Wednesday

Hang in there, Madisonians, two more days of colder air!

Here's a view you haven't seen since winter -- toward the fields to the north of us: planted and awaiting sunny days.






I'm happy to see that there is a touch of sunlight in the early hours of the morning and I pause on my cheeper walk to admire the farmhouse as it catches the light of the rising sun from the east.






Ed is up early as well. There isn't much time (nor much enthusiasm -- it's cold!) for work outside, but we do finish pruning the last of the peach trees...






And I trim and transplant the potted house pelargonium. Small stuff. Pleasant work carried out on the picnic bench.

Let me include a shot of Henny in the front flower field.





Both she and Java are exquisite scratchers and I have to admit, at times, I can hardly hold in the frustration with their clawing at the flower fields. But I do remember the three very important reasons why we keep these guys: we know we have a lot of land to share with others. They love it and their happiness makes us smile and smile. Second reason: well, the eggs. Thirdly - they  destroy pretty much all our ticks. If you read the anecdotal evidence on the internet, only guinea fowl are better at vacuuming out the undesirable bugs off your property.

Naturally, I suggest to Ed we also get guinea fowl. Ed's response - They're loud!  This surprises me. Oreo the rooster was loud, yet that never bothered us. But, there's loud and there's loud. You can read a wonderful depiction of their racket at this site that talks about why you should not get guinea hens.



Breakfast. Sometimes when we sit down to a lovely morning meal and the sun comes in at just the right angle and the bouquet of farmette flowers is especially enchanting, I'll comment on how content I feel and Ed will say, teasingly, you'd rather be in Paris and of course he is wrong (he would especially be wrong today, as there is an ice shower in Paris and in general, France has had a miserable spring thus far). These days, I almost never want to be doing something else. (I write almost never, since I do remember thinking that weeding the raspberry island yesterday was not great fun.)






The rest of the day I spend with Snowdrop.

And yes, very early on, she starts working the "let's go out" card.






As soon as her hair dries (from her bath), I surprise her with the magic words -- let's go for that walk! I'm watching the weather maps. I know this is our window: cold, but at least dry.

And she surprises me too. I tell her to fetch a favorite penguin for the ride. She comes back with bunny.






In the next photo, you may think that she is unhappy. Not so. She is processing the immense beauty of the branches above her.












At the coffee shop, she knows exactly what's what. She's off to pick up her high chair.






And of course, here, she is studying the other patrons.






And one last photo for you - here because of that smile, that "I know what's important in life" smile of hers that makes you want to smile right back at her, at the day, at everything before you.

Tuesday

Well it's cold alright. I let the cheepers out, then go straight back to bed to warm up for a bit. And I follow that by a hot shower. 45F just doesn't measure up to 70F, no matter how good a spin I'd like to put on it. (To be fair, it will go up to 52F today -- that's 11C for those of you who can't make heads nor tails of our strange numbers. I understand that besides the US, the Fahrenheit scale is used by the Bahamas, Belize, the Cayman Islands, and Palau. That's it. Impressive, no?)

Well, no matter. It's April. But breakfast is in the front room and with a sweater (though not for Ed -- I'm not sure he even owns a sweater).






I then scoot over to Snowdrop's. As she wakes, I try to tackle the task of giving her another bangs trim (parental request). She wont sit still for it and even though I have learned to start longer (to even out a jagged result if need be), I cannot get that perfect straight line going. I come back to it several times and she is amused. And I think -- heck, let's eschew the conventional straight look and stay with the artistic French slope.

But after a bath and some reading time, Snowdrop wants to go out.

Don't you understand, grandma? You always say "get your penguin!" and here I am, holding him! Let's go! Please?






It's still in the 40sF and of course, that's within the range of sane, but it's not fun to venture out on this windy, chilly morning when memories of yesterday's sleeveless romp are still so fresh.

In the end, we have a different kind of adventure: we go to Paul's cafe and get pickles for Ed (and a coffee for grandma and a muffin crumb for Snowdrop)...






... and then cross over to the library, where she spends an enchanting hour tracking the movements of other children.

That big girl spelled her name on this board! Am I spelling my name, grandma?
Sure, sweet one: S-N-O-W-D-R-O-P.  Go for it!






Of course, the beauty of any library is its vast book selection and Snowdrop loves to run over, select a random one and bring it to the table where she deftly turns the crisp pages.






We could have done this for a long long time, but the stack was getting large and her lunch hour came and went. I whisk her to the farmette and spend the rest of the afternoon there.

Want to see a happy Snowdrop? Here she is, after her nap, when I tell her we can go outside and feed the chickens.






And what's blooming at the farmette?

The indelible Silene Rolly's Favorite.






An anemone that escaped the chomps of our resident plant eater(s).






And here are a few more tulip survivors, a bit ragged around the edges and tightly shutting their petals against the cold.






A few more daffodils. We're just about to pass the peak now.






And if that passage isn't a sure sign of a full spring, I don't know what is! So let's take heart and revel in all the green around us. The soothing color. The color of growth.

Monday

When you undertake a gardening task, it can come to be regarded as one of those transformative, great ideas, or it can be checked off as a regrettable choice. With eight flower fields to care for, to say nothing of the young orchard and the huge raspberry patches and the vegetable garden that hasn't even been planted yet, you have to allocate your time carefully. Regrettable choices on good weather days use up precious time.

Those were my thoughts this morning at 6 as I let the cheepers out and stayed out to clear the raspberry island to the far east of the farmette.

We had last tended to that island when my daughter was married here several years ago. Since then, our interest in maintaining it has waned. There is always so much else to do! The raspberry island isn't even especially productive. But we still have a mountain of wood chips and I suggest to Ed that he may want to throw a bunch of loads there. I'd clipped the spent canes, so there was hope for a renewal. He responded that the weeds are so high that covering with chips wouldn't help. I answered brashly, stupidly -- well then I'll weed it. First thing in the morning!

And that's what I found myself doing from 6 until 9 -- the tedious, dull, and annoyingly hard job of pulling out quack grass and creeping charlie from the raspberry island. Even as seeds need to be sown, plants need to be planted, weeds elsewhere have to be carefully controlled and yes, holes (dug by the terribly bothersome claws of the cheepers) have to be covered back up.

Well, never mind. We now have a fine raspberry island that maybe will add to the raspberry harvest come late summer.

In this same early morning period, I took two photos of tulips. They are my miracle tulips.







I had actually planted several dozen last fall and 90% of them have been consumed by (I presume) the groundhog. Ugly squat stems remain. Thanks, pal. And thanks, too, for eating up the violas in one of my pots. The bergenia too. Grrr! But these two groups of tulips heroically remain. Here's the second one:






This is the last of the warm and dry April days (we're getting our share of rain and cold for the rest of the week) and so we have a magical breakfast (well earned!) on the porch.






And immediately after, Snowdrop comes over.

Visiting the asparagus bed is first on her agenda. And once she secures a stalk, she is off!






That way now!






Snowdrop, the cheepers and asparagus.






The sun feels so warm on our backs that both she and I take off our sweaters. Snowdrop loves to do what Ed and I both love as well -- walk the land, inspecting it, appreciating it -- in her case, with asparagus stalk in hand.






She doesn't stop. Around the barn, up toward the farmhouse, and now along the driveway...






And toward the front yard where I'm planting the new flower field and where she and I find violets to pick, hold and admire.






Happiness is sunshine and violets and the freedom to explore...






... and to hold on to your own personal stalk of asparagus.






Back at the farmhouse, she climbs over grandpa Ed...





...and I'm sure she'd continue, but I remind her that lunch and nap are a must for a girl who is so very active.


Late afternoon. I think about what to tell my daughter when she asks for a report on Snowdrop's day: well, she played outside, she played with grandpa Ed and she read countless books. In my lap. On the floor. And in the afternoon -- at her table. Here she is laughing, because the book ends with a mirror and she sees her own face.






And she sees in that mirror shot that she is wearing a ribbon that I had clipped on when she hadn't been paying attention. Ha ha, grandma! I'm on to you! Off it goes.






More shenanigans with grandpa Ed...






And then she and I take one final walk. Snowdrop may well be the only one here who appreciates the finer side of creeping charlie. She loves the tiny purple flowers! She'll walk, pause and plomp down to sit in their minty magnificence (in her eyes).






So beautiful, grandma!
Yes it is, Snowdrop. All of it.






Late in the evening, when she is home again and I turn to chopping up the garden asparagus for soup, I glance out the window at the burst of yellow there.





So beautiful indeed!

Sunday

Shortly after 6 a.m., I am out working. Small stuff initially. A plant to put in, a weed to pull out. It's curious how I notice things in these early hours of the morning. I see the monarda (aka bee balm) -- a lovely plant that has a minty fragrance and dozens of burgundy spikes -- is invading its neighbors. Darn plant can't sit still! Well, I love it anyway -- it truly does attract bees and it gives waves of color. Still, I notice the invasion. I set to work digging out invasive runners to set things right.

I notice, too, the pretty things. The light, even dappled or diffused, is always at its freshest now. Nothing looks forlorn or parched. The garden, like the people and animals that live within its boundaries, wakes up slowly, with a smile on its face.















It's a bit cool initially and so Ed and I eat breakfast in the sun room...











House cleaning is rushed. Hey, I was supposed to be away! The farmhouse should be happy I'm attending to any of it at all!

And as soon as we know that greenhouses are open for business, we set out to Jung's, where you can usually pick up decent looking young fruit trees. We lost one such tree this winter and we're looking to replace it.
What should we get?
How about another cherry?
The birds will eat our cherries. We have plenty of apples and pear... How about a plum?

So we have our hearts set on a plum, not remembering that if you get one plum, you must get a mate to pollinate, otherwise, kiss your visions of juicy plums good bye.

And as long as we're going to be planting trees in the new orchard, we may as well prune the fruit trees already there.

This is the moment when Ed's friends arrive for a spontaneous visit. We're the kind of hosts that do not stop work for social reasons. Indeed, when they offer help, we take it!






And so this day is really a continuation of yesterday. The flowers are slowly going in, I spend not a small number of minutes shouting at the cheepers to quit scratching and digging up my fileds, and the sun comes and goes, and the hours pass far far too quickly.











But I have no complaints. And toward evening, the young family arrives...






And Snowdrop is excited! Will one of you read to me? Will you, will you??






Not now, Snowdrop...

We eat...






She eats...






And now the weekend is behind us. We're wrapping up April oh so quickly! When you live in Wisconsin, spring appears to move forward with the speed of lightning, reminding me always of the Paul Simon song. I'll end tonight with its bouncy lyrics:

Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last ...
Hello, lamppost, what’cha knowin’?
I’ve come to watch your flowers growin’
Ain’t’cha got no rhymes for me?
Doot-in doo-doo, feelin’ groovy
...
I got no deeds to do
No promises to keep
I’m dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me
Life, I love you
All is groovy!