Sunday

You live for days like this! I mean, really, if you're not a fan of this weather, then you and I are not of the same fabric. In my view, in my world -- this is your perfect late spring day.

I'm up early. Schedule-wise, things are getting tricky. In a good way, mind you, but still, there is lots to be done.

Oh, but the rewards of viewing life in the hues of the early morning light! Even the porch looks over and beyond its normal fabulous (and yes, it was worth the quick trek to the market to pick up that bunch of flowers yesterday).






It rained last night, but I think the flowers were okay with that. Still, they need a push to open up their faces. I'm going to bet that this girl in the front bed will be my first blooming peony of the season! We'll check on her later in the day!






Whatever sniffles I had are now migrating to Ed. I told him to rest up in bed, but he hears me running the mini espresso machine downstairs and so here we are, both enjoying the perfectness of the morning.






(Dance: hey, what about me??)






(Cheepers: hey, what about us??)






I do some flower bed maintenance (always pausing to admire what's around me)...











... and then I make myself absolutely sick by working the tractor mower across areas that really do need a trim. Ed volunteered to do this for me and it is in fact his chore, but I'm feeling picky (I want it done with attention to detail!) and a little sorry for him (the sniffles), so I do it myself, regretting it for a good half hour afterwards. The bumps, twists and turns really make my stomach bump, twist and turn!

At about midday, my mom comes over.

It's rare for her to venture out here, to the farmette -- it's not a place that can easily accommodate her these days -- but a friend of hers is visiting from California and so she makes the effort and, well, here she is!






We linger for a while on the porch. True, the garden is not even in a partial bloom yet, but nonetheless, it's heavenly to look out and imagine what soon will be.

I drop the ladies off at their next destination and return to this oasis of calm and serenity. It's how you regain your strength: you sit facing the garden and listen to the farmette sounds - of birds, of the wind, of Happy's crow.

But what's this? Ed is on the roof again?
What are you doing?
Scarping paint.
Why?
It's peeling. Visibly.
But... are you going to paint it in the next day or so? I know we're to get storms again. Are we going to have a leopard spotted house for our big reception on Thursday?
I'll paint tonight... I think about his hovering sniffles. He's pushing his luck.
Do we even have enough paint?

He checks once he's done scraping. The answer is "maybe."


In the evening, the young family is here for dinner. They come after an afternoon at a local fair (this is Snowdrop's third fair this season -- she adores everything about fairs: the rides, the chance games, the foods). Look Gaga, this is what I won!
Did you whack the duck? (It's a joke -- a reference to a joke in one of her current favorites Bink and Gollie  books.)
No, but I grabbed a duck with a number of a prize! This is the prize! Not the ball -- that's from Target.






We make our way to the porch. Ed is on the roof above us. Snowdrop keeps shouting -- "Hi ahah!" Ed paints away. It really makes one smile...

Dinner. Yes, Ed's back on terra firma, though not quite within the frame of this shot.













The young family eventually leaves, Ed resumes painting.






And the peony? It opens up to the warmth of the day and blooms like crazy.

Saturday

It's the kind of day where at the end of it, you sit back, tired, but with a smile on your face: the house is scrubbed clean, the garden is on track to fulfill its promise of summer abundance. Order reigns! For a day at least. Ed can track in yard stuff into the house faster than you could possibly imagine. Don't ask me how many times a day I sweep the mud room!

I work on the usual and the not so usual. And I start early. My sniffles are receding. Act while the energy levels are there!

(Dance thinks I should feed her first: the poor girl must be lonely. Stop Sign still comes and goes. Her brother? Nope. Gone.)






Breakfast is in the kitchen. Cloudy days do this to us -- they push us to eat our meals in a cozy setting.






I waffle about going to the market with Snowdrop and her mom. Forecasters say there will be scattered storms. Is it worth it? I think not.

Still, I need stuff: a bouquet from the flower farmer, spinach from the growers of everything and anything, asparagus from our favorite asparagus guy. I decide to do a quick run by myself: touch on the three stalls and return home.

(Here's a view I rarely show these days: from the Capitol steps, toward State Street (which leads to the university). As you can see, things get pretty crowded on Saturdays!)






When I come back, I find Ed where I left him -- on the glass roof of the porch. A piece of stripping had gotten loose and he was screwing it back on. Once up there, he decided to clear out some butyl -- a compound that binds the panes of glass to the wood strips and which tends to ooze a little over the years.





Dance is absolutely flummoxed to see him up there! Well, little girl, you're about to see another human form fly up, because as long as he's working on that roof, I may as well join him. I take a mop and pail to wipe down the panes. Rain wont wash away pollen. Of course, no one would notice the light haze on a porch roof, but Ed and I do! We always appreciate it when we've taken the time to clear stuff off of it.

More house cleaning, more yard tidying. The peonies are still holding back, but the irises are like dominoes right now: one bloom after the next!





A day of progress. In the weeks ahead, I wont have to worry about compounded neglect: it's spiffy and neat, as of June 1st!

Friday: it's who we are...

Crazy weather! Weather is not climate, of course, and climate is not weather but still, we live in a season that's swinging wildly. It's hot today! But luckily, it's not wet. We've had enough of wet stuff!  All the rain has been an invitation to summer bugs. While working in the garden, I slapped my first mosquito today. In May! There used to be a time when we'd watch the mosquitoes make their grand entrance in time for the Fourth of July fireworks. A few years ago they surprised us by arriving in time for Summer Solstice (and my daughter's wedding). This year: May. Not even the bitter cold winter scared these guys away.

Well, it's never a big swarm at the beginning. After feeding Stop Sign and Dance...







... I continue picking out weeds and putting in the couple of replacement plants Ed and I picked up yesterday.

And breakfast most definitely and wonderfully is on the porch.

Ed, hurry up!






During our morning meal, I tell him that I have a list of things I want to accomplish in the next few days. I need his help.

Like what? he asks.
Mowing.
Okay, mowing. What else?
Not just your old mowing where half the grass is left tall. Careful mowing!

I'm listing tasks because on Thursday afternoon we're having a party of sorts. We expect some two dozen people -- local landowners, gardeners, environmental activists. It's not our guest list -- a friend asked us to host it and she is supplying the people. They all want to learn more about the project that's taking shape just across the road from us -- the Groundswell Conservancy has purchased (through donations) the fields of corn, with a plan to convert them into educational plots, for those seeking to rebuild their lives, perhaps through farming, even as they have few resources at their disposal.

We need to neaten the compost and really, I have a long list! The place can't look too funky...
But gorgeous, it's who we are.

Ed has me thinking about this for the rest of the morning: he is right, of course. We don't have order here. My flower fields were born out of chaos and I've added to them without careful planning. I keep an eye as to what should grow where, yes, of course. But we've never sought to create anything even close to tidy and perfect. We're always changing things around, trying to improve things gradually even as forces of nature push forward, threatening to overwhelm us.

And at a deeper level, we are a compilation of traits that are specific to us, our choices, our place on this earth. Everyone is, no? Ours happens to be a little hodge podgy and humble inside and at the moment -- flower heavy and unmowed around the edges outside. Do we really want to show ourselves to be different than who we are?






In the afternoon, I bring Snowdrop home. This is what she asks for when I come and she is having a very hard time shifting from an interrupted nap to real time: I want to go home. To her, on a school day afternoon, the farmhouse is home.

And she always, always regains her energies here. Bouncing back and engaging in play with joy and panache!






Toward the end of her visit, she steps out to spemnd a little time on the porch. She is, as always, tempted to pick a bloom or two. There is still the belief in her that if placed in water, that picked bloom will never die. Typically, I just tell her that I prefer to leave the flower on the plant, but today, I harness her enthusiasm for snipping off buds and tell her she should help me look for the spent ones. I make the mistake of calling them the stupid ones. "Look for the stupid ones!" For the rest of the afternoon, I hear -- look, Gogs! here's a stupid one! And here's a stupid one!

Kids, unfortunately, listen to grownups.






Tonight, my daughter is returning from a D.C. conference. When I bring Snowdrop home, her mom has just come in. We all spend a wonderful set of minutes on the deck.






Well, after the kids have gotten in their minutes of swinging. Sparrow tries to keep up with his sister, but I tell you, that girl likes to swing hard and high!






I return home. Our home.






A warm, beautiful day. We topped 84f (29c). Crazy weather, but for once, I don't think anyone was complaining!

Thursday

My head is buzzing with kids -- both of the human kind and of the bearded-eats-everything kind, and with that cold that is retreating, but too slowly, and also with summer activities that are about to heat up for me.

So let's go easy this morning. And indeed, it is a gentle morning: still cloudy, so breakfast is in the kitchen...

Ed! I'm ready! (Fallen irises from the garden.)






And then I pull weeds. After a period of constant rain, stuff grows, whether you want it or not.

Let me insert a few photos of what's blooming right now.

We are at the cusp of pink! These are light and frilly. The peonies will be bold and closer to magenta.






(Many buds -- iris and peony -- waiting to pop open.)






(Dance: yes, but what do you have for me?)






(Colorful blooms, up above and down below)







By afternoon, the clouds are almost completely out of here. I'm fine with that!

It's definitely warm enough for me to take Snowdrop to the park. But a snack comes first.











Home again...

(They are all on such friendly terms!)






(Happy really is a good rooster. Remarkably so, actually. The girls have taught him well!)






A new Snowdrop game: "let's design our own computers!" Hmmm... I wonder where she gets her inspiration...






Look who is here to pick you up, little one!






And that's it, no?

Oh, not at all. After Snowdrop goes home, Ed and I get on his motorbike and rumble over to our little farmers market, where we talk to Farmer John (the cheese guy) about.... goats.

Wait til they jump on your car! They love that!
We have old cars... It wont matter...
A visitor might feel differently about it!

You know, there are so many more pressing goat rearing concerns, that this one just makes me smile...



And our evening's not over yet: I want to replace a plant that has been ravaged by.... I don't know who or what. Maybe cheepers, maybe something else. We ride over to the Flower Factory. It's a beautiful evening to be in the open air, scooting between forests and vales, fields and farms. The smells are exquisitely those of late May. The colors are gentle. Many of the invasive species that we see along the roads really should be pulled (honeysuckle, dame's rocket), but their sweet fragrance is in fact enchanting!

I hold two flower pots in my lap ("we've never had someone come to shop for flowers on a motorcycle before!") and we meander down this road, turning on the next, and the next, until we get home.

It should have been an easy supper of eggs and veggies from the market (asparagus!), but we gave away all our eggs. Time to cook up some lentil soup. Dinner is very very late.

Wednesday

When you take your camera out for a walk every single day like I do, you have to retain a healthy critical attitude as to what's photographable at any given moment. Yes, yes, I know -- a serious photographer would find unique compositions everywhere. Why limit your tableau to pretty flowers or gardens or happy cheepers and happy children! But I'm not in that league. I merely want to take note of the best of the best that's out and around me. I look for that and I look differently, depending on the day.

For example, at the end of May or in the first weeks of June, greens dominate. It's not summer yet, but the spring flowers are now nearing an end. And so to me, what's picture worthy is a small corner of a bed, rather than the entirety. (In mid summer, it'll be the opposite.) Like this corner of the driveway bed (it shows off the late spring companion to all those whites -- the purple iris):






As long as we're on the subject of purple, can we give one last nod of thanks to our magnificent lilac? Thank you!






Still, to give the day some perspective and balance, I feel a slight obligation to go back to that entirety. So, from the kitchen window, looking out at the beds.






And now I' can go back to the small wonders here and there...


















You can see that we're having another cloudy day. But I'm not complaining. If you look at the map of the US where tornadoes have touched down in the last few weeks, Wisconsin is the only state in the Midwest and Southwest that has been spared. Too, I think we're all getting a break from gray wet days very soon. I'm sure everyone's looking forward to a return of blue skies and crisp, breezy, sunny days.

Speaking of small wonders, Sparrow comes over early, because the new routine is that he spends the first half of Wednesdays with me. Hi Sparrow, welcome back!






How about a selfie, together?






The serious demeanor quickly evaporates. The giggles come back. Sparrow can produce a laugh on demand perfectly, to get you to laugh back at him.






But the smiles are frequent and genuine.






In the early afternoon, when the weather looks oh so much better, I take the little guy outside again. He still worries a bit about the new stuff all around him, but he worries less. You could almost believe that there is a smile on his face.






One more photo from the first half of the day and this one has to do with goats.





Say what? Where are the goats??

The fact is that in our spare minutes we've been talking about taking in two small goats. Friendly ones that are great with kids. We have the land and the mowing needs (goats are great at eating up your weeds and Ed is a reluctant mower). But we have very different ideas on how such a project should unfold.

Ed and I never argue. Really never. But we're not the same in our habits and so occasionally we get stuck in our own corners, incapable of movement, both convinced that our clearly delineated path is the wise one for us both to follow.

We got stuck with the goat project; we're ready to give up on the whole idea.

Perhaps some of you may be wondering -- aren't we too old for this? Don't we have enough on our hands?

Perhaps. But we both love being around animals (especially those who stay outside!) and the ones we have now are not very social. We care for them, but they stay at a distance. (And anyway, who besides Ed wants to spend time petting a chicken?) The cats have brought worry, without the sweetness of friendship. For instance, Jacket has disappeared. He was always here and now, for a handful of days, he's missing. A car? A predator? What?

Goats seemed like such a fine idea until we plunged into the details of the set up. And now it just seems like a huge chore, and no I don't want little calf huts to shelter them and invisible fences that we move around, and how are we going to manage in February with those little huts, and anyway, maybe making yogurt out of their high fat milk is a little bit crazy after all.

But I mention all this because we have been consumed by this idea. Until today when we got unconsumed by it. In the photo above, Ed is demonstrating how one can get close to Stop Sign and Dance (don't I know it!) and perhaps after a while they'll be less flighty...



In the afternoon, I put all thoughts of animals and plants aside and focus on Snowdrop.

The sun comes out (for a brief spell)!






I'll only post two farmette pics: Snowdrop going in and Snowdrop coming out.






(with a box of cheddar bunnies for the car ride home)






Evening. I continue to battle a cold. Ed is out biking. But, the sun is poking out more and more, and we're still talking about goats.