Tuesday

It's tough getting up after an evening of festivities. And it's tough to be out manicuring flower fields when the bugs are now in control of outdoor spaces Still, I have this sense of shared misery: I'm not the only one feeling post-party tired today, and I'm not the only one with bugs flying every which way, and finally, I'm not the only one with a garden that's slowly inching toward Fall.

With that fresh perspective, I head out to do some pruning. And of course, expecting a garden with diminishing returns, it all looks rather grand!






(Here are four photos of day lilies from various corners of the farmette -- all are just now about to peak.)



ruffled doubles




reliables




spiders




bold and bright


Lowering your expectations nearly always makes you love what you see.






On the porch, I feel an urgent need to preserve these moments of sublime idyll that so mark our mornings now. I set the camera on a timer.






Yes, there is this contentment. The feeling that life has been very generous in giving us countless mornings over a bowls of fruit and cups of coffee and whatever else we add to it.






The visual gifts all around us are so grand! At such times, I'll feel the deep appreciation of having things exactly as they are now and I'll stumble over myself trying to explain this to Ed, who will get that guy look of patient tolerance, and I'll feel even more inclined to come up with the kindest, nicest words... It's our lovely pattern of sharing a good moment.


All this week, Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse for the day. She shows up as always with a wide smile and a generous heart toward everything and everyone around her.

(Where is she going? Do you know? -- Scotch seems to be asking...)






From Snowdrop -- Where is ah-ah? 






He went to the store on his motorcycle.
Ah-ah?
Yes, to get some tools to fix one of his machines.
Ah-ah?
(She can say a lot with very few words.)






I lure her inside with a promise of a surprise -- a set of magnet letters to play with. A reward for her continued love of identifying the alphabet.






(And here's another, rather predictable, reward...)






I bring out a magnet board that she had rejected many months back. It's a different story now! She definitely has ideas on how things should look on it. Grandma, farm magnets on one side...






... and letters on the other!






She points to the record player. Being rather lazy about music selection, I'd been playing one album daily. She wants to hear it again. She obviously knows the songs and today she is driven to dance. And I mean dance! None of this tame stuff.











She is one rock and roller!












Evening. Snowdrop is back at her home and Ed is busy with his machining project and I take rosie the moped out for a spin. Ed had just buffed her up and refreshed her mechanicals and she feels speedy and powerful.

There is no better time to ride your motorbike than on a hot summer evening.

I stop first at the corn farm to pick up some ears for our supper. If you live n Wisconsin and if you care about fresh produce, then surely in August you'll be eating corn and tomatoes. Both are staples for us now.

(The corn farm is also home to the horned cattle. As a commenter pointed out -- they're not really longhorns. These guys are Scottish Highlanders.)






I swing onto a particularly lovely stretch of rural road. I know just the spot where the prairie is vast and beautiful. I pause there to take it in.






And I stop again just before pulling into our driveway. It's pretty here as well, in the mishmash of crops grown by the truck farmers for the local markets.






I could end with that, but I think, instead, I'll end with another photo taken on this day with a time release. This time it's with Snowdrop.






Her smile is my smile. Yep -- plenty of grins spilling out from both of us today.

August first

Could it be August already? The first of the month? Such a memorable day for gaga nina! Let me get right to it:

In the very early morning I am in a bit of a hurry. I spend hardly any time on my flowers. Snip off a few dozen spent lilies. That's it. (Still, I pause to take in the Big Field.)






(And I make sure the flowers by the porch are looking at their gorgeous best.)






And then I go inside and, early that it is, I nonetheless get  a start on dinner.

Once I have something going in the oven, Ed and I sit down to breakfast.






And because it's Monday, well, you know -- here comes Snowdrop!





Or should I say -- here comes the birthday girl?

That would not be incorrect. It is my older daughter's 35th birthday today.

I tell Snowdrop -- we must prepare! The cake is baked, but it needs to be frosted. The risotto tomatoes have to be diced. Presents need a final touch, tables and chairs have to be arranged outside -- come on, little one, there's lots to do!

But can't I first say hi to the cheepers?

Of course.






And smell the flowers? And visit ah-ah in the sheep shed? And pick a tomato? A blueberry? One final raspberry?

Of course.












Though in fact, I'm not keen on staying out too long, not only because of the preparations, but because we are in a bug swell right now. Sure, lotion helps, but I hover around Snowdrop nonetheless to make sure nothing lands on her and she is very tough to hover over.












Back at the farmhouse, we get to our tasks. And of course, she must try everything. Tomatoes!






Sweet girl, we must make orange sauce for the cake!
Sauce? She remembers the word from our pizza making. Yes!

I give her a little dish of it and she dips a cookie bit for a taste. She approves.






I realize, though, that it may be tough to get the cake frosted with her eager hand reaching for everything. I distract her with mommy's presents. For a while.






Ah-ah comes in. Another happy distraction. For a while.






Finally I suggest an early lunch. With a favorite side dish.






But in fact, Snowdrop is an easy and delightful co-conspirator. She'll help at times, or she'll be off gathering all her stuffies -- she knows every last animal and if one is missing, there must be a search! Then there'll be a long snuggle.






...Eventually she settles in to "read" to them, with her most amazing vocal inflections which, I swear, mimic mine with that book!





In all, she is a joy to have by my side.

During her nap, I finish off the cake.






And in the evening, the whole gang is over at the farmhouse -- the young family of course, but in addition, three of my daughter's best college friends who live on the coasts, but who have come to Madison to celebrate their friendship.






We eat out on the porch at grouped together tables. The evening is lovely -- really perfect for an outdoor meal.

(The young couple.)






(Friends.)






(Farmhouse reliables.)






Cake. Birthday wishes. Oh, do we all wish her well!






(Snowdrop has chosen this day to say the word "happy," again and again.)






And so ends a beautiful day. Good night Snowdrop, good night birthday girl, and good night to my other little one up north! (Wish so much you were here with us...)

And now onto August.

Sunday

If I had no family nearby, if Ed were not by my side (or if he were to be always preoccupied from morning til dawn with a project -- like he is now), all Sundays would look like this: I would be up fairly early, I would work outside, snipping, watering, I would clean the house, I would eat a breakfast (a very solitary breakfast) and then I would either work on some writing project, or I would read, or, like today, I would catch up on computer work.

I would post photos only of my garden (not that I do not love my garden). I would give not much thought to dinner (salads were invented for people who want to throw a dinner into one big bowl). I would think about the week ahead and look carefully at my budget to make sure I could afford another toy for my grandchild (that lived far away, because remember -- I'm imagining living alone, far from family...).

My normal Sunday does not look like this, but today was not normal and indeed, the above describes it most perfectly. Ed is intensely preoccupied with bringing his machine to market (though he insisted on vacuuming -- which is his job in farmhouse-clean up and which I graciously left to him, even though I knew that in his state of tiredness and preoccupation, he would gloss over surfaces and I would have to pick up all he left behind). And the young family is coming to dinner tomorrow, not today (for reasons that I will explain tomorrow). And so I was today (nearly) alone with my flowers.

And that's pretty much all you get, so you better like flowers.

(Some colors only work well together in nature...)






(I do a lot of maintenance work at the roadside bed...)






(The girls follow, to see where I'm working and what I'm up to. )






(By the driveway: frilly things, still going strong.)






(A far corner of the Great Bed...)






There is a precious and quite wonderful breakfast with Ed on the porch.






... and that's it! Dinner is -- well, you know: as described above. The salad, a couple of cheeper eggs, left over corn from the corn farmers and oyster mushrooms from the market. And tomatoes from our garden! (Here's Ed, bringing in today's haul.)






Yes, Ed did join me for dinner. I was grateful that he could stay awake. He is one tired guy.


I'll end with the flowers. Because on the last day of July, it's still all about the flowers around here.