Friday

The pattern of each day doesn't change. And again I am writing far too late into the night. That's not the best time to transcribe thoughts into text. But, there was much to be done on this last day of the week! The hours ran away with the moon.

The skies are gray and I am glad. We need rain, or else I'll have to scramble to find even more hours for watering the garden. For now, I ignore the hose and concentrate on deadheading spent lilies. It's an art, this snipping off a depleted flower. If you falter, you'll get your hands and clothing into the soppy mess of their not yet dried up juices, dusted over with the pollen from the protruding stamen. If you snip too hard, you'll take away the remaining buds.

But, oh, I do love my Hemerocallis (let's get proper here)!






When I'll be returning from my travels in a couple of weeks, most of the lilies will be past their blooming stage. And so forgive me if I indulge myself now. These are the colors I think about in the dead of winter.






During the summer, I need only glance out the kitchen window and they're before me, filling each bed with their magnificence. They are a gardener's beloveds.






Okay, let's settle in for a good breakfast. Ed and Isis (who has ventured outside this morning) are waiting.






Ah, breakfast. Always such a grand moment. We talk about the porch steps that will be built (I am hopeful!) in the next couple of weeks. The design has gone this way and that, but I think Ed is finally satisfied with one that uses mostly materials we have around the farmette and, too (for some reason this is very important to him), one that allows for light to stream into the basement from the window that is unfortunately going to be mostly covered over by the steps (think: transparent slats of a poly something or other).






And then Ed goes off to work and I go off to grocery shop. We are like two prongs of trail that suddenly splits, only to reunite toward the end of the day.


In the afternoon, there is the lovely, the affable, the ever energetic Snowdrop.






But as I settle in to play with her...






... I have a nagging thought that I forgot something at the grocery store. Chicken for Sunday dinner! Darn! (No, just scratch that thought -- I'm not sacrificing one of the cheepers for our meal.) I have no time in the next days to shop. There's no choice but to take Snowdrop to the grocery store now.

She has been to the supermarket with me and not too long ago at that. But this time, for the first time, I take her out of her safe and familiar car seat and plunk her like a big girl, right into the cart.






It would not be an exaggeration to say that she is not happy. I try bribing her with a toy off the rack and for a little while it works.






But for a good part of the shopping trip, I hold her and push the cart with my other hand, leading a very sweet older woman to ask me -- do you need help?

Ha! No indeed! I seem capable of doing everything with a seven month old on my arm! But the woman's friendliness is, in fact, a game changer for Snowdrop who thinks that her smile is worth a million and as if on cue, she relaxes and grins back.







Errand done, we return to Snowdrop's home. The little one is especially happy to be back again, in her exersaucer -- reminding us all that the journey may be fantastic, but the return home is even better.






Okay, sweet one, but we must take you out of your comfort zone and move along with the introduction of solid foods. How about that banana mush again?






Perhaps you cannot tell from the photo, but she is relaxing a bit today! It's as if she understands that this, too, is mealtime. That something else must be accomplished beyond a grab and a smear of the food. She tries to figure out what is expected of her. I swear she takes in at least three spoonfuls!


In the evening, we have a social hour -- I join Snowdrop, her mom, and her mom's friend for a summer wine tasting at a wine shop on the Capitol Square.



(photo by friend)


A full day indeed. Supper at the farmhouse is as late as I dare push it. And after? Oh, sleep! I'm as spent as a Snowdrop would be on a warm July night.

Thursday

Another day that has many agendas and seemingly too few hours for them.

Let's start with a leisurely breakfast.





Then various sundry appointments, quickly attended to and voila! I gain two hours in midday. Ed is home today and so he is there to loads wood chips into the cart and I throw them on the enlarged lily bed. It's like old times: we work in tandem in the heat of the day, we make progress.








(why do I love the lilies so?


But the fact is, flower fields are always a work in progress. There is never a done deal: a flower to move, remove, replace, trim, pamper and then another and another...





We have had quite a long while without rain and so today, for the first time this summer, I throw water on an established field -- the one of lilies, by the farmhouse. It takes time to hose down a field, but I never mind this chore. Giving water to a thirsty flower conjures up images of being an agent of help to a plant in need. The parched plant rewards you as it moves from a bedraggled limp state to something vibrant and perky.



After this rather wonderful set of hours, I'm onto another set of wonderful hours -- those with Snowdrop.

We play.
















She is in a beautiful frame of mind again -- full of play and darting glances of pure happiness.












We take a walk too - you really want to be outdoors on a day like this!






Back at her home, I try to feed her bananas again. Bleh!






A tired girl. Time for a nap?





Time for me to go home.

Evening. Ed and I haven't done much for ourselves since coming back from our Adirondack canoeing trip. And so it feels special just to bring in take out Thai food. To not cook, to not rush, to sit back together and eat almost as if this is was a continuation of our camping trip. Even as we know that it isn't. Halcyon days indeed!

No matter. He fixes the toilet, I clean up all that needs that intervention. Who needs a night out... We've got stuff to do.

Wednesday

I am up early. This day offers the greatest number of unbooked hours before I take off next week and I want to put them to good use. It's a beautiful morning and I intend to finish preparing the expanded day lily patch and to put in a few transplants and the new acquisitions.

I work for nearly six hours, with only one break -- for breakfast of course.






In the flower field, the hens keep me company, but mostly, I work without paying attention to anything or anyone. Ed is off at work. The farmette is still.

 As the clock moves past the noon hour and I start tidying up the flower bed...





... and I turn my attention to the rest of the day. I'm to be at Snowdrop's house in a few minutes and I'll be there until early evening.

I realize then that there is no food for dinner. Ed bikes tonight and he rarely is hungry for a meal after his ride (strenuous exercise does not seem to work his appetite much). But what about me? Oh, but this is the farmette. We have tomatoes. We have cucumbers. And just down the road, there is this farm with very sweet and tasty corn, on sale out of their barn all August long.





Okay. I have the basics. Now off to play with Snowdrop.

She is, today, buoyant, chipper and so totally happy!





We go out for a walk, too, with her mommy.





Such a beautiful day!






More play -- which includes, these days, Snowdrop and me shouting monosyllables at each other, imitating the noise the other made. This back and forth can go on for a long time and I can only be thankful that the windows are closed and the AC is on, because the noise we make sounds a bit whacky.






Snowdrop is at this point in that wonderful set of years where one doesn't care what the world thinks.





And in any case, her world is a small one. If a familiar face is smiling at her, she is reassured.


Evening. I'm back at the farmette. Is there ever a better time here then on a summer day, just before the sun goes down? I trim random flowers, I pick my veggies for supper.

The day is done. So much accomplished out in the flower fields! So much still that could be done.

full, to the brim

There weren't enough hours today and yet, somehow, the day closed with a feeling of total satisfaction. Even if we could not take big steps forward, we surely took enough little steps to feel all stepped out.

The day started many hours before sunrise. Ed and I talked about work. Sometimes the night hours are good for this. You become very issue focused, zeroing in on the key points. So we talked and zeroed in and then caught another hour of sleep, but no more, because there's much that has to be done today.

Big things, little things. Finish digging. Fix dripping toilet. Work on porch steps. Work on work.

Phew! I'm sweating just thinking about it. Let's pause and admire a few day lilies.






Alright, breakfast. Does Ed look strained? Well, maybe just a little bit.






I pull him out with me to the Flower Factory. I want just a few lilies to replace the ditch ones I dug out. But really, I want an excuse to go out here so that he can rest, far from computer, far from much of anything except the flowers around us. Ah, there's that smile.







Back at the farmette, I dig and I dig, but not for long. I have a very important lunch date -- celebrating my daughter's weekend birthday. I meet the young family at Graze downtown and of course there are gifts, including two cook books. We (my daughters and I) are a family that devours cook books. I see that Snowdrop is going to join us in this.









am I doing this right, mommy?



It's a lovely lunch. A beautiful moment of peaceful enjoyment.







And after, my girl, Snowdrop and I take a walk along State Street -- that funky street that links the university with the Capitol. We do some minor shopping. Here, my daughter admires bracelets while Snowdrop and I admire the mirror.






Afternoon. I'm back at the farmhouse digging, digging...






And toward evening, Snowdrop is dropped over here so that the parents can quietly continue the birthday celebration. So indeed, if it's Tuesday, it must be Snowdrop at the farmhouse day.






Evening comes far too quickly. I glance outside. Oh, summer is really rushing now toward the season's end.


 


Snowdrop and I play and I realize that this is her last long visit here until much later in the month. Will she be completely grown up then? It surely seems that she grows in leaps and bounds.

It's an evening with a lot of laughter. Oh, does that girl know how to laugh!






... and how to love. And be loved right back.






Oh, Snowdrop!

cat's away

Our cat, Isie boy, is not really away. In fact, he never leaves the sheep shed these days. But oh, when a certain someone takes off for work, this mouse gets ideas!

The day has a very typical beginning to it. A breakfast early enough for Ed to take off for "his" "office."






Away he goes, determined to use his ancient Honda, even if it means he has to carry a package in what seems to me a very awkward position.






Alright. All's quiet. As I take a walk through the farmette, assessing my flower fields, I am, as always, in awe of my pretty ladies -- the day lilies. To me, in the heat of summer, they always stand out.






So, wouldn't it be nice to cut back, just a little, the tiger (aka ditch) lilies that dominate the bed in front of the farmhouse? And replace them with some more day lilies? Ed would protest, but Ed is off off and away.

I take out the shovel and get to work.





A few splinters and blisters later, I stop. To be continued tomorrow!


It's the afternoon and I'm due at Snowdrop's home. Oh, she is delightful, of course.






We play.






We walk.






Necessity causes me to change her clothes. We play some more. And oh, does that girl know how to laugh hard!






Eating? Well, pears do not fare so well, but playing with the spoon is a real hit!






And now it's evening and I'm home. Farmette home, where the lilies prosper and my plans to expand their reach cause me to smile and smile.