Tuesday

Gardens don't lie. They speak with their blooms. If you throw a brutal reality their way (extreme weather comes to mind), they let you know bluntly that they need help, or else. You are their steward. In stressful times -- their lifeline.

I am preparing the garden for a few days of intense heat. I trim spent blooms, I water the more vulnerable plants.

And I admire the entirety.

To the farmhouse...






To the sheep shed...






Breakfast. A pause, too, from garden work. A pause from chasing off mosquitoes and scrubbing plant stain off my hands.






And soon after, Snowdrop is here. Yeah, I know, I know: it's not Monday. But she is here most days this week. It's just the way the schedule works out for the young family. Is she okay with this? I think so.






One of her favorite quiet solo moments... With a book...






Happy.






Very much so.






Since I have her for a good part of the day, I decide we need to do a bit of adventuring. I take her to a local park, where she enjoys the swing...






And shows real talent at kicking around a ball I bring with us. (Future soccer champ?)






The park is very close to our favorite corn farm. And this is the first week of Wisconsin corn! We hike over and I tell Snowdrop it's up to her to pick a good half dozen ears of corn.

She takes this job very seriously.






And then she takes a turn at steering the John Deere -- the one that hauls the corn in from the fields.






She's serious about this as well.






As we leave the farm, I look at her -- she is tall for her age, but so small compared to the corn that grows here...






We're home now. Lunch time! There are leftovers still and she eats them with relish...






And of course, she loves the dessert!






And you would think that after a huge meal she'd be done.

But then I offer her the corn.

Heaven.






She eats every last kernel.

Late in the day I sit down over a cup of coffee with my wonderful friend who is in town this week. You need these moments -- in the garden, with your family, with your closest friends. They put things in perspective.






Lest you think that I am solely focused on my days at the farmette, I should note that I am also very much tracking the intense remodeling work that is taking place in my Warsaw apartment right now. I carefully watch the budget, I monitor the progress, I make decisions. And I revel in the photos that my talented, wonderful architect/decorator sends my way. Here's Pani Karolina's photo from today:





Sometimes, the world seems so confused and crazily out of step with progress. I cannot set things straight nor can I pretend to know for sure, for sure how to set things straight (though I feel quite certain on how to make things worse). All I have are these vignettes -- of Snowdrop, of flowers, and yes, of the hard work being put into the apartment in Warsaw. These deserve my attention. Yep -- fresh and honest through and through.

Monday

The much ignored here roadside garden gets a photo today.  It's just a wee fragment of the long bed, but it's colorful and pretty and it deserves a spot on Ocean.






Breakfast. Oh, that wonderful, sunny, cheerful, leisurely breakfast!






And after, I decide that it's time to give the glass roof a sweep. Typically I don't go up there except to push snow off, but every once in a while I give it a good brushing. It's especially rewarding to do this in July, when the views in all directions are splendid!






It's Monday and Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse today.






There's lots to do and we start with the obvious: raspberry picking (which she loves), blueberry picking (which she loves), riding on grandpa Ed's shoulders (which she loves)...






And today, we inspect the progress of our tomatoes. When I tell her that they should be ready and ripe soon, I wonder how she interprets that. Soon, as in this afternoon? Soon, as in the same soon when mommy and daddy come to pick her up?






Ed has sawed the fallen part of the willow, leaving us with lovely stumps on which to sit or play. We try those out today.






It's getting very warm outside and so I suggest indoor play. She finds pencils. I provide the paper. You'll think from this that she is left handed, but minutes earlier, she had a pencil in each hand...






I thought I'd sneak in a ribbon for her hair, but she catches me at it...






... and takes it off again and again. Each time with a grin. It's a game for her. One that I cannot win. Except when I serve her lunch -- here, food is more important than anything in her hair. She feasts on leftovers from last night's dinner: roasted beets, steamed peas, shrimp and beautiful heirloom tomatoes. She adores it all!






... and still has room for a yogurt and most certainly for a big bowl of fruit, which, to her, is the crowning glory of any meal.






In the evening I look out at the jewels of my day lily bed. You need to look at something this beautiful to overshadow all that you hear that is not very beautiful at all.





Ah, flowers. They work hard to overcome the difficulties of each season. When they shine, we shine with them.

at the table

So much of our family time is at the table! I suppose I always knew this, but never was it more evident than today. Apart from the garden photos, nearly all of this day's pics are from around a table.

But first -- the garden. It's a stormy morning and a buggy one too and in my dash to let the cheepers out I hardly pause at all.

But I do admire the phlox in last year's new bed...






And the wet day lilies in the bed to the west of the porch...






And of course, I can never resist the entirety...






The young Minnesota couple is staying at the farmhouse and this gives us a few idle minutes together on the porch...






I think about how wonderful it is to have that chance to just sit and bring out the details of their plans, and my plans for the months ahead.






And then we all gather (at Julep) for a family brunch. Ed unfortunately must stay home and continue his tireless work on his machine project, but the rest of us are there, outside, having this one last meal together.






A game of "who will wear these sunglasses" begins.











Mostly, Snowdrop is just so happy to have everyone there with her. I so understand her swells of total joy.






But the time does come for us to say good bye.
I have another game we can play and another and another.
Good bye, Snowdrop.






What if you wear your sunglasses upside down? Wouldn't that be funny? Wouldn't it??








See you soon, spirited, lovable Snowdrop.






At the farmette, the flowers are brilliant still, but they seems a touch less forceful now that two grand admirers who were, after all, married in their midst, have left to return to Minnesota.






Ed brings in a treat: the first ripe tomato from our patch!






And eventually I roll up the sleeves and work on tonight's dinner.

Snowdrop comes with her parents, and she finds Ed and they do their wonderful romp together...






And then we head out onto that place of all places -- the porch.


 



Where the girl eats as if she hadn't seen food for weeks.






One last walk with the cheepers -- offering the rare photo that is not from around the table.











I do hope that you were able to lose yourselves just a little in the thick of this midsummer's magic.

how good is that...

On a perfectly beautiful July day, when the farmette flowers are at their best and the weather matches their mood, my younger daughter and husband drive down from Minnesota and join my older daughter and her husband and Snowdrop for family time in Madison. The story of the day will be told in photos. No words. (Really??? No words??? Promise???)











































































































My two...





[Menu, much of it shamelessly copied from what I ate on my last day in France: chilled melon soup with Muscat over fresh mozzarella, topped with a bit of prosciutto, tajin chicken with apricots and roasted almonds, couscous with market peas, cherry and almond crumble. Snowdrop devoured it all. And yes, I kept the Muscat de Beaumes de Venise out of her portion of the soup.]









How good was that!