in the heat of the moment

It can be confusing: cold, warm, wet, dry, buggy, windy, bright, hazy. Spring? Summer? What is this anyway?

(The gardener will cast one eye toward the flower beds, spot the profusion of irises and the beautiful, bursting with petals peonies and roll her eyes. It's June, of course!)










We eat breakfast on the porch. The jug is loaded with peonies. That's because the garden is loaded with peonies. You could clip enough for many tables and no one would notice any shortfall in the yard.





And somehow the day speeds right to the afternoon.

When I pick up Snowdrop, the air feels sticky and warm. We spend a little time in her school playground, killing minutes until her scheduled haircut, which, believe it or not, she requested. She does look shaggy here...






Time to go, little one!
Haircut time??






A few minutes later, it's done!
(I can't say that there is a huge difference, even as I swear, I saw many inches of hair fly off her shoulders.)






The beach that has grabbed her so much this week is just around the corner. It's so hot now -- surely a perfect time for a swim!

Or is it?





The lake water here (I'm told) is 81F (27C) today! Some caring people are raking out the lake weed. Kids are swimming about, but in the shallow regions where Snowdrop hangs out, it feels just ever so slightly refreshing. She picks up a few scattered beach toys, does a quick splash and then retreats to the swings.

Snowdrop, enough! It's hot! Let's go!

It's a long long while before she is willing to get off.






(After, we play "ice cream store." Would you like some blueberry smash, grandma? Blueberry smash? Oh, does that sound good!)






As we eventually get in the car to drive to the farmette (a hot car that I thought I'd left in the shade, only the shade had moved elsewhere), Snowdrop says -- I loooove winter! I loooove every snowflake! Do you love snowflakes, gaga? Or a snowstorms? Do you love them too?

Each season is beautiful. And Snowdrop just reminded me that no season is more perfect than the next or the one before.

to be ready

My daughter's babe isn't due for another week, but everyone says the birth will be ahead of schedule and so we are all tidying up the last details in an attempt to be ready. For me, this means doing anything and everything that needs to be done before Snowdrop arrives for an extended visit.

(the Big Bed)






I work out some kinks in the garden. You cannot tell how the height of some of the plants will affect its neighbors until they're fully grown, at which point you realize the error of your planting and you replant the poor shaded flowers.

(the Lily Bed, which, as you can see, is framed by flowers that are not lilies)






And then the rain comes down and I retreat inside. Breakfast is in the kitchen, It suddenly feels a bit cool outside.






Afterwards, I go over to the sheep shed and start in with good cleansers and a sponge. Why? It's because of the bath tub. The sheep shed is the only place here that has a tub and Snowdrop is not always happy to take a shower. So I scrub Ed's old tub until it sparkles, remembering the last time I did this years ago, on some visit or other when I got it into my head that his work space ought to be as neat and clean as I can make it. I was showing off my scrubbing skills. I did not understand then that Ed really did not care if his shed was in great order. But, I scrubbed then, unnecessarily, for him, and I scrub now, with somewhat greater urgency, for Snowdrop.

(busy bees, inside and out!)






And now comes my Snowdrop pick up. It's cloudy. A storm passed through. I'm wearing a sweater. I know the little girl has been intensely excited since morning about repeating our beach adventure. She even insisted on taking a swimsuit to school, so we wouldn't be without swimming necessities.

She greets me with a big smile, suit in hand. I comment on the weather. Her teacher says -- I tried to tell her... 

Snowdrop's face crumbles. The disappointment is profound.

I know these life lessons are important. You cannot have it all. Dreams and wishes are not promises. They're aspirational. Life is full of disappointments. Etc.

But this wish was so small, so full of anticipation and belief that it could happen, because, well, it's the season for it. And I do know that the weather may improve as the day progresses. I think the teacher is waiting for the "life is full of disappointments" speech, but I do not give it. Instead, I snuggle her and tell her -- let's wait a little. Maybe play outside? Let's see what happens.

I'm thinking that with time, she'll appreciate that it really isn't in our hands. That this decision belongs to nature.

She is consoled. We go outside and she plays with her bud: they both swing pretend friends on the playground swings...







And as they play and I chat with the boy's mom, magically, truly magically, the sun comes out. In ten minutes, we climb from 68F (20C) to 73F (23C). Good enough! Snowdrop, the weather gods love you! We're on!

I have no more worries about the quality of the water.

And the little girl is thrilled! A public beach, a little water. Bliss.
















 I am amused and not all that surprised that once I give her the green light for water play, she doesn't really stay glued to the lake. Her story telling takes her everywhere.  
Here's life guard Snwodrop!
Gaga, I'm not a life guard!
Sorry...






We end with the swing. She's getting really good at pumping. I'm not surprised.







At the farmette, Ed shows us the day's pickings: three eggs. We speculate what the color may be for the future eggs of the young chicks.
Maybe pink?






Evening. Ed is biking. I sit on the porch and admire the play of light on the still mostly green flower beds. Can I say it yet again? It's so beautiful!





You can be ready for something and then the unexpected (bad weather?) comes to pass, or you can be ready and the desired event (a birth) drags its little feet. Life is funny that way: it offers its own lovely surprises.

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.