Friday

I posted early yesterday, fearing that the powerful storms that were about to push through here would take away our electricity.

In fact, our power lines and internet service remained in place, but driving out later with Ed and a visiting colleague to get something to eat, we saw why flash flood warnings were blaring everywhere. Most of the dips in the roads were completely submerged and the rushing waters were frightening enough that several times we turned back and found alternate routing.

Never did a trip to get pizza take so long. Moral of the story: next time make your own pie.

Most of the day lilies looked unscathed and unbothered this morning, though a number of other tall flowers were barely hanging in there. But my attitude toward my flower beds changes right about now: I no longer look for perfection.

(Well, I still trim and pamper the really showy day lilies.)





The storm pushed the garden into a retreating mode. It's slowing down and turning the corner, as if it's beginning to ready itself for the next season.

Or maybe it's that I have turned the corner. Working outside is less fun in the steamy hot days we've had lately and, too, there are the bugs. Righting fallen stalks was an occasional thing before, but now there are a number that bend this way and that. I don't want to bother picking them all up. A late summer garden isn't about perfect posturing. I learned that in Giverny -- it's about maintaining a balance, nothing more.

We do eat breakfast on the porch...






And I want to show here a view from it to the side. This part of the garden is too often neglected on Ocean. I think it offers some of the more serene vignettes at the farmette.






Shortly after, Snowdrop shows up. I have for her Pete the Cat -- a stuffie that is a character straight from some of her favorite books here at the farmhouse.






As I watch her play (including here, brushing the"teeth" of her favorite penguin), I am reminded that her bangs need a trim.






I bribe her with blueberries and get to it. Verdict: it always looks better a few days later...

We go out to feed the cheepers. Scotch is studying her dress carefully: is there something for me there? No? Hmmm...






You sure? Oh, go away, Scotch!
(Me, I notice the girl holding a flower petal, in a flowered dress, against a backdrop of flowers.)






Okay, cheepers -- Snowdrop and I are off!






... to the Arboretum.

There are many wonderful things that can be said about that vast expanse of greenery right in the  center of Madison, but from the point of view of a little girl, the allure is loud and clear -- there is space. To run. To take the lead and have me follow.






(Me, I can't help but notice, too, the flowers...)






(This would include the rose bushes -- the blooms are fading, but they still are there for her to gently touch. She knows well from the farmette gardens that you do not pick anything unless someone tells you it's okay.)






The Arboretum feels empty and this is good, though I think it makes it more of a solitary, contemplative outing. Still, Snowdrop is happy. I can tell.






It's a hot and muggy day and she is delighted when I suggest a trip to a coffee shop on our way back. We sip our cold beverages through our straws.






Back at the farmhouse, we eat lunch, she naps, her mom comes, I grocery shop  -- -- this is our Friday...

Outside, the warm colors of the garden make me reach for the camera one last time.





This is home.

Ed and I watch Brooklyn tonight -- a rerun for me  -- and I am again flooded with my own memories of being undecided as to where I should imagine my future.

Those are distant thoughts now. I have no doubt now what place, for me, is home.

Thursday

This afternoon, I received a job offer. From the ticketing reissuing department of Delta Airlines. Here's how it came to pass.

It's a hot and humid day in south-central Wisconsin.  We do eat breakfast on the porch, but that's because we have a portable fan that we sometimes run to move things around a bit. It's such a beautiful time to be eating on the porch (if you're into flowers) that you don't want to take your morning meal indoors if you can help it.






The most radiant lilies are at their fullest right now. It's really beautiful to behold.






And right after breakfast, I take Snowdrop to gym class.  She is confident and happy -- as if she's figured out what gym is all about. Bounce? Okay!






Parallel bars? Sure!






This is cool!






Bubbles!






We have a bit of time in the library afterwards, followed by a brief visit to Paul's coffee shop...






...and then I return her home.

I have the afternoon to catch up on various jobs and I begin by trying (with some modest success) to rebook some forthcoming flights, where prices had fallen since the original bookings.

This takes forever.

Really forever.

And where one arm is adjusted, another leg is somehow messed up, leading me to call Delta again and again and again. It's at the final call that I connect with an employee who admires my tenacity and asks me to join the Delta team.

Perhaps he was not serious.

I'll leave you with a photo of what you see when you round the corner and enter our courtyard, walking toward the farmhouse. Call it a Fed Ex delivery person's view as she comes toward the farmhouse to deliver a package (as she did today). Lovely flowers! -- she tells me. Yes, every bloom is a work of art. And together, they are outrageously sublime.

Wednesday

Perennials. So quickly they'll drop their blooms and fade with the season! But right now, they still dominate the landscape. The flowers are everywhere, often standing out for their unusual combinations.






Breakfast is on the porch, with a view toward the biggest and the brightest (though not necessarily the best -- I don't really have favorites) of the flower fields.






In the next photo, the camera captures the porch, looking directly at it from out front.






Snowdrop is at the farmhouse again today and after a bit of play (photo by Ed)...






I decide to take out her splash pool. On the upside -- it's refreshing in this very very warm weather...
Fill it up, grandma!






And the future great painter (see t-shirt) spends many minutes practicing the art of  splashing...






But it is buggy out there. I don't like those buzzing sounds, nor do I like staring hard to make sure nothing lands on Snowdrop and so after a rather shortish time, we move on -- to the blueberry patch, where she gratefully accepts a handful of the berries, straight off the bush.






Ah-ah-eh is her own name for grandpa Ed and she of course manages to squeeze in a climb all over him when he comes out to watch her play.






Inside again, she has me spread out some blankets. She takes her music cube and stretches out, like you'd imagine an adolescent might do while listening to a favorite song.






In the evening, my daughter comes over and the three of us -- she, Snowdrop, gaga -- eat Thai food (the men are otherwise occupied). Snowdrop wipes her plate clean!






It's a beautiful summer's eve here, at the farmette.







Calm and happy.Without fuss, without menace. Simply beautiful. (Photo by Snowdrop's mommy.)

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.