outside

We're starved for a bunch of things right now and near the head of the list surely is our connection to the natural world. Winter keeps us indoors and even when we are outside, the frozen landscape seems out of reach. Even when Ed and I ski the trails that run through the forest, it's hard to remember how much life there is all around you. In the winter months, it's well hidden.

Of course, we've had some fine early spring days this year, but clearly,it's not been enough, because today, the kids (and especially one kid, the older one, whose choices typically determine the play sequences for the both of them) kept asking for outdoor time.

 

I am up super early. Before dawn maybe, though the clouds contribute to the feeling of being up at an ungodly hour. Typically I have 90 minutes worth of chores to do before breakfast. Today is no exception. I fly through them ans still, they take 90 minutes.

Ed, breakfast!

 

And immediately after, the kids arrive. And it's like a whirligig of activity: read, play, remote school, go outside, go inside, play, lunch, remote school, outside again, inside again, outside again. Note the recurring theme: again and again, the great outdoors beckons. 

This then is our day. For some reason, my camera was as active as the rest of us. Consequently -- fewer words, more pictures!

On arrival, she reaches for one of her all time favorite chapter books. We've read this and the others from the series maybe 100 times.

Speaking of all time favorites, Sparrow will never tire of his rubber puzzles...

... and Snowdrop will never tire of making up stories with her dolls here.

Oops! School time! It starts with writing class. She likes that.

School's done for now. A visit with the chicks...

Let's go outside! Boots on, door open before I have a chance to react...

We find Peach's eggs in the garage...

School again! Math this time. Sparrow pulls up a chair and brings something he can count. She tries to concentrate...

I hear it again: let's go outside! They join Ed in branch removal...

The heavier the better...

We go to the fields behind the mighty pines. He collects pine cones...

She tells us this is what meditation-relaxation should look like.

Plenty relaxed!

We needed this time outside. Life is stirring. Everywhere. It's palpable.

garden work, the next stage

It would have been nice to stay in bed late. You don't want to rush the day when you don't have to (a luxury of retirement is that you rarely have to). But, grocery deliveries are getting to be tricky again and all I could nab was a 7 a.m. Sunday spot, so I took it and poof! The sleep-in opportunity is gone.

On the upside, an early day gives me more time to play with the chicks. And you should play with them: they get bored staring at the walls of the box all day. When I remove the slotted "roof," they strain to have me lift them out. Today I give them a long stretch of roosting. Call it exploration with the eyes -- they're still not confident enough to fly away from home base. Give them a few more days!

Our morning meal, on the other hand, is very unhurried. Call it the last moment of rest before the work begins.

And there is work to do outside, especially on this very pretty day, with an exceptionally pleasant high of about 62F (16C). Those are May temperatures! Coming in March, they make you feel like you've landed a prize of enormous proportions.

We are in the secondary flower field prep phase. The garden could get by with what I've done so far (in phase one), but I can tweak it some more by working at the boundaries of the beds and fine tuning what's been done thus far.  The third phase will come once the perennials have grown more. This is when you dig out aggressive monardas and rudbeckias. And the fourth phase? There isn't a fourth phase! After that it's time to plant!

One quick peek at what's blooming at the farmette: first, one must take note of the fact that yesterday's snowdrop buds are today's open faced blossoms.

But of course, the stars have to be the crocuses! Swaying in the wind...

Okay, time to focus on meal prep for our Sunday family dinner. I start with the beets (for a predinner snack). There are six here for dinner and out of the pack, four (one child and three adults) insanely love roasted beets. These hefty chunks will disappear within two minutes of their arrival.

And then I check off the remaining foods -- standard gogs fare. No one ever wants to change the menu, which rotates between seafood pasta and crunchy chicken, seafood pasta and crunchy chicken, again and again. Honestly, I'll do either in my sleep with one hand in my pocket.

Here they come!

After the meal, there is some noise about outdoor play. I can't say no to that. It's cooler in the evening and neither they nor I have our jackets, but they do not appear to notice any of this.

And I'm glad. It pleases me no end to watch them take their games outside. 

This is the season for it. Spring, in earnest here, in south central Wisconsin.

welcome, spring!

Oh, vernal equinox! You mark the arrival of spring, truly the happiest season of them all! (And yes, I'd say that even if it were hailing outside.) Us northerners are spring lovers, drawn to her cheerful, upbeat manner, her determination to push those flowers through against all odds, her resilience, her countless pretty surprises.

Welcome, spring!

Since we are to have a stunning day today, Ed asked if I would like to go and do some volunteer work with him out on the Ice Age Trail. They'll be cutting down invasives that withstood the controlled burning of the prairie. I almost said yes, because we do use the trails and helping maintain them is important to us, but really, I have a plateful of stuff to do at the farmette and I don't want to give away a day of good weather. Trail fixing and clearing for me fits well into the Fall season, when I absolutely do not feel like working in a dry and tired garden. In spring my work stays in the farmette flower fields. And so after breakfast...

... Ed goes off to clear away honeysuckle and I begin the task of digging and dividing those flowers that needed to be dug out and divided (as the cheepers enjoy their moment in the sunshine at the base of their favorite hydrangea bushes).

Anything blooming yet, besides the snowdrops, you ask? Not really, though stuff is stirring. The daffodils planted in the west facing bed benefit from the warm afternoon sun and so they always pop up first. And indeed, I can just see those flowers forming!

Somewhat sheepishly, I pause in my work to drive over for a car wash. Our snow last week brought out the salt trucks and it pains me to see those salty spots on Blue Moon. And because it's just a basic car wash, I'm not satisfied with how things look afterwards, so I spend a handful of minutes polishing up the old girl with a rag, thinking all the while -- it has come to this! I am actually buffing up my car on a weekend day, just like a car loving dude or dudess out there. (Ed chuckles mightily when I admitted this to him later.)

 

And then I return to the garden -- back to my early spring work.

the last day of winter

The cold season is bidding us a beautiful good bye. It's as if we need that reminder: winter has its very lovely elements. This year, our winter included heaps of snow for skiing, and, too, a bright and sunny transition to spring.

We wake up early. Though maybe I should rephrase that: we go to sleep late, just as some person responds to our ad on Craigslist, where we're selling (separately from the car) 4 wheels with winter tires (they came with the car when I bought it from a guy some 7 years ago). He would like to drive over and take a look. It is 11:30pm. He could be here in a little over an hour (he lives all the way in Beloit). So Ed loads the wheels in a cart, puts it at the end of the driveway and instructs the dude to leave the money under a stone.

Now about our wake up: first, there's the 2:30 wake up for me, where I ask Ed -- did he come for the tires? Ed goes outside, sees the tires still there on the driveway, comes back inside. Nope. It's a no show. I'll put them away tomorrow morning.

A few minutes later, I wake up again, this time to the sound of a car in the driveway. Someone is there, chatting to a bud. A few minutes later they drive away. We do a proverbial shake of the head ("oh that Craigslist!") and go back to sleep.

And a few minutes later, we hear the noise of a car again. We can't really tell what's going on but there is a conversation, and there are flashlights. And then a car pulls away and there is silence.

At dawn, Ed asks the usual bothersome question that you ask when you want someone to be up -- are you awake yet? 

And so I am up, rather early, taking my time with the chicks, with the cats, with the cheepers. But of course, eventually I do go out to check on the tires. And guess what -- they're gone. And the right amount of cash is left under a stone.

Thank you, honest buyer from Beloit! The tires are in good shape and the price was low. May he get good use out of them.

Breakfast, as a sort of "before" shot. Ed decided he needs a haircut and a beard trim. Before I get to the task of taking out his thick hair, I set up a breakfast selfie. (Is it still a selfie if there are two of us and it's timed release?)

And now let's get off the topic of tires and wheels and cars (for a little bit) and face what's really important: today, I come across the very first flower that is blossoming as a result of my planting efforts. Right by the walkway to the farmhouse:

Yes, a Snowdrop. Actually two of them.

Here's a picture of Dance and the two tiny Snowdrops.  

You could say then that this last day of winter belongs to the Snowdrop. The flower and the girl. Because I do get the girl, with all her after-school joy.

The evening? It belongs to Primrose -- not the flower that heralds the next season, but the girl who was born nearly three years ago in the first days of spring. We video chat over supper. Her smile is for the little chicks who come out to greet her with their chirps.

I had put in some solid hours of yard clearing earlier in the day and so I have the deep satisfaction of knowing that we are taking steps toward a season of growth. I can't remember any year of gardening (and I have been at it for a long time, growing perennials all the way back in the 1980s, when I first had a yard where I could plant them), when I've been this excited about the coming of spring and the awakening of a garden. I have to think I'm not the only one who just wants to experience once again the joy of watching a garden explode with life.

Night: guess what? The car finally sells. A guy drives over all the way from Illinois, checks it out, buys it for his girlfriend. Now that's love for you!

And tomorrow? Spring!

wind

While we are on the subject of Ireland, I'm remembering well a hike Ed and I took up Irish hills, oh, nearly 11 years ago. The wind was fierce. I didn't really think it could blow me off the mountain and it certainly would have known better than to mess with puffing Ed off, but it sure felt like I was a mere nothing against its mighty gusts.

Today's winds are blustery as well, but they're small puffs compared to those Irish gales. Besides, we don't live on a high hill, so we wouldn't feel their force here, on the farmette. Still, they made you zip up your jacket extra tight. And they kept me inside. After a morning of errands, postponed from many moons ago, I settle in and refuse Ed's prompt to pick up our work outside.

(Breakfast was in the play room once more, just because...)

In the afternoon I do go out because it's a Snowdrop pick up day. I'm always early at her school -- some twenty minutes early, because the line of pick up cars gets to be very long and I know the little girl is ready and waiting! Today, I got scolded by some teacher person for exiting my car to greet her. The new rule is that she (and all kids called out for the pick up) wait until we pull up past the "white line," which I can only do once the four or five cars before me have moved on. As I wait, watching her and a handful of other kids pace the sidewalk, I think about how hard it is for the teachers to ensure total safety for these kids. And we expect that of them. Inside the school, and now outside as well, with all the threats that come with letting kids merely go off on their own. Safety. But at a price.

 

(At the farmette: sooo windy!)

 

Inside: lots of energy...

 

 

 

spring hyacinths...

and spring chicks.

Snowdrop does ask for some outdoor time -- in the farmette Magic Meadow...

And I'm happy to see her delight in something so small and dirty as stirring up the waters of a muddy puddle!

Evening:  you wont be surprised to hear that I choose to make a hot veggie soup for dinner. On a windy day, in Ireland or in Italy or in Wisconsin, nothing tastes better than a bisque, thick with veggies and cannellini beans, all sprinkled with grated Parmesan.

can I borrow St. Patrick's Day from someone Irish?

Right about now I would like a nice pint of something pubbish, with maybe a little music playing in the background just loudly enough to make me tap along, and perhaps a few very friendly people asking me how the wee lasses and lads in my life are gettin' by.  In other words, some spirited Irish áthas maireachtála (that would be joy of living, in case you're not up on your Irish Gaelic).

Instead, the day is threatening to be a rerun of yesterday. More car issues, this time only with fixing and selling the old one, and more mundane errands (like picking up a new car battery at Walmart), and more drippy cool weather (so no chance of yard work, or a walk in our county park). 

Except it's not really like yesterday because we are that much closer to fine spring weather and we're not threatened by the storms that are ravaging the south, and people are taking precautions so our county COVID hospitalization rates remain a small fraction (like, one seventh) of what they were back in the nightmare fall of last year. 

And, too, breakfast in the play room was lovely...

And our errand run was delightful (made even more so by the incredibly quiet ride of Blue Moon), and though we did not walk, we paused at the side of the road to admire the sole sandhill...

... and the herd of deer almost hidden against the dark backdrop of a still naked forest. (I may as well love them now, because I'll be less enthusiastic about their visits once my spring garden gets going.)

Now, it is true that the grass is greener in Ireland right now. It's always green there. Year round. But, Irish pubs are closed and they will remain closed for the next two months, so the cold pint and the singing is confined to the Irish home. Still, there is every reason to embrace the Irish áthas maireachtála now, even if you're stuck at home. Think about spring. Think about how fine it will feel when we've helped our communities and indeed, communities worldwide to beat back the beastly menace. I'll save my cold pint for that day. (In the meantime -- well, there's always popcorn. And a glass of chilled white Burgundy.)

cars, cars...

The cars are messin' with us. Word must have trickled down that we are not really car people. We have stirred up the wrath and ire of the automobile gods.

Up early. I have an appointment for Blue Moon to get an inspection for the rattle that I'm hearing somewhere up front. First task: clear the car of ice and snow. Gently, because, you know, it's new and I still treat it as if it were a delicate little thing. Too, I clear the old car of ice and snow. Someone is coming to check it out for a possible purchase.

There's just enough snow to make all this a chore, but not enough to, say, go skiing. And the cheepers aren't happy. 

 

 

 

Peach gets stuck in a drift once again and I have to carry her to shelter.

Breakfast. Somewhat hurried because we have all these car appointments.

As I drive Blue Moon up to the dealer's service center, I turn off the radio so that I can hear that annoying rattle again. Except that I don't hear it! What the heck! For two weeks it rattled away and now, on the way to the car doc it stops? Well, maybe it will reproduce itself for the mechanic. I hand over the car, play for him the recording we made of the rattly noise, and drive away in a loaner.

At the farmette, I want to move the old car to the head of the driveway so that the buyer has an easier time checking it out. Except that the battery appears to be dead. So now we have to call the prospective buyer to tell her that the car she is about to purchase wont start. Ed and I want to do this right. He suggests that we replace the battery. We're ready to set out to Walmart automotive center, and then the car starts and all is well and Ed is under the hood again trying to determine what caused it to be not fine twenty minutes ago.  Definitely not the battery. Best guess -- corrosion on the battery terminal. He cleans it up. We wait for the buyer to come. She is late. Very late. She texts: leaving now! And again: be there in twelve minutes! 

She never shows up.

Another call from another person: hello. I hear you're looking to buy a Mazda 2007? No, not buy. Sell. Oh, okay. Click.

 

Late afternoon. The service department, where Blue Moon is being cared for calls me: we drove it for miles. Could not detect rattle anywhere. Sorry!

Is that more than you ever wanted to know about our cars? Well me too! I want to get in one, have it move me, the kids, possibly Ed, or maybe at some future date -- groceries, from point A to point B. Then I want to step out and not give another thought to cars until the next time that I need to move things around. A whole morning spent on attending to cars? Too much!

 

The thermometer climbs to above freezing levels, but not enough to melt the snow. (Tulip, submerged.)

 

 

 

It's not hiking weather, it's not gardening weather. It's stay home and plan your garden and forget about cars weather.

expecting: snow

We all knew the snow would come. We'd been told to expect the worst -- mixed with rain, with ice, wet and heavy. Several inches of the winter horror.

When? -- Ed asks me, as I'm the weather tracker around here.

It'll start in the morning. I'm a tad anxious as I'll have the kids here and I don't want to drive them home in the afternoon in a freezing crazy weather event.

We eat breakfast in the kitchen. It seems cozier.

The kids come. No snow yet.

When did you say it would start?

Any minute now.

Snowdrop and Sparrow continue to be delighted by the chicks. That's a good thing, because the chick cuteness is not going to last long. The first three weeks they're precious and adorable. Then follows the adolescence period as they try to secure their freedom and are hard to catch. By the second month, you begin to have deep regrets about having turned your home into a hen house. But for now -- all cuteness all the time.

(So long as we are at the art table...)

It's a remote learning school day, which means that Snowdrop has to check in with her class several times...

Afterwards, she plays vigorously. 

 

 

 

Oops! I hear a thud. The little girl trips and tumbles right into the coffee table. She's understandably upset.

Nasty coffee table! -- I say the usual "grandma is on your side" stuff.

It wasn't the coffee table's fault. I tripped on the strap of a handbag. She points to my purse on the floor.

Nasty handbag!

No, it's not the handbag's fault! It was just being a handbag. Someone put it there. It's the fault of whoever put it there.  

She snuggles forgivingly. I take out the pizza for lunch.

 

We look outside. Nothing yet.

Lunch ends, school ends, we play some more and now it is time to take them home. I have their snow pants, their warmest jackets. Still -- there's no snow. No rain, no ice storm.

I am so grateful.

The first flakes fall as we leave the farmette. And by the time I am returning home, the farmette lands are blanketed in snow.

Evening. It's still snowing. Or sleeting. Or something. Still, it's just a March thing. It happens. And here's a bit of color for you careening through my evening:

Not bad for a day that portended weather troubles. Not bad at all!