Mother's Day

Most mothers today, if given the choice of filling a special day with personally selected activities or basically giving in to a long period of rest and relaxation would pick the latter. Forget the special adventures, the shows, the extravagant meals out. Just give me a set of hours where no one expects me to do much of anything. (You disagree? I bet you are an outlier.)

We are a tired bunch.

Still, those of us who are mothers, but of an older generation (meaning our kids are of an age when they have kids), should pick door number one, no? Lots of fun stuff! Outings, shows, excursions! 

Not me. I took two long naps today and frankly, I had a hard time getting up from the second one.

Blame it on the weather! Ed says I'm making up for the naps I should have taken in the weeks immediately after the surgery. In the alternative, blame it on our age.

It is a very wet and very cold day for mid-May. We expected as much and the gardens are happy to get that steady slow dose of rain -- it reminds them of what their cousins in England get all the time (and you know how good plant life has it in England!). Still, I have no interest in spending time outside. My only big excursion is to the courtyard, to admire, to smell, and to photograph the lilac, because this day is its best day. All the little flowerlets are open. It is a heady moment and I want to be part of it.

Breakfast, in between naps, in the kitchen!

My Mother's Day is otherwise fluid. I'm devoting another evening this week to celebrating my parenting of my younger daughter (because I have an image of what that would be like and I cannot fit it into this day). Today, I'm cooking dinner (slowly, one step at a time, in between rests) for my older girl and her clan. With that last minute cake that I bought yesterday! My girls look after me well -- they give gifts, they say beautiful things, they make me feel very very lucky. 

I do understand that this day is tough for many people who have lost their mothers or who had troubled relations at home. It's always hard to be told to feel joy on a day designated by someone else as special. It may not fit within your own framework of experiences. Nonetheless, recognizing the work of mothers is on balance a good thing and however you sailed through life as a child of a mother or a mother of a child, I think we can all agree that parents in some way formed you and me in the way we are today. So, perhaps Happy Mother's Day is the wrong thing to blurt out there to the world, but maybe just sending out a wish for a peaceful and reflective day (with some downtime thrown in!) will be okay for the vast majority of us children and parents? So, have a peaceful and reflective day!

In the meantime, back at the farmhouse, the gang arrives.

(Sandpiper keeps me company in the kitchen: tomato thief!)

(mom and her kids...)

We have dinner. 

Add another mother to the picture and so now we have this one:

We take a farmette walk. It's really cool out there, but still, we take a walk. Because we waited so long for the day when all would be lush and fragrant and beautiful.

And then I resist the temptation to take a nap. Instead, Ed and I settle down on the couch and exhale and I think about how wonderful it is to be alive on this beautiful lilac infused day and how utterly happy I am that my girls have sprouted such totally wonderful families! In other words, I think what countless other mothers think on this day -- am I lucky or what!!

With so much love...

gardening

If you live in south central Wisconsin (or in any number of other northern states) you know what the second weekend of May is like: it's the gardener's push to get spring work done! Never mind that it's also Mother's Day, and here, in Madison, graduation weekend. That's all irrelevant. If you at all care about growing your own stuff, you yearn to get those plants in, to tidy up the weed encroachment, to get your seeds in the ground. 

Now, granted, I rushed things this year (because of the knee). And mostly I was lucky. The weather did not screw me big time. The last frost was the night before my surgery. The perennials went in even earlier than that. Most of the Big Effort was behind me.

Nonetheless, true to form, today I worked hard to attend to some of the lagging details of planting. Work hard with a brand new, two week and three day old knee means something different than it did before my surgery. I strained, I paused, I iced the damn leg, I twisted the other way. I took TWO naps. Nonetheless, I really do believe that unless you have something going for this day (Like the birth of a child or some serious work commitment), if you are at all a gardener, you would understand because you were out there as well, digging, pulling, firming the ground. It's THE Saturday for gardeners. You can't escape it. SO I worked.

All my photos are from the outdoors. Of course they are! Indoor time was boring exercise time, or worse still --leg wrapped in ice pack time. So, let's see what the farmette lands look like these days!

A final look at the crab apple in bloom. Or, mostly still in bloom. Such loveliness! Thank you, stunning tree, now creating a blanket of petals underneath it.

And from another angle:

Okay, there is one indoor photo. I had to drive over to pick up my Farmers Unite produce (mostly arugula and asparagus) so I thought I may as well get breakfast treats. And I remembered what the PT person told me yesterday -- hey, don't over do it this weekend! If you're cooking dinner for the family (I guess I let that one slip out), let someone else bring the cake. Honestly, I never even considered having a cake, but since she mentioned it, I picked up a simple one from the bakery. So, a photo of some of their cakes:

With all the napping and errand running, breakfast was very late. More like early lunch.

In addition to working on putting in some fall blooming bulbs and, too, the replacement annuals, I took stock of how things are going. Mostly, I was okay with the state of plant life right now. The tulips are my usual mixture of colors and shapes...

The branching of the heavenly lilac is okay, though I see where I need to do some pruning this year.

I'm really happy with the gradual cleaning up of the land by the sheep shed. This field, which is very shady, used to be overgrown with weeds and raspberry canes that bore no fruit (absence of sunlight). I moved a bunch of hostas here and a few other shade plants. Eventually (by the end of July), weeds will creep in here as well, but right now things are looking pretty tidy. Too, the land right by the shed has some lovely novel hostas and lilies growing there and I experimented this year with shade seeds. SO much better than what was here before!

The sugar snap peas out behind the lavender fields are growing nicely. The chicken wire seems to protect them well enough. At least at this height. We'll see what happens once they get tall.

And the meadows -- I checked in with the big one in the new orchard. Yes, I could have taken out some more of the invasive grasses, but that would have been a huge project. In general, I think we'll have a pretty good meadow this year! (The hens followed me to see if I would do something interesting, like give them some more young plants to dig up. Sorry, girls!)

And the Big Bed -- it's been in a holding pattern for a couple of years. It's good, but I think it could use some small adjustments. The wave that used to move in a progression of color has lost its rhythm I think. Maybe next year. Or, maybe I'll just learn to love its own new creative spin! There's something to be said for letting the garden have a say in how it should develop!

I also worked on the front (road facing) bed, which is by far, the weakest of all the flower fields. The roots of the maples are too dense, the soil remains a challenge, the road salt run off is awful. But, if you lower your expectations, you can still enjoy the blooms that come back here each year. I tidied it up a bit, but honestly, this bed could use a solid week of work, done by a person with sound knees! Maybe next year!

And there you have it! A gardener's second Saturday in May. Hands roughened (because you always forget your gloves on several of your ventures out into the fields), lessons learned, spirits soaring. Hey, this calls for an evening spritz, with some of those apple mint leaves from a plant I put in last year!

To the health of all good people and great gardens everywhere!

not a straight line kind of a person

Everyone has their genius (and their weak points). This was Ed's mantra when I first met him and though I hesitated in embracing it, having in my life come across a handful of people that seemed to demonstrate a visible absence of genius in life's most basic requirements (that we all should live together in harmony), eventually I came around. Well concealed, untapped genius is still genius, right?

Today, as I let David's second assistant PT person test my knee this way and that, when the verdict was out (superb bend! extraordinary! Totally unchanged straight extension. Work on it!), I thought to myself -- maybe my genius is that I am more of a twister and bender, rather than towing the straight path ahead kind of a person. I did tell her that I thought I did plenty of stuff that was boring and straight, to which she responded -- perhaps you are doing too much of the everyday. You know you're only two weeks out after surgery. Then she adds two more exercises to my list of now 15, to be done at least 2-3 times each day. Seems that isn't inline with the recommendation to slow down! Too, I'm two weeks and two days after surgery. Humph.

So, going forward -- more of the boring exercise, less of the fun everyday. I would have exactly flipped that equation. Medical people are funny.

All this knee discussion happened after a very slow morning. I seem to be incapable of jumping into the swing of things right away. The day is gray. I'm hoping for rain. Spring rains are so important for early plant growth! I step outside: oh, those May landscapes are outstanding!

Breakfast on the porch. Ed had purchased a small apple galette at the market yesterday. We are both pretty snobbish when it comes to pies and this one isn't especially excellent, but it's solid good and a nice change for breakfast. (Outside, on the porch.)

After this comes PT and after that we have a raccoon issue and, on a way more interesting platform -- we have a plant replacement trip before us. The chickens this year have attacked the pots, loving the soil mix I used to put in annuals. The result? Not good! Broken young flowers. Darn chickens! I need a handful of new flowers. Do this again, cheepers and I'm going to cut back on your corn treats!  

(Back to Natalies, and Kopke's; Natalie's is simple, Kopke's is extravagant, we like them both)

In line with the PT's guidelines, I return home to take nap. (Snowdrop is with other grandparents this afternoon.)

Later, much later, I work outside. Admittedly, this is not easy. Your body adjusts to the new (temporary!) incapacities. That means you contort yourself in ways that are strange and not altogether welcome. Still, I plant the new additions and pull some weeds. All this in the fragrance of the blooming lilac.

This is the time of the year when I do like our exploding shade ferns. A dozen years back I put one into the ground. They multiplied. We now have more than I care to count. To me they look beautiful, really beautiful only in the first weeks of May.

And as I pick a handful of the emerging lilies-of-the-valley (putting them into the little vase that I use only now, first on violets, then on the white lily stems), I think how orderly the progression of blooms is! The tulips are in full swing, but not for long now. Almost done.

The lilies of the valley will be followed by irises and those will then be replaced by my peonies. Predictable yes, but no less beautiful each year.

I'll leave you with one more photo of the magnificent crabapple that's shedding petals as we speak. Ephemeral, splendid. 

Loved for its beauty. Simple, yet wild.

freedom!

Oh, yes! Freedom! I ripped them off and threw them in a trash can. Freedom from support stockings (that pinch your legs and slide into the most uncomfortable positions, and feel like jaws are gripping at both your legs, but especially the sore one)! Freedom from 28 staples! -- removed today, at last. Freedom to shower, to lather on the lotion on dry skin, freedom to raise bare legs to the sun and enjoy the splash of summer today!

It's a warm day, indeed a hot day and I have an appointment with my surgeon's assistant. But before that, I get to step out and breathe deeply. The fragrance in May is exquisite!

(first irises)

And the birds! To the usual, add yesterday's Meadowlark (doesn't the name conjure up images of English meadows full of wildflowers?), I have the following new visitors this morning: a Scarlet Tanager and an American Redstart. I wish I could spot the Tanager (so beautiful in the pictures!), but I don't pause too long. Not today.

After breakfast (on the porch!!)...

I have to head out to the hospital to get freed from the constraints of post operative  imprisonments. I do ask about my difficulties in keeping the leg happy at night. You're probably doing too much walking and standing. Let the pain be your guide! That again. I'm not in pain when I walk. That comes later! Ah well -- finding a balance is one of life's biggest challenges in all domains. I will continue to adjust. In the meantime, I gently massage a Botanist lotion into my freed lower extremities and it feels sublime!

It strikes me that I should be able to ride the tractor mower and I do need to mow down some paths, so right around noon I hop on (that is such an exaggeration! I slowly crawl on) and give that a whirl. At least I'm not ignoring the needs of farmette lands! This is when I get my first tick of the season, likely falling at me from a shrub branch. Country living prepares you for this. Our tick load is very low, but this season always delivers a few. 

Snowdrop is here in the afternoon, buoyed, too, by the sunshine, the warmth, and I have to believe -- the colors all around us!

And in the evening I get takeout Chinese -- my concession to the suggestion that I tone it down in the evenings. 

Ttonight, finally, I get to sleep without imprisonments.. Total bliss!

Wednesday

On this second week anniversary of my knee surgery, I can tell that I am moving around with greater confidence. For example, I head out to plant trees with Ed as if I were somehow physically able to participate in this project. On the other hand, I am not anywhere near my normal energy levels. When we get to the planting spot, I tell Ed -- maybe we should bring a chair... And after working on pulling crab grass out of fabric sheets from a previous planting project, I say -- maybe I should go rest for a few minutes. After which, I promptly fall asleep on the couch.

All this on an incredibly stunning day. Perhaps the most stunning of them all, and I say this knowing May can deliver some truly amazing displays. Three weeks ago, I would have spent near zero minutes indoors. My whole body and soul would have been transported into the flower fields, the meadows, the orchards. Buckets would fill with pulled weeds. Paths would be mowed. Endless photos taken. And here I am today, giving in to fatigue! Well, I expected as much. Ed bravely plants all five fir trees, I postpone putting in my final clematis for a while.

But the day is not lost: I do plenty of small stuff outdoors. And I did take some photos. I mean, who wouldn't take the camera to this!

(Though we're indoors for the morning meal. My fragile state told me, incorrectly, that it was too cool for breakfast on the porch. I had regrets later.)

And of course,  there was time spent "helping" Ed with the trees.

(one of the hens, wondering where everyone went...)

(It is the week for violets.)

Snowdrop is here in the afternoon and of course she, too, cannot ignore the great outdoors. So I am out again, this time with the little girl.

For a while anyway. Hunger brings her inside. 

A memorable day: Snowdrop is happy because she did 23 laps in her Hot Dog Hustle fundraiser at school ("three better than last year!"). Me, I'm thrilled with the beauty of it all (look outside!). Too, Snowdrop and I finished book five (the final one) of the Penderwick series. Never have I read a series where everything is so neatly tied into a package of hope and love!

Ed goes biking, I make an asparagus and mushroom frittata and manage with only some difficulty to put in that final Clematis plant. Small details? Maybe. But put together, they make for a glorious day.

Tuesday

The plane takes off at 7. Not mine, Diane's. That means shortly after 5 she needs to hit the road. A few more minutes downstairs, reviewing, thinking out loud, listening. I am reminded of the article my friend from Australia had sent me after reading about my weekend at Brisbane House. About hanging out with people. It's an art, maybe a habit, it takes practice, and we, the people of this country, perhaps many countries, are losing the needed skills. To process life in the company of others, to hang out. From the article, it's defined as "daring to do not much and daring to do it in the company of other people."

And then Diane is off and I retreat to the couch where I can force that knee to be even straighter and bend it even more, and before I know, dawn comes and I'm fixing breakfast for Ed and for me...

Outside, the crab apple is even more magnificent and I turn on my phone birdsong app and listen and smile, because the birds are almost the same as in Arena Wisconsin, except that here we have the addition of the ever beautiful family of Barn Swallows.

(Spotlight on the flowers of May!)

(the first lilacs!)

Ed and I have visitors. Friends who stopped by to see how we were doing and as one is a nurse, she gave a critical gaze to my post surgical movements and pronounced them to be very excellent and so after they left I felt I should carry the torch of progress forward and push myself to dig up some of the many many weeds that sprouted after the rains. For one hour I worked, bending my new knee just a little. I was sweating and it wasn't even that warm! But, the garden is still young and full of hope and I know it needs my help to keep it vibrant and happy and so today I gave it a tiny boost.

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. 

Today is her ballet day and since it hasn't even been two weeks since my surgery, I gave some consideration to the fact that maybe I wasn't quite ready to rush her here, there, and everywhere, while ensuring that her hair is just so, but in the end I decided I could give it a whirl. 

Too, this gave me a chance to meet up (during dance class) with her mom. Both my daughters have a lot on their plate right now and meetups and upbeat conversations and some light hearted review of the peculiarities of life I think are a good idea. Well, they're always a good idea, don't you think? 

Evening. I did not order groceries on time and so we make do with cheeper eggs and home grown asparagus and a salad.  I call Ed in for supper. He has been working on a patch for this year's tomatoes and he tells me it is one of the most beautiful, fragrant evenings of all time. How good it is to witness it all, to smell the orchard flowers,  to pick out and now recognize the birds that come and go! We are grateful.

rainy day Monday

The Brisbane House has withstood many rain showers, many Mondays, many tumultuous periods in history, many periods of beautiful calm. We stayed here for three nights, soaking it all in, reading, sometimes quietly, sometimes out loud, notes and paragraphs describing paintings, prints, stained glass panels, stones, arrowheads, quilts, cabinets. Bits and pieces of its past and therefore our past. If you better understand the place where you live, you likely better understand your own life.

(How narrow the house is! The width of one room, extending to the Summer Kitchen.)

And isn't that the goal of any get together with close friends? To better understand your past and your place in it? Diane, Barbara and I come together periodically, over Zoom during Covid, but in person when possible, fairly regularly and still we learn stuff. Always there is room to fit in new pieces of the puzzle if you're open to it.

Our last morning. Pack, eat, clean, go. That's the agenda. But we don't rush it. Indeed, I'm still just ten days after my surgery so the word rush is foreign to me. Besides, there are birds to listen to.

Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Black-capped Chickadee. Song Sparrow, Eastern Towhee, Wood Thrush.

My friends fix stuff for the morning meal.

And here's a consequence of me being for the most part less mobile -- they do the Airbnb clean up while I give orders from the couch. (That is a joke: I don't really give orders. But I do feel useless and a little like an ancient person. Ah well.)

We drive back to Madison, dropping off Barbara, then continuing to the farmhouse. Oh! Here's a beautiful welcome! The crab apple is just starting its period of bloom!

We're entering the midpoint of spring, the most intense period of the season.

But it is raining. And, too, I have my PT appointment.

[It's with David again. The experienced one. His word is sacred I suppose I expect nothing but many thumbs up. After all, I've been taking all these walks! Slow but steady. He does a little tsk tsk-ing: you're not bending the knee enough in your walk. As for improvement -- you exceed in the muscle strength and knee bend, but you have fallen behind on the leg straightening. In other words -- do better! Shush! the guy doesn't let up.]

In the afternoon, Diane visits family and I bring Snowdrop to the farmhouse.

Evening: the rain has moved on. I look again at this tree that is about to enter its most dressed-up moment. Ha! Dance the cat and a Breese hen also appreciate its exquisite loveliness. Who wouldn't!

The quiet of home. Diane is here, Ed is here, the cats are here, but we are all spent! 

An intense and special weekend behind us. So very grateful to have had these two wonderful people come up for it! 

With love...