mad dash to the finish line

It's nuts to do gardening in such a frantic way, but this is my lot this year! (You dont have to remind me -- it is my choice.) Three updates that I take seriously: first, the drips from the ceiling increase then decrease then increase in frequency once again. Ed has concluded that this is in sync with the water pump activity and thus it portends of a further leak somewhere in the pipes. In other words, the kitchen ceiling has to come down. Not before your surgery -- he assures me. As if it ever will be fun to live with that mess!

Second update-- the expected lows overnight will be at 32F (0C). Well, 30F according to my smart phone's more pessimistic forecast! That's a degree (or three) too cold for most of the annuals. Bummer luck. It means that I can't put anything out today. Except the ever reliable early spring pansies.

But, the third piece of news is that I have to show up at the hospital, bathed, starving and ready at 11:30 tomorrow. That means that between 8 in the morning (when it will be the coldest for the day and indeed for the whole rest of spring) and 10:30, I will have some planting time! I doubt that I'll get everything in, but I will speed like a woman possessed and do as much as I can.

Today is equally crazy rushed. I must change all the bedding (hospital request). I must stand outside and wave my arms frantically (this is what we do with the spring time hawk attack -- we have six large ones circling over the farmette lands as we speak). I must do the last grocery stockpile. And I must purchase the remainder of the annuals and fit them in as best as I can into the mudroom.

But first, the morning walk...

And breakfast (photo-bombed by Dance!).

Ed comes with me to pick up the remainder of the annuals at Koepke's. Our mud room is very colorfully cluttered at the moment!

And here's what I can also accomplish today: I think I'm safe sowing the seeds in the meadows. And in planting the sunflower seeds. And the cosmos. They need to stay away from frost, but with a low of only 31F I think we are safe. 

So this is my morning. Crazy busy! Meditative gardening? Hahahahaha!

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. 

Her mom is away for a few days and her dad is handling the ship and so we decided to skip dance to help with coordinating the drop off/pick up stuff. This is a treat for me as I at least dont have to rush her to dance and instead, we do a very indulgent reading session. I do sneak out to plant the sunflower seeds and when I come back I see that Ed is showing her his baby drone. Which she loves!

And now it is evening. I cook up chili, because this will give us meals for at least three days. And as per instructions from the hospital, I have my glass of wine at 8 p.m. I am so obedient!

Tomorrow I'll see if I can twist arms for an early release. If not, I'll try to post from my bed. Once the new knee is in!

With love...

Monday

I think I'm losing the battle but winning the race. Or maybe it's the race that's lost but the war that is won? Here's the reality: our last potential for frost appears to be -- Wednesday morning. That's exactly a day too late for me. It means that none of the annuals can go in until then. It means that I'll have to keep all the baby flowers and blooming baskets in the mudroom until I come home with a new knee and then someone else will have to bend down and put in score of little plants in sweet, perfect arrangements because honestly, I don't think I'm going to be capable of doing that in the next several weeks.

Of course, in working with nature, you must adjust your expectations. You plan on X, then Y happens. So, I can't fill the tubs today. Fine. I have plenty of other outdoor work: I got the replacement bare roots for the ones that failed (due to the premature shipment). In they go. I fertilize (with a lot of guilt) lightly (and only once a year) some of my day lilies. The old ones need a boost. And, there are the never ending weeds. Add to it a flock of chickens that are out to destroy every plant I ever put in (during this season it's really hard to love free ranging chickens in your garden!) and repairs that are constantly needed to newly exposed roots (grrr!) -- and my morning is very very full. Even without planting the annuals.

Yes, there's the walk to feed the animals...

Yes, there's breakfast...

Yes, there's another laundry load to work through...

But mainly, I do work outside. While I can!

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. We pause at the Pond by her school to watch that magical sights of the white pelican migration. Last year they stopped here on May 6th. Why are they here in April? Are they hoping for warmer temperatures? Us too!

I take Snowdrop then with me to my mom's place. I want to install a new and better phone at her assisted living home and Snowdrop always likes to tag along on these errands. I haven't posted a pic of my 99.5 year old mom in a while. Here she is, with her great granddaughter:

My mom likes to give gifts when the great grandkids stop by. Today she handed over a portable radio that she no longer uses. I protested to high heaven. A radio is such a device of our youth, so unfamiliar to this younger generations. But, Snowdrop is mildly interested. Maybe I'll take it to show and tell in school! -- she tells me.

At the farmhouse, we settle into a routine that surely will change in a few days. 

It's all, of course, a mystery to me -- what I'll be able to do and when I can resume a normal schedule -- so I am preparing for the possibility of not being able to do anything at all. I posed this question for myself: if I can't walk or bend or twist and turn starting Wednesday, what should I do now that I wont be able to do then? The list is long! I'm surprised at how much my day depends on my ability to move around!

Evening: an easy supper of leftover, lots of chocolate, lots of lovely moments on the couch. Now that wont change! And that's such a nice thought...

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)?