both were reassuring and so now I am less squirmy about the future and yet I have to ask -- is one ever un-squirmy about the future?

Let's go back to the beginning of the day. Breakfast, on the porch. I'm throwing the camera to the side of the garden, where I have let the tiger lilies do their thing.





Anyone in these parts of the country can boast of tiger lilies and frankly, they can be quite the proliferating nuisance, but still, I have good words to speak on their behalf. For one thing, they look great in a vase. Especially by the painting  put up today (on the cheap -- without a frame!) -- the one from Sorede, the one that now is prominently in the kitchen of the farmhouse.






The storms and rains broke through shortly after. I wasn't paying attention. I had work to do.

And so that's a good thing, no? When you are tied to work, you do not pay attention to that, which is best left forgotten. Storms pass, appointments are checked off, I come home. To my flowers.





All of them.






Supper is our usual simple summer fare.






No, wait. I should be careful with my choice of words: summer -- that gorgeous stretch of time when the sun shines down on us far into the evening hours -- never really offers up the "simple." It's like everything else  -- summer is merely a stretch of time. And you do with it what you can. And you appreciate the colors, the beauty of it all, but you know that it's all skin deep. Happiness is born of different things.

I try to tell Ed this, but he's still on Europe time or some other time -- one that has him fall asleep on me now for the third evening in a row. I can only hope that Isis will (unexpectedly) stay quiet tonight and not throw up, meow or do his other acts of July theater.

Monday

One might say that a daily blog is a little like a daily column, written by a person who lives in a locality where not much happens, but she or he chronicles it all anyway.

I'd always wondered: if I didn't work, didn't teach at the Law School -- would my writing change? (...assuming that one's writing constraints are at least in part dictated by one's desire not to run afoul of one's employment situation.)

Of course, work isn't the only force moderating the tone of one's writing (for most of us). There is also family. My kids have grown up and moved to adulthood alongside my daily blogging. (Ocean is nearly ten years old after all.) It's a given that they are not, in the past or now, the subjects of my posts. But even if they are not the focus here, isn't it true that anything I write has to stay within some boundary of their approval, or at least not outright disapproval? True, Ocean has always been so tame (in part because my thoughts on the everyday have nearly always been so tame) that I rarely worry about its content making my girls' cheeks burn bright. If I didn't work, would my tone change at all?

I think about these things today, as the day dawns stormy and unstable. It's a good day for paper/administrative work: mountains and mountains of it, accumulated in the course of our absence.

So, breakfast, on the porch. Freshly baked granola, kefir, fruit.






And beyond the table, a view of the garden, extending toward the barn and sheep shed and, of course, the elongated flower bed leading to them. (Beyond the most prominenet flower bed just by the farmhouse.)






 Can't see much in that lushly crowded photo? Well then, here's a handful of closeups. Call it the amazing power of flowers to turn your mood around -- from frustration (how long did you last hang on the phone, trying to speak to an airline representative? to IRS? to your car rental agent who overcharged you on your last rental?) -- from that, to a quiet contentment.
















Sometime in the middle of the day, I go over to spend time with Goldie -- my charge for these few days. It's the last babysitting spin and I have to say, I'll miss that moment when I open the door, quietly, quietly and wait just two or three seconds before seeing her come around the corner to check who's there. Eventually we'll have settled down into our comfortable spots. Unlike Isis, who never, ever rests on the floor, Goldie will be content there, waiting, patiently waiting...





...until I get up to feed her.

Okay, so long Goldie.

I return home to Isis, to the farmhouse, to paperwork, to all the details of life that were put on hold for the month I was away and in between those tasks I spin course-changing thoughts and ideas for the months just ahead of me.

winding down

The days grow warmer and the mosquito population grows larger and so the opportunities to purse grand outdoor projects diminish.  Or at least they are set aside. We talk of September as a time when we'll be safe again. In the meantime, it's you against the bugs. Will it be a summer when they come, stay and then moderate? Or, will it be like the year they tortured us for months, forcing a run from car to the safe haven indoors  each time? You cannot tell.


But for now, we are still in the midst of family-time. This morning, we're all at the farmhouse for brunch. A chance for me to make use of the garden bounty: rhubarb!

So, rhubarb bars...






...and spinached eggs, and an old favorite -- potato rosti. (I made two just in case).






And then the urban couple -- my favorite Chicago girl and her fiancee...






...along with the others, leave.

Sunday: a day when I too often have to say my good byes.


But, on the upside, at the farmette, the raspberries -- those not eaten by animals and invasive weeds -- are ripening!






And the peas -- beautifully climbing and, too, ready in many places for picking.


'



And our old tough-it-out-on-frosty-May-nights tomatoes -- almost there!






When in the afternoon the mosquitoes calm down a little, I work outside (with a mosquito zapper in one hand for the persistent ones). Harvesting, watering (yes, in this hot weather I want to provide some relief!), and always weeding. Not a day passes during the summer when I don't pull out stuff from the garden. The rewards? Ah... a perfect lavender...






A happy daylily.






And great combinations of countless others, showing off for me, for Ed, and for the occasional visitors passing through, as on this hot summer week-end. Sigh...






Let me end by showing you two photos, taken today. Mystery solved, right? Isis, alive and well. And the other one, Goldie  -- our charge for just a few days. And Ed.

questions and family, though no question about family

That is one odd title of a post, I admit it!

But I realize there have been questions posed in the comments that I haven't addressed and so I want to start there:

In the matter of Goldie -- Ed and I have been cat sitters while her true new owners (that would be family: older daughter and husband) were away. But we had been going to their house to do it. Isis would not allow a cat on the premises and we figure since he is old and stubborn, we should let him have his way in his waning years. So yes, Isis is alive and well and has been his annoying lovable self since our return. Annoying, because he wakes me up too early!

In the matter of having time -- I am so in agreement with what commenter "someone" said. Retirement offers time. There is great value in having time. Tremendous value.

Finally, in the mater of the strange animal spotted in the mountains above Lake Bled -- yes, as two commenters guessed -- it had to be a chamois (Alpine mountain goat). This one. That, a fox and the wild boar are this year's additions to the list of "animals I have come upon unexpectedly in the wild." (The list is otherwise pretty short: bears, monkeys, elk, rocky mountain bighorn, seals, coyote, porcupine and a hoary marmot. Racoons, badgers and deer don't count unless you call the suburbs "wild.")


Onto family. As I mentioned, my younger girl and her fiancee (a.k.a. to me as the urban duo, because they live in Chicago) are visiting. I offer no breakfast photo, as the farmhouse breakfast was little more than this cup of coffee (we went out to brunch later).






I can add to it a photo of the urban duo -- here they are, scurrying toward the farmers market...






...and not many other photos since I politely put away the camera when we met up with other family members for brunch, dinner and many activities in between. I suppose that's not entirely true. I did sneak a photo of the urban duo during brunch (a mimosa at the Merchant is delicious and so unexpectedly potent that I took an equally delicious nap in the afternoon).






I can also post a photo of Goldie -- still under my care today.






And, too, of the linden tree, which I discovered on the Capitol Square today. Blooming, but not fragrant (thus distinguishing itself from the European linden).


 



And of the garden which I struggled to bring to order, battling at the same time the mosquitoes that are now with us for who knows how long. (The spraying of baby shampoo, ammonia and water does help, but we have so much lush greenery that they have a safe haven not too far from where I point the sprayer. Always lurking, ready to pounce.) Here is the hazy garden in the heat of the afternoon sun:






And here is a delightful combo:






And Ed sweeping up yesterday's weed pull.






And here, yet again, is the entirety. (You can't tell, but the lilies are plump in their buds, waiting to explode. As are the echinacea, as are the achillea, ohhhh the list is long!)






And let me end with this small thought on family: the list of family members whom I feel close to is, for me very small and for Ed even smaller. And those whom I do in fact keep track of (and they of me) are all thousands of miles away. And so it is quite cool that I inherited, through my two sons-in-law (or, in one case -- soon to be son-in-law), very wonderful added family members. True, they don't live in Madison, but still, they are a hugely terrific addition to an otherwise paltry set of family.

That "family" grew for me, is, I think, a very good thing.