Friday

There is a book that I recently read to Snowdrop that's called "Let's Do Nothing." In it, two boys, brothers as I recall, attempt to do nothing and fail miserably at it. At the very least, they wind up blinking their eyelids which, of course, is doing something.

It's kid humor of the best kind, to be taken with a grain of salt, of course, because I want to assure you that I am perfectly capable of doing nothing. Looking back, there have been years when I seem to have done not all that much. Oh, I plodded through school routines and I took out my skateboard or later on, my guitar, but honestly, I may as well have been twiddling my thumbs.

Simply put -- I know I am quite good at engaging in the art of far niente. And I swear, tomorrow afternoon, I am going to twiddle my thumbs until they blister. I am going to do nothing!

Today, however, was a little more stressful.

It starts with an early Ed call, infuriating in its utter leisureliness. Oh, we wont be sailing much today. Maybe 25 miles. We're taking it easy.

Honestly, I would have tilted the boat over and dumped them all into the water were I within reach.

But I am not within reach. Instead, I hear the chickens kvetching and the cat meowing and so I begin my morning farmette chores.





















(The last of the day lilies in the roadside flower bed.)





The flower fields are still lovely and they will always be lovely and as long as I am here, I will tend to them with great affection, but as I walk to the barn, I see how much of the farmette that is not a flower field has been neglected lately. So many weeds in so many places! The path to the barn is hardly a path. The creeping charlie has crept where it shouldn't have crept. Branches hang too low, raspberry canes have spread again, shrubs have emerged out of nowhere.

I think the farmette has finally managed to overwhelm my capabilities, especially this month when the big guy has gone a sailin'. Slowly, leisurely.

After farmette chores comes farmette breakfast, but it's a fast one (albeit ever so pretty).






I am having computer issues again (this time with my little travel computer which is only 5.5 years old but is acting like an old lady without functional mental capacities).

Not surprisingly, working through this takes forever.

Now comes the sweet part: a brief visit with Sparrow whom I may as well call Big Sparrow (though perhaps I shouldn't use such labels) because at his two month appointment, he formally weighs in to be now larger than his four month old cousin who herself is no little peanut.







(Sparrow is actually very good at doing not much of anything. Most two month olds share this skill.)






And as always, in the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop.

We start off adventuring, but the heat becomes rather oppressive, so we side step into a cafe and stay there. For a while at least.






It's the kind of August day that makes you think that autumn isn't such a bad thing after all.

For today, we stick with indoor play.






(On our way out, she is puzzled and perhaps a bit intimidated by all that chicken attention: cheepers, what do you want??? What do they ever want -- love, attention, bread... especially bread.)






I take her home, pausing to visit for a little while with the whole lot of them.












No, not done yet! I'm at the farmhouse now and I need to eat. I had big plans to cut back on cooking while Ed was gone, but it turns out I am incapable of cutting back when it is August and the markets are so abundant! Of course I'm going to stir fry shrimp with garlic, corn, bok choy and cauliflower! Of course I am!





And I'm still not done with the day: the chicken sitter plus boyfriend (he's tall! he can reach! may he remain her boyfriend at least through next week!) arrive after dusk so that we can walk through some of the evening chicken care routines for the few days that I'll be away.

And now it's dark and I am done for the day. What's that you say? A post to write still? I'm on it! Just let me open a bottle of rosé wine first.

I have no words

What conclusions might you draw from seeing a post that has almost no text? Well, you might hope that I had a photographic awakening. A day of inspired genius. And now I just want to give away all my Ocean space to the resulting gallery of images. Or, you might conclude that I want to indicate a more peaceful day. Words aren't needed. We can just all take deep breaths together... then exhale. In... Out...

Or, if you know me well (on Ocean or otherwise), you'll think that I've had one of those days. I didn't plan out my post early enough and by the time I sat down to write it, the sun had long set and the cheepers needed my attention and there was still this accommodation I had to find or else...

Yes, it was like that. The day was too full.

It began early, with an Ed call. He didn't want to wake his sailor friends and so we whispered back and forth for a few minutes. It was almost like breakfast together, only without the food.

Then came the usual farmette chores...





Only today I was in a hurry. I needed to fix a problem with my getaway weekend (which comes not now, but next week). I'd found a cheap airfare. I purchased it. I was happy. And then I couldn't find a place to stay. For 48 hours I have been searching my brains out for a place to stay. It's August. It's a weekend. That says it all, no?

And so my day looks like this:

Finish call with Ed. Look for place to stay. Oh darn it. Cheepers and Stop Sign are meowing and chirping. Must attend to them. As long as I'm out, let me do a half-assed clipping of the garden.






Oh but it does still look so nice!





Go back inside, find place to stay, fire off email, get a "sorry, all booked" response, fire off another.

Eat breakfast. Boom-beedee-boom! Done!






Head out to meet lovely friend for coffee. It's such a rare treat, as she is not in town for long.






After, I hurry back to the farmhouse, check on places to stay, get discouraging emails, read horrible reviews of dirt, noise, odors, bleh! This wont do.

Go back downtown, pick up Mom for a shopping trip to Trader Joe's.






And after it's almost time to pick up Snowdrop. But wait, I have only until 6 pm to cancel a place that I'm sure should be cancelled (for my place to stay). How am I going to swing that if I'm with Snowdrop this afternoon? I take out my phone, cancel everything that I've booked thus far (except the airfare, which is nonrefundable), pick up the sweet child and bring her to the farmette. Where she helps me pick ripe tomatoes.






All hell explodes as a storm passes through.






We play. She wants a change of clothing. Who knows why. Still, it's lovely to be thinking about her rather than about my weekend getaway, which so far has a flight to nowhere.






Dance. There's always dance.






She does flipsee-doo-dahs with her dancing Rosie doll.






What's that? Don't ask. If you're my grandchild, you'll eventually know about flipsee-doo-dahs and loop-dee-loops and yeppers peppers and nopers popers.






Yeah!






The little one leaves. I do a quick dash to the farmers market where I gift a favorite vendor with lots and lots of eggs (the girls are producing way too many for us), pick up some corn, and come home. But I don't eat dinner. I look for a place to stay.

Do you see where this day went?

And here's an ironic twist: when at last I sit down to do an Ocean post, with the intention of saying nothing (see first paragraphs above), I usually end up saying way too much.

Toward the end of the day, I take a plunge: I write to a place that has an Air BnB type accommodation. It's brand new and has no reviews. It could be so awful that no self respecting person would ever set foot there. Or it could be grand. I give them my credit card number, hit "send" and now I really do exhale. What will be will be. Time for me to eat supper: corn and cheeper eggs of course. Exhale. What a day!

Wednesday

I think I need a break. Not from children, no, not at all, but from everything else. Chicken care, for example. Honestly -- I fret about them far too much. It's the little things that get to you, no?

But how do I do it? Can I get away?

The sticking point here is tending to the hens, morning and night. Can I find a chicken sitter?

It's a foggy morning, promising sunshine and warm temperatures. I wake up and start making inquiries.

Oh, but wait, I need to take care of those silly hens first. And the potted annuals. And the cat. And the tomatoes, and of course, the flowers.






(It is in fact Tomato who has joined the big girls in laying eggs...)






(Little frogs everywhere!)











By late morning (approaching the noon hour), I've eaten breakfast...





... and I've done the farmette chores. And I've booked a chicken sitter!

(Pepper and Cupcake, enjoying the summer sunshine...)






I rush then to be with Sparrow, who doesn't understand my rush at all...






And from there, I head straight to Snowdrop's school. Talk about busy day! The little girl runs over, excited and happy. Grandma, we went fishing and I caught two fish and a frog!





Indeed! The teacher confirms that they took sticks, attached a nylon chord, and added makeshift hooks and real worms. The kids walked over to the creek and had amazing successes. The bass were biting!


I ask her what she would like to do now and she right away picks the playground.

(Summer blonde)






But we're not done yet. We follow all this with a pause at the coffee shop, where she draws a book for me...






And just when I think she has exhausted all adventuring possibilities, she asks if maybe now we can go to the community pool.

What a splendid idea! It's nearly 4 and all the school groups have departed. The light is warm but less brazen. The water is perfect.






It's a beautiful day to be playing with the grandkids!

I take Snowdrop home and pause there for just a while. Her mom and baby brother are waiting for her...       






For all the craziness in my days, I feel once more to be in control. Calm almost! Chicken sitters, in a week!

I return to the farmhouse, admire the flower fields that are holding on to that last bit of summer abundance...





I tend to the farmette chores, reheat some leftovers and settle down to write.

Ed has sailed the boat all night long. He must be napping now. I know how that is -- travel disrupts sacred patterns of sleep and rest. But it energizes the soul. He tells me the star filled sky was beautiful, the wind just right. Yeah, I can almost feel it. The great and wonderful journey unfolding, under a night sky.
 

busy in a good way

When people ask me if I mind being insanely busy, I always say no, but with a qualification. I like filling my days, at home or when I travel. Since I am retired, most of the things that fill my days are there because I want them to be there. But it is true that when there are exasperating additions -- ones that frustrate or drag me down -- I feel their weight.

But this is rare. Most days are like last week, or Saturday, or Sunday. Or today: surely I'm busy, but in really good ways.

It's cloudy and cool, with a touch of the muggy. The kind of weather where shedding a sweater feels too cool and wearing a light sweater feels too warm. I spend the early morning tending to flowers, tomatoes, animals, and coops. I give the shout "here, cheepers!!!" and six hens come running. I am their farm mama. In my hands rests their grub.

The flowers are still looking good, but each day there are fewer spent lilies to pick. By mid August most of the lilies will be done. Where has this summer gone??






Well, I know where: keeping busy. Mostly in good ways!






It's quiet again. The ground is too muddy. We may have more rain. The construction crews stay away. My breakfast is peaceful.






It is always a treat to have my close friends come back for Madison visits and today I have a luxuriously long and lovely coffee break with my friend who now lives in New Mexico. (I'm sure she is familiar to anyone who has been reading Ocean for any amount of time!)





This catching up time is real tonic for the soul. It releases the laughter. Because most stories of anyone's life have at least a touch of humor, no?

And immediately after, I visit Sparrow. True, I've seen him a little this past weekend, But I haven't had time to really play with him. It's always somewhat remarkable to see a young babe after even a short absence. They change constantly, whereas we all sort of stay the same. Perhaps we have the capacity to change as well, but we get too darn comfortable in our own sameness.

Sparrow watches my face now, waiting for direction: "what are we doing now, grandma?"


 



"A selfie? Oh, ok." (Sparrow, you're supposed to look at the camera!)






(Here's a way to make a nearly two month old look like he is standing up!)






("Are you saying I look serious? Not always!")






And from Sparrow's home, I scoot straight to Snowdrop's school. She is blowing away at a handmade harmonica/kazoo/musical instrument (proffered  labels for two popsicle sticks, with bits of straw, all held together with rubber bands).






At the farmette, the cheepers hurry to greet us.






They are happiest when someone is around -- for the free handouts and well, I think they feel we're part of their flock.






Snowdrop eats a hundred little tomatoes. At least that's what I tell her -- you're just like me! When I was little, I would go to my grandma's garden and eat a hundred tomatoes!
Wisely, she asks -- did you get a tummy ache?
I did!
She smiles and pops another tomato in her mouth. I think she knows that she is far away from that big number.






Inside, we play store...






(Her "children" are in on the game of course)






It's a new favorite: she draws a credit card for me to use and then tells me what I should purchase with it. Favorite items: flip books of her own making. Baby Sparrow's pacifier. Her swim suit. It is a store with a lot of variety.






When she leaves, I throw another look at the garden. I know I always favor here two flower beds -- the one by the farmhouse porch and the so called Big Bed. There is, of course, a larger landscape out there. Some of it is a tad neglected, where wildflowers from a seed selection compete with wild grasses and probably not a small number of weeds...






Other parts are awaiting maturity. (The tripod supports clematis plants which had a modest display this year, but will likely grow with greater abundance in the future.)






(Throughout all beds I planted lilium bulbs. Most have long finished their blooming season. This half hidden one is just beginning.)






And now it is evening and I have no choice but to make myself eggs for supper. So many chickens, so many eggs!

Oh.... but there is, too, the least favorite part of my day: putting away the cheepers! On the upside, I get an evening view of the gardens.






Do you see that vibrant lily in the middle of the next photo? It's the last bloom of the year for this particular plant. Every year it is my visual starting point when I look at the Big Bed from this back end. I'll miss it in the remaining weeks of summer.






That's so much a part of all our lives, right? We miss the stuff we love that is fleeting, that comes and goes. The joy is in the return and yes, this lily will return. Next year.


Only after the last dish is put away do I turn off the little motor that propelled me all day. No great sails across the vast waters, just a little motor that moved me quietly from one set of good tasks to the next.