Wednesday - 61st

The first day after a cold spell often has no coherence to it. You know you have a pile of stuff waiting for you outside. You touch this, you touch that. You finish nothing. It's always like that.

But hey, it's a beautiful day! As promised, the temps are climbing, the sun is doing an in and out dance, the breeze is warm.

We did have a cool night and therefore a cold morning, but it's now warm enough for the annuals and so immediately after feeding the animals and saying good morning to the fantastic May day, I bring the remaining pots and baskets outside. There they will stay until the first frost in the Fall. My, but that seems a long way away!

(toward the farmhouse, from the Big Bed)






(morning light)






Breakfast is still inside though. I'm mindful of the fact that when Ed wakes up, things feel cool to him outside, especially if we take our time over the bowls of fruits or oatmeal.





My first task is a terrifically pleasant one: Ed and I take the pretty drive along rural roads to Natalie's Greenhouse for a curbside pickup of some replacement annuals. It's not just the polar blast that did some minor damage to a few plants, it's the animals: the chickens chomp on the alyssum. Someone has been chomping on the gaura, and phlox, and not a few number of tulips. The usual exasperations of a gardener.


(planting, on a bigger scale! Across the road from Natalie's)






And then I get to work. Fix the annual pots. Pull some weeds. Put in a perennial. Or two. Scold the chickens. Round and round this circle I go. Let's just say I make progress!






(one of my favorite spots at the farmette in mid-May: by the quince trees in the old orchard. It's all blooms and violets!)


 



Lunch? Oh, it's wonderful! On the porch. A nut spread with blood orange and hibiscus marmalade (a mother's day gift).






And immediately after, Snowdrop comes over.

Yes, cherries! All about cherries! "They make smiles in my tummy!"











(it cannot be said that she rushed through her art work today...)






In the evening, Ed is out riding his bike and I'm fixing a frittata. Still with spinach (Matt, the asparagus farmer, had some winter spinach left and we were happy to nab some) and with mushrooms. And lots of cheese. Always delicious!






I take a small walk outside afterwards. For the light. For the beauty of a May evening. I'm thinking -- this month offers all the good stuff: the lushness, freshness, the color, the eternal hope of a better tomorrow. And it doesn't have the mosquitoes, the heatwaves, the constant thunderstorms of summer. It's a month that forces you to take a pause. To look around, to smell deeply, to feel connected to the natural world.






(first iris!)






If you haven't already, open the window and let that breeze into your home. Close your eyes, exhale...

Tuesday - 60th

And now, let's resume spring! (That was some cold spell... The garden survived, though the toll is still unknown. Some little guys are struggling. Always the little guys! The weaker plants, the little kitties, the vulnerables.)

The signs are good: plenty of sunshine and a gradual upswing in the temperatures.






Sure, breakfast is still indoors.






But the temptation to go outside is strong. At the very least, I spend some time moving most but not all of the big pots to their regular posts. (Some tender flowers would not like the lows that will still be with us tonight and so they'll stay inside a little longer.)

(The last tulips of the season...)






And then I run (well, drive) to join up with the grand kids at their home. It's our springtime Tuesday routine.











It's a funny playtime. Snowdrop is totally absorbed in a story that she is spinning with her Barbies (yes, she loves those Barbies and at her house it's where most of her storytelling takes places).






Sparrow, not to be outdone, appropriates one of the Disney Barbies and has her act out a wake up from deep sleep routine (with me providing a voice-over) again and again and again.






Eventually, they settle to do art.






And soon after lunch, I head home. I want to sow the rest of the seeds  -- both flowers and the root vegetables (carrots and beets).

It is not easy to plant seeds when you have free ranging chickens at your heels.






We finish up with the veggies and I do many but not all of the flowers. More to do tomorrow. I have to pause with planting because the weekly groceries have arrived. I go on to spend a very soapy set of hours scrubbing stuff. Oh, but the rewards! Snowdrop will be very happy tomorrow when she sees the arrival of these!






Evening. Shrimp with veggies. It's a toss up! Go with the asparagus Matt the asparagus farmer delivered today...






... or use up the big bundle of broccoli from our grocery order?

Aren't we lucky to have such dilemmas...






Here's a treat: at least part of my dinner is with Primrose! I chomp down on broccoli, which happens to be one of her all time favorites, while she finishes off a dessert of berries. (And then washes herself up in the kitchen sink.)






(Goodnight, Primrose... Good night, grandma...)






And who am I thinking about tonight? Who gets my attention? The kids. Not only my kids, but all kids. The ones who wistfully say (as Snowdrop did today) - I wish this Coronavirus would be over. Kids who miss their friends. Their cousins. Their routines. Their days that did not include such words as social distancing. Their trips, their adventures!


Today, too, is International Nurses Day. Even if I recited all that nurses do in a pandemic, I would understate their importance and the toughness of their lives right now. So, just a brief but heartfelt thank you. Really, thank you.

Monday - 59th

Am I still in self-quarantine if I break the isolation for one entry into the real world? It depends on what the real world is and what I do after, don't you think? In my view, I very much am still in isolation. Along with Ed and along with the Madison young family. None of us have gone shopping (except for the rare curbside grocery or medication pickup). None of us have had any person to person contacts or visits, not even of the six-feet-apart kind. Well, until this morning. But it was no ordinary contact. I'll explain.

I've been musing about what to do with a troublesome tooth -- one that has a history of intermittent problems. I remember last year fretting about it in Como, Italy. I asked my bed and breakfast hosts for some salt, just so I could do that old world trick of keeping things at bay with a saline solution. But by the time I got back to the US, it was fine and the endodontist told me to come back when it's acting up again.

Of course, it chose to act up the day Ed and I started our quarantine. It's as if it was in cahoots with the evil forces of nature! In consultation with my dental docs (all of them sequestered at home except for super duper emergencies), I held off, waiting for better times.

Last week, we decided these are good enough times. Not many people are rushing to the dentist right now and the clinics have had time to rethink how best to deliver care. The worry is of course that sick patients will infect the dental crew, not the other way around.

Since I am of that demographic (old people), I was given a pre-opening Monday morning appointment. Meaning early! So early that I wondered if I should set the alarm, but then I remembered my sleep patterns of late and relied, as usual, on my morning wakefulness.

I was prepared: glove for the door handles. Mask to show my solidarity with those around me. Credit card and car keys in my back pant pocket. Pen, my own, for all those releases they ask you to sign which, these days, include something about CoVid -- probably that they do not accept responsibility for your death should some determined evil droplet fall your way.

I've been to dental places hundreds of times in my life, but this visit was unique. Everything has changed in the last weeks. Dividers, separators, screens, plastic curtains, spacing -- all of it is new and different. It felt like entering a construction zone where there had been a hazardous chemical spill. Well, maybe not that bad. Missing were danger signs with skulls and cross bones.

Of course, I'm totally in admiration of the endodontist. He has worked in many distant places (he likes to do what he calls "dental vacations" where he goes to remote corners of the world to provide dental care to underserved populations), but I am sure none posed as big a risk to him as this one: plunging into germ and virus packed mouths of patients, most of them scared, many of them in pain.

The odd thing is that I was not in pain. Like last year, the acute problem (and it was acute) responded well to suggested treatments and things were rather settled. Still, it was important to have it checked out. And, I got my first taste of what medical care will look like for the next year or two: quite safe, if a bit frightening on the visuals! (You've already probably guessed that Ed and I are rather extreme in our quarantine, possibly because it is not hard for us not to go out to places we would rarely go to anyway. Following this extremism, I came home, threw clothes into the washing machine and took a hot shower. Lots of suds. Perhaps for no other reason but to feel good about having this step out into the new real world behind me.)

Breakfast, with a sleepy Ed.






It's cold today. We missed having a frost last night by about half a degree and tonight will be another roll of the dice, but we are sure that this is the tail end of the polar blast. Some things do resolve quickly! And of course, it's still pretty outside. May is always a very very pretty month.

















The kids are here this morning and it's a nice distraction from just about everything!






Monday visits are always special for them: they've not had a time of free play here for all of two days! We haven't read together, munched on the couch together, they haven't touched and examined their favorite books and toys! Everything seems fresh.
















(Lunch)





When they're gone, I sit down to work on my weekly grocery list. Ed says I'll probably stay with this shopping method even when the pandemic is over. I totally doubt it. On line, I can't see the quality of the produce! I can't pick out the best and the freshest looking anything. And items pop off my list before delivery is made, so that I never really know going into this what I'll get at the end of the day.

And of course, I will never ever miss the grocery disinfecting process. Most of our purchases are of produce. It always comes in plastic bags. Many plastic bags, knotted tight. Put together with the often ungloved hands of the "shopper." Needing refrigeration soon. In the olden days, it took me 45 minutes to put away a week's worth of groceries. Now it takes me two or three times that number. This will be tomorrow's project.


And in the evening? What's for dinner? If it's Monday it must be leftover time! With a salad. And a few more veggies from the CSA box.






Stir fried, because on Mondays, I am without cooking imagination. A heavenly easy meal!


Later, much later, I think about how this day was supposed to have played out differently. Plans were made for it way back, when we actually made plans and dreamed ambitiously. I was to get on a flight to Europe tonight. We were to have a family get together in Paris -- kids, grandkids, all of us. A long, beautiful trip. Rooms were booked, flights were purchased.  Later in the week, I would be taking Primrose to Giverny by train. She would have been old enough to ride a pony in the Luxembourg Gardens. Sparrow would have sat with his sister on the merry-go-round in the Tuileries Gardens. The three cousins would picnic together and chase each other and pester parents and grandma for a pastry or an extra croissant in the morning. Snowdrop just couldn't wait for the adventure of it all!

And here we all are, isolating. Well, minus a dental visit.

On the other hand, we are in our homes, in the Midwest, healthy and employed (or retired!). And it is May and the lilac and crab apple are about to bloom. Grateful doesn't describe the depth of my emotion.

My thanks today have to extend to the health care workers once more. I came in contact with some today. Such dedicated people. To the core. Such important and hard work! I'm in awe.

With love.

Sunday - Mother's Day

If you're a mom, an American mom (because Mother's Day is celebrated on other dates elsewhere) have you found a way to make this day special? I would guess that it already has a bit of the unusual about it. You feel the stress and distress of others who have a much more difficult time of it than you do. You can't travel to share space with all those you wish could be part of your day. You can't do this, you can't do that. A world of barriers.

And still, if you are healthy and your kids and grandkids are healthy, and you have some source of at least adequate support, well now, isn't that just huge? So for those of us who have both things in place (so far) -- I say go ahead and revel in your good fortune! And if you know someone who is struggling with a loss, now is the time to reach out.


So how are mothers celebrating this year? How are you doing it? What's different this time around for you?

Me, I'm wearing pants! In other words, I'm dressing up! It has come to my attention that I have been in sweatpants or legging sweats every single day of the pandemic (and some days before that official declaration came our way). Today, I dusted off stuff that I usually wear when I visit my girl in Chicago or my friends in Europe. I have to say, it feels strange to have something on that isn't held up by elastic.

What else? I'm dealing with the weather. We're all dealing with the weather in the Midwest and the northeastern states.

The morning is cold, though above freezing. It's raining steadily and I am happy about that because our gardens need the rain.






Breakfast, of course, is in the kitchen. Ed, hurry up! My oatmeal is getting cold!






I had a list of chores that would have been perfect for a poor weather day, but I decided to treat myself and not do them. Such a gift. No to taxes. No to bills. No to major house cleaning (just the bathroom!). No no no! This is a day for spending time with my beloveds however we can make that happen.

For example, an extended FaceTime with Primrose and her mom.






This may have been more of a challenge for the little one even a few months ago, but right now, she is full of energy, and fun, and words, and I'm getting a very good feel for how she is growing (in leaps and bounds!), even if I'm here and she's there.






Many grandparents come to these phone sessions with their grandkids well prepared, with books and toys to show and share with them on the screen. I rarely do that. Is it laziness? Maybe, but I think it's more that I always love to have the child take the lead rather than pushing my idea of what would be fun. Perhaps that's not fair to the parents who would appreciate a little diversion and perhaps even a break from round-the-clock childcare, and still, I am far happier watching, listening, learning about what the child is all about, offering only the occasional silly song lyric or goofy comment. Oh, and the camera! Primrose is used to seeing my camera in our FaceTimes together!






Thank you for this sweet (so sweet) Mother's Day interlude!






And then it snowed. Oh, not your sticky ground covering snow, but if you went outside, you'd get some fat gloppy flakes on your nose. I did.






Has it ever snowed on Mother's Day in Madison, Wisconsin? Must we go down in the record books on all counts for this day? On the upside, there was no garden damage. It's not bitter cold, just wet and cold.

In the evening, the young family (that has been completely isolating these past two months) is here for dinner.


 








In many ways, it is like any other Sunday dinner...






... but of course, in important ways -- it's not that at all. However you are eating your dinner as a mom, you should take note of the uniqueness of this day!

Here, the kids are the focal point. Oh, they'll go off and play for a while, but when they make an appearance, our smiles are for them, if only because they pull them out of us without effort!







Yes, we would have liked a bigger dinner, with both families. We would have liked sunshine on the porch. We would have enjoyed maybe a walk on the path I mowed in the young orchard. Just to admire the blooming fruit trees. But, that is not to say that we put by the wayside what we have now: time together. FaceTime, real time -- it's time, gifted to us, loved to pieces for its preciousness, its delightful silliness, its richness in all ways.


I hope you, too, had a meaningful, perhaps even beautiful Mother's Day.

With so much love!

Saturday - 57th

What is it about gardening that draws some people in and eaves others cold? There is a very real split: those who aren't drawn to it think of it as a chore, right up there, or perhaps down there with bathroom cleaning. People like me, on the other hand, cannot resist creating gardens, even in the most absurd and difficult spots, where the soil is hard as a rock and the amount of sunlight is suboptimal.

It's time consuming. Every good weather day in early spring has you out there digging. I had to smile as I thought about the state parks reopening here, in Wisconsin. They've been up and running (or rather people have been up and running in them) for a week now and Ed and I haven't even hiked the trails once. There's no time for it.

So why work this hard at something that is so ephemeral? A blooming period is quite short for most perennials. Several weeks perhaps. Of course, you stagger the plants: a good gardener will not have a week without something pretty to look at during the growing season. Still, all that work? Is it worth it?

A passionate gardener doesn't think in those terms. The weather warms the earth, you go out and dig. And there's a lot at the farmette that requires digging. Nine flower beds (two of them so huge that a chicken might get lost in them), two veggie patches, two new meadows of wildflowers. And of course, there is the new orchard and there are some two dozen flower pots with annuals -- it's a project!



I wake up to a frost outside. I wouldn't call it a hard frost, but it did go down to about 28F (-2C) for a significant number of hours. I'm not sure how it affected fruit farmers in Wisconsin. We seem to have barrelled through it mostly okay. Our potted annuals were covered or moved indoors. Our fruit trees appear unscathed.






We lost Ed's marigolds -- flowers that I plant by the sheep shed because it reminds him of childhood summers in upstate New York. I'll replace them. Otherwise, things look good.

(These are the last days of the tulips. What a run they've had!)
















Oddly, we have this rather pretty Saturday stuck between a handful of rather miserable days. Cold yesterday, very wet and very cold tomorrow. True, the morning doesn't give us a porch breakfast...






Nonetheless, the day quickly morphs into something really really lovely.






I have an agenda. First, I drive over to pick up our first box of veggies from our Community Supported Agriculture farm. You know how it works, right? You pay them a lump sum and you get a box of farm products once a week -- they decide what goes in it. This particular family farm is a CSA leader and surely one of Wisconsin's first sizeable organic growing operations (if you live here, you'll have heard of it -- it's Harmony Valley). Without our beloved farmers market on the square, this is the best way to get a huge variety of fresh produce to your table.

I promised Ed that if we signed up this year, I would not waste any of the contents. After all, if you're bereft of inspiration and don't really want to fuss with fancy recipes, especially now that you're not going to the grocery store to search out new ingredients, you can always chop things up and do a stir fry, or do a soup, or roast it all in the oven. There's not much that wont work if you drizzle it with olive oil and sprinkle it with salt and pepper, with a splash of lemon or a dash of parmesan.

Still, today's box presents some challenges.





Oh, there's the stuff everyone likes. Spinach. The first asparagus. I see some chives. Okay, we have chives at the farmette, but what the heck. Then come the tricky things: sunchoke. I used to roast these little gnarled things. But you have to go easy on using them. Too many and your belly will complain. Wild ramps -- good for stirfries. Green garlic -- who doesn't use garlic of some form? Parsnips. Well okay, soup next week. But my, there are a lot of parsnips in the box! And last but not least -- stinging nettle. When I did my moonlighting at Madison's L'Etoile Restaurant, the chef loved using nettle in any number of dishes. But I've never done it. And there is a huge bunch! Enough for nettle soup if you want to make nettle soup. (I don't want to make nettle soup.) Can I cheat and toss some of the sprigs into the compost pile? Don't tell Ed, okay? [In fairness to the CSA, there used to be a place where you could put aside items you don't expect to use, but CoVid has changed all that: you go in to your pick up spot only if no one is in it, you wear gloves, take your food and run. No exchanges, no dallying.]

Bottom line: I like the variety! Tonight's dinner: rock fish from our Community Supported Fishery, and sauteed parsnip slices, with green garlic, ramps -- bulbs, greens and all, and a diced sunchoke and maybe a few asparagus bits. In olive oil and a hint of butter.

But first, there is the afternoon of gardening. Yesterday, my box of day lilies finally arrived. Ten new lilies, carefully selected by me on January 31st, plus three free lilies gifted by the growers. I have just the place for most of them: by the new path in the Big Bed.

I get to work.





And as I dig, I think gardening thoughts. I push chickens away and tell Dance to quit bothering the little kitties. I listen to the birds -- a pair of cardinals has been hanging out here since winter and their familiar calls and songs reminds me that spring hits on all our senses.

Who wouldn't want to garden on a day like this?

Well, many people, it seems. We are a diverse and complicated species, aren't we...

(Supper stir fry)




Tonight's thoughts are with the farmers who grow this stuff. Their markets are disrupted, their supplies are missing, the seasonal workers have a hell of a time getting to their farms. And yet they continue. Thank you.

With love.