moving on to pokeweed

We are in a never ending battle with weeds. Mostly, I mind weeds that invade the flower beds. They take over and crowd out flowers. But sometimes I mind them, we mind them, because they are toxic monsters that are a nuisance to the entire property and beyond. And the longer we live here, the longer is the list of these invasive monster plants.

We started with a goal of eradicating honeysuckle. That plant has ruined forests and wetlands throughout Wisconsin. You need only drive along the rural roads around here to see its effects. The shrubs fill out all available space and before long, prairies and woodlands succumb to their noxiousness. Ed has been relentless at digging it out here and I think we're on top of it! 

Then came garlic mustard: we've been warned to pull it out, roots and all, quickly and efficiently. It, too, destroys a forest floor (or a flower bed). We are good at pulling out the hundreds of mustard plants that sprout each spring.

Before long, we came across another warning: get rid of your dame's rocket! Looks like phlox, with its pretty purple flowers, but it's not. It is part of the mustard family and it is a menace in our wetlands. So we pull all visible dame's rocket the minute we see its flowering heads.

Not the end. Beggar's lice came next (aka Virginia stickseed). Getting the seeds out of your clothes and worse -- hair, is so awful that I waged an active campaign to eradicate all stickseed from farmette lands. This, at about the same time that Ed went after thistle plants that were invading all our meadows and prairies. We haven't eradicated either, but it's better than it was a few years back.

This summer, we also discovered the dangers of letting those tall monster wild parsnips grow in your prairie. If you want to have any prairie flowers left, you really need to pull the giant parsnip out, with gloved hands because they are toxic to your skin (to say nothing of your digestive system).

Are we done yet??? No! Yesterday, Ed asked me about a "pretty if somewhat exotic looking huge plant" that's blooming in the back of the writer's shed. I sighed. It's pokeweed and I have been trying to keep it out of here for several years now, but it's winning every single battle. It's huge, with an equally huge root and it has toxic leaves and toxic berries and it spreads like wildfire. So, add pokeweed to my list of gardening headaches.

And I'm not even going to mention the small weeds, the clovers, the dandelions, crab grasses, bindweed, dayflowers, and all those tamer creepy creeping invasives that aren't going to kill your flowers and grasses. At least not immediately. Pushy, but not deadly. 

 

 

*     *     *

I came across an interview with Rick Steves in the New Yorker this week. To me, he represents the best and the worst of European travel. The best, in that he works hard on convincing people to humbly choose Europe over yet another trip to Disneyworld as their vacation destination. I say humbly, because humility is not typically packed into the suitcase when we go to distant places and visit unfamiliar cultures. The worst thing about Rick Steves? Well, he is an empire. He is a Simon says of travel: one Steves suggestion and a million people are going there and doing it. For this reason alone, many of us go out of the way to avoid anything Steves has put into his Europe travel books.

In the interview though, I  did come across several thoughts of his that I found worthy of a smile. For example, the idea that Europe is like a wading pool in the summer. He is right: for the overseas traveler it's a joyful place to explore without much danger and with a lot of pleasurable moments sprinkled throughout. To me, of course, the variety, concentrated into a small physical space is especially tantalizing. 

And so now comes the question of when: given that Covid is not going away anytime soon, when will it feel safe to travel to this wading pool once again?

 

 

*     *     *

We eat breakfast on the porch. It is an amazingly quiet day. The balance of busy followed by quiet is exquisite. The balance of staying home and getting out into the world is equally exquisite. 

As I wait to see what the next weeks will bring, I go back to weeding. I mean, there are so many to pick from! So very many!

family Sunday

One of the best things about weekends like this one is that they reaffirm this basic truth:  we -- my kids, my grandkids -- we really like time spent together. We like hanging out for hours on a deck or on the porch, we like watching the kids play, we like talking about the quirky aspects of life. We like to laugh at odd happenings. We like it all. Kids grow up in different ways. There are no promises or guarantees. Different interests, different convictions, different ways of approaching life. But we were lucky: we did not grow apart. Things we liked doing together twenty years ago we still like doing together now. And always there is laughter. Family gatherings are never serious affairs. They are gentle, kind, and most of all -- fun.

 

This Sunday began early, because there are kids in our lives who live by clocks that are set to their little person needs. At the farmhouse, Primrose is excited to start in on an art project even before breakfast, before switching out of her pj's.

We linger, we play, we nibble. And then I scoot out to pick up some brunch foods at Madison Sourdough. No need to cook up a storm today. We're taking it easy. Indeed, we pack up our stuff and head out...

(cool morning...)

(warm day...)

... to my older girl's home so that the cousins can log in some outdoor playtime. (Until they are vaccinated, we'll stick to the great outdoors.)

Sandpiper doesn't care for the heat and yes, today is hot -- one last heat wave pummeling us with sticky air. Nonetheless, he, too, likes family activity. The sound of sib voices. The sweetness of an aunt who, herself is pregnant with a cousin.

 

Family brunch....

I'm not sure anyone felt like pumping up and filling the pool one last time, or slathering the sun block on kids backs, faces and arms, but we did it all because the kids just love getting cool in these splash pools. So, one last time -- an ode to summer.

And then the young Chicago family has to head home. Good byes are tough!

 

I had the idea that I would catch my breath for a few hours before heading into dinner, but Ed asked me to run some errands with him, including one that required me driving behind him as he took his car to the other side of town, depositing it at his best mechanic for a brake job.

Are your brakes not working? -- I ask.

Not a whole lot. But I'll go slowly on the highway and you don't have to stop much between here and the shop. 

I was not going to let him do this alone. Indeed, he could not do this alone.

And when we got back from the car deposit and from his errands (picking up a Craigslist  very used seed broadcaster for $15), it was time to cook Sunday dinner for the gang.

(here they come! tree stop first...)

It's shrimp taco night tonight and the kids are delighted.

I think all the grownups are plenty tired by the end of the day. But it's a good tired. A happy tired. 

With love...

 

missing "t"s

Things break. Ed says this all the time. Since he will never call a repair person if he has the strength to attempt a fix himself, he is one busy guy.

What neither of us can fix however, is my aging computer's missing letter "t." Well, it's not really missing, it's more like a wobbly tooth that can never be made firm again. It works if you stick to mushy bananas and milkshakes, but of course, who lives on a diet of mushy bananas and milkshakes?! 

One of the first things I do in the morning is hunt for missing "t"s in whatever I may have written the night before. (I will have already done a search the previous day, but looking for missing "t"s at night after a long day is like searching for a four leaf clover after sunset with an aid of a very weak flashlight. 

I thought about this early in the morning as I began another full day. The sun is out, the skies a clear, I have plenty to do as I prepare for a visit from the Chicago family and yet here I am, looking for "t"s. Is it compulsion or stubbornness that leads us to irrational acts that suck the minutes out of a busy day?

After most missing "t"s have been added, I go out with my new and heavy camera to feed the animals. And once again I tell myself that I really need to set some adventure goals for this fall. No camera is going to make the walk to the barn extraordinary. And no matter how much Ocean celebrates the ordinary, I'd say an occasional infusion of the unusual into your life is a pretty good thing too. 

(Not today though. Morning walk, as usual!)

This is my day for meeting up with the girls for morning coffee and croissants.

Well, girls plus one little guy who needed company, as his brother and dad went off to play ball. (Hey, Snowdrop did try to be part of a soccer team some years back as well! It did not stick.)

And now the day is a real whirl. Snowdrop is at the farm for a quick visit...

This is when Ed tells me that the water pump, which has been clicking on even when no faucet is open, has  developed a serious problem. Ed wants to shut down everything. I protest. The younger family is about to arrive! The parents have something in the schedule for this day and so I am again keeping an eye on Primrose. Ed mutters, putters, does internet searches. At least he has time for this, because his tree chopping project is on hold: the wood chipping machine just broke.

I concentrate on playing with the little one. Being who I am, I insist on some outdoor time. Primrose goes along. Stuffies and all.

And lo, the water pump problem is (temporarily?) fixed. I am so grateful for this small victory! Indeed, I'm jubilant. Primrose, let's go hog wild! Let's just do an art project, says my sensible granddaughter.

Ed is busy loading up the wood chipping machine for a return and exchange at the hardware store. Luckily it is still under warranty. One less machine to fix.

 

Because I am a creature of eating habits, Primrose and I again make pizza for supper. Hey, don't tell me I am without imagination! Kids like pizza! And she is good at making it!

(Yes, she is wearing a "wedding dress," because just minutes ago, there was a "wedding.")

Followed by popcorn.

Someday I'll get Primrose to hunt for missing "t"s with me. Maybe when she is ten. (Will Ocean be still up and running when Primrose is 10??)  For now, we watch a show about bears.

I tuck in the sweet three year old, finish my writing, and put off my own hunt until tomorrow, when I'm sure to start the day, another very busy day, with yet another search for words with a missing "t" or two.

the roles we play

Toward the end of the morning I said to Ed (rather loudly) -- we have the most gendered division of labor on the planet! 

From this one sentence, you can probably tell what I was up to all morning. It included dish soap, a vacuum and a laundry basket. Ed was busy sowing seeds and chopping tree limbs into logs. 

Though it definitely sounded like a complaint and perhaps was intended as such, I'm not sure there's a solution to this. Ed immediately asked -- what would you like me to do around the house? And I answered -- not have to ask what needs to be done around the house!

I realize that this is entirely unfair. It's like asking Ed to predict what I would like to see happen here. As it is, he will always clean up after himself -- just not promptly and not as thoroughly as I would want. And so I routinely intervene.

Still, it felt like a bright sunny day should be spent outside. 

Instead, I cleaned the house. I hadn't done it last weekend and dust and wood debris accumulate like you wouldn't believe. On the upside, I read yesterday that the magic number on a Fitbit stepcounter is 7000. This is what you should aim for each day for optimal health. You can go up to 10,000 steps if you like, but the sweet spot is 7000 and anything beyond 10,000 is worthless and maybe even counterproductive. Cleaning the house gets you rapidly to 7000, so yay! I am meeting my goals without even trying.

Breakfast in beautiful weather, outside.

I also had a Zoom call with my Polish friends right about at noon. This was exquisite! Everything in Poland is so normal and in westerns Europe, where some of their kids and grandkids live -- rapidly approaching normal. They have large family gatherings. They go to concerts. They go on vacations. The vaccination rates in western Europe are remarkably high and though Poland is more like us, the virus hasn't surged there yet. It may, but for the time being they have had a wonderful summer of near normal conditions. Masked, sure, but not so vulnerable, given their low rates of infection.

You might think that this would make me somewhat envious as we worry about kids and schools and social gatherings here. It doesn't. I am happy for anyone who can live relatively worry free right now. And it's wonderful to hear stories of families and friends enjoying time together. I was uplifted by it all!

In the afternoon, I pick up a distressed Snowdrop. She'd left her favorite sweater inside the school. Normally, this would be an easy deal: we go back inside and retrieve the sweater. But these are not normal times. Doors are designated for particular groups of kids going out. People from the outside must stay on the outside. A very simple problem requires strategy and care. 

Success!

And by now, she is really ready to plop down on the couch and exhale. A long week, a long day. Remarkable what a bowl of fruit and a good book or two will do!

In the evening, I retrieve my pal, my long missing camera from a drugstore (FedEx dropped it off there) some miles away from me. Snowdrop and I go together: she is dying for an adventure! It is a sad day indeed when a drive to a drugstore constitutes an adventure, but hey! I love her company. We play a game called "name that lake!" 

My camera and I are reunited after a two month separation! Now all I need is a trip to some far away place so that I can get excited about using it again! 

In the meantime though, I am loving, absolutely loving these cool evenings, following brilliant warm early fall days. Staying home could not have come at a nicer time!

sweetness

I'm sitting at a cafe pretending that what is before me -- a cappuccino and a scone -- can be called lunch. I hadn't had time to grab my usual toast and almond butter at home. We had decided at the last minute that we absolutely have to get some winter rye seeds into the new meadow (because weeds are already creeping up through the compost layer Ed had created for the project) and so I volunteered to go to the farmers' coop to pick up the seeds on my way to pick up Snowdrop. It took no time at all and so I had leftover minutes that I could have used for a brisk walk (it's a brilliant day!) but instead, I chose the coffee shop.

In setting up that photo (timed release), I must have unwittingly blocked the path of another cafe customer because when I was finished, a woman emerged from the sidelines and said -- I'm an amateur photographer myself so I didn't want to disturb your efforts at a good picture. 

She was wearing a mask and I thought -- this person is so kind! She wants me to do my photo and she also wants to keep me safe. (This is the thought I have every time someone puts on a mask in my presence.) She sees my age, she cares. 

You need to step out of your home to see kindness. Most of it doesn't make it into the news stories you read or shows you watch. But out there in my community, there is a lot of kindness going on. No political statement, no exasperating self-congratulatory proclamations. Just simple caring for someone other than just yourself. It's nice.

Speaking of caring, here's the garden that needs a bit more TLC than I am able to give right now. That's okay. The fall season (aka the clean up season, or -- the season of asters!) is just beginning.

The mornings and evenings are cool, but our breakfasts are very late, so it's an easy choice: the porch!

And, as I mentioned -- the afternoon is spent with Snowdrop.

The girl has had a string of good days, but of course, it would be unrealistic to expect no hiccups. 

 

 

 

 Today's challenges came from the bully corner of the playground. This is where a bowl of fruit and solid reading time really help smooth the wrinkles of a day! In addition to the usual Judy Blume stuff, she dug out Madame Badobedah. You are like the old lady and I am like the young girl, the adventurer! -- she tells me. If you knew the story and characters, you would smile at that. A big, grandmotherly smile.

At their house, Sandpiper wants to hear about everyone's day. 

We don't know yet whether he will be as chatty as his older sibs. My guess? Yes, very chatty!  

Sweet kids, sweet friends, sweet strangers. Such a warm and cuddly day!

Wednesday

At breakfast, Ed and I talked about travel. I had mumbled something about not wanting to spend the rest of my days weeding (even as I then proceeded to weed for a good chunk of the day -- it is such good exercise!). I felt that tug of wanting to explore. And I asked him if he was satisfied with having visited only a handful of the European and Asian and African countries. Wasn't there another spot on the planet he would be curious to see?

We listed all the places we'd been to together. Four continents, eighteen countries. He says it's enough. I try to tempt him, but for him, the effort of getting elsewhere is just too great. The trade off is not worth it. And then he asks:

Tell me, if I said to you that you could not take photos or blog or write about your travels, would you still be excited to go far away?

I quickly responded that I've been crazily traveling (and insatiably wanting to travel) ever since I first went off on my own at age 18, way before blogging or writing became such a constant in my life. But I had to admit that I have always traveled with a camera suspended around my neck. Always. If you took that away from me, I'd feel lost.

As is his way, Ed pushed me to plan trips where both -- writing and photography -- would figure prominently. (In other words, "not just Paris.") To not give in to the constraints of age.

He's right. All I need is for this Covid pandemic to magically go away.

In other news -- for the first time since I've lived here, I told Ed today to take his lunch elsewhere. Like maybe the sheep shed where I would not have to smell it or see it.

He's been itching to try frying up one of those puff balls that sprouts right about now in various places in the yard. You know the kind: big, more than half a foot in diameter, growing in some shady spot. He did his research and insists they are safe to eat. At least during a brief window of maturity, before they start turning a poisonous brown. I asked him if his research consisted of watching youtube videos of goofy guys frying up everything from bugs to weeds. He rolled his eyes, snitched a bar of butter and retreated to the shed. 

I am happy to report that two hours later, he is still alive and well, though some toxins do take their sweet time before they do you in. Ed claims the puff ball was tasty and chewy and a little like eating fried tofu. That says it all, don't you think?

I worked in the flower beds. Weeding, until I could weed no more. But during this seemingly boring set of hours, I thought about travel. And photography. And writing. And how cool it will be when it all comes together again for me, even as my once-occasional-traveling-companion is likely to stay home and eat reheated pizza while I explore the next new place and the one after.

every tomato...

...Yes, every tomato has a spot on this planet. But should every tomato have a spot in your kitchen? 

I have been working through the buckets of tomatoes we had picked last Saturday and it's clear that Ed's bucket has a mixture of fruit. Mine are more uniform: all shiny red, unscathed, untarnished. Many of his have, well, flaws. I'd encouraged him to concentrate on picking perfect ones. That's why you do u-picks, so that you can control the caliber of produce you bring home. You get to decide! There were plenty of perfect tomatoes, let's pick those!

This isn't Ed's way of thinking. Bad tomatoes aren't really bad, they just have some bumps and bruises that don't really ruin the flavor. Besides, you can always cut off the parts that you feel are beyond acceptable. I protested: there are plenty of tomatoes that are great! Just leave the flawed ones behind.

He didn't leave the flawed ones behind and today I attacked his pile and thought about who made the right choice here. My bags are bursting with perfect fruits. The flawed ones I left behind are probably being composted. Or picked by the farmers. Or donated to kitchens. What's wrong with that? The point is, his pick or my pick only shuffle the load a bit. In the end, all tomatoes meet a certain fate: on someone's plate or in the compost pile. We can't change that fate: we play only a tiny role in the whole chain of tomato outcomes.

The moral of the story? Do not take Ed to u-picks if you want your freezer load to be larger than your composted trimmings.

All this processing of tomatoes takes place in the late morning, after I'd done my bit for the animals, after I'd weeded the next several square feet of garden space. 

And after breakfast.

By the time I finished, the clock ticked forward and it was time to pick up Snowdrop.

And here's the thing about throwing things in the compost pile: if it has seeds, they may sprout. Snowdrop discovers that some squash seed, tossed carelessly into the pile, sprouted a very impressive squash vine. Snowdrop is thrilled: we have our own pumpkin patch!

Which reminds her of pumpkin pie, which reminds her that she is hungry. I think today she broke all records in fruit consumption. Peach, strawberries, mango. A few very old cherries. An orange and many, many slices of watermelon. 

It's impressive what kids can eat at one sitting.

Come to think of it, I should have offered her a tomato. A fruit, after all! 

(Driving home: gaga, what are "dramatic clouds?"  These!)

(The boys, waiting at home...)

Supper at the farmhouse: I cook up a veggie soup. With tomatoes.

rain

Okay, we are good. Plenty of rain in our measuring cup. You can stop now. What? Another day of it? Well okay. I suppose I should be glad we are not up north, sitting in a cabin wondering when we can finally go outside.

Here, at the farmette, I go out outside in between showers. It's cool, it's fragrant and very autumnal!

(the last wet lily standing...)

(the farmhouse)

Ed is solidly asleep all morning. I don't bother waking him. I understand the rainy day sleepies. Breakfast is, therefore, alone and in the kitchen.

And then I take myself to northeast England. I'd spent some time there, back in 2014. (I can't believe it was that long ago!) It was one of those solitary trips that wasn't exactly easy. The town I stayed in was fantastic to walk through with a camera and the people I met were wonderful, but that corner of England is rugged and tough and I do think the stories I've retained from there are better upon the retell. Exploring the area alone, in often poor weather was challenging, even as the memories are all stellar. I'd learned a lot about a corner of England that is so often ignored by those who live in the south and those who travel to that country as tourists.

Today's "trip" was only through the Vera Stanhope mystery books I've been so hooked on all summer. They take place in those gritty coastal towns of northeast England and I recognize the rows of darkened stone houses and shops trying to stay afloat next to boarded up storefronts. And I wonder -- will I ever go back? Ride the trains that zip me from the Lake District to the North Sea and then maybe up to Scotland? Like I did back in 2014? It seems so impossible now! The grandkids need me, the virus shows no signs of backing off, trains, planes and buses are yesterday's dream and today's nightmare. How will I ever make it to these trickier destinations again?

That's tomorrow's worry. Right now I'm lost in my novels, with occasional peeks at my posts from Berwick-upon-Tweed. For the images. And the memories.

 

And then I snap back to where I am right now: preparing dinner for Ed and me, and picking up a sweet FaceTime call from Primrose...

... and toward the tail end of the day, getting a report on the two other school kids in my life. All are well, all are happy and isn't that just the nicest way to end the day...