Sunday

Now comes the squeeze: the last frost day appears to be this coming Tuesday. if that's the case, then the time I have to plant the annuals is... Wednesday at dawn or after surgery (meaning -- it's problem). My list of all that I have to do now (because I wont be able to do it after Tuesday) grows long, my time to check off items from it grows short. And in the meantime, the ceiling in the kitchen drips water and Ed ponders the next step. He tells me -- the time between drips has increased by 29 seconds! That's a good sign! Okay...

Outside, as expected, it's cold. Still, the walk to the barn is pretty, albeit fast-paced. Not your lingering weather.

But I do sidestep into the young orchard. Our local paper signaled that this is the time to visit the Arboretum for the cherry bloom. Why go there, when I can get the cherry bloom here!

And the plum bloom from our plum tree that has never given us a single plum!

Breakfast, to the tune of drips, now every 64 seconds.

I clean the house then. Quite thoroughly. Who knows when next I can do this! And the car! It needs a vacuum job and a dusting inside. Fun stuff, no?

In the evening the young family is here for dinner.

Unfortunately by the very late evening, the drips from the ceiling accelerate to every 55 seconds. That's not good! We watch our favorite show to distract us from that steady drip that portends of troubles ahead! Small, easily solvable troubles, I hope!

Earth Day

You have got to be kidding!

Honestly, did we have to go in this direction? Yes, I do remember one year, not too long ago, where snow fell this late, but that was an anomaly, no? Let's not make a habit of it, please!

Well, what are you going to do...

Here's the other issue: Ed and I are both totally zonked out from the Covid boosters. I've had this reaction before and it lasts a day and it's nothing that rest wont cure, but I look at him sprawled on the couch from my perch (supine position) on the love seat and I think -- man oh man, we are totally past 70!

Earlier, I did go downtown to the market, but it was so cold and I was so, well, wiped, that I cheated and drove the car around to the stalls I needed to visit. (Spinach, mushrooms, daffodils...)

Few people were strolling and I had to feel sorry for the vendors -- light business, cold temperatures.  

I drove over to Madison Sourdough as well, not only for breakfast treats, but, too, for breads and more breakfast stuff that I will freeze for that post surgical moment where I would want to stray from oatmeal and start the day with something sweet.

Breakfast today:

And even though I had a strong cappuccino along with the breakfast sweet treat, I gave up then on any other activity and fell asleep on the loveseat. 

In the afternoon, I have an event to attend. One that, thank goodness, is on Zoom. No outdoor venturing out required! My Polish friends -- those who met with me so regularly in the years of the pandemic -- set this time to celebrate my birthday together. And we do. And it is joyous!

But then the guilt sets in and the day's inactivity weighs heavy on both Ed and me. Too, it is Earth Day and a contemplative walk in the forest will help us get just a little bit closer to the idea that we are not just comfort seeking humans, oblivious to the wonders of the natural world. We are mindful. We try, anyway. And so we do venture out for a walk in our local park and it is good, but very very chilly. I'm done with "chilly." I'm keeping my fingers crossed that after tomorrow (another chilly day!) we will have moved on!

(the prairie, after an early spring burn, is rebounding!)

Back at the house, well, perhaps you're wondering whatever happened to the shower leak that was showing up as a big splotch on the kitchen ceiling. I have an update for you! Ed thought he may have fixed the leak, but today, part of the ceiling crumbled and more water rained down on us. Ask "what now" and Ed will tell you honestly "I'm not quite sure..." 

I'm thinking the ceiling will stay in place throughout. I am definitely the optimist in this household. Cup half full. And really, right now the cup under the ceiling leak is... half full.

April 21st

Well, I can no longer say "I'm almost 70" or "I'm getting awfully close to 70" or "I'm nearly 70."

I am now totally 70.

This, to me, opens up a whole new chapter of excitement. I don't really know why my brain thinks 70 is a milestone, but it does -- more so than 40, 50, or certainly irrelevant 60. 70 figures in my head as awesomely superior to all that went before. (Sorry, young people everywhere!)

A Polish friend who had just finished reading Like a Swallow asked me -- at what age did you gain that confidence in knowing who you are and where you're heading? (Because I was not full of that confidence in my childhood years or even in my young adulthood.) I was thinking about this today and at first I wanted to answer -- when my kids were born and it became crystal clear what I needed to do in life. But as the day moved forward, I thought -- maybe not even then. Maybe now, at 70!

I love my birthdays. This, too, I cannot fully understand, but I do, I really love my birthdays. (My daughters and Ed would all nod their heads vigorously at this.) It's not even the hoopla, nor having others focus on this date, sending me good wishes and happy grins (I so love happy grins). It's that the day itself comes in spring and with it we gain hope and optimism, acceptance and understanding, a feeling of sensual pleasure outside, of a refocus to do better by all who share life with you. All in the thick of emerging gardens and budding flowers on fruit trees. I mean, April 21st has just always seemed like such a glorious time to be alive!

So, that's the backdrop.

Now for the celebratory aspects: we've spread them over two events -- today's, which are gentle and contemplative, and next weekend's, which are boisterous and crazy happy (because they will involve the young families).

The morning is lovely. A little cool, but sunny. Hello, animals. Hello daffodils.

Breakfast? Well, it comes in two parts. Fruits, flowers and cards at home, with Ed.

I say "cards" because the guy sprung a real surprise -- after working his way through the whole Hallmark collection, he decided only one wont do, so he purchased and gave three. And they are very very special.

And now we head out: first, for coffee and a cheese quesadilla at Finca's. This is a Salvadoran quesadilla -- sweet and delicious!

From here, we drive to Natalie's Greenhouse. Tradition has it that I should pick up at least one flower basket from her on my birthday. Even in the first year of Covid, when we stayed hunkered down in the farmhouse, she drove over and delivered baskets for me. That was a tough year! Today, it's all easy breezy! 

It is going to be rather cool this weekend, so I can't put anything outside or even on the porch, but I intend to fill the mudroom with as many annuals as I can, so that I can start planting them in the tubs on Monday. (Most garden folks would recommend waiting until May, but I never do that. If things get wild outside, I either bring out the blankets, or haul the tubs indoors. It's suboptimal, that's for sure, but I really do like to push the flowering season to its max!)

From her place I go to Koepke's. That greenhouse is huge -- perhaps twenty times the size of Natalie's. Here is where I will find all that I need for my pots and tubs.

(I've had alyssum in all my gardens for over forty years now -- from my own seeds, from nurseries, I love it that much. So do the chickens: they eat nearly half of all the little blooms!)

(dahlias)

And now it is almost noon and we have an appointment at a pharmacy in McFarland -- to get our newly authorized Covid boosters! There really is no better way to celebrate the gifts of life than to get get your updated booster, with the grateful acknowledgement that it is so easy to give yourself this protection here. Many would do a lot for what we have and take for granted.

And in the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop. A happy girl who likes celebrations, even gentle celebrations!

(nearly every day, she spends about five minutes on Ed's computer... today she had some grand success that I dont fully understand, but she tells me it is huge!)

In the later afternoon, She and I meet her mommy downtown for a birthday drink at Merchants -- a place of some specialness for me, as I so much associate it with my daughters' post wedding brunches. Snowdrop and I have been discussing for quite a while what she might order at this grown-up cocktail hour and of course, the Shirley Temple came up and after deconstructing it for her, I was propelled into a long talk about who Shirley Temple was, and what it means to have movies that belong to a time and place. All that ground work and in the end, she proclaimed the "cocktail" to be too sweet.

Here we are, three generations of women in her family -- one of them now 70 years old.

Day's not done yet! I return home and pick up Ed for a dinner out at La Kitchenette. This has to be the perfect spot for a gentle birthday dinner for just the two of us. Chicken Normandy, a salad. That's it. 

And finally we come home to our usual moments on the couch -- ones that always, every day, make me so happy. A few bits of chocolate, a film or show that we both agree on, oftentimes a warm quilt draped over the both of us.

Thanks to all who wrote, read, hung in there with me today and all those other days that lead up to being 70. I love your kindness and good hearts and ready smiles and encouragements!

...with soooooo much love!

Thursday

To be fair, the storms were a very real possibility all along. And they did not begin immediately. I had a fairly pleasant stroll to feed the animals...

(not all daffodils are yellow)

(not all Virginia bluebells are blue)

(weirdly, not all American Bresse chicken eggs are the same color)

And though it wasn't warm enough to eat breakfast on the porch, still, the chill that we felt earlier in the week is definitely history (well, for now). 

(eating and patting a cat on the floor takes practice)

Looking at the weather maps, I decided I had a window of calm to work on the meadows (weeding and sowing seeds). And I made some progress. For example, I seeded a new mini meadow where the sandbox once stood. And I dug up some crab grass in the new peach orchard so I could seed that as well. And Ed, trusting his instincts as to the weather, set out on his motorbike to run some errands (which included reading the entire card section of the bargain store near us).

And then the rain came down and the thunder rumbled and I came inside and Ed got very very wet. I'm watching him now wringing his socks over the kitchen sink. One can hope that his purchases stayed dry.

We had total weather ambiguity in the afternoon. The sun came out, the air warmed. Then the clouds returned and we got put under a tornado watch.

When I bring Snowdrop to the farmette after school, the storms threatened. But they passed us by, and the little girl had her outdoor romp.

She has been asking many times to plant flowers from seeds and this seemed like a good time to build up the orchard meadow.

In the evening, after Snowdrop leaves, I go back to my never-ending work to establish these meadows (though I'm holding off on the annual seeds until the weekend cold snap passes). As I finish up for the day, Ed comes out and we walk the farmette lands together. Occasionally, we pull out stray honeysuckle, but mostly we simply admire the incredible beauty of the landscape! 

And so ends another day, another year, another decade. Like the weather today, it had its seesaws. I mean, who can forget the political horror show, the Covid years, the deterioration of the environment.

But throughout, I stayed lucky. My family and friends felt close as anything. The kids flourished, the Great Writing Project (see sidebar) was completed, published, and awarded. And the flowers bloomed like crazy and Ed got wet in search of a card. A totally beautiful seventh decade. I am so deeply grateful.

with so much love...

Wednesday

Spring, more than any other season, requires that you exercise patience and restraint. You are not the boss here. Nature dictates the evolution and growth of plant life, the spells of weather that make you wonder if spring really is nothing more than winter in camouflage, the dry spells, the excessive rains and saturation of the earth's surface, the movement of animals through your growing fields. You take a back seat, influencing a little here, a little there, never too much, because your over-involvement will cause more harm than good. But not too little either, because nature can deal a harsh blow to a landscape in neglect. You always have to remember, though, that your schedule is set not by you, but by those forces of nature that sometimes help, sometimes hinder your best ideas for the land where you put in your greatest efforts.

Today is another day that asks you to be patient. I go out to feed the animals and initially I think it's going to be a pretty good day for some spot weeding and daffodil straightening or picking...

(Virginia bluebells)

But as we sit down to breakfast (and I study the packs of meadow seeds I have yet to sow)...

... the winds pick up, the torrents of rain come down, and suddenly the outside world is barely accessible. I know it will be another morning of indoor work.

I spend much of the time reviewing pre-op memos, videos and messages that accumulate at a rapid pace before a knee replacement surgery. Honestly, it's all rather surprising to me. I've had in my life three major surgeries (or was it four?), and my best recollection is that they just sort of happened. I go in, get that wrist band, make myself comfy in a bed, get wheeled out, get wheeled in after the surgery, and eventually I go home.

Not so with knee replacements! The amount of literature I have had to digest, the prep work set up for me before hand and even more for after the fact is... impressive. I can only think that this is so, because mostly it is a surgery for fragile, ancient people. Me, I'm just ancient!

One piece of advice is to get your teeth in order (yes! that!) and so just before picking up Snowdrop, I have all my chewies checked. And here's a coincidence -- my dentist, Dr. T., who is just a tad older than me (he has been my dentist for 26 years now!) is going to be out after this week because... he's getting his knee replaced. Same hospital, just two days' difference. Wise man is expecting to be resting at home for a month afterwards. Eh, men are wimps!

And then the girl is here and no, this is no day to play outside! But she does anyway. For a few minutes. It's the draw of spring, the greening of the farmette lands, the welcoming sights and smells despite the really, really cold weather!

In the evening I cook veggie soup. Patience, I tell myself. This cold spell wont last. Well, give or take a few weeks! In the meantime, how about a chocolate truffle to warm the soul (from a surprise box that reminded you to love every moment)?

Tuesday

It's more as it should be: a mix of clouds and sun, a high of 53F (almost 12C).

But here, at the farmhouse, it's a bit nutty. When Ed comes upstairs (just before dawn), he leaves the door open and thus ushers in a cat into the bedroom. I am not a fan of cats in the bedroom, at least when I am still sleeping, or thinking I should be sleeping. I groan. He's repentant. Take you out to breakfast?

I don't think this was intentional, but I tell him he's inviting me out on a morning he knows (or should remember) I have a date out with a friend. How about going out to breakfast on my birthday instead? You do remember when that is, right?

Like I said, when it comes to birthdays, I lead him through the motions of a good, sweet observer, and he follows. I have long noted that he lacks initiative in celebratory matters, but he is delightfully compliant when I give him prompts and indeed, downright specifics of what should take place. I detail the plan for this year's celebrations. Sounds nice! -- he tells me, somewhat sheepishly, given that he is still feeling guilty about the noisy meowing bouncy cat inside.

The weather is cool but gloriously bright. Yes, some daffodils are down, but that makes for a fuller jar on the kitchen table!

And there's a lot of color left behind.

Moreover, many of the fruit trees are ready to bloom. So early this year!

All delightful! The best weeks of the season are right before us!

And then I have breakfast with a friend whom I see way too little. We used to have offices next to each other and that was such a perfect way of keeping close watch over the daily details of our lives. Since we both retired, we've been lost in our worlds of (for me) family, writing, travel, (and for her) books, plays, music. 

I resolve to do better at stepping out of my shell of activities! This morning's morning meetup at Madison Sourdough was just grand!

Back at the farmhouse, I take stock. There is so much that I could do in the garden before my surgery! I attack one item on the list today: mowing (nearly everything!) with the tractor-mower. 

On the one hand, I hate this task because the land is rugged and full of bouncy hills and I am always made to feel sick by the end of an hour of riding that piece of machinery. But on the other hand, it's a glorious way to survey the farmette lands in all their detail! This is when I see the emerging blooms in the new orchard!

And this is when I clear the large prairie-like fields out back where we planted the 60 nut and maple trees. And this is when I imagine all that will bloom in the meadows, too.

By the time I'm done, it's time to pick up Snowdrop. This is the day when I am tempted to just keep her outside for a while. To show her the blooms, to cavort with her in the freshly cut fields. But, it's the one day when we have to hustle to get ready. It's her busiest day -- ballet, then scouts. Nonetheless, I cannot resist. And she is such a willing partner in crime! Today, she is happy as a clam scaling trees! (I'm including some half a dozen pictures of her exploring the newly mowed path to the new orchard because she is such a good kid about letting me show off the farmette landscape here for you, always made better by a person, or an animal passing through it!)

Toward evening, I am home again and Ed and I are so carefree and unburdened, having both finished the tax load yesterday. Yep, I love all aspects of spring, but it is particularly satisfying to note that the finest days of this joyous season are just before us.

Leafing through my accumulated email, I find one from Maxy Awards. I had devoted exactly one day back in October to promoting my book, Like a Swallow: I sent it to a couple of places to be considered for an award (for best indie memoir for 2023). I clicked on their email tonight and eventually clicked on their link and I found this! In other words, Like a Swallow has been selected as a finalist. (Winners to be announced in May, but let's not be greedy!) And that makes me so happy.

with love...