the scent of May

It's a beautiful day! Stunning, in the way that only May can be -- fresh, vibrant, sunny, fragrant.

It's that last trait that so often gets lost in our recollections and memories of beautiful moments. It's hard to think or write about fragrance. And yet, it matters so much! That whiff of a lily of the valley, or of a lilac branch -- how do you describe its delicate sweetness? Snowdrop always wants to bend down and put her nose to a flower. To her, the flower has an impact only if the eyes and nose work together to create something magical.

I get it. That delicate scent of an apple blossom creates something unusual and magnificent when coupled with the image of those lightly dancing flowers on our trees. 

And what can I say... the heady fragrance of lilacs is like something out of a fairy tale. You could never get enough of it!

Big purple clumps of lilac scent!

(I bring some to the breakfast table. On the porch, finally!)

It's a yard work day for me. I've planted most everything that's newly coming into the garden, but the old stuff, now nearly halfway there toward its seasonal maturity, needs adjusting.  I can see where plants would benefit from being moved and so I move them. Dig, transplant. I do a lot of that today.

And in the late afternoon, Ed goes on his bike ride and I head out probably for the ast time this year to the greenhouse. I need just a couple of replacements for the tubs. Cats and chickens conspired to bring down several baby plants. They need to be replaced. You gotta love those cheepers! All claws and very little brain power.

(And the little girls... under the lilac..)

Evening: Ed is wiped after his bike ride, I'm spent from a whole day of outdoor work. Well matched for once! He naps, I sip a glass of Bergerac white after a day well spent!

movement

Spotty frost last night did me the favor of avoiding most (could I hope for "all?") of my vulnerable plants. A farmer we know just south of us lost her asparagus crop to it. Such a menace! I think it's the end of these night time dramas, but I am knocking on wood, just in case.

Morning walk in that early sunshine that is so inspiring, especially when your crab apple is still blooming and your lilac is splendidly flowering as well:

(Are you wondering how the little chicks are adapting to free range life? Magnificently! Again, knock on wood going forward!)

 

 

 

Breakfast, with some pinched white lilac buds from bushes that grow along the western edge of the farmette lands.

Immediately after, I head over to my mom's new residence, even as the movers are already packing and stacking her stuff at the old place. Many phone calls between movers and me confirm what I already know: moving is never easy and never fun, but luckily, this is such a change for the better for her that I shrug at the snafus and small issues and look forward to an easier set of months ahead for the both of us. 

(her new home)

(in her new room)

 

I stay with her until it's time to pick up Snowdrop at school. 

Yesterday the little girl was tired after a long day. Today, the sunshine charges up the energy levels and we again spend a few minutes outside...

... before going in to read and draw. Did you know she still likes to draw super pigs in action while she is here (and only here)?

Evening. I have to water some of the new plants. We're rainless again. By the time I start in on cooking an asparagus and mushroom frritata, it is very very late.

There's talk of frost here and there in south central Wisconsin tonight. I'm shutting it out. We will make it to that warmer part of the season. I'm sure of it.

With love...

frosty thoughts

Officially, Madison's frost date is May 15th. It's not that you can plant your tomatoes outdoors after that: those fruity vegetables require temps that stay consistently above 50F (10C), otherwise they stage mini rebellions. (Believe me, you do not want your young tomatoes to engage in protest!) But after May 15th, you're supposed to be able to plant your annuals with confidence that no frost will eat them alive. (Some say that actually you should have that confidence after May 2nd, while others say you are guaranteed no frost after May20th, but most stick with May 15th  as the date after which you can go ahead and plant.)

I usually aim for earlier. I fill my tubs with cold-sensitive plants right around May 1st and I put out porch flower pots then as well. Every once in a while, a threat of a hard frost has sent me lugging plants inside or at least covering them with blankets, but for the most part, we've survived.

This year is a little different in that we have had a cool first half of May and we are getting another frost advisory tonight. That consistent cold has made most of the tub plants grow ever so slowly if at all. They are not happy campers! I'm really hoping that we'll get through this night without damage. These chilly nights are for the birds!

This morning, I had an early appointment and Ed had an early appointment -- each of us functioning within our own domains (his, for example, was with a Craigslist guy who tinkered with weed whippers and sold parts to your own machine). All this after feeding the animals and walking the farmette lands of course. 

Breakfast was very late and you would have thought this would have pushed us out onto the porch, but no: too cold for that!

Still, you have to tell yourself that this is summer weather for, say, northern Scotland. So, maybe chilly by your radar or my sensibilities, but not too bad in the scheme of things. (A high of 53F, or 12C today.)

But I am feeling doubtful about getting Snowdrop to spend some time outside with me after school. She has had three cold outdoor recesses at school (when 53F was still but a dream). I'm sure she'll want cozy indoor time!

I'm not altogether correct on this. Gaga, you said you had asparagus to pick?

(Yes!)

And once out in the fields, she just cannot resist the dandelions.

And for a grandmother, for this grandmother, a child with dandelions is everything that's wonderful about life and the great outdoors: the simplicity of it, the pleasure of picking, sniffing ("they smell like honey!"), blowing, and even feeling the sticky milky juice which I believed as a child was the perfect antidote to warts (my generation worried about warts!), and honestly, the sheer beauty of the puffs and of the golden flowers -- all that is so grand, and the thing is, children instinctively know this. They're drawn to these flowers each May. And all I can do is follow with a camera and smile all the while as I take one photo and then another...

Evening. Last minute details of my mom's move to arrange. And leftovers for dinner. And finally, I take out my sketches and maps, aiming to attack the tree planting plan again. I make a dent! I have some rough ideas and Ed is too spent to challenge them much!

Now, can we keep the temps a little higher than a frosty freeze tonight? Okay? Thank you!

With love.

moms out there

Wishing you all a happy mother's day is like sending out a merry Christmas message to everyone you can think of: you're going to miss the target, since the good wishes apply to only a minority of humankind. Most people out there are not mothers, cannot be mothers, have no intention of taking on mothering responsibilities. Still, can we all agree to celebrate the concept together anyway? Because moms really are indispensable, undervalued, ingenious, and for the most part passionately committed to raising the next generation of human folk. Even the most lackadaisical mom has put in her share of labor to get you to where you are today.

Since so much of what happens on earth (and to this planet) depends on the work of mothers, I think it's a fine idea to take the time to celebrate their efforts, even if you yourself are not a mom, or if your mom is no longer with you to hear your words, or if you're one of those whose mom isn't particularly interested in hearing from you, nor you from her. It does us all good to stop and pause and think lovingly about mothers today. Motherhood is a huge deal. Let's cheer on its magnificent contributions to our daily lives!

So, Happy Mother's Day to all!

We wake to another cool day. Yes, I'm ready for a warm up and a return to breakfasts on the porch, but it's just not going to happen until maybe later in the week. Cool, brisk, but still lovely -- this is the story of this year's early May in south central Wisconsin.

With breakfast most definitely in the kitchen. Special today -- imitating a French morning meal, just because. (Pain au chocolat.)

Needless to say, we work on our outdoor projects. For me -- repairing chicken damage in the garden, pulling weeds, planting a handful of monardas. For Ed -- well, everything. We try to strategize tree planting (which will likely take place within a week or so), but give it up for now. He's too meticulous in his approach and I'm too much in a hurry. We'll return to it over popcorn this evening.

In the early afternoon, I have a fantastically wonderful screen visit with my daughter and her family.

I can't believe this growing child is the daughter of my daughter! It's a beautiful image, really it is!

Somewhere in there I have a call with my mom who is moving the day after tomorrow. I'll see her then, but for now, we exchange greetings by phone. 

And then I'm off to the nursery where just a trio of flowers is waiting for me. It's such a bucolic ride! Hello, sandhill pair!

And still  later, my older girl comes with her family for a farmhouse visit and celebration. My girls are the greatest gift givers in the world and we spend some time opening presents. And they are also caring individuals who know how to make a person feel ultra special.

(another call from Primrose!)

And then it's time for dinner...

 

 

 

... with the cake I spontaneously picked up yesterday at the bakery.

If ever there is a day for more photos, this is the one! Of my daughter, as a mother to these two (and a third one so ready to be born!)

And what the heck -- let me insert myself into that bunch, adding a generation of motherhood.

And after all the dishes are cleared and tucked away, I sit down with Ed and we should be contemplating where to place a chestnut or a maple or a hickory, should be reading all those planting details he likes to pull up, drawing charts, sifting through the alternatives. But we're too tired! This from Ed -- I get tired after doing stuff that never even made me a little tired before!

 

A typical farmhouse Mother's Day, no? With all the delights of the day, with many contemplative moments, with many reasons to feel so very very grateful. Happy day indeed.

this is who we are...

By now, all the vaccinated people I know have returned to at least some degree of shopping. (What a winning strategy we have -- you protect yourself with a vaccination and perhaps more importantly, you protect your community from further spread/mutations!) I bet you wont be surprised to learn that I have not yet shopped. Indeed, I still haven't been inside a grocery store (or cafe, or restaurant) since.... oh, early March. Of 2020.

There are really only two reasons for this store avoidance: first of all, even in normal times, I hardly ever shop. Grocery stores -- yes, in the past: routinely and with some degree of pleasure. But otherwise? Almost never. Secondly -- I hate to admit it, but I have gotten rather fond of having someone else bring our groceries to us. It's a 90 minute savings for me (if you count the round trip travel) and at this point, I need all those minutes for yard work (and grandkids and mom stuff). 

But today, I broke that long spell of abstinence. (And last week, Ed broke his long spell too.) It happened in the late morning and by accident.

I'd been taking care of the animals and picking a weed here and there (but mostly admiring all that's growing and blooming right now)...

(lilacs!)

(still the crab apple...)

(the last of the tulips...)

(the first of the irises)

And we sat down to breakfast (with The Cat, and inside, because we're in a cols spell)...

And we reviewed what work still needs to be done. For Ed, the list is suddenly huge. We thought the trees we ordered were lost somewhere in transport or that the tree farm simply forgot our order, but no! Turns out they are on their way! Expect them next week, the growers tell us. As he lists his tasks -- preparing weed mats, cages, finishing chopping, pruning, mowing, starting in on digging -- I almost want to tune out. It's a hefty set of chores!

Mine today is considerably lighter (but not light enough so that I can help him make a dent in his). And it starts off with picking up local asparagus from the market drop off site and, too, picking up a couple of breakfast treats for tomorrow's Mother's Day breakfast. I know -- bakery items should be fresh, I should do this tomorrow, but I'm afraid I wont really want to bother tomorrow and I do miss my French breakfasts an awful lot. So I head out.

 

 

As I pull up to the bakery, I give myself a firm little scold for making them do a curbside delivery when I am perfectly capable of stepping inside the store. So I park the car and go in. And I don't just pick up the paid for treats. I look around. I spot beautiful cakes in the display window. 

I chat to the seller. And I cannot resist it -- I buy one of the cakes for tomorrow's dinner. That constitutes shopping!

[Ed's break out into the world of stores happened when he went to Harbor Freight to pick up a tool part. Isn't this just so us? He breaks isolation by shopping for a tool, I break my spell by shopping in a bakery!]

In the afternoon, I put in four more perennials and, too, I feel it is safe enough weather wise to plant the sweet peas. This last job is a bit of a chore since I have to build chicken wire cages for the plants. The sweet pea flower is extremely vulnerable out here: the groundhog thinks it's a better treat than a cake out of a bakery! To each her own.

(pausing to watch a bee coming in for a landing...)

Evening: our quiet time. I have no doubt Ed will zonk out early. Spending a day outdoors does that to you. Me? I'm enjoying too much the popcorn he popped, a glass of Chablis and my delicious mystery novel. So him, so me.