Wisconsin riches

I imagine that if you go to a luxurious resort, somewhere perhaps on the Seychelles or Tahitian islands, eventually you'll stretch out in some comfy outside space, maybe by a pool, pick up a glass of something cool and refreshing and say -- this is the life! You'll have paid a fortune, so actually it isn't The Life at all, at least not for anyone I know, but still, I imagine there is a contentment that flows from feeling so pampered by the comfort of your chair, the cool drink, the sea breezes, the warm sun!

Well, I admit to feeling that way today. Pampered, not by beaches and massages and tropical drinks, but by the utter richness of our foods at the market right now, pampered by splashing in the kiddie pool with the grandkids while their mom entertains me with life stories, pampered by stretching out on my newly arrived and assembled porch chair -- an Adirondack with a foot rest. The cushion for it isn't here yet, but we have plenty of pillows and I'll make do.

The whole day is just so full of my Wisconsin bounty! The weather is grand, the flowers are in full bloom, the market is overflowing with July foods. This is the season for blueberries! This is the season for Door County cherries! This is the season (starting right now) for corn that you eat the same day that it's picked! And if you have never eaten hours-old corn, well, maybe you'll be lucky enough to come up to Wisconsin sometime in late July or early August. Go to the market or a local grower (we have one about a mile away!) and pick up a few ears and eat it for supper that night! Unforgettable.

So I'm feeling very rich indeed. Perhaps one Adirondack and an ear of corn and a splash with kids isn't your idea of Tahiti or Seychelles, but it is mine. This, indeed is The Life!

Now, let's go back and relive it with pictures:

Morning snipping brought in 580 spent lily blooms. Not a record, but I'm thinking it may be this year's average at the peak of the lily season.

(ruby red!)

(morning light)

Remember? From Purcell? Always in my head when I see these proud tall summer girls!

Nymphs and shepherds, come away,

In this grove let's sport and play;

For this is Flora's holiday,

Sacred to ease and happy love,

To music, to dancing and to poetry.

Your flocks may now securely rest

While you express your jollity!

Nymphs and shepherds, come away.

(eye popping colors!)

(She looks like she's surfing!)

(Unie, following ...)

(looking at the new side bed where two trees once stood: it's gettin' there!)

Breakfast, with Ed, on the porch. 

 

 

 

Wait, not only with Ed!

Unie, our 5 month old chicken often thinks she is a companion dog. She follows us around when we work the fields, and Ed swears she kept him company when he was fixing a machine by perching on his toolbox and following his every move.

I'm okay with a lap chicken. I'm not okay with a chicken exploring the porch. (We kicked her out quickly enough.)

Now comes the market. I went alone, to pick up some flowers and beans and to check the status of the corn. It's here!

So, too, are Door County cherries. Not the sour ones but the sweet. I get those. And french green beans, carrots, flowers and blueberries. Wisconsin riches.

 

 

 

 

 

I was to meet my daughter and her older kids at the community pool, but it's closed this morning for some racing stuff. The kids chose to substitute our time at the pool with this, over on the deck of their home:

You might ask -- what's in it for me? Oh, the cool water! The laughter! 

With my daughter sitting nearby with Sandpiper, keeping us company.

(Refreshed, after water play)

(ready for a book)

(an eye opening kind of day!)

And back at the farmhouse porch, Ed has built the chair and now I have an afternoon of continued bliss.

And a a supper of corn. With chicken brats, but those are a sidekick. It's all about the fresh corn. A fine marker of a Wisconsin summer.

proud

You watch your kids grow and each day your pride grows: their character, earnestness, good hearts, dedication, the list is long. I'm sure you feel that way with yours, no? It's not about accomplishments, it's about who they are as human beings. And then if you have grandkids (or spend time with cool youngsters), you get to see it all over again: the character, earnestness, good hearts -- I really mean it when I tell them -- I'm so proud of you!

And Ed -- big frame, occupying just a small space on this planet and in the house -- always the same corner of the couch, thinking through one thing then the next, inventing, ever inventing and correcting, so that whatever project or company he puts his effort to keeps moving forward, benefiting so much from his ideas and patient efforts to implement them. (He's working right now on proposing a huge shift for the company into which he has put most of his efforts in the years since I've known him. Clever ideas are always percolating inside that quiet head of his that is never really quiet inside.)

The cats? Well, sure. From feral to sweet. A great leap. Good job, guys!

Chickens? Okay, fine: I suppose even chickens. They keep themselves safe and work hard to clear the land of ticks and as a bonus, always leave a few eggs behind. 

 

 

 

The point is, you need only look across the table or over your shoulder to spot magnificent effort and earnest desire to do well by others. And today, I looked over my shoulder and across the table and I felt a surge of pride! 

Speaking of pride, my friend visited me this morning and commented on my pride socks -- you know, the ones from Bombas where the left foot is one color and the right -- a different one. I tried to take a snapshot of the socks, but then changed my mind and photographed my friend instead. It was so good to see her here when the garden is in full bloom!

When I learned she was coming, I sprung to action, snipping away at hundreds of spent lilies before her arrival. I mean, I so wanted her to walk through cleaned up beds. And she did.

 

(I dont group lilies by color: yellows, pinks, reds, oranges, they all coexist. together. best pals!)

 

(there are very few places in the garden where you wont find a day lily or a phlox)

 

Breakfast, with her, on the porch.

 

 

 

Immediately after I went to Snowdrop's summer French camp. It was the last day of the program and family members were invited to sit in during the final hour. (Her dad and I came; her mom was busy with the two other kids and visitors.)

Of course, it's safe to say that in one week of French camp Snowdrop learned absolutely no French. What words she picked up will quickly be forgotten. Too, the levels of French knowledge in the class varied. Some kids couldn't put a sentence together if you paid them (Snowdrop belonged to this category) while others came from having spent years in France. On the one hand, I felt a whiff of sadness that schools here did not teach foreign languages from grade 1, on the other hand, I was proud of the little girl for reaching out to new friends and for trying hard to participate, despite the obvious obstacles.

Here, she is singing (with others) a French song about pirates finding treasure. Because she is wearing a mask, I couldn't actually tell if she was singing anything at all!

And there you have it: I have in my life so many for whom I feel such great pride. From head to toe, from inside and out.

(The last photo is from an evening walk Ed and I took among prairie blooms in our local county park. We were barefoot until we stumbled upon a patch of thistle. Ed continued barefoot. I was glad he'd stuck a pair of my sandals in his shorts pocket.)

 

 

back to the cafe

Here I sit, at an outdoor cafe table, with an "everything" croissant (do I repeat myself with things I like? yes I do!) and a cappuccino, and this time -- with my laptop. No one likes this set up more than I do. I may as well be in Sorede or Gargnano, or any foreign small town where the pace is easy, the streets are quiet and the coffee and croissant combination -- delicious. I feel like I am on vacation or in heaven or in some such idyll.

How lucky we are to have this luxury, this vaccinated luxury of feeling safe! How incredibly lucky!

My day began in the garden. I'm topping five or six hundred snipped lilies each day now. I always get going with garden work before breakfast. Morning garden tasks are peaceful and meditative and even beautiful. I look for the most precious vignettes from the day's offerings. Because the lilies change every single day, it's never the same presentation of flowers. I find favorite corners of the garden. Beautiful spaces, with froggies and birds and bugs and butterflies and of course Happy, the rooster.

Breakfast.

I had a phone call with my doc, whom I like because she is my daughters' age and she is whip smart and compassionate toward her many very sick patients (I am not one of those, thankfully). We talked about young kids (she has some) and how they are this month catching numerous colds and picking up endless viruses. Not COVID, but other stuff that floats around public spaces. All that dribbly stuff has come back and Ed and I have long decided that wearing masks in public spaces is perhaps not such a bad idea, even in low COVID times. (I do have some anxiety about the message it sends: wear a mask if you are unvaccinated! -- reads the sign at the cafe. If I wear a mask, will people think I'm one of the antis out there? Ed just rolls his eyes when I voice any concern about what people may think!)

I thought about all this when I picked up Snowdrop at French Camp.

Her new found friend was absent today. Sniffly perhaps. Oh, the disappointment! A friendship so quickly and intensely forged and lost the next day! Nonetheless, Snowdrop found things to love about her school morning and I had not a small amount of pride in her: not only did she rally, but, too, she went along at home with the hair braiding project: her afternoon baby sitter was celebrating her birthday today and she really really wanted to see Snowdrop in braids. The little one has big feelings about hair and where it falls (on her ears, please!) and still, she went along.

(And then she found something else with which to cover her ears!)

And Sandpiper was content to hear both sibling voices again...

 

 

 

And Sparrow was all smiles, because, well, it was that kind of a day and he's that kind of a child.

The evening was for Primrose, my loyal dinner prepping companion (via FaceTime)! We talked about cooking of course -- past and present.

 

 

I cooked up a soup, because that's what I do when someone packs me a whole bunch of ruffled green kale (it was in today's CSA box). Cooking soups is like snipping spent lilies -- it leads to a meditative frame of mind. And I thought about how good family life has been to all my grandkids! In this lies their greatest luck. Parents, siblings, cousins -- all of it. And I took out my large spoon and stirred some more, with a big fat smile pasted on my face.