going local

The storms passed. And the uncertainty about what comes next has been pushed aside for now. It's hot, it's summertime, it's lovely outside. These last days of summer cannot slip by unappreciated.

But first let's bake some muffins. We have buckets and buckets of peaches from our tree and something needs to be done with them. Peach muffins?

The kids will be here this morning, so let's hurry this project along. Easy enough to do. I've been baking so many batches of fruit muffins this summer that I can do it with hands tied, eyes closed and head in the clouds. Which is where it is at the early baking hour.

A quick garden trim. 

Breakfast.

And then the kids arrive. Not too many pics for you. It's toasty out there and they want to go indoors pretty quickly. Still, they're always good for a couple of photos.

Outside and inside too.

I'm to take them home in time for lunch. Great: we have time to stop by Stoneman farms for their freshly harvested corn. It's Sparrow's first visit there this year. And yes, they both like to pick out the corn...

... but Snowdrop (and therefore Sparrow too) really loves playing with the kittens. And with the Stoneman kids who often hang out here and who love to chase the little dynamos around the Stoneman yard.

(Sparrow  can also be cajoled into walking over to the goats. Can I go inside the fence? -- he asks. The little guy has no fear of animals. He likes them all. I can see him asking the same question in front of a lion's den...)

(Back at their home, I spend a while with Sandpiper...)

And now, at the farmhouse, Ed and I are again tossing around dates and ideas for a local adventures. Well, not super local: we need to force ourselves to move beyond the perimeter of the immediate parks, trails, and nature preserves. In other words, we need to be willing to sit in the car some. We've done all that's really local many many times. So we have to expanded our reach. I've agreed to do wilderness camping (some), though I've taken to grumbling about doing hikes where we have to carry supplies and a tent with us (and because I am difficult, I also grumble about bears), but he has convinced me we do not have to be ambitious in our hiking goals. 

Like, how short can our distance be in a day? -- I ask.

Ten feet. If you want to stop after ten feet, we can stop.

That's what I call being agreeable! I think we can do better than ten feet, though we both could use a little pre-hike training. It's been a while since we've done distance walking with stuff on our backs.

Okay. So we have some goals. We have some plans. And we have beautiful weather in the meantime, reminding us that summer is really the perfect season for indulging your whimsey and adventure craving. We've got two little adventures coming up! Solo and safe. Well, unless we encounter a bear...

lemons in your lap

If life throws you lemons, look for the cherries -- is my take on it all. Here are a few plump juicy red things: the tornadoes that blew past here in recent days decided to take a few limbs off of farmette trees but left the house standing. And another, super important one: the kids are not sick. And we are not sick! Should I keep going?

But let me go back to the lemons, because they do stand for disappointment and and I am disappointed. A second year will pass without travel for me. I have to cancel my September trip. 

I was to go to the Italian lakes, and climb the mountain that looks over olive groves, vineyards and lemon orchards. Then I was to visit my friend who lives in Parma. Afterwards, I was to fly to Paris and stay for a few days in my favorite room of my favorite hotel in my beloved city. I was picking up on my French again. I imagined picnics in the Luxembourg Gardens. A glass of wine looking out on the Place de l'Odeon. Yes, luxuries all. I would have paid my dues with ample posts on Ocean and careful attention to photography. 

But I can't do it. The CDC posted a new warning recommending against nonessential travel to France and even for Italy I have concerns. My Italian friend was hugely dismayed: but why?? We are all vaccinated! Doesn't that count? -- she wrote. Well, there is the matter of the kids: they did their bit, sacrificing so much to protect us last year. It's our turn to do our bit and do everything possible to protect them. I spend ample hours with my grandchildren. Even if breakthrough infections for vaccinated people are still rare, they happen and I don't want to be the one bringing anything home --  from the airport, the long flight, the cab ride, the visit to the bakery. Community spread is still high in Europe and it is high once again here. I'm not going to mess with even one iota of the kids' safety. (Nor Ed's for that matter, but he is more protected than they are.)

I have always thought myself to be a bit of a travel writer and it is hard to watch these last years go by without trips to far away places. Very hard. I miss waking up in Europe and planning out the day before me. I miss taking street photos. I miss watching people who live life differently than you and me, over here, on this side of the ocean.  I miss it very much.

But, I have grown weary of tracking COVID data carefully. Of reading all reports of all cross over infections. Of assessing risks, or reviewing trajectories.  COVID has taken over my days and I've had enough of it. So last night I made that tough decision and I promised myself I would not waver. And this morning, after my morning walk...

(cats love elevation...)

(good morning, wet garden!)

(the last Francis Joiner lily: it has such beautiful, delicate hues!)

 

(hello, super froggie!)

 

 

(Again -- such beautiful colors!)

 

(Big Bed, from the side...)

(like the Impressionists' rendition of a garden, only better, because it's real)

And after breakfast on the porch (with sweet peas, dahlias and forget-me-nots from the farmette fields)...

I write sad letters to my little gem of a hotel in Gargnano, to Patrizia in Parma, to my Paris hotel. And I hang on the phone for TWO HOURS with Delta Airlines and slightly less time with Air France and get my next series of vouchers upon the vouchers that were already used to make these bookings. I am voucher heavy and my heart is heavy but, remember the cherries! Always, always remember the cherries!

And I do. Gratefully.

Say Ed, how about a quick getaway later this fall? Within driving distance.

Will you camp?

Maybe. I am that eager to wake up in an interesting place. 

 

With love.

(late evening at the farmette...)

back to winter routines

It's beastly hot outside. Summer sweaty hot. Muggy steamy hot. I know early on that I wont want to weed. I wont want to walk. I wont want to cavort outside. Hey, I wont even want to eat breakfast on the porch!

Of course, animals need to be fed, so I do my usual morning rounds.

 

I see the froggies are climbing up the tall lily stalks, so I don't finish snipping spent flowers. Best to leave them alone. Who cares about spent flowers anyway!

This is my attitude about many aspect of the garden -- who cares if it needs work. I'm not going to do it. It will survive. (Nothing unusual there: it's my August dog days attitude toward exertion of any kind.)

Breakfast, inside. Hey, I did bake muffins early in the morning! We have the blueberries for them and they are such a good breakfast treat.

All that indoor time gives me too much reading time. I read, for instance, about the benefits of walking, just to feel that guilt from taking to the couch. 

And I read about how I should feel free to ask my service provider (dental, hair, you name it) if they have been vaccinated. So I try that. And of course, I get a refusal to reveal. And yes, I do cancel appointments where the provider refuses to reveal.

And then I read about the cancellation policies pertaining to various aspects of my forthcoming trip. I blew past some deadlines already. Am I going to collect even more vouchers (if I'm lucky) this Fall??

So after all that reading, I decide that at the very least, I should do what I did this winter: walk the farmette property. From corner to corner. Every day. It's not a demanding hike, but it does clear my head and add steps. I have to keep my Fitbit happy!

In doing this, I get that wonderful feeling of peace that comes from taking in wisps of pine scented air and from watching the fields of goldenrod sway with the breeze. Too, I get to pause by the new orchard and take in the beauty of the meadow flowers. 

Okay, I feel ready for the arrival of this spirited girl:

It's way to sticky to do anything at all outside. An indoor day for sure... 

 

 

 

... of books and puzzles and fairies and art. Snowdrop continues to work on her Super Pig pictures, but to me she delegates other subject matter. Draw the family of five, Gaga, she'll tell me. I'll balk. I do not like drawing human types. But she'll coax and prod and eventually she will take over. Today, I did all of a handful of ovals on a piece of paper and she filled in the rest -- the family of five the snow scene, all the stuff that make these such happy pieces of art. (Oh! She'll tell you Gaga also drew the braids. She thinks I'm really good at drawing braids.)

 And toward evening we have the threat of real storms once more. A very quick farmette walk...

 

 

 

And then I drive her home, just in the nick of time. I linger only for a second.

And I return just as the first flashes and crashes fill the hot bath humid air. Many people in Madison lost power after fallen trees knocked down power lines. We are lucky to be not among them. 

 

I think we can say here that the drought is behind us!

Monday

I'm not sure which came first -- the bang or the flash, but something must have caused me to look up and out to the big maples by the road. They seemed to have been struck by a meteor, or maybe a laser gun, or could it be lightening? Not possible. There was no storm near us. Inside the farmhouse, the power flickered but clung to life. Then it gave up the fight and went out.

My immediate thought was that the house is completely useless without power. No water, no stove, no fridge, no computer. No WiFi, no TV, no recharge to any of my devices. No AC either, but we're not using it much right now. My second thought was -- now we can finally go back to that old fashioned activity of reading real books that you hold in your hands while sprawled out on the couch. Like the olden days.

And we did that. But, we live in incredible times. A germy sneeze can kill us, but an electrical generator blowing up on you will have the electric company guys out here in the middle of nowhere within minutes and half an hour later, the offending branch will have been trimmed and the necessary fixes accomplished. Power back on. I barely read two brief chapters of my mystery novel!

The night was wet. The morning was wet. We got another two inches of rain, as measured in our cup. Perhaps more -- our little cup may well have splashed out the remaining water. Ed thinks we should put out a bigger cup, but I remind him we're not in it for accurate meteorological data from the the farmette. The world does not care how much it rained here. We merely need to know if the baby trees out back are getting their required inch each week.

The garden is weedy but nice.

And here's the thing: I love the farmette landscape in ten out of the twelve months of the year!  I think it's completely silly to fixate on July as the month of great beauty and to regard the rest as some kind of lesser alternatives. That's not being a naturalist, it's being wedded to a glossy magazine's idea of beauty. April here is magnificent with its buds, its daffodils, its constant surprises! September is enchanting as the crab turns golden and the apples blush with color. February skies are beautiful and when it snows, the landscape is magical. So no, it's not all about July here. And sure enough, I find this kind of August scene to be equally sensual.

(You ask which two months are my challenge? November and March. It's hard for me to love the great outdoors in Wisconsin in November and March.)

Breakfast, in between rain showers, on the porch.

Much of the rest of the day is spent thinking about how to reconfigure my September trip given the Delta issues (cancellation is the easiest option, but it's still too early to go that route) and, too, on selecting pillow covers for the couch pillows here. Remember? That's the project I took on to distract me from trip stresses. We wont build a new barn, so instead I picked new pillow covers on Etsy. 

One has to make do with what's possible.

Sunday

I think we should rebuild the barn. I say this to Ed over breakfast.

Why?

Because one of the corner posts is rotted through and I'm sure the structure will topple once that's gone.

It's been that way for years. It will outlive us.

In the alternative, we could finish building the writers shed.

Why?

So that we could offer it to guests who come to stay here.

How often would that be?

Often enough.

Anything else?

Well, we could get going on that planned greenhouse and of course, there are trees we could take down...

The conversation ends there. We will, of course, do none of those things. Ed's veto power is exercised often and without hesitation. (Me, I go along with most proposed projects, so he never gets to feel the sting of defeat.) I retreat to the couch and pick up my Etsy search of throw pillow covers. At least eventually I will find pillow covers that I like and the farmhouse living space will feel refreshed. I hope.

All this is, of course, the product of the disappointment we all feel with the slowed vaccination effort and the resultant Delta surge. You want to throw yourself into projects so that you can distract yourself from the reality of new pandemic numbers. After reading too many articles about how one's inner rage (which is unproductive) should be replaced with empathy and compassion (equally unproductive, I might add), you dial down your level of frustration and look to places where you can work on releasing your creative energies. I thought designing a new barn (have you ever seen our wreck of a barn? It's terrible!) would be a great project. Of course, Ed is not one to have inner frustration or rage, nor is he looking for new farmette projects. Planting 67 trees this spring was hard enough. I'm sure he feels a ten or maybe twenty year break from great idea implementation is warranted.  Breakfast ends, predictably, on an impasse. 

We had another rainy night and so I could turn toward the weeds that are enormous and ever present in all the flower beds. And I do a little bit of spot weeding early in the day, but honestly, I have that August ennui that sets in right about now. I don't care that there are weeds. I don't care that there are spent stalks. It all looks good enough!

In the afternoon I lose myself in dinner preparation. This is a good thing. Music plays in the background, the sauces simmer, the table is set. And the young family comes and they are an even better distraction than raising a new barn!

(Sandpiper needed a change of shirts... I have something! this was his brother's last summer!)

("bothering Ed" -- enjoyed by the older kids and by Ed)

Another day of clouds, high humidity, the occasional shower. We have four more of those ahead of us! It's proving to be a very interesting and not altogether predictable summer! Most of all, through it all, we remain grateful. So very grateful: for the vaccines, for staying healthy thus far.

With love....