Wednesday - 89th

Post storm quiet. Winds die down. We're not done with this steamy weather yet, but for this morning, all is calm.

I can't yet look at the flower beds. They need snipping, weeding, straightening. That's for the weekend. Right now I merely cut down some fallen peonies and bring them inside. (Not all of them tumbled. The single blossom ones aren't as heavy. They're still swaying and dancing, as if nothing had happened.)






Breakfast, on the porch, with an abundance of peonies.






Cutting: the path through the once-and-future meadows (in the farmette's young orchard) is rapidly overpowered by grasses following rainstorms. They are desperately in need of a trim. I take out the big tractor mower and mow them down.

And then I get ready for Primrose. Her parents are bringing her here at lunchtime and she is staying with me at the farmhouse while they go off on what has to be the first overnight for them in three months without childcare or work nipping at their heels.

Hi little one!






Lunch.






And now I have to say goodbye to my daughter and her husband and that's hard for me. I wont see them again, as they're doing a curbside pick up of their daughter tomorrow afternoon. (They'll have broken the isolation bubble we're maintaining and so we wont have contact with them again until at least two weeks will have passed and even that is iffy, considering the iffyness of everything these days.)

My most beloved younger girl -- how I will miss having her close to me!






But, for now, I have sweet Primrose here and that's a rare treat!

(seeking artistic inspiration)






I let her take the lead in play. She's two years and two months old. She knows her own mind.

The little one does want to do art. But markers are so yesterday! Especially when there's a pair of scissors to work with. ("I'm making little pictures")






(Primrose loves to poke around the kitchen cabinets. She makes periodic runs to them to see if anything's changed.)






(She is a good counter, but the numeric symbols are not something she encounters very often. I tell her that's an 8. She retorts: looks like a B.)






(Playing with toy foods. That's my basket of fruits and cookies, grandma. Don't steal it!)






And as evening approaches and rains sweep over our region once again, I take out the ingredients for supper. It's pizza making time!






(Not bad, given the specifications and the ages of the cooking crew)






And it's bedtime too, but hey, we can push things a little. What good is an overnight at grandma's if we don't break just a few rules! Besides, all the excitement of the past eight days surely has an effect on her. She has gone from predictable days at home with only parents as her sounding board to... the chaos of a larger family. She has held up supremely well, rolling with the intensity of cousin days, grandma presence, birthdays, swimming adventures (her cousin received a big inflatable pool for his birthday: all three kids have benefited from this timely gift), large family dinners and now a sleepover at the farmhouse. She is one together kid to have weathered it all so well.


Quiet. Evening quiet. This is the time to think about everything. There's so much and it's coming from all sides. But this week has been uniquely beautiful for us. In these strange and tumultuous times, it's been so very beautiful.

Tuesday - 88th

What can I say -- this is Sparrow's moment. My grandson turns two today. That young lad of many smiles and sweet hugs, who gets worried when attention comes at him from all directions surely has a right to the spotlight, even if it should be a gentle spotlight. Not too forceful. He likes to test the waters before plunging into mayhem! But here's a secret: if he can get you to laugh with him -- you'll be his friend forever.

It is also a unique day meteorologically speaking: we're getting blasted by a tropical storm. Yes, Cristobal is making its way here, to the upper Midwest. A tropical storm batters our state once in a lifetime (fourth such storm in 170 years of record keeping!) and for us, it's a "brace yourself" kind of forecast.

So, two big events, all on this warm and humid day.






(Ed and I still eat breakfast on the porch. We like it!)





For the rest of the day I concentrate on getting ready for Sparrow's birthday dinner that was to take place here, at the farmhouse. This includes cake baking of course. But I keep an eye out on the forecast. Heavy storms is a threat that makes you perk up and listen. And when there is the first brief sprinkle of rain, Ed comes in and tells me -- it's hot rain. Not your cool Wisconsin rain. Even in the Caribbean it never felt this warm.


In the late afternoon, the rains come down hard. Getting the toddlers up the driveway and into the house would be.... wet. So instead, Ed and I offer to move the party to my daughter's house. That means carrying cakes and gifts and seafoods (Sparrow loves a good spaghetti with squid, so it's on the menu!) and salads and cheeses and pots and pans and half the kitchen to the car, which is parked all the way down the driveway because we're concerned that leaving it under a willow tree during a major weather event is sort of begging for a branch to fall on top of it. All this in pounding rain straight from some southern regions of the globe, all the way up here to central Wisconsin.


And now we are safely in my daughter's home. I bring out everyone's beloved cheeses: d'Affinois and the 5year cheddar.






I turn to finishing up the dinner prep. Seafood pasta sauce. Shrimp, squid, salmon, and a tiny lobster tail, divided into nine even tinier pieces.

Oh, and time to whip up the cream for the cake.







My favorite band of cousins in the world!






There will be two more days of some degree of visiting and co-mingling, but this evening, this Sparrow birthday evening is the last time where we are all together. All nine of us.






Happy birthday, dear Sparrow!












Blow, little guy, blow!






(The best part for the kids? The chocolate ice cream, for sure!)






In the evening, the rains ease a bit, though it is still insanely humid. A bunny rabbit hops up to the house. The kids watch...






Just a little more play, just a little more! But it's past everyone's bedtime. Ed and I make our way home. Ed remarks how good it is to see the kids so happy.

It is. So very very good.

Monday - 87th

For future reference -- going to a popular county park on a Monday morning, even in beautiful summer-like weather -- is going to buy you a lot of open space and privacy. Social distancing made easy!

So this was our plan: we do our various chores and child duties and house tasks early (for me -- animal feeding and flower watering)...






We eat our respective breakfasts (for me -- on the porch, with Ed)...






... and then we drive over to Indian Lake Park. All the kids and most of the parents and me, split between two cars.

The kids are more than ready to go!






And yes, it is going to be a hot day.











You can feel it. It's palpable.






But too, it's a beautiful day to be out hiking!






So much to see! The first monarch butterfly. Daisies growing in the prairie. A frog crossing our path. A bird coming in for a landing in her birdhouse. It can boggle a young mind!


(Young minds plus one older one)






We pause for a snack.






Then we're on the move again. Up and down, past prairies and forests, with the ever present song of the many birds that share this open space with us.











And now we split up. Sparrow returns to his home with mommy to nap there. The younger family comes to the farmhouse. Snowdrop opts to come too. She's looking for some quiet farmhouse play while her cousin naps.

But first, lunch.






Eventually, while Primrose still sleeps, I join my daughter on the porch for a lazy chat about everything and nothing. The kind that I love so totally, with either daughter, or both daughters, and now especially with my Chicago daughter. Snowdrop meanders over to the porch as well and we all take out some markers and draw together. Despite the sticky heat. These two girls are the dedicated artists of the family -- they love drawing and they're good at it!
















And the loveliness of the day doesn't end there. When Primrose wakes up, we all drive over to my older girl's home. I bring food that we had planned on eating here, but then changed our minds. So, food, kids, grownups -- all packed into cars and we're off.


We are all still isolating. No contacts with anyone, no store shopping, all working at home, kids playing at home. But this week doesn't feel very isolating at all. It feels hugely beautiful because we are together.






And the kids play and we eat.


 


All things done in every country, in every community: eat, play, work. But oh how utterly sublime to be able, for this short period of time, to do it together.

We are not living a normal life right now. Nothing about washing groceries and moving away from people you may be passing is normal. Watching the dramatic events unfold in communities around the world is not normal. Still, on the home front, this day, this week are, for me, pure magic.





Yep. Pure magic.

Sunday - 86th

I spent the great part of the day in the kitchen. What can I say -- I needed to catch up and do some advance prep work for at least some of the dinners before us.

Oh, there was the usual morning stroll through the gardens to feed the animals. And the usual breakfast. On the porch.







(Dance joins us. I speculate if cats recognize physical beauty, because Dance always chooses these lovely spots to take her daytime nap.)






But after, it was all about chopping stirring mixing and planning ahead while the young families played at my older daughter's home.

Ed mumbles -- you fuss too much and stress over stuff.
Not so, I respond. I find working methodically in the kitchen a pretty calming activity, so long as I am not overly ambitious. And this week I am not overly ambitious.

I did have time not only to prepare the basic stew for shakshuka -- our supper tonight, but also to make a crust for pizza later in the week and finally, finally to make use of the rhubarb -- at least a small fraction of it. We have so much rhubarb. Want some? Really good for baking!

In deciding how to best use this spring vegetable, Ed and I volleyed back and forth over the definition of compote (he suggested I may make compote). Is it a sauce or beverage? Ask a Pole and they'll say the latter. Still, no compote for us. Just a simple cake.







Okay, late afternoon. Tables set, food nearing readiness. The young families arrive. First, the older family...






(Happy observes the commotion)












(Sandbox!)






Followed by Primrose and her parents.




















Inside, the cousins played a boisterous game, spearheaded by Snowdrop but enthusiastically supported by the two toddlers, called (by me) "take everything out that you can think of." I believe it was to be a pretend play about a restaurants, but the concept of "food served" was very broad.


The moms caught up. If there's one thing that this visit has given them it is that -- an opportunity to spend time catching up.






Dinner. On the porch. On one of the most beautiful evenings of the year.










Not many photos to commemorate it. Porch dinners require some dexterity in getting the food out and the table cleared for the next course and keeping the kids happy all the while. It's not possible to reach for the camera as often as you'd like. Not if you're the cook, pretend restaurant crew, kitchen crew and evening coordinator all at the same time.


(One last appreciative glance at a happy little girl...)






Outside, the peonies bloom their heads off. It's their big moment. By the end of the week, we'll be looking in other places for the next flowers. The life of a garden does not stand still.