you just can't tell

The day is brilliant: sunny, just topping at the mid 70sF (24C). The mosquito population is definitely down. At the very least, they're hiding. Is it the weather? Is it that the first cycle of bugs is winding down and the next one hasn't yet emerged? Or is it that Ed's fan traps with cell phones playing mp3's of Spanish verbs and 50s music are working?

So much of what we do outside has consequences for the success of farmette gardens, but often times, we are left wondering which factors were decisive. If the tomatoes were great three years ago but terrible last year, and lackluster so far this year (at least the ones left in the tomato bed -- the ones we transplanted are phenomenal!), is it because of the soil? Inadequate organic matter? A virus in the field?

And why do the rabbits and groundhogs chomp away at my decorative sweet peas and clematis stems, but leave my other peas alone (for now)? And will the beetles come back to eat away the beautiful clusters of emergent grapes, or can we control them with nets over the vines?

With more experience and more years under your belt, you realize that life generates more questions than it resolves.

(In the flower beds, the peonies still rule.)






Breakfast, with bunches of fallen flowers from the garden.






(With a view toward the chicks... and the gardens...)





I work hard again. Planting, transplanting, watering, fixing. When I look up, it's just about time to pick up Snowdrop.

For a few minutes, she plays in the school playground. With one of her best buds from her class.





But her bud has to go home and she is still eager to stay outside. She asks if we could possibly go to the playground.
I give it a second's thought. Sure! It's good weather for that. Let's go!

Initially she stays with the swings, the play structure. There are two park maintenance people working on something or other. I ask them if the lake water is safe today. You have to check these things. You can't assume that a lake is good for kiddie wading these days. They say yes, and they seem surprised that I should ask.

And now I know why they seemed surprised. Of course it's clean! Ed discovers that just three beaches in our county, including the one we were at (and also one that is just a mile or two away from the farmette), are under the "clean beach corridor" water purification systems (water is isolated, pumped out, cleaned and purified and then fed back to the swimming area).  They stay clean and open for kiddie swimming from Memorial Day 'til Labor Day.

Who knew?!

At the time I'm there with Snowdrop, I merely have the assurance of the park guys that the water is safe. So I encourage her to wade. Snowdrop is tentative at first. And then she isn't tentative at all!  I think the four photos below tell the story well.




















Late afternoon. It is nearly impossible to get her to leave! Well, who can blame her. I can't tell you what the rest of the season will bring, but I must say, so far, midspring has been extraordinarily grand!

Monday

Oh, we do get spoiled! Beautiful days, one after the next -- how can you not love them? Bright skies, delicious breezes, blooms in the garden.






Normally we would be out fixing stuff on the farmette lands (there is always something to fix, dig, improve), but Ed avoids working outdoors when the grading equipment on the lands being developed all around us is making its racket. And I have errands to do. I take out Rosie the moped for this -- she and I haven't been out for many spins this year. Madison passed an ordinance prohibiting the parking of mopeds on sidewalks and so the old girl's usefulness has been diminished. But on a day like this, a ride feels energizing! After breakfast, of course.






(I have many peony bushes in bloom right now. A few snips brings those bushy pink heads to the table.)






(Looking out, the spring colors of the Big Bed are eye catching. The closer lily bed still has a month before it begins its show.)







(A moment with the cheepers. Hands down, Tomato, the shrimp of the lot, remains our cuddliest, friendliest chicken.)






And now it's time to pick up Snowdrop. She is in her last week of school. When we leave, she points to the place in the building that will house her summer "camp," and, too, her new Fall classroom.






Very quickly she launches into a story. It's a futuristic narrative.  And it goes on for a long, long while.






Distracted finally by a reading marathon at the farmhouse. And a dip in the wading pool.





But you can tell that she has not yet stopped spinning this tale in her head. She doesn't stay in the water long. She wants to play with the hose. She wants to play frisbees. She is all over the place!

Finally, she makes her way to the back of the farmette land, where she pronounces the chip pile to be her castle. She is (by her own pronouncement) the queen. I'm not sure what she knows about queens. The subject of royalty doesn't come up much here at the farmette.






(Preparing a feast for the royal table.)






The story gets complicated. Suddenly she is in need of a second castle. The search begins.






The flower bed seems satisfactory, but her little feet topple too many flowers. Still, for a few minutes, it is one beautiful castle.






Yes, that's the way this place seems to me too: one beautiful castle. Especially when the skies are blue, the peonies -- in full bloom and your grandkid is romping from one exquisite farmette corner to the next.

Sunday

Spring came back today. You know, that lovely time of cool breezes and puffy clouds -- weather that I associate with Scotland summers? Here for a day!

The winds chased most of the bugs away to their hiding places. Such a magnificent reprieve! A morning walk in the garden...





... quickly morphed into a six hour outdoor adventure of clearing peripheral beds, moving plants, hauling chips.

(All this, of course, after a porch breakfast.)






In our walk across farmette lands, we took note of the wild prairie to the north of us (I want to tame it a bit, Ed is reluctant), the thriving grape vines (the Burgundian trim was so good for them!), the decently growing young orchard, and the very lackluster performance of the tomatoes.

(The young chicks followed us, but I think right about here, they got stuck in the tall grasses and turned back.)





It's become obvious to me that the soil in the tomato bed is not good. The six bushes Ed had kept out of the bed are doing phenomenally well. But the ones we put into the field are just okay.

We till a  weedy spot closer to the sheep shed and throw down some chips.






We transplant a half dozen tomato bushes to this newly formed bed, ensuring that the root ball is placed in a soil rich in compost. Let's hope this helps them regain some of that tomato oomph.

Otherwise, things are looking pretty good!





I put down my shovels and gardening gloves and go inside to cook dinner for the young family.

Snowdrop is playful of course. She always wants to plunge into a high energy game (even though she comes here right after a soccer match), even as we're winding down for the evening. But, she has Ed: he never says no to her.
Want to play "family?"
Sure.






My daughter is only ten days away from her due date. Yes, I can tell: this babe is getting anxious to come out!






Even though it's a cool evening, we eat on the porch. Snowdrop picks out everyone's sun dried tomatoes from the pasta dish. She just looooves sun dried tomatoes!






Every last one goes into her mouth.






Late evening. Still cool, dry, spring-like.

A quick sweep, a short stroll to the car and they're off.






As I glance out the window, the clouds part and a corner of the big flower bed lights up with appreciation.






Yes, I'm truly thankful as well: it is a beautiful time to be at the farmette. June, at her best.

Saturday

As the number of trips to Chicago grows (I'm running quickly through my packet of bus round trip tickets), I become less distracted by the city. In the same way that I no longer photograph Madison's farmers market in its own right (it is the combination of Snowdrop and market that prompts me to use my camera), I no longer feel compelled to take pictures of the neighborhoods that I visit in the big city. I am here to see Primrose and it is only when she steps out into the urban landscape that I think to myself -- wow, this is incredibly beautiful! And I snap.

On this trip, I am staying with the young family.You know -- these people!






I'm not here long. Weekends especially are a precious time for them. No one has to work. Both can look after their most special charge.

(Primrose, getting her hair "brushed")






I want to leave them to their days together, as a young family.

But we do fit in an outing. It's cool outside: a hoodie is most appropriate! A hoodie, with a smile.






We go to the local "pub" (Publican Anker) for brunch. The parents reminisce how Primrose was just a few days old when they first brought her here. Kids make you aware of the galloping pace of time.

Unlike that first meal here some seven weeks ago, Primrose sleeps only briefly now.






Still, she is at this moment (no promises for next week or next month or next year!) a good restaurant baby. Even if she does cast a suspicious look my way, as if to say -- wait a minute, you're not my mom or dad. Are you that gaga person?    






Your parents haven't abandoned you to the wolves, sweet Primrose! They're right over there, see?






How I love these young couples in my life! I get a whiff of something ephemeral and at the same time eternal, just being in their company.



And then I come home to the farmhouse.

(Siberian iris, along the driveway.)






(A peony asks: okay, you're home... can I unfurl my petals now?)






Ed and I are not a young couple. We're active, but we can groan loudly after an especially strenuous day. And we are just a little bit (okay, a lot) set in our ways. You don't see that and you don't believe it about yourself until you watch younger couples navigate a day.

Still, the fact that we are together tells us something: there's a whole lot of elasticity left in our approach to the other.

Do you want salad with dinner today?
No, I just had one yesterday. They're all the same.
Really? (I admit I ask this in a not too friendly a voice.) I chop some avocado and throw pea shoots, arugula and butterhead lettuce into a bowl for myself.
Maybe they're not all the same.
It's just a salad, for Pete's sake.
Maybe I want one too.
Not today. 

A whole lot of elasticity, don't you think?!

I go out for a short little walk up the road. The deer are moving through the remains of the farmers' fields. The light is gorgeous, the breeze is cool.





June is off to a beautiful begining.

milestones

Markers of the progression of time: the year is full of them! Many of my significant ones are in the garden. For example, there is this moment when all the flowers in this one small group of the Big Bed bloom together. Each year when this happens, I think -- we are in the thick of another year of flowers! And it is beautiful!





I should say that in early June, the garden is in transition. This is when the annuals in the tub do their job so well -- they blend with the perennial beds, creating a continuous ribbon of color,  Here are two such spots:











Breakfast. Earlier than usual. On the porch.






I have three important things to attend to on this day and each is a significant milestone:

First, I secure the final details of the move date for my mom (it will be in the first half of July). I should note that she is no stranger to Madison having lived here during the earlier years of my daughters' lives. But, she's been away from this place (and from winter!) for nearly twenty years, so the change for her will be huge.

Secondly, I attend the end of year musical event in Snowdrop's class. I have to admit that these end of school year performances have always been totally lovely for me. All I see is how much my child or grandchild has grown, how much they have taken with them, but, too, how much they have contributed to the classroom community.  Can anyone doubt that among Snowdrop's many gifts is her ability to bring a smile to a face?






Snowdrop's school year doesn't end until next week, but today felt like an ending for sure. A happy one, with the anticipation of more adventures, growing friendships and wonderful stories in the year ahead.






And now thirdly, but not less importantly, I move quickly from Snowdrop's classroom to the park-and-ride, where I catch the bus to Chicago.

I have a chance to visit with the other great grinner in the family -- Primrose.

(mother and daughter, smiling at each other)






I note the little one's own milestones: she now has her very own favorite page in a book: a picture of a cow (of all things).






She is bookish alright! One story about babies, one about sheep, another about an owl -- all hold her attention.






And another milestone for me, for her: I am entrusted with her care while her parents go out for a first evening without a child dangling from the ergocarrier, or snoozing in the stroller.

Primrose's dad grabs a bite on the run, the little girl smacks her lips, but understands that such delicacies as a french fry are for an older set.






(I have a hunch that mom will find it strange to be out on a date without the babe nearby.)





Of course, the parents have orchestrated things beautifully: Primrose is fed, swaddled, lulled to sleep. They leave.

Within ten seconds of their departure, Primrose is up and asking "where are my parents??" Well, she's not really racing up and down the room, and she's not articulating much of anything yet, and secretly  I'm kind of glad she has her small outburst, because otherwise I'd feel my big milestone baby sitting job would have been pretty unimpressive. As it is, I "expertly" lull her back to sleep. Between you and me, a child could have done it. Primrose (thus far) is a good sleeper.