Sunday

Gardening reminds you how easy it is to become one of those people who is never satisfied. You run the danger of always wanting some improvement. More rain. More sunshine. Less wind. More predictability. Even more rain. But not that much rain. And so on.

I a little bit fell into that trap when Ed said this morning that our high tech rain measuring device (a bucket in the courtyard) recorded about a quarter of an inch of rain -- and this after a steady drizzle that must have lasted at least eight hours. So much moisture in the air, so little water on the ground! 

Still, it was a comfortable addition to the flower fields. I will likely have to do some watering anyway (there's no more rain in the forecast for the next ten days), but this night shower will have helped many of the plants that I just don't reach with my hose. So, I'm grateful.

But it is cold outside. We actually turned on the heat again, because my new knee does not like the cold! (It's a fussy thing: it also does not like bends and twists, heavy blankets, itchy cloth, steep steps and a sedentary lifestyle. Honestly, keeping it content is a full time job!) We're not getting record lows, but seriously, tonight's 44F (about 6C) feels terribly out of place after the heat of June days thus far.

My morning walk is brisk and with a hoodie zipped up tight.

And our breakfast is in the kitchen of course.

I have a graduation party to attend this morning (yes, I have friends that young: their daughter just finished high school!) and my mind spins back to those years when my girls were just about to take off for college. It's an intense period in your life. Not so much in Poland or countries where most college kids live at home, but certainly here, where one moment your day is mindfully arranged to interface with these half-independent half-home focused offspring, and the next day your slate is wiped clean and the kitchen table is miserably empty and no one is asking to use the car in the evening. 

In this case, the party was with brunch foods and it was a fantastic eating and greeting situation. My friends almost always themselves have good friends and I whiled away my time listening to the delightfully joyful and adventurous plans as laid out by one of the younger members of the gathered group.

And the rain kept drizzling and the bucket in our courtyard remained basically nearly empty.

In the evening the young family is here.

Dinner is in the kitchen of course.

(Afterwards, Snowdrop shows her brother "the cat game" on Ed's computer. Ed, of course, can sleep through anything!)

I wont see the kids much in the next couple of weeks. Summer programs and sitter schedules are such that my usual pick up routines are on hold. I joked with my daughter that I am on vacation, but the reality is that I have to do what every vacationing individual has to do on days off -- I have to catch up. Some of it is related to Covid, of all things. Paperwork related to my mom's care was on hold during the pandemic. It's not on hold anymore. There's lots of it waiting for me. Too, I am still aiming for that purity and minimalism in the farmhouse that requires slashing and burning (don't take me literally here) through stuff that has accumulated, in closets and shelf spaces. So I'll be busy. Reading to Snowdrop suddenly seems more vacation-like than what I have in store!

Nonetheless, on the lighter side of things, Ed and I will take longer walks. I am determined! 

But for the rest of this evening, there is the couch, a chocolate bar, and an iced, elevated leg. Mondays are for launching big projects. Sunday evenings are for exhaling.

Saturday

Well, I have hope again! At least on the weather front. By the time I click "publish" here, on Ocean, we may hear the patter of rain on the farmhouse roof. Perhaps not a prolonged rain, but we'll take any kind! Light and steady would be best (are you listening up there??).

I also have long term hope for the knee recovery, though I made the terrible mistake of listening to Ed. I had asked him -- how long do you think the leg stays in pain after knee replacement? He answered -- I don't know, look it up. And so I did.

One year?? Are you kidding me? I cant sit without needing to change positions every few minutes for a year?? I better stock up on Tylenol!

*.    *     *

It's a pretty day here, in south-central Wisconsin. Warm, but not stifling. Sunny in the morning, but there must be a breeze because it does not feel oppressive. I've arranged to meet up with the young family at the downtown Farmers Market and so I do a rather fast run through morning tasks.

*.    *     *

I postpone breakfast until after the market. Yes, that may be late, but we've taken to eating late morning meals. Indeed, we've taken to eating late all meals in the summer. It has to do with daylight, I think. You dont want to commit to couch time until dusk and currently our sunset is at 8:36 p.m.

First stop for me is, of course, Madison Sourdough. For the usual weekend stuff. And then I head straight for the market. Hi gang!

To me, the walk around the Square is a marker of how much the kids have grown. Only Sandpiper is still in the stroller. The trudge is long and though there are rewards along the way (cookies!), there is still the warmth of the summer sun to contend with, and of course there are the crowds that makes it a slower (and thus more arduous) stroll. The whole lot of them got up early enough to beat the big crowds and so in fact it is a lovely time. Everyone was in great spirits!

I stock up on late spring stuff: asparagus, beets, flowers, carrots. And apple chokeberry jam. And an apple cider doughnut to add to the breakfast loot!

It was "meet the rescuers day," where kids could meet and greet police officers and fire fighters. The boys were thrilled to do this (and to pretend to drive a firetruck), while Snowdrop and I hung back and read on the lawn. (This was more a function of age rather than gender. There would have been a time when she would have chosen a truck over a book as well. In any case, they all got firefighter hats and sunglasses. Not quite sure how the latter fit into rescue work but hey, the kids liked them.)

Such a beautiful time...

From there, they proceeded to the children's museum, I returned home. For breakfast with Ed and with the market flowers.

*.    *     *

Once again my read of the weather forecast completely rewrites the weekend for me. I'll hold off watering the beds and concentrate on weeding around the crabapple. This is a tough job that must be done at least once a year. All sorts of trees and vines sprout at its base and threaten to suck up all nutrients and moisture that the old tree needs. It's jungle down there and I pull or clip out a whole wheelbarrow-full of new growth.

And then I feed and water the tubs. And the climbers. And the hanging stuff. If I can't expand horizontally (no more sunny spaces!), I seem to find raises to grow things vertically. Vines, dangling containers, they're all here this year.

In the meantime, Ed waters and weeds the five or six dozen baby trees we planted over the past two years. This is hard work as the hose does not reach into the distant field back of the barn. He usually does a dozen at a time and then breaks for a nap. I tell him one of these days we'll have to hire help for all the work that we do each spring. He totally ignores that comment. I don't think he can imagine the day that we cannot do it all ourselves. For now, we're on it!

*.    *     *

Late dinner late evening beautiful skies full of clouds. Here's hoping!

slashed hopes and a grown boy

Slashed hopes for a voluminous rain of long duration for this weekend, incredulity and wonder at the fact that my oldest grandson (I have two grandsons!) is five years old today! (My nephew also has a birthday today but his is many, many multiples of five so he's less likely to be celebrating in the way that Sparrow will be celebrating -- with banners and balloons!)

The fact that the chance for rain is plummeting rewrites my days for me. I am now considering putting in soaker hoses into the flower beds. If we are in for a drought of long duration, I don't want to spend all the rest of my free hours this summer standing over flower fields with a hose, no matter how peaceful and  meditative that activity may be. "Meditative" for me can morph into downright boring pretty quickly if you do too much of it.

This morning the animals had to wait to be fed because I got sucked into answering emails. You know how that goes. By 9 Ed shouted down a good morning and I shouted up an apology for running late with everything, including the morning walk...

("where have you been??")

... and breakfast -- which had a lovely lemon raspberry loaf that Ed picked up yesterday at the market.

Afterwards, I did three things on the agenda for the first half of the day: I watered the new meadow, I got on the tractor-mower and mowed all the paths (so dusty out there!)...

... and I went to Kopke's to buy a couple of replacement plants. 

(on the way there, I always pass this herd of very beautiful cattle that you'll soon see on your dinner plate)

I need plant replacements because for some reason, some unmentionable animal (groundhog? chicken? raccoon? other?) has been digging up my pot with the Gaura Whirling Butterfly. I fix the damage and next morning they're dug up. Is it a game? What could possibly be the motive behind this crazy night time folly? So, I have finally decided to exchange the plants growing in that particular spot. Put in something that says boldly -- I defy you to touch me!

Kopke's is almost all sold out of annuals. It's amazing how brief their commercial season is! May generates probably 90% of their sales. Still, I find some interesting stuff and to my basket I add a couple of sunflowers. That unmentionable animal that destroys my Gauras seems also fixated on digging up (and consuming) all the sunflowers -- several dozen in fact -- that I planted in the meadow. I love sunflowers and have other spots in the fields where so far they've remained untouched. I'm hoping to add a couple of larger ones that wont tempt this evil creature in the same way as the baby ones did.

And this brings me toward the late afternoon. I pot, repot, spot water and now it is time to get ready for Sparrow's family birthday celebration!

Sparrow, the middle child, may not appear as much on the pages of Ocean these days. He doesn't vie for attention when the family comes over and is often content to sit by himself in the art room making creations, or to play with either characters or building stuff in the playroom. He's a happy kid, who has his own unique style and though he is a cautious child, he is also easy going, funny, and likable. Kids, adults are drawn to him. And I cannot believe he is already five years old!

(we pick flowers for the table: five stems of Sweet William)

(We also head out along the freshly mowed paths to pick a few peas out back behind the barn...)

(a quick romp along the "circle path")

(the peas)

(and finally, we each taste the fraises des bois)

Okay, let the birthday bash begin! Presents include a craft set. Sparrow is really into crafts these days. He insists we open up his new box of treasures and soon everyone is making crafts.

A pizza dinner. 

It's what he wanted.

And a cake designed at Bloom bakery to his specifications. My sole contribution here were the candles.

Happy Birthday, little guy! Make a wish!

Yeah!

(last moments of birthday play before it's time to go home...)

Evening is reserved for tidying and for putting my leg up. I do both. With a smile. And so much love...

end of an era

It is the last day of school for Snowdrop. (Sparrow and Sandpiper still have a day in class tomorrow, at least theoretically.) This is a milestone for her, sure, because the end of the school year is always important to a kid: they proudly profess themselves to be officially at the next grade level (so, she is officially a third grader after today) and they are thrilled that the weeks of vacation lie ahead. (For the littlest ones, the change to a summer program is small: they all, including Juniper, remain in the same schools, with the same hours, though classes are reconfigured and there is more outdoor time.) So, for these bigger kids, no matter how you slice it, it's a big deal to be done with school for the year.

For me, there is a whole other dimension to it -- it's my last day of picking up just the oldest one, Snowdrop, and bringing her to the farmhouse after school. I've been doing this since she was one. Eight years of after-school care at the farmhouse. [There was a time when Sparrow came too, alone, before he started school, and briefly with Snowdrop, but then there was Covid and no one went anywhere, and by the time Covid lockdowns ended, Snowdrop was at a different school and the boys were both at home and in that chaos, the pattern of Snowdrop at the farmhouse resumed.]

Grandkids teach you a lot, because as a grandparent, you are no longer in a survival mode time-wise (you are instead in a survival mode health-wise!) and so you have more time to think and to listen carefully to all that is taking place around you. Snowdrop is three years older than the next grandchild (Primrose in Chicago) and so she is in a place where no other grandkid can be -- she is the one who explains to me how to be a grandparent at each new age level. So for example, right now, I am learning how to grandparent an 8 year old -- where I can be of most help, where I need to lay low, etc.

People who know nothing about these things or who don't stop to think things through jump to the conclusion that Snowdrop is my favorite. I no longer bother responding to this because it is absurd and born of the assumption that somehow you order your kids or grandkids on some continuum of affection. It doesn't work that way. If you are a caring, empathetic grandparent, then you have separate relationship with each child and these are not stable -- they change over time. Some may have a lot of private time and some may have almost none and this usually depends on the birth order of the grandchildren. I dont think Sandpiper has ever been just dropped off at the farmhouse by himself. Nor has Juniper. All the others have had, on the other hand, lots of private time with me and the oldest -- Snowdrop and Primrose -- have had the most. So here's one lesson from being a grandparent to many little guys: unlike when you are a parent and you need to be focused on all of them all the time, grandparents will inevitably float in and out of the kids' lives as their needs and your strengths ebb and flow. 

Next year, I will see Snowdrop after school, but we will adjust to a new dynamic since her middle brother will join us. So today brings an end of that era where I am there, picking up just her, bringing her to the farmhouse where she has just me and Ed, quite guys that we are, in the background, or on the couch with her while she eats, reads, plays. (Today she told me -- I like that you guys are so quiet! She hit that one right!)

All that happens in the afternoon. 

In the morning, I do my walk...

We eat breakfast.

And we take a walk in the local park. The prairie looks fabulous. You'd never know there was a drought!

Okay, pick up time! Here she comes. Her teacher is nearby. I bring them together for a photo. (The class had "camp week" -- tents, sleeping bags and all. In the classroom. I see by her t-shirt that this was called "Training Camp for 3rd grade!")

There needs to be some acknowledgement of this last day and so I take her to our local ice cream joint. I tell Snowdrop she can have anything she wants. A waffle cup, dipped in chocolate, with sprinkles, with chocolate ice cream, also with sprinkles!

The ice cream shop has a play area and this is truly nostalgic because we have played ice cream shop outdoors, after school, ever since Snowdrop could say the word "ice cream." So, photo together, as I ask for my usual imagined (by her) cone: blueberry mash! 

And then we go to the farmhouse. For the usual.

Except that today, she is more snuggly. In need of many hugs. 

Transitions can be dicey.

In the evening, Ed waters the new trees. I'm done with watering for a while, hoping that Sunday will bring the much needed rain. Well, I do douse the tubs regularly. They are my pockets of color before summer blooms open up.

Oh! And guess what! The fraises des bois are ripening! 

Yep, we're moving into summer. And that's a very sweet thing!

(Look what's taken to reseeding itself in the old asparagus bed! Lovely Sweet William!)

(When is the best time to photograph a white Campanula? In the evening.)

(Speaking of sweet -- another early bloomer, this one on the new trellis Ed made for the eastern wall of the farmhouse.)

with love...

Wednesday

Beautiful sunshine, cool breezes. June appropriate temperatures. The stable front over Wisconsin is stubbornly in place, but it seems to also be edging out the Canadian smoke, so that all around us, the air is horribly polluted by the fires, whereas we have had only a couple of days of light haze and today even that has dissipated. Our air quality (thus far) is good. How's that for great luck!

I know we have a bit of a drought, but there are rumors of rain for this weekend. I'm hopeful.

Morning: animal care for me and yet another raccoon to deal with for Ed. It's like Groundhog reimagined: same events, that refuse to have that umbilical chord severed so that we can move on. The hens seem oblivious to all this. Raccoon? Whatev. We want our morning breakfast.

(More pinks and whites...)

Back at the farmhouse, I bake a strawberry snacking cake. Some attribute the recipe to Martha Stewart, others to the Smitten Kitchen. I see it as a variation of my usual one bowl cakes, only it's not with blueberries and lemon, or rhubarb and almond. It's with strawberries and vanilla. As with all the others, the base is a full fat yogurt and the amount of sugar is less than you'd find in a standard cake. And it is delicious. We gobble it up for breakfast. (Verdicts? Ed: great. Me: yum. Snowdrop: the strawberries are too slimy!)

Later, Ed and I have to take care of some technology issues for my mom. Normally he can do this remotely, but she has managed to get herself off of the Internet, so he cant access her computer from the farmhouse. Off we go!

And now it is time for me to pick up Snowdrop and bring her to the farmette.

How many days of school left? One! "I'm so sad!" Honestly, she doesn't look sad.

(Hair looks shorter?)

(It isn't.)

Still, all five grandkids have had super good school years. You can't hope for this always, for every school year: some teachers are going to be less likable, some kid combos -- suboptimal. But this time around everything went well. After those Covid disruptions, it seemed nothing short of a miracle to have such normal, wonderful school years.

With love...