Friday

Three points at the outset that speak to the splendidness of the day: the humid air packed its overstuffed bags of hot air and traveled elsewhere, the bug population did not increase over Thursday's explosive levels, and Snowdrop and I made it to the beach today.

Of course, we haven't really begun (yet) the slide toward a bug free existence. Going out to look at flower fields is still a huge chore. Better to admire them from afar than to venture in and clip spent blooms.






We had a storm pass through last night and another large willow limb fell to the ground. Neither of us is motivated right now to do anything about it.

One quick look toward the farmhouse...





... and I hurry inside.

At breakfast, we watch the butterflies play on the flowers. I think about how there are so many beneficial insects in this world! But I absolutely cannot come up with one useful purpose that mosquitoes serve. Will we be surprised to discover in the future that, in some roundabout fashion they are actually vital to our existence? Surely that would make scientific headlines. In the meantime, I zap them with my zapper and count the days when we can reclaim the farmette land again.






Snowdrop comes over for the day and though she settles in nicely to play inside...






... I tell her that I have an adventure in mind. She is excited! She picks up on the key words -- park, lake, beach.

Still, today's destination is a bit different from our County Park visit earlier in the week. Watching me play with Snowdrop in Lake Kegonsa, a woman, a parent herself, made the friendly suggestion that I take the little girl to Troll Park in Stoughton (a village just about a dozen miles south east of us).
There is a man-made lake with a wide beach, some playground stuff for kids and lots of shallow water for splashing about. It costs $4 to get in, but I think you'll both like it.

Looking it up online, I see that it opens at noon. Today we are there just exactly then.

Initially, it looks promising.







But as groups of somewhat older (compared to Snowdrop) kids arrive and the place fills, I begin to think that maybe this doesn't quite have the peaceful beauty of Lake Kegonsa. Snowdrop is, of course, as happy as can be! There is a lot of shallow space and the water has warmed up to be pretty close to the temperature of a bath.






The sun seems strong and I slather on the sun screen and put on her bonnet. And still, she is tickled to play in this space that is like a lake. Sort of.






But she also wants to try the inflated rafts and the slide and I quickly realize that none of those are right for her. The tube slide is too high and I cannot put her on it and catch her in the somewhat deeper water. And the inflated raft is packed with lively kids. She asks more than once to be taken to it...






But then she herself turns away from the ruckus, settling in at the quieter area by the shore.






I suppose there is an upside to the place: the water is calm. Here, too, she ventures out into slightly deeper territory and unlike at Lake Kegonsa, she does not get knocked down by a wave.






And surely Troll Lake is better than a community pool, where the crowds are intense right now and the bottom is more slippery. Here, she has a sandy bottom where she can curl her toes.






She brings her new little penguin into the water. How can one say "no," when book after book explains that penguins love to swim?






Yes, Snowdrop is a happy little girl!






Home at the farmhouse now. Last night's supper offers excellent leftovers as far as Snowdrop's concerned. Shrimp? Heirloom tomatoes? Cucumber? Yum!






Ed returns from his tech meetings and joins her for dessert. She is, predictably, delighted.






This then is our day.


Evening? Well, I studied the map of Poland, of all things. My enormously gifted architect/designer Pani Karolina had sent me links to many things, including places she liked for vacationing with her family. These are not unknown names to me. I've been to corners of Poland that Americans would consider remote. Should I go back? In the new Poland, everything is easier. Bed and breakfast type places flood the internet. Should I search them?

I thought about all this and about the continued disjunction between my family, my friends, my guy who is so at my side in all other respects -- in other words, my life here and that which I know belongs to Poland.

I then turn on the Olympics and, while Ed is away attending company events, I indulge myself in watching how countries can speak of unity against all odds. To many of us, the theme of unity seems rather contrived. Maybe. But to people split between belief systems, cultures, countries, or merely between what he believes in and what I believe in -- it's rather important.

Or maybe it's just that the Brazilians know how to put on a good party and I'm a sucker for watching people do things with passion and heart.

Thursday

I almost titled this post "Every Day Can't Be a Beach Day." In fact, when I reviewed the morning, I felt that I was about as far removed from yesterday's lakeside pleasures as you can get. I had traded in a lovely water breeze for too many minutes on asphalt today.  Honestly, it seemed that all I had to show for this morning was a meager loaf of bread. If that...

Let me go back to the beginning: going out to open the coop, I saw that the bug population has only grown worse. It's hard to imagine what could be worse than yesterday's tsunami, but I kid you not: today we had a meteoric explosion that probably doubled what was here before.

It was time to water the pots and, too, I can't stand to see a day lily covered with spent blooms and so I occasionally reached out to snip a few wilted flowers, all the while swatting bugs with our nifty battery powered bug zapper. The few photos that I took are an act of love...

















Over breakfast on the porch, Ed and I talk about how wonderful it must be to enjoy the harvest of tomatoes, rather than doing it as we have to do it: quickly, amidst the buzz of the hated bugs.











All this would have been enough to make me wistful about the beach, but there is more:

I knew that once again I'd be better off keeping Snowdrop away from the temptation of outdoor play at the farmette. It's hot and muggy (in addition to being buggy) and so I decide to take her to the store. My Madison friends are coming over for dinner tonight and I'm thinking a baguette would be a nice complement to the meal.

There is only one baguette in town that I really like and it's at the western edge of Madison. I know that the French couple who own the bakery like to take August vacations and so I google the shop and facebook it too, just in case, to make sure they were not closed this week. Satisfied that they are up and running, I pack Snowdrop into the car and we set off. To sweeten the deal for her a bit, I promise a stop at one of the few remaining bookstores in town -- the Barnes and Noble that is just across the street from La Baguette.

Here at last! Book time!

Unfortunately, the bookstore has quite the number of toys and notably stuffed penguins in between the book aisles. Once Snowdrop spots them, all pretense of book browsing flies out the door.






(This "bis" comes home with us, okay grandma?)






And you have to have inordinate patience and great tolerance for walking along hot slabs of concrete among whizzing cars if, upon leaving the bookstore, you want to head out to the bakery. Barnes and Noble and La Baguette are near malls and strip malls and it feels like you've stepped into some caricature of what our planet will look like someday if we don't take heed -- the spoils of our insatiable desire for big houses and wide roads to get us to them. With few sidewalks, fewer trees, no smiling people, no reason to smile yourself, as you make your way across a six lane ribbon of rushing madness.

I force the stroller over all this horrid stuff, thinking all the while -- we will have a nice baguette for our efforts! Throw in a cookie! Two cookies! Dessert for tonight! Snowdrop, just you wait!

And then I come to the door to La Baguette and find the dreaded sign that the French love to post on their places of business this month: closed for vacation.

No, every day cannot be a beach day.

And still, there's more.

Because I had wasted Snowdrop's morning by coming here, promising her a baguette -- just like in Paris, just like in Paris! (Indeed -- closed, just like in Paris!) -- I decide I should go to my second favorite baguette store -- this one located on the east side of town. Good bread cannot be had without effort, after all.

Back in the hot car (because of course, mall lots do not have trees -- why satiate our desire to be one with nature when we can, instead,  pour concrete over every last inch of soil?). Off we go to the east side of Madison. Snowdrop does not protest. Perhaps she is happy with the small penguin I bought her at the bookstore. (I know, I know...) Perhaps she is waiting for the magical baguette (just like in Paris!).

We arrive at the Madison Sourdough Bakery, where the baguettes are most often overdone, but still somewhat satisfying. More importantly, there is a pastry section where we pick up some macarons and other cakes for supper...






... and the staff is so damn nice to Snowdrop and she smiles her biggest smile that I think  -- well, it can't be a beach day, but it can have elements of splendor anyway.

At the farmette, I run her inside, past the bugs, and she is happy as can be. Oh, there are the letters of the alphabet to play with...






And grandpa Ed comes over and they do their usual...






... and more importantly from her point of view, ah-ah spends time playing with her.

With total generosity, she hands over her penguin...






... he hands it back to her...






And somehow this all puts her squarely in his lap, which makes her laugh and laugh...






No, not a beach day. But a sweet, warmhearted day nonetheless.






And of course, it ends with a lovely dinner with my friends and a colleague of Ed's who had been working here on some stuff with him.






We couldn't eat on the porch. Storms rolled through, rains fell -- it wasn't pleasant out there, even within the shelter of the screen. No matter. It was a beautiful close to a day.

a Wednesday in August

In every season, on nearly every day, I can think of a thousand things to do with Snowdrop outdoors at the farmette. But there are a handful of times when I'd just as soon not step outside at all. For a few seconds -- maybe, but even that seems excessive. 

Today is one such day.

Oh, it's a pretty sky -- partly cloudy, warm. Well, perhaps too warm. The problem is that the bug swell has reached tsunami proportions. We live close to the wetlands and there will always be days during the summer when you just don't want to be outside.

Tell that to Snowdrop!

I fret about this as I take our breakfast out onto the porch. (The fan blows the air around -- it's not unpleasant. The screens do their job!)






I make a few forays into the flower fields to do some spot maintenance -- no, it's just not fun out there today. Pretty to look at...






... but better still to take that photo and run back inside.






I text my daughter -- pack a swimsuit for the little one. I'll be taking her to the park.


You may remember that Ed and I went for a swim in Lake Kegonsa not too long ago. I wasn't sure if it would be buggy today. I decided to chance it.

I changed the little one into her beach garb and zipped us both down to the La Follette County Park (a mere 13 miles down the road from us).

It was heavem there by the waters of the lake.

(A beach! Like in the books? What do you do on a beach?)






Snowdrop had played on Madison's beaches earlier in the season, but once summer rolled in, the lakes became so unappealing that I stopped taking her to them. She always wanted to step into the water and the look and smell of it made me want to get her out as quickly as possible. And so this is the first time where we actually go to the beach for the sole purpose of playing in the sand and swimming in the water.

(Get wet, play!
Okay okay okay!)






It's a big stick. You can make a tower of it...






Happy!






(A time release photo, just because, here we are, gaga and Snowdrop, at the lake...)






Ah, but what a beautiful world it is...






At the farmhouse again:








And then, I have a whirligig of chores, of errands, outings, of wrapping up the summer in the tight blanket of memorable moments. 

By the evening hours, we all pack up our supplies and head out (with Snowdrop of course) for the Capitol Square, for the last of the evening picnic concerts there.







It's a beautiful night to be nibbling on foods, sipping wine and listening to the music (or eating popcorn and dancing to it, if you're, say 19 months old).







The evening breezes did their magic and by the time the concert nears its end, I really do wonder if the heat wave had been a thing of my imagination. Hot? Was it hot today? I can't remember...






A day full of summer. But of course, this is what you want on a Wednesday in August: warmth. Music. Good foods. A night out with the young people in your life. And Snowdrop. You really do benefit from having a Snowdrop at your side.

Tuesday

It's tough getting up after an evening of festivities. And it's tough to be out manicuring flower fields when the bugs are now in control of outdoor spaces Still, I have this sense of shared misery: I'm not the only one feeling post-party tired today, and I'm not the only one with bugs flying every which way, and finally, I'm not the only one with a garden that's slowly inching toward Fall.

With that fresh perspective, I head out to do some pruning. And of course, expecting a garden with diminishing returns, it all looks rather grand!






(Here are four photos of day lilies from various corners of the farmette -- all are just now about to peak.)



ruffled doubles




reliables




spiders




bold and bright


Lowering your expectations nearly always makes you love what you see.






On the porch, I feel an urgent need to preserve these moments of sublime idyll that so mark our mornings now. I set the camera on a timer.






Yes, there is this contentment. The feeling that life has been very generous in giving us countless mornings over a bowls of fruit and cups of coffee and whatever else we add to it.






The visual gifts all around us are so grand! At such times, I'll feel the deep appreciation of having things exactly as they are now and I'll stumble over myself trying to explain this to Ed, who will get that guy look of patient tolerance, and I'll feel even more inclined to come up with the kindest, nicest words... It's our lovely pattern of sharing a good moment.


All this week, Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse for the day. She shows up as always with a wide smile and a generous heart toward everything and everyone around her.

(Where is she going? Do you know? -- Scotch seems to be asking...)






From Snowdrop -- Where is ah-ah? 






He went to the store on his motorcycle.
Ah-ah?
Yes, to get some tools to fix one of his machines.
Ah-ah?
(She can say a lot with very few words.)






I lure her inside with a promise of a surprise -- a set of magnet letters to play with. A reward for her continued love of identifying the alphabet.






(And here's another, rather predictable, reward...)






I bring out a magnet board that she had rejected many months back. It's a different story now! She definitely has ideas on how things should look on it. Grandma, farm magnets on one side...






... and letters on the other!






She points to the record player. Being rather lazy about music selection, I'd been playing one album daily. She wants to hear it again. She obviously knows the songs and today she is driven to dance. And I mean dance! None of this tame stuff.











She is one rock and roller!












Evening. Snowdrop is back at her home and Ed is busy with his machining project and I take rosie the moped out for a spin. Ed had just buffed her up and refreshed her mechanicals and she feels speedy and powerful.

There is no better time to ride your motorbike than on a hot summer evening.

I stop first at the corn farm to pick up some ears for our supper. If you live n Wisconsin and if you care about fresh produce, then surely in August you'll be eating corn and tomatoes. Both are staples for us now.

(The corn farm is also home to the horned cattle. As a commenter pointed out -- they're not really longhorns. These guys are Scottish Highlanders.)






I swing onto a particularly lovely stretch of rural road. I know just the spot where the prairie is vast and beautiful. I pause there to take it in.






And I stop again just before pulling into our driveway. It's pretty here as well, in the mishmash of crops grown by the truck farmers for the local markets.






I could end with that, but I think, instead, I'll end with another photo taken on this day with a time release. This time it's with Snowdrop.






Her smile is my smile. Yep -- plenty of grins spilling out from both of us today.