Tuesday

Back in the day, when I was a kid in Poland, everyone I knew ate what was known as a "second breakfast." Right around 11 a.m., school would break for a long recess and out would come the sandwiches from home. It made sense. Most of us wouldn't eat a warm meal (a "lunch" by American nomenclature) until after school let out, perhaps as late as 4 or 5 p.m. 

I was reminded of that today as I got up early, getting myself ready for a first breakfast with a friend...

(outside! Madison Sourdough!)

... then sitting down to a second breakfast, right around 11 a.m., with Ed, on the porch.

He and I lead an oddly unscheduled life, even though we do abide by some principles, by choice, or habit. We do eat our morning meal together, though oftentimes at bizarre hours, especially on days like this, when Ed is out planting tomatoes at 5:30 a.m., finishing up his night's rest while the world is heading out to work. We also eat our evening meal together, always, though again the hour shifts as the seasons warm up. In the winter, I aim for 6:30. Now, in the warmer weeks, we've been eating closer to 8.

These shifts and adjustments according to whim or the dictates of gardening are of course a privilege that comes with retirement. For me, the only thing that sticks to a clock is that I'm at Snowdrop's school at 2:20, joining the line of waiting parents or grandparents, and too, the Sunday family dinner, which takes place each week, rain or shine, starting right around 5:15.

And yes, this morning had plenty of outdoor work. 

The sun is out and it's a tad hot for a May Day, but still, I need to finish seeding the new meadows. And Ed is forever working on carting away dirt (aka spring mud) from the "car park" and replacing it with a new layers of chips. They take a few years to decompose, after which he has to do the job all over again. Out goes the dirt/mud, in come new chips.

(tools of our days)

Snowdrop has to be a little tired today. The second graders had a field trip and she had been extremely excited about it, reminding me of my own field trips back in elementary school -- many were boring museum runs (I didn't like group tourism even then!), but they all had that element of the unexpected and loads of potential for adventure. Snowdrop claims hers was great! Well yeah! They went to the Olbrich Gardens on a beautiful weather day and played in the park afterwards. How good is that!

At the farmette:

In the evening, Ed and I return to outdoor work. Yep -- seeding, weeding, and moving dirt. He goes to a home improvement store to pick up some treated landscape timber. We use it to define some of the flower fields and we'll need more for the new shade bed out front. And, too, unfortunately, I have to throw some water on new plantings. We have had too little rain and there's none in the forecast. You appreciate the effort farmers have to extend to put food on your table when you try to grow things yourself, never knowing what the weather will deliver for you! Here's hoping for just the right balance of sun and rain going forward! Please.

My energies fizzle with the last planting of sunflower seeds into the new (and old) meadows. I get unnecessarily grumpy at the chickens (who follow me and then dig the seeds right up) and this is when I know I have to stop for the day. Ed offers to ride his motorbike to pick up a couple pizzas, I finish watering, and toss a salad. Another late supper! Another full and beautiful day.

With love...

Monday

Sunrise in Madison right now is just before 5:30 a.m. and this, in fact, is the time that Ed comes upstairs and tells me -- it's a good time to plant tomatoes. I'll sleep later in the day. I'm in between sleep cycles and I think a little about our yard work for the day and I ask him -- should we also begin clearing the weeds from in front of the the house?? Should I create some sort of a shade garden there? I am again surprised that he is enthusiastic about the project. Normally he doesn't much mind if things are looking a tad disheveled out there. Indeed, it took him a long decade to decide to move ahead with rebuilding the front entrance to the farmhouse (which no one ever uses). He now gives me the thumbs up on a shade garden, which in turn wakes me up totally as I search the nurseries (online) to see what I can find there besides the usual hostas. There will be hostas, but they should be the backbone rather than the centerpiece of the shady spot.

In the meantime, what's blooming here? The garden is in its green and white phase!

With the one rare (for spring) splash of orange.

Eventually we come together for a breakfast outside and a review of where we are at with all our projects. 

I've put together some planting ideas, but before we can start in on that, there is a lot of clearing and digging that must be done. And I do have to water the tubs. And pull out some weeds elsewher. And go to my PT, which, thankfully is now moving to a once a week schedule. The appointments are good, but such a time suck!

David, my PT guy, is impressed with my walking, less impressed with my unwillingness to stay in a supine position with the leg elevated, and just a tiny but concerned that I may have over bent the knee, leading the incision to kind of look like one side wants to part company with the other side.

Go easy on the bending for a week or so -- he tells me, which is totally unfair since they all had been nudging me to go as far as I want with improving my angle. On the upside, he teaches me how to go down stairs, using now both legs. I told him this was a tough one for me back at the farmhouse and he had this advice -- dont go down slowly! Go quickly! It's a lot easier on your knees!

The things you learn in PT!!

We discuss, too, the PT schedule going forward and I tell him that I'll be away vacation at the beginning of July.

Will you be walking a lot? -- he asks.

Yep.

Good. On level ground or climbing mountains? (hahaha! really, David!)

Level. Mostly city stuff.

But maybe on cobblestones? (the guy's a mind reader!)

Maybe...

That's a different kind of surface. You should practice walking on that before you go. Different muscles.

Oh, come on! Where can I practice cobblestone walking in south-central Wisconsin?! Will a county park suffice?

It will.

I'll put that on my to-do list.

In the afternoon, Snowdrop is here. 

We do spend a few minutes outside, but she is ready for a more restful afternoon -- indoors, with snacks, continuing with a new book about middle school angst!

Toward evening Ed and I return to our newest front-of-the-house project. We work hard! The light is beautiful and the warm air is cooling down now, which is a good thing when you're digging away through clay soil and breaking up weed roots. By the end of the day, the newest bed, one targeting shade plants, is ready for the arrival of hostas and pulmonarias and toad lilies. I figure I'll have all three seasons covered (pulmonarias for spring, hostas for summer, and toad lilies for early fall). 

Tired, so tired! We are grateful for the leftovers in the fridge -- it makes for an easy supper. And grateful for such a full and stunning day!

Sunday

I'm thinking the bears got it all wrong: napping in winter? Bad plan. Moving around in subzero temps energizes you. Keeps you warm. Come summertime, you want that nap, if only to get you away from the hot sun. This, at least, is my explanation for the utter lethargy that took hold of us today. Yes, we worked -- Ed even more than me. We had an invasion of Dame's Rocket -- the foe to all fauna in Wisconsin -- in the rather established meadow of the new orchard. Ed pulled them all out, one by one.

Too, I (mostly) finished seeding the new meadow by the peach orchard. That required sprinkling some top soil (Ed) and watering the whole expanse (Nina). And we cleaned up the front of the house a bit (leading Ed, of all people to conclude that we need some shade plantings out there because right now, if you look at our house from the road, all you see is a strip of weeds by it). So we weren't idle.

But in the afternoon, despite the brilliant sunshine, the perfect temperatures, the lovely perfumed air outside, Ed took to one couch, I took to the other and we both slept.

I should note that the morning in general was about as normal as you could have it. I fed animals and we ate breakfast on the porch. Lazily!.

And in the late afternoon, I mustered my sagging energies and fixed dinner for the young family. 

This, too,  is a porch affair.

I suppose that sounds like a full day, but honestly, compared to winter months where I would keep going from sunrise til late in the night, without pause, without naps, today felt rather... gentle. 

(another Clematis opens up)

with love...

Saturday

Well that was a morning marathon! The thing is, I didn't feel it to be that until I sat down in the afternoon and thought -- my, but this left leg could use a nice ice bath! All components of the morning were wonderful. One of those May days that English poets celebrated with such perfect verse (I'm sure many others have as well, but somehow I associate poems about meadows and wildflowers and May sunshine with all those nature loving women and men who lived in the vales and along lake shores of northern England where meadows are as ubiquitous as the spring showers that feed them. Think: Blake and "Spring:")

Sound the flute!

Now it's mute!

Birds delight,

Day and night,

Nightingale,

In the dale,

Lark in Sky,

Merrily,

Merrily, merrily to welcome in the year!

A very early morning walk.

And then a quick trip to Madison Sourdough to pick up breakfast treats. 

(on the drive to the bakery: that's how blue the sky is!)

The treats are for later. Breakfast is going to be more like brunch at our house. I have a very important event before I can even think about cutting up fruit and frothing milk for my coffee.

The thing is, Sparrow has his dance "recital" at 9. Like Snowdrop, he takes dance at the Storybook Ballet studio and they open up the last class to family, going through some of the moves with the kids and ending with a few choreographed steps to music and a story line (in his case -- Rapunzel). 

Sparrow loves this class. All the others are already into their second year of dance, but it's his first. 

(the last quarter hour is "in costume")

Still, he is a musical boy and he has a pretty good sense of rhythm, and he's happy as a clam to have his mom and me in the audience. (His dad and brother are with Snowdrop at her violin lesson, which actually works well for me, as only two guests are allowed per student.)

(congratulatory hug!)

Back at the farmhouse Ed and I sit down to breakfast. Outside!

And now we are out again, working on that meadow by the peach orchard. 

There isn't any rain in the forecast for the next dozen days, so Ed works the hose over to that side of the barn and I give it all a good soak. And still, we need more seeds! To be continued.

And this is when I realize I've been up and running without a good icing of the knee. Pause. Ice. Back to work!

Our afternoon adventure has us going back to Natalie's to pick up additional watermelon and melon seedlings. They were our success story last year and we surely have the space in the back of the barn to let those vines crawl along the ground.

And of course, as long as we are at Natlaie's, we pick up just a few more phloxes because I found another corner of a field that has been taken over by weeds and wouldn't it be nice if I cleared it and filled it with some place holding perennials? Yes, I do realize this is more of a major project -- so big that I had let it slide last year, even when both knees were functional. But of course, the more you let something slide, the harder it is to get a grasp on the situation. I'm perfectly capable of bending both knees (somewhat) now -- in something like a crooked Warrior Yoga position! You can dig a lot that way!

So I get to it. 

And now it is nearly evening. Ed sits down to plant all those baby melons and cucumbers, with Dance keeping him company...

... and the grasses are getting so tall that I get back on the tractor mower to cut down this paths again!

(tall hens hardly visible in very tall grasses!)

It's way past supper time. I cook up shrimp in a stir fry with lots of young green garlic. Ed really overplanted the garlic seeds this year and many have crept into my flower bed. This is a gift, actually. I pull the extra ones out right about now -- they lend a delicate garlic flavor to any dish.

A beautiful day. A tad on the busy side, but with many, many outdoor hours in the mix. You could not ask for a finer May 20th.

Friday

Well, I think David was right. In fact, in most instances, my PT guy has been extremely accurate in his assessments and predictions. (Snowdrop, who is familiar with PT protocols because one of her brothers has needed to do physical therapy for a while now, calls them Physical Tormenters.) David says that uniformly, people with knee replacements have reported that the three week moment is transformative. Suddenly things shift. You begin to feel (almost) like yourself again. And that's true. Today, three weeks (and two days) into the game, I didn't need to get up at dawn to unstiffen the tortuously stiffened leg. The morning seemed (almost) normal. Nap? Not necessary. Exercises? Swift and helpful. Transformative!

Morning walk.

The lilacs are fading, but the Allium is throwing up its purple spikes, and the first Clematis is ablaze with large white blooms!

It's supposed to be a cooler day, but we eat out on the porch anyway. Warm enough!

And then I put in my last sweet peas and my one green bean, and Ed and I work on putting in more seeds into our newly tilled meadows in the new peach orchard. It's not the end of that project. The piece of tilled land is larger than I thought. More seeds are on their way!

What a kind spring season this has been for us!

Snowdrop is here this afternoon. 

She is the only kid without The Bug in her family. Maybe she had it earlier on, maybe she didn't, but in any case, she is fine and peppy and happy to be listening to birds again.

She leaves, I nap. I guess I'm not totally up and running yet. Close, but not fully operational!

And in the evening Ed and I do a big exhale. The last few weeks haven't been easy, but we powered through and things are looking good out there on the farmette lands. Yes, tending to the plants is a constant project that has no end (though for me, toward the final days of August, I feel like I want to hit the pause button for sure!). Or, more accurately, we have a million little projects scattered over every square foot of land. I'm certain I know every plant out there. Every tree, every invading weed. I can't walk two feet without wanting to bend down to pluck, redirect, support one thing or another. Yes, this place has swallowed me, swallowed us whole. And you know what -- I do believe that's a good thing.

Thursday

And it's back to David, the PT head that put me on the course of knee functionality some two and a half weeks ago. Ed laughs at my pre-appointment mad dash through the exercises. Competitive, aren't we...

David is pretty impressed. Only one degree off on the straight leg challenge and seven more degrees added to the bend. Nevertheless, there is a tsk tsk about him: you're not working your quads on the knee. It's loose still. You need to tighten it. 

I find this to be challenging: I can't tighten something I can't feel! -- I protest. Sure you can. He concocts yet another exercise, though he admits I have too many on my plate. I tell him the balancing one can be scratched since I am a balance superstar (there I am, bragging again!). He laughs and says -- I was at an orthopedic workshop last week and they made me be the guinea pig. (David is very fit, so I think that was an unfair model to work with, but oh well...) I had to balance, then stand on one leg, then walk along a straight line. Easy, until they told me to close my eyes (I nod, knowingly -- I did this, pre-surgery, all the time!). Then they told me to count backwards from 100 by the count of 7. (Gulp!) So, my exercise for you -- stand on your one leg for thirty seconds, with eyes closed and count backwards from 100 by 7s. (Oh! The stinker!)

David suggests that I do challenging balance exercises all my life. If one becomes too easy, throw on another sensory twist. It's a great way to ensure continued stability as you age.

All this happened after a busy morning resting with the ice pack machine running! I've been under-icing the knee, thinking that it looks so unswollen that I should be done with that apparatus, but no -- the surgical center nurse told me to keep at it, and David agreed. The swelling has abated, but much of it is inside and icing helps. Besides, I've been missing my naps!

The walk to the barn is a tiny bit late.

It still feels chilly to me, so breakfast is in the kitchen.

And then I had those hours of therapy, followed by farmette bird listening, and slowly beginning an exploration of watching for them too. And here's the thing -- by weird coincidence (is it coincidence, or is it that we are all discovering nature in a new way this year?), the Washington Post has an article today (I'll put up the link here, but I think they are stingy with permitting public access) titled "Why Birds and their Songs are Good for our Mental Health." It appears that seeing or hearing birds reduces mental fatigue and stress. The recommendation? "Be aware (don't take them for granted)... be curious (get the apps that help you identify them! check!)... be involved (backyard is fine, but maybe you can find a birding group?) ... be present ("birdwatchers who paid attention to the joy they felt for each bird reported greater mental health benefits than those who merely counted the birds they saw.") I do not count. And at this stage at least, every  time a new bird appears, I feel a thrill of the unexpected, the sublime. (This morning three newbies popped up on my app: an Eastern Wood-Pewee, a Common Yellowthroat and a Least Flycatcher!)

In the afternoon I bring Snowdrop to the farmette. She picks some asparagus, but is no longer enthusiastic about eating it raw, from the ground (I agree -- the stalk was too thick for that).

But she is very excited to see my bird spotting phone app. We hear an Indigo Bunting -- a lovely bird with deep blue feathers. And she is enchanted with the simplest of them all -- a Field Sparrow. 

Be aware, be curious...

And in the evening, after returning the girl home, I stop by for our first Community Supported Agriculture box of the season. Among loads of other goodies, we get... more rhubarb! Ed had given away most of ours to some of the vendors at our Fitchburg Market today. I guess I'll need to bake another cake soon. A good thing since yesterday's is all gone. 

with love...

Wednesday

Several things stand out for me today: first of all, we're feeling the effects of something called the Pneumonia Front. Doesn't that just sound sick? It's a rare meteorological event that happens to communities proximate to Lake Michigan, where the temps suddenly drop very very quickly. We are not exactly proximate to Lake Michigan (about 100 miles away), but I think we're getting swept up in the cool air because it is very chilly out there (even as it was warm yesterday and will be warm again tomorrow).

Secondly, Snowdrop is fine, but other members of her family are now sick so we have some afternoon shuffling to do, especially since this is the day of the girl's end of year school concert. Managing all this will require major afternoon adjustments.

Thirdly, I talked to my docs about the Issue of the Stiff Knee at night -- something that keeps me up for more hours than I care to admit and their advice was -- either get back on drugs or get up and walk. Yes, in the middle of the night. Yes it helps! I told Ed that he is doomed to hear shuffling of ghosts and goblins in the middle of the night again. Scraping and scratching, grunting and creaking. 

Fourthly, I'm almost completely caught up with my spring gardening work.  I have a couple of sweet peas and a bean left. True, there's the seeding of the new meadows still before us and poor Ed will have to plant most of the baby tomatoes because I cannot stay low to the ground for long, but still, I am pleased with how everything in the end did come together for us this spring!

Fifthly, I bake a rhubarb cake for breakfast this morning. It's not that I especially feel energetic for this, but we have a rhubarb overload. We'll have to set up our roadside stand (free rhubarb!). This plant is out of control, covering everything else in sight. So, I take down some stalks and bake.

Breakfast is a little late.

Outside, we're entering the "green phase" of spring. At this time, we'll get the peonies and irises, but otherwise, the beds thrive and get big, but they do stay green. Once the tulips fade and the lilac is done, things quiet down out there. The next big wave of color wont come until the end of June.

(the first Clematis...)

Okay, Snowdrop pick up time. To the farmhouse!

A quick read, lots of food to give her strength and then we go to pick up Sparrow,  the one un-sick brother, and drive over to her school for the end of the year school concert.

And to her joy, Sandpiper is fever free and able to attend as well. A last minute surprise.

Both brothers are a great cheering squad... for her singing...

And for her special xylophone group.

Afterwards, they go home, I go home. Ed is biking. I listen to the birds tonight: Chipping Sparrow, American Goldfinch, our resident Northern Cardinal.

Such a good way to end a helter skelter day! Exhale and smile...