hot but lucky

Oh it's hot alright. No sitting out on the porch today. I'd stick to my chair. But honestly, every year brings us a few readings in the 90sF (so above 32C), and we are staying in the low 90s, and only for a couple of days. So I see it as typical summer weather. (But we need some rain!) (Though thank you for banishing the mosquito population from Madison and the farmette this year -- we deeply appreciate it!) We are grateful that the air quality is moderately good and the storms are not touching us (so far). I'll take hot for a few days.

But it's crispy and dusty out there right now. It kept me inside for breakfast.

Where is Ed? Asleep. His work has completely flipped his sleeping habits (what habits...?). Last night (is it even fair to call it night?) he came upstairs to sleep at 6 in the morning. I protested that this was starting to interfere with my sleeping cycle, but my words had little impact as I then promptly fell back asleep. For another hour or so.

Oh, there is early morning garden work of course. And flower photos for you (and me).

(right now, one of the most colorful views is when you first step out the door...)

The lilies are rapidly diminishing in number. It is, after all, the end of July. Too, they had an earlier start this year. I expect there to be one or two hundred each day for the next few weeks. That's a small number when spread over ten beds. 

 

 

 

(A late summer garden spider - the agriope (rhymes with calliope) loves the lilies)

 

 

(secret path...)

 

 

 (Big Bed: a  little of this, a little of that now...)

 

Still, late July and August have their own crispy charm. I start letting go of my gardens then. I watch them slowly recede and fold up for the year. There's a calm in the late season that you appreciate after the frenzied hurry of spring and early summer. Sort of like being a grandmother who no longer has to worry about the daily needs -- physical and emotional  -- of her offspring. You come in when you want and retreat to rest when you need to put your feet up. 

Mustn't get too restful though. You're still needed, albeit at your slower speed -- both in your garden and with your grandkids, or at your jobs or projects. Indeed, in the evening, Ed goes out to water the new trees we planted and I turn my attention to Primrose in Chicago. She and I talk about corn: she's eating some, I'm fixing some. I will bet anything hers is from Wisconsin!

And at dusk, I go out to do some spot weeding. I clip off spent stalks, too. No more buds for this year. Many of the plants are just done.

All the more reason to love what's still going strong.

three words

Sleepover, flowers, dinner. A Sunday split into three. Each taking as much time as the other two. Each beautiful, gratifying, but also requiring a bit of work. You could say that I was kept on my feet all day (my Fitbit raved!) and it was wonderful. Lots of sunshine, outdoor time, summer time.

But not a lot of words for you. Let's stick with the images. I mean, we have so much color, so much variety, so much to admire in the very thick belly of summer. Brilliant, lush gardens, happy children, loving family. Click! It shows. 

Here, take a look:

 

(She wants to go with me for the morning animal feed...)

 

 

( a pro at giving the cheepers their share of corn...)

 

(choosing her favorite farmette flower of the day...)

(Breakfast with the little girl -- who helped me get things ready -- while Ed sleeps...)

(We go to Stoneman's farm to get corn; the farm kids share their barn kitties with Snowdrop...)

(But ultimately, it's all in the corn...)

(I take the girl home, where her brothers are waiting...)

And now comes the time where I spend several hours working in the gardens. Snipping, yes of course, but also watering. (Can you tell it's hot?)

... until it's time to start in on dinner. And since it really is a gorgeous summer evening, I'm absolutely tempted to make a refreshing Prosecco apperitivo. With basil. 

 

 

(The young family arrives. So do the monarchs...)

(Hello, Sandpiper!)

(Dinner)

Pictures and a sprinkling of words. About flowers, about a little girl who loves that lemon room, about crunchy chicken and Stoneman's corn for dinner.

Okay, I'm ready for the week ahead.

Saturday tour de Madison

No, I did not ride my bike up and down the streets of our city. Nonetheless, I felt like a sprinter, albeit with a motor pushing her forward along the bumpy streets of Madison.

The thing is, we had a lot heaped onto our morning. For me, the day starts, as always, in the flower fields.

(Hey, how about feeding the cats? Shouldn't it start with feeding the cats??)

 

 

(The tall lilies are starting to bloom. To me, they look like a waterfall of graceful stems and flowers...)

 

 

I work quickly and efficiently. 

(In this field, the phlox begins to dominate right about now!)

I no longer count snipped lily heads. I want my brain to clear itself of clutter. I want to enjoy the stretch for that distant lily, the brush with dew dappled leaves. I want to think about what photo to take.

(I love it when one petal's color runs from pink, to peach, to tangerine sherbet, to yellow...)

So I don't count. (But there are many!) 

 

 

 

The day is hot from the get go. As Ed says -- it's not the rising temps, it's the high humidity that makes it all seem so stuffy! Still, we turn on the fan and eat breakfast on the porch.

And now comes the motorbike ride from one corner of Madison to the next. We have three stops to make today. First, the big market downtown.

I need flowers, I need mushrooms. Nothing I can get outside the market will come close to the value and quality of what I buy there! And with Ed steering the bike, we can creep up on the stalls we want from the back and avoid the crowds. Because there are crowds. 

From there, it's a bumpy ride to the Lakeside Cafe where we do not pick up coffee, but instead we get our weekly bag of direct farmer purchases. Today it's all about blueberries. And a rosemary plant, because I am just about ready to give up on my monster rosemary which I lug indoors for the winter, watch it grow out of control in all directions, drop most leaves, then rejuvenate itself somewhat outdoors during the summer. It's too misshapen, too large, too unmanageable. So I bought a baby newbie.  We'll see if I'll have the courage to throw the old one into the compost heap at the end of the summer!

And now more bumps, twists and turns as we make our way to my mom's place. She needs a computer adjustment and I need to hang some pics on her walls. It's a good day to get this done so we set to it.

My mom is doing well in the new place. I'm not surprised. It's as good environment for her. She has her independence even as the essentials are provided for her. If Covid did anything good at all, one could say that it did her the favor of opening up a spot so that she could move into this particular senior living facility.

And finally, with me still clutching my market flowers and hoping that the blueberries don't turn into mush as we navigate the next bump and dance the next road jiggle, we head home. 

Normally, Saturday afternoons are quiet around here. The pace is definitely slower, the list of chores smaller. But, from the beginning, this day was a bit of a race to get things done and one thing I must still do is get ready for Snowdrop's overnight visit. As cousins and aunts and uncles passed through town and stayed with us at the farmhouse, the little girl kept asking when she could come for a sleepover once again. (She used to sleep here frequently, but the coming of brothers and Covid messed up that pattern. Today, we're back on track!)

We read, we play. These days she is really consumed by "My Little Ponies" -- stories, movies, little pony figures for her imaginative play.

 

It seems that when grandkids stay here, we're always flipping pizza pies. Today is no different. In for the final stretch...

But though she wants to help, I'd say that the job of building that pie is less exciting for her than it was, say, for Primrose. Will Snowdrop love to cook someday as much as I have loved fussing with food all my life? Impossible to predict. Today, after making sure her help wasn't essential to the task, she opted to retreat to the living room and have a pillow fight with Ed as I put the finishing touches on the pizza.

We watch a movie. With popcorn. And we catch an Olympic medalist on the screen. What can I say, it was an exciting evening!

I suppose there is something uniquely special about waking up in the little lemon room. The kid bed is right by the window and each child who sleeps there quickly figures out that a tug at the curtain will open up for them a view like no other -- flowers, chickens and a noisy rooster. Willows and birches moving with the wind, should there be a morning breeze. But that's tomorrow. For now, all is quiet as a child sleeps, I pour myself a glass of white wine from the Lake Garda region of Italy and we all let out a deep sigh of summer contentment.

so hot...

 It was so hot that for the first time, when the kids said to me "we're ready to leave the pool..." I responded -- oh, come on! Five more minutes!

The cool water felt as magnificent as a hot shower might be on a cold winter day: the perfect wet remedy to a body in need of a temperature adjustment.

That we were at the public pool was a bit of an unusual Friday event, but I'm not complaining! First, though, came the garden care.

And breakfast. On the porch, but we sit strategically to avoid any stray sunbeam.

Ah, now for the pool!

(But first, we have to wait a bit while they "clean out the pool." With this being young kids swim morning, I can only imagine what this means.)

(No matter how many whistles you blow and reminders you shout out, it's so difficult for kids not to run by a pool!)

When I was last here with them, Sparrow was shy about venturing out far and Snowdrop, too, liked a hovering adult. But after a month or so of lessons and nearly daily swims in their own local pool, they are in their element. Shallow, deep -- they love it all.

(Splash! So refreshing...)

Afterwards, we retreat to the farmhouse. 

 

(Hungry!)

 

 

(Sparrow is not at all a Dennis the Menace type, except maybe for the hair today after his shower.)

 

 

No one wants to spend time out in the yard. Hot! Only toward the end of the visit can I get them to at least pick the favorite flower of the day. For Snowdrop -- another pink phlox.

For Sparrow -- a false sunflower.

And for Sandpiper? Back at home, too young to express his preferences.

(With mommy now, listening to a song...)

Hot day today. Nothing out of a July normal, except for the absence of rain. In the evening, I roll out the hose. Snip, water, snip, water. Peaceful and restorative, for both the flower fields and me.

And yes, I watched the parade of nations from the Summer Olympics. I mean, come on! These athletes have had a hell ride this past year. I've always liked the Olympic Games for all that coming together stuff and of course, for the individual excellence that I so admire. This year, the Olympics are both weird and magnificent and perhaps a bit too bold and nervy. But I'm watching. Not all, not even half, perhaps not even a hundredth, but enough to remind me that there's a lot of talent in this world. And emotion. Imagine!