new schedule

On this chilly, really chilly day, we make a few adjustments. First of all, I turn up the heat and pull on a very warm sweatshirt. There's no dilly dallying during the morning walk. Feed the animals, return home.

 

(still plenty of golden color out there...)

Breakfast in the kitchen. I feel it would not be inappropriate to light a candle -- something I reserve for the darker winter months. But, I hold back. I have a little guy here today. Candles and little ones are probably not a good combo.

Sparrow is here alone because his sister's school is now in session four days a week. I'm not a great substitute for Snowdrop, but at least the farmhouse offers a change of pace for the guy. 

 

We play. And I mean "we." Sparrow used to love to play by himself for a long stretches of time, but he's been in a world of babysitters and Snowdrop. I'm roped into everything.

 

 

 After lunch (he really holds his own on that strawberry, a member of the dreaded fruit family!) ...

 

 

 

...Sparrow really wants to go outside. This surprises me: he is usually reluctant to face the challenges of the great outdoors. And this day is an exceptionally cold day.

 

 

 

He hangs in there for a little while...

But not too long. I drop him off at home and then go over to Snowdrop's school to get in line for the pick up of the little girl.

I take her home today and eventually make my way back to the farmette. 

There wasn't much time for yard work, but nor was there the inclination to work outside. We're in for three days of cold. Well, relative cold. Not so long ago, a high of 44F (7C) would have been welcome news. Not today. We wait for this blast from the north to pass. There's talk of snow to the south of us. Good news only because the land is dry and any moisture is helpful. Ah well, it's spring. Never think that you can outsmart and outpredict this season. There will always be surprises.

with hardly a pause

The second half of April is intense here at the farmette. Everything picks up speed. Ed and I try to keep up with old demands even as new projects insert themselves into our spring routines. For example, this morning I found Ed measuring the temperature of water in a jar. He was aiming for some perfect number of degrees so that he could begin the process of "cold stratifying" Korean Pine seeds. Why we should be fussing with Korean Pine seeds is a long story, but let me just say that when mature, these trees do produce edible pine nuts. Yes, we're fully into the tree project once again and our assortment of nut trees will include the Korean Pine. If something comes of his sprouting project.

Me, I'm focused totally on the flower fields. I look beyond the daffodils (even though the daffodils are splendid right now!).

I dig out weeds and I cover exposed roots that the cheepers are determined to scratch up, and I chip the plants for good measure. Until the flower fields are thick with perennials, this is what I have to do to keep things growing. And because it is another lovely spring day, we start before breakfast (such pretty colors then!)...

Finally, a pause:  for the morning meal on the porch...

And continuing really without pause until late afternoon, when I am happy to stop bending, digging pulling, chipping, so that I can focus on the evening meal.

This nonstop outdoor work is really good for the soul. You're not doing it for the exercise, you're doing it because you care about something other than your physical health and yet the benefits accrue exponentially: the more you work, the better the garden looks and the better you feel. Funny how that works.

(Peach and Henny have taken to laying in the cart... The girls have too much freedom!)

 

 

Toward evening, the young family comes and we spend a good many moments outside. Yes, the "magic meadow" is in play again, announcements and all.

 

 

(we're never quite sure what Sparrow understands these announcements to be, but he always participates with total enthusiasm...)

 

 

 

Everyone is hungry. Time to go inside.

And so ends a very full weekend. Not much couch time, but hey, I can make up for it in the days to come. We're slated to have a blast of cold air. April is never a smooth sail. But I'm happy as anything to have had these prep days: everything is ready. Toward the end of next week, I'll begin filling the spaces created for the newcommers to the garden. How wonderful is that!

your most splendid April day

No question -- today's a winner. Blue skies, plenty of sunshine. 

(Pepper, our self-appointed matriarch of the brood, turning her face to the sun)

 

(cherry blossoms)

Cold in the morning, true, but we brave it, taking our breakfast on the porch even in the nippy weather. 

You have hope on days like this. The potential for greatness is right there before you and your energies soar.

Well, at least ours do. Ed and I begin loading and unloading wood chips even before breakfast and we continue until my daughter arrives with her two kids for our Saturday lunch. (And we return to it after they leave. We're motivated!)

Daffodils still dominate.

But by now, it hardly matters what's blooming, because everything in our gardens is enchanting. The shades of green alone are gorgeous!

The kids do take a brief run through the farmette fields...

And I'm happy about that. A garden begs to be noticed. And they do notice.

But eventually, that old orange couch beckons. Hunger for books, fruits and snacks drives them inside.

But warm weather is on all our minds. The kids insist on playing in their swimsuits (reminding me that they need new ones for the season ahead). I hear a lot of pretend splashes in the background.

(a miracle! Sparrow eats a strawberry! the little guy's two year old rebellion has been to say no to all form of plant life)

 

 

The young ones leave. I have no great thoughts today. I clear my mind as I work outside. During a brief pause, I read the simplest stuff, for example, a fun article about the proliferation of taco places in France, much to the chagrin of the Mexican population, since the tacos don't look like anything you or I or they might call tacos. It links to a very funny youtube, where one man confronts the gigagtaco challenge: you have to eat a five pound taco in less than two hours. It's in French, but you dont' have to speak the language to crack a smile.

 

Breathe in the spring air. Go ahead, do it. Let your mind run on empty. It's splendid, really it is!

grabbing sunshine

It's cold, but not really cold because the sun is out! I don't get this -- how is it that you feel just fine, even in the shade, merely because the skies are blue? Whatever the logic, I'll take it!

We're in the 40sF (maybe 6C) and yet, I'm in favor of putting the chicks out and I'm in favor of eating breakfast on the porch. 

Afterwards, I return to the weeding, but I restrain myself with planting anything. We're getting a hard frost next week. Putting in baby plants just before is not a good idea.

And so the entire morning is spent on gardening, interspersed with  phone calls. And we get a delivery of wood chips from the Madison Gas and Electric tree maintenance guys, and I am hoping that distributing them will slow down the weed growth that's been driving me nuts the past few weeks. So, progress!

And very quickly it is the afternoon. Time to pick up Snowdrop!

She isn't fully convinced we should spend time outside. Oh, she makes her rounds: chicks, tree, flower overview...

But Fridays are tired days. She'd much rather snuggle inside with her bowl of fruit and a good book. And Gogs.  (Gogs, what did Abe Lincoln mean when he said "A house divided against itself cannot stand?" Hmmm, who knew I'd be explaining the Civil War today...) 

(The sunshine follows us inside...)

But late in the evening, after I drop the girl home, I return to the yard. Ed had dumped mountains of wood chips on the new flower bed. I can start making inroads spreading them around. Pitchfork, here I come!

Dinner is very, very late.

return

It is abundantly clear that all my vaccinated friends have come closer to a normal life schedule than I have. Sure, I've kept up with medical appointments. And I finally spent time with my visiting friend last week. Importantly, I'm fully integrated into the life of my grandkids, albeit not at the same time, as my younger girl and her husband are not yet vaccinated. So progress, right? Indeed. But I am nowhere near normal. I still don't go to stores, cafes, restaurants. And I don't travel.

But some of this may change. Because, well, if we bounce around surges and ever the newer variants in the next half year, shouldn't one take advantage of the window of protection offered now to those who are fully vaccinated? 

It's cold again. And we're going to stay here, right around a high of 50F (10C) for a few days. Still, the early onset of spring-like weather gave a huge push to everything around us. On my morning walk for instance, I noticed the first cherry blossom.

I can't ever remember a cherry blossom as early as tax day here, in south central Wisconsin. (No, I haven't done my taxes. Yes, I should have gotten them out of the way. Yay extensions!)

(Breakfast...)

 

 

 

Outside, daffodils still dominate. 

But they are not alone. Some of the tulips survived the groundhog chomp fest. They're nearly ready to add some color to the landscape.

And Merrybells! You have to love the name, no? (A.k.a. Uvularia, which sounds more foreboding, unless you know that the name derives from the Latin name for grapes. Not that these are related to grapes, they're actually a cousin of the lily family.)

And while I am on the subject of color and, too, a return to (something closer to) normal, today, our neighbor (well, of about five miles away) Natalie opened her greenhouses for the season! Last year, we were under lockdown in April. We knew so little about the spread of the virus that Ed and I did not shop even in outdoor spaces. Natalie delivered plants to us and eventually, we did curbside pickups. But science never fails to astound us with its miracles and here we are, vaccinated and ready to go inside her greenhouses. It's too early to pick up the annuals for the pots -- next week's cold blast will not treat theses tender babies well, but we can at least pick up a few of the hardier annuals: pansies come to mind.

Okay, and one hanging basket! I can carry it inside if it really gets cold. 

So, not quite a normal shopping expedition, but a big one for us nonetheless. And yes, it felt luxuriously wonderful.

[On the way to Natalie's, we passed what is such a familiar sight to us -- sandhill cranes. But we never take them for granted. Did you know that back in the 1930s there were only about two dozen breeding pairs of sandhills left in Wisconsin? Thanks to legal protections, there are now close to 10,000 and I swear, 9,900 of them live all around us. It's a real success story -- you can read a little about sandhills and other migratory birds in the NYTimes today, here.]

In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop at school. Yes, the usual spirited run to the car...

And a quick check on the chicks, the cheepers and"her tree" at the farmette...

Our usual review of the best and worst aspects of the school day have her tell me that the worst part is that she feels exhausted at the end of it all. That's can't be too bad then! Exhaustion is far better than, say, boredom. Adjusting to this, I suggest a quieter afternoon in the farmhouse.

Honestly, she does not seem that tired to me, but we take it easy anyway. Lots of reading, lots of art. And some admiration of the tomato plantings that Ed is tending right now.

Me, I'm waiting for a return of more spring like weather. Maybe a coffee at an outdoor cafe would be nice. Maybe.

couch time

Cold is relative. A high of 44F (6C) isn't objectively cold, but for us northeners, anxious that we are to get moving with our gardens, it feels chilly. An added ten degrees would help. Or at least a long spell of sunshine. Or both. (This is what you have to remember about April: it can test your patience.)

A brisk walk, a look at the growing gardens, when there was still hope of a sunny morning...

Breakfast, giving up on that sunshine...

And then a retreat to the couch. Not permanently, no, not that. Having bragged to a doc person yesterday that I do solid exercise of some sort every day, I now feel compelled to deliver on that statement, so I take the large heavy duty shovel and transplant a hosta and dig out a bunch of tiger lilies (behind Ed's back: he is the only person I know who is fond of tiger lilies).

But afterwards,  I retreat to my spot on the couch. I have an excuse! Two fabulous Zoom calls with friends far and wide. Say hello to the gang in Poland...

 

 

... and the awesome twosome down south...

 

 

 

A real social day! But on the couch. And interspersed with arguments with providers about the level of care that my mom needs. Unfortunately, it has come to that. I hate arguments.

Somewhere in those hours I dumped the chicks outside. They are restless. They need something more than a box in the sun room of the farmhouse. Still, we have a couple of frosty nights coming up next week and, too, they're not large enough yet to withstand a cat assault. So we carry them -- outside for the day, inside for the night. Back and forth, like taking children to day care and bringing them home again.

Evening: I reheat chili for dinner. I'm spent. Between phone calls and zoom calls, I've talked more today than I have in many a month. Funny how couch time can wear you out! Even more than heavy duty weeding in the yard. Who would have known...