showers

Oh, the unpredictability of scattered showers! If you look at the little weather chart on your device, you'll get drawn into believing that those percentages actually tell you something: At 10 a.m. there is a 40% chance of showers. At 1 it goes down to 12%. But by 4, it's 35%. Why do we buy into this? Showers spring up like pop corn -- randomly, in one place but not another. They'll try their damnedest to fool you! No, not coming your way. And then boom! The drizzle starts.

Mind you, we could use rain. A steady one. A good soak of all those thirsty roots. But this cold weather fleeting drizzle (thankfully only a day of it) is just a nuisance!

But, we start the day with no rain. Lookin' good out there!

(Still a lilac moment...)

Ed wants to get started with the tree planting right away. No way! Breakfast first.

And of course, life gets in the way immediately after: I need to tidy, clear, feed, put away, pick up asparagus -- I mean, a morning is never totally clear. Well, for Ed it may be. He works according to his own schedule, avoiding most dictates that the world may wish to impose on him.

Finally. We set out to the back of the barn. But how do we even begin? Setting up a step-by-step plan of attack is half the struggle.

Alright, I think we've got one! Here it is:

Mow down parallel rows. 

Till a square spot every 25 feet on each row. 

Dig out a hole. 

Bring in composted dirt. 

Put in the tree. 

Bury it with compost and clay mix. 

Cover it all with a tarp. 

Nail down the tarp. 

Put up the cage. 

Wire it to the ground nails. 

Voila! All that for each tree, so seventy times.

By noon, we have put in three trees.

 

 

 

And then, just as a drizzle moves into the area (completely by surprise of course), I have to stop. I'm off to a planned and predicted shower -- for my daughter, given by some of her friends.

The shower is outdoors and though I am absolutely sure that all adults there were fully vaccinated, we were still mostly in masks (well, not for the photo). Some kids were present, so it's good not to completely go hog wild just yet.

It was, despite the cold and the frequent spontaneous drizzle, a lovely afternoon. My daughter, whom we would all place high on the extrovert scale, has had (because of her work) an ungodly amount of zoom meetings this past year and almost no real face to face time with anyone and I know she has missed these guys (well, mostly women) terribly. Colleagues, school friends, book club friends, family. They make up her world and today, just ten days before the expected arrival of her third child, she got some of it back again. (Far away friends and family participated by Zoom, but we integrated them well I think, with some clever games that used the talents and recollections of all.)

In the late afternoon I am back at the farmhouse and my first goal is to dry off and warm up. Ed asks -- you want to plant some more trees?

No, I do not. Tomorrow, we can plunge into putting in more trees. Today -- I'm turning my back to the threat of showers. A nice tea with a stolen cupcake from the planned shower. That's my idea of a perfect late afternoon. 

Evening. He does taxes, I do taxes. And in doing my mom's, I realize I omitted something in mine. Outcomes the X form, amending my omission. Gotta now do this one too. It's not only just late by the time we sit down to dinner -- it's stupidly late. Like maybe around 10. Take-out sushi, because it's the only place we know of around here that delivers. Rain, snow, sleet, late night, wet night, tax night. They will deliver.

taking care

I would like to believe that ultimately, we are destined to take care of each other. That aberrations in this regard are flukes, based on temporary strays down wrong paths and eventually we default to concern for others in our behavior. 

I would also like to believe that we care for all living things, and distraction rather than selfishness leads us sometimes to act with vindictiveness or indifference to the plight of flora and fauna with which we coexist.

I would also like to believe that if you care about people, animals, plants, they do better, you do better and we reach a sweeter place in life, thriving rather than wilting, withering, disintegrating into a heap of rubbish.

I thought about this yesterday as I surveyed about half a dozen sick day lilies in my yard. Day lilies that received my utmost attention: proper care, even deadheading religiously each spent flower, promoting more vigorous growth. I read on the internet that they are likely infected and they pose a danger to the rest of the lilies in the yard. And yes, I have hundreds of day lilies here, in the farmette flower fields.

Last night I did several things: Ed and I stayed up until some late night hour (or was it early Friday morning?) starting in on our taxes (due on Monday). I have mine and my mom's to do and the process is always tedious and time consuming. My tax work was interspersed with an online search for Mom furniture and for sick lily remedies. The lily news I picked up was not good. The verdict appeared to be a fungus infestation and treating them requires frequent applications of a fungicide that may poison who knows what in the area. Or I can dig them out and burn them (or throw them in a sealed bag in the trash). Otherwise, the spread of the fungus may take away even more lilies.

This morning then, after the walk (and after Ed puts out the tomatoes for the day)...

And after breakfast...

I take stock of the sick lilies. And I can't get myself to toss them. I call Oakes, my favorite day lily farm. I talk to the woman in charge there and she tells me to forget about what I read on the internet. The day lilies may be stressed from the heaving weather we've had here in Wisconsin, but they are not dying from any fungus. Take down the bad leaves (which in a couple of cases means take down most of the leaves) and leave them alone. They will rebound once the weather stabilizes. And so yet again I come to this same old conclusion that seems to evade us so often: be careful in accepting at face value anything you may read on the internet. Right? You think you're a seasoned researcher, but you're not. Watch your sources and the application of facts to your particular reality. Wisconsin is not a place where day lily fungus thrives.

In the meantime, Ed, groggy from lack of sleep (he wears tiredness right there on his sleeve), slogs out to the farmette lands which are soon to be converted to a forest. He is still pruning, mowing and clearing the land. I'd say 90% of the job is done, in that we can start planting when the trees arrive. Still, I hear that power saw going back there so we are not totally out of the woods (ha!) yet.

In the meantime, it is a lovely day -- ravishingly beautiful. May beautiful. In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop. 

(watering the lilac...)

 

 

I have to say, if Snowdrop was to pick one color (and outfit) to wear again and again this spring, she chose well for this brilliant month! Blues in the fields of lemon green and yellow dandelions... Colors of a painting.

We walk to the field which is to become the young farmette forest.

She is especially exploratory today. I can keep up, but just barely!

As I get ready to take her home, Ed asks me -- you want to plant trees when you get back?

But, but, the taxes! Dinner! Everything else on this planet!

Still, the trees have arrived. We're set to start digging. Tomorrow. Tonight? A sweet moment with Primrose...

... then a work night, to make progress with "everything else on this planet."

those little white flower heads

When I was young, I could not get enough of that lily-of-the-valley smell! In Poland, bunches of these flowers with their stiff green leaves and dainty white blossoms appeared on street corner flower stands. Old women would bring them in from the countryside and sell them to you for small change. I thought the scent was incredible! So much so that I rushed to buy some muguet des bois perfume when I first spotted it as a young adult, only to be deeply disappointed. Perfume, even with that familiar fresh scent, cannot take the place of the real thing. Bringing a flower to your face is heaven. Spraying scented water on yourself may be pleasant, but it's not heaven.

It was no surprise that when I first moved to a house with a shady space for a garden, putting in some lilies of the valley was a priority. What a mistake! These flowers are harbingers of a beautiful growing season, but they are also extremely invasive. They will find their way from one side of your garden to the next, creeping between dense grasses and vines to get there. 

Still, the farmette lands are vast enough that there is room for them here and though I myself did not plant them, they have been growing abundantly in several shady spots. Picking them for the table is always such a joy!

(I do this right after my morning walk.)

(There, lilies at the breakfast table.)

Sparrow comes over right after the morning meal.  

 

 

 

I lead him to the most fragrant corners of the garden and encourage him to smell a lilac stem. 

"Yuk," he tells me. The little guy is a huge tease. He knows how to get your attention!

After I take him home, I spend some time at my mom's place again. She needs adjustments to just about everything. Her medication regiment. Her furniture. Her food supplies. We sort through some of this stuff today.

Afternoon: I should work on my outdoor flower beds. Tomorrow the trees are coming and Ed will really need my help with those. But I need a pause. And I get one! A Zoom call with my Polish friend is like a coffee date in Cafe Finca, only without the coffee and without the El Salvadorian ambience. 

The day goes by way too quickly. I do get some outdoor work done, but I find myself looking up at one point and wondering how on earth it could be dinner time already. 

 

 

 

Never mind. Dinner can be late. Indeed, dinner can be very very late. Mid spring allows you to jiggle the clock a little. To move things around so that you can enjoy every warm weather minute of the day outside.

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.