Wednesday

My contact with the outdoor world is limited on a day like this: I need to feed the cats, pick up Snowdrop, take her to dance, drive her and mom home, step out for a second with mom, then return to the farmhouse. If I tallied all the minutes of actual time outside, it can't be more than 10 or 15 minutes and half of those are early, when skies are plenty gray but there's nothing falling from them yet.

So I consider myself lucky. The farmhouse is warm. We are safe from a spring snow/rain storm's rampage.

But, it's surely not pretty out there! That is, after the morning walk to deal with the cats, which is at least a little pretty! Even the northern lily/daffodil bed has a pop up yellow bloom all ready to unfurl! And the southern front bed has plenty of gold in it!










Breakfast. We talk about... guess what! The weather.






I tell Ed we wont be seeing much snow -- not until evening and only for a short while then. Madison is right at the edge of the great changeover from snow to rain, so I remind him that we're slated to see more water than white stuff.

I am wrong.






Let's just hope the quantities will be small. I don't worry about flowers like the scilla siberica. With a name like that, you better be plenty tough!






But the daffodils will slump if the snow gets too heavy.






That's two spring seasons in a row with April snows! 2020 better deliver a sweeter outcome!


I pick up Snowdrop just as she is finishing  an art project. Well, more like an art habit: give her a pink marker and a piece of paper and she'll go at it -- create her unique version of a picture story book.






Done? Can you show it off, little one?






Outside, she takes note of the snow. Despite her professed love of spring, she is excessively happy!






I tell her she is like Ed who, upon hearing me groan, retorted -- but it's so pretty!






Maybe. Just not this month.



It's dance day and so we rush through Snowdrop's favorite routine at the farmhouse -- eat n' read.

We make it to class just on time!






(today's story -- Alice in Wonderland)






Tonight, I'm the designated driver and so I take the girl home, lingering for a while to say hello to her brother...






(while in the background, the parents break into a spontaneous dance...)






The snow isn't huge. Madison has significant more of a cover than we do, even though it's just a couple miles to the north.  Still, it feels very wrong.





It will melt within a day. But it is a crazy contrast to yesterday's green sprouts and warm sunshine. Spring in Wisconsin can be... complicated!

stellar Tuesday

We were gifted a pair of beautiful days! Today, June-like weather stayed with us, to the joy of all who just can't wait to see their garden grow!
















It cannot be said that Ed and I took it easy this morning. Shortly after breakfast (still indoors, because, you know, mornings are an iffy proposition in April)...






... armed with clippers big and small, we attacked the trees in the young orchard. Perhaps a handful of you will remember that we got ambitious some half dozen years ago and planted more than a dozen new fruit trees. They had a rocky start. Deer attacked them, beetles devoured them -- it was a brutal awakening to the hazards of life for a cherry, plum, apple or pear.

But the trees survived (though many have a very "nontraditional" shape!) and we learned to protect them and clip them. We have still to harvest fruit -- maybe a handful of cherries, an occasional apple. Birds and animals beat us to it and what is left on the branch, the beetle will happily finish off. Still, we keep at it. As the trees grow and mature, we're hoping they'll produce enough fruit for everyone. And in the meantime, their blooms in spring are gorgeous and of course, bees love them!

(clipping branches)






We grow grapes in back of the orchard. Their yield, too, is miserable. Another beetle favorite! By summer's end, there are too many mosquitoes out there for us to care! Still, we try: enough to clip them now into proper shape.

(by late morning, all sweaters and jackets are tossed aside!)





Afterwards, Ed mends the coop and I set to work on the Big Flower Field. Some plants have to be controlled (I'm lookin' at you, beebalm!), some merely need a quick weed and a tidying hand.

As the time to pick up Snowdrop draws near, I take a quick walk through the remaining flower fields and tick off in my head all that I need to do there. Not today though. And not the rest of this week either: we're getting quite the downturn in the weather. But I'm not complaining: we have had a remarkable pair of days!

(what's blooming at the farmette...)







And now I'm ready for Snowdrop!

As we drive from school to the farmette, I ask her about her day.
Good -- she tells me. Then -- gaga, did you know humpback whales used to be extinct?  Now they just take your breath away! Interesting observations, albeit not about school.
I press her -- did you spend a lot of time outside?
Yes. Indeed. She seems to have had her fill. Now, after a brief conversation with the cheepers, she runs inside the house.






Books, pretend play.






They fill her time.






She is not ready to stop, even though the clock says it's time for me to take her home.





Clocks have a way of ordering our lives. Sometimes that's good. Other times -- it ruins a fun play.

Still, Snowdrop is a girl who does not like to stay on the rebellious side of the line for long. She asks if I will give her a time out for resisting the need to clean up and get going.
No little one. No time outs from Gaga. That's a job for teachers and parents. You and me -- we'll just talk.


Evening. I'm not cooking again. We eat Chipotle bowls and watch Finding Your Roots on television (we're both terrific fans of it) and try not to think about the winter storm forecast for tomorrow.

glorious Monday

I wake up to birdsong. That's what happens when windows stay open on a warm spring night. It's just heavenly! I wish I could identify the birds. I'd send a message their way -- dear winged XYZ, your calls and chirps in the morning are sublime! They calm the soul, nourish the spirit and reassure all of us that the most beautiful elements of life remain with us every day, whether we see them or not. Thank you.

I'm up. I step outside. Oh my!

It's called "Spring Beauty" (scilla siberica, pronounced sil-ah, for the fussy among you).






It's always the very first blooming flower at the farmette. Today, it's showing up everywhere! A dazzling first taste of three seasons of flowers!

And let me say at the outset that it is a drop-dead gorgeous day at the farmette. The loveliest of spring days -- warm, with plenty of sunshine. June weather, really, but we'll take it! Greedily, because we are so hungry for it!

As on any day, rain or shine (or snow or frost) I begin with feeding Jacket and Dance, our two young feral cats. The chicken coop opens at 8 and I want to squeeze in a good feed before the cheepers descend and create their own version of pushy chaos (they try every which way to get to the cat food and we try every which way to keep them away from it).

Oh, but it's a lovely morning! And all that sprouting green stuff! The daffodils! The day lilies too!






(Looking toward the beloved farmhouse)






The first half of Monday, of course,  belongs to my grandson, Sparrow. He'll be 10 months tomorrow. Today? Oh, he is his usual chipper self.






I'm tempted to eat breakfast on the porch. He's certainly willing!






But there is that early morning nip that tells me I shouldn't push it. We settle in around the kitchen table. My guys and me.






After? A few of our usual routines. The timed release! (Short sleeves for everyone!)






Ed's lap!






But honestly, it's not a day for staying indoors. And wouldn't you know it, Sparrow is just mesmerized by the cheepers.






And especially by the crowing Happy.

(Sparrow gets a lesson in animal reproduction as Happy pounces on a somewhat reluctant Peach.)






(Does that ever look like a satisfied rooster?)






I am glad to see that as with baby Snowdrop, the cheepers are indifferent to baby Sparrow. He pursues his exploration of dry twigs and spent leaves and they pursue their hunt for the perfect bug or blade of grass.






Sparrow is a big guy and so no one is surprised that he's not extremely mobile yet.  The upside of this is that he can be placed most anywhere and five minutes later he'll still be there. It also means that I haven't yet confronted the problem of baby-proofing the farmhouse. It's looming on the horizon, especially if Primrose comes for a visit, but for now, I have it easy.

Too, like all the grandkids, Sparrow is a terrific napper. That means I have time to do some yard pruning and clearing. And in working the south facing flower field by the road, I come across another surprise: on the same day that the scilla flowers let out their sweet gentle blue petals, I see the first farmette daffodils! It's enough to make you sing!





There is a lot of outdoor time for all of us. Vitamin D time. Happy spring time. Lovely time to take in all that is growing, thriving all around.


And in the afternoon, I switch focus. Time to pick up Snowdrop. Perhaps predictably, given the weather, I suggest we walk over to the playground after school.

I have been to this playground with her since she was just a few months old! The girl is now four: what has changed since the last visits in the warmth of summer and fall?

The swing is still a hot ticket item. Though do note that the sweater is quickly shed. "It's too warm," she tells me.






And after? She recalls her favorite game of ice cream shop! It's more sophisticated and there are twists and turns to navigate...





... but still, I am delighted to be again the person who does not get her ice cream cone, even as (imaginary) others prevail.


Sorry, Gogs...






(Did I mention it? It's a windy day!)






There are, of course, other children at this small lake-side park today. Some of them are running in and out of the water, making moats and puddles in the wet sand. I ask her if she wants to join them.

Nope. She knows one of the boys. But she's not one to plunge into the crazy unfamiliar. She chooses to stick with her stories. The focus is now on school and work problems. The playfulness is the same.






At the farmette, we do read, but we also take in the wonderfulness of this extraordinary day.






(Ed notes that the cheeper watering dish is completely dry...)






(Snowdrop rushes to help...)






Long after the little girl leaves, Ed and I remain outside. We prune our peach trees. One is lost to the miserably cold winter. The other three are with us still. Tomorrow, we'll hit the young orchard with our clippers!

I retreat inside to fix a supper of leftovers. But I get a hail from Ed that brings me out again. Gorgeous, it's a pink sky!





Yes it is.

rainy Sunday

The thing about plummeting so quickly from feeling fine to feeling like a garbage can full of rotting trash is that when you recover, you are grateful to the core. After sleeping off most of the day and most of the night, I woke up just a little woozy still, but basically fine. And thankful! I'm granted a reprieve! I can move! I can even eat (a little)! Incredible!

One can spend too much time analyzing where the torpedo of illness came from. Why bother. Could be food, could be bugs, could be those little microorganisms we know so little about. I say take your good days and enjoy them and don't fret about all that belongs to the past. You're never going to get ahead of that game guessing what felled you -- may as well revel in the beauty of feeling normal.

We continue with the mild weather and indeed, we will have positively summer like conditions tomorrow. Don't let that fool you, though! By Wednesday, I'm told we're getting a snowstorm. April is so mischievous!

When I do finally get up and moving, I notice that it is 60F (16C) outside. You know that the French would step outside to drink their petit cafe even in less hospitable circumstances. So why not finally, for the first time this year, take our breakfast outside to the porch?!





Nothing, absolutely nothing brings out the feeling of well being as much as a leisurely morning moment over a coffee outside. The French are onto something.

Still, spending some time out on the porch today does remind me that winter has left a brutal trail of debris and dust, not helped by the endless development construction all around us. I spend a solid amount of time wiping down surfaces and vacuuming up dirt. The porch is now officially open for business!


After a short rest, listening to the beautiful sound of a gentle rain outside, I am up cooking dinner for the young family.

(the kids are feeling playful tonight!)







(and affectionate!)






I was tempted to take everything to the porch, but toward the end of the day, the same 60F (16C) can feel just a degree too cool.






No matter. We'll be out there soon enough. In the meanwhile, isn't it great to finish dinner, tidy up, and still have sunshine on your shoulders when you step out?






Snowdrop has come around: she now says spring is her favorite season. You got it right, little one! And it's only the beginning. How good is that!