Solstice, anniversary, e-cycling

This morning, in Madison Wisconsin, the sun rose at 5:18 a.m. and it set at 8:40 p.m. It is not the earliest sunrise of the year (5:17, a few days back) nor is it the latest sunset (8:41, a few days forward). Nonetheless, it is for us the longest day, with the greatest amount of sunlight, daylight, and a beautiful tilt toward the sun!

Happy summer solstice to all us Northerners. We have waited a long time for this splendid moment of peak light -- and with it -- growth, bounty, and color.

In the past, I was often away for summer solstice. Some of my favorite moments from this day came when I happen to run into local celebrations, usually with music and merrymaking that went on long into the night. Here in Madison, we have also had musical events -- free, informal, all over town, yours for the asking. But, Ed and I have grown to love our farmhouse evenings too much to do anything so bold and daring as going out after dinner! Still, to all music loving people, put it on tonight and do a little dance, even if only at home, okay? I will if you will.

Today is also the anniversary of the Chicago young couple's marriage. They were wed on farmette land and so their spirit hangs here, especially on this beautiful June day. Happy happy anniversary to you!

What a day, packed with good vibes, packed with sunshine, filled with love. And a little bit of adventure.

First, the usual farmette sagas: some animal has been making nocturnal visits to the sheep shed. It knocks out the cat door and plunges inside in search of cat food. Ed has started locking up all traces of food in the bathroom and still, we see that the nocturnal visitor was in the shed yet again, creating the usual mess. Poor cats. The sheep shed was a safe haven for them. 

We also had a baby raccoon visit the coop at night. He or she did not get inside, but still, Ed had to deal with that issue, while I fed the farmette girls and boys and fixed breakfast.

It is a hot day. I know this is now repetitious. Indeed, our weather pattern is repetitious. Relatively hot and humid (I mean, not as bad as Texas!), and at the same time dry and without any sign of rain. My task for the day is to finish up doing my mom's paperwork. It does require a trip to her bank. It seems obvious that I should live my newfound love of e-bike riding. The nearest bank branch (as measured by bike path miles) is a mere 7 or 8 miles away. Easy peasy, no?

I take the "southern route" going there (encountering these two friendly guys on the path!)...

I get the papers I need and return the "northern way" -- along the Capital Bike Trail. As I do my leisurely pedaling, pausing here to admire the arching trees...

I glance at my watch. Wait, what? Didn't I leave the bike station at 11:45? It is now 1:05. Even with an Annual Pass, aren't I allowed only 90 minute rental intervals without penalty? Shoot!

I pedal as if my life depended on it. The new knee is telling me to slow down. My lack of familiarity with the consequences of a late return is telling me to ignore the knee and keep pedaling! I pull up to the station 3 minutes late, push the machine into the rack and exhale (wishing very much I had thought to bring a water bottle). I slowly walk the 15 minutes home.

Looking up the rules once I'm at the farmhouse gives me some insight into how this rental system works. First of all, I see that I could have gone a full 30 minutes overtime and I would have been charged only $3 for it. Today, my lateness fell JUST into a grace period of 3 minutes, so no additional charges there! And there's a way around it, had I given this any thought heading out: I could have swapped bikes along the way at another station and started the clock all over again. I said to Ed -- it helps to learn the rules before you plunge into something new. He grins at that -- I think you've learned all the rules by now. There aren't that many. 

 

And now it's time to bring out the hose. I cannot watch the flowers dry up. I just cannot.

And in the evening, while Ed is doing his usual cycling loop, I sit out on the porch and reflect: on the beauty of this day. On the warm evening of the longest day of the year.

(the continuing charm of sweet peas...)

(I have a lot of lavender, even outside the lavender fields. This winter was good for most of these plants.)

(Penstemon lines the secret path...)

Happy arrival of summer!

oh the novelty!

Some people are attracted to the old (Ed) -- old, worn out, broken, always fixable, always preferable -- some are drawn to the new (me). We're not extreme -- Ed is interested in new technologies, I love our repeated walk, my familiar hotel. But time and again Ed has said how much he likes just being here, in his familiar setting, doing what we usually do, in our rarely changing, peaceful corner. And me? Yes, I share that, but so often, the new is just so exciting that I latch on to it as if it were some miraculous cure-all for all that's wrong with this world.

This is exactly what happened today.

I have my friend Suzanne to blame. I had met up with her a few days back and she told me about her experiences with e-bikes. All positive! We have in Madison a network of B-Bikes -- electrical bikes that you rent for short spurts of time, depositing them at whatever station you are close to when you're done -- but I pretty much ignored them. I've talked on and off about trying out such a bike but I haven't done much more than talk about it. Suzanne suggested that I actually try riding one. I repeated this to Ed and he reminded me that the new development next to us has a B-Bike station, where I can pick up an electric bike anytime, and as a UW faculty member (Emerita, but still in the system!), I need only pay $65 per year to ride with the wind!

Back in the days when I became a newly divorced person, I took on bike riding in a serious way. Meeting Ed just pushed me harder in that direction. I'd ride to work. I'd ride from Madison to his farmette. I'd ride from UW to Paul's Cafe where we'd so often meet up in the late afternoons. He and I would do loops around the rural roads here, ones that would last many hours. We even did a week-long bike trip together in southern France. Brutal stuff! With packs and passports tucked into saddle bags.

But I began to have trepidations. Many of them. I never loved the hills. My legs just never got strong enough to get used to long steep inclines. And we live on a hill, so that every ride from the farmette ended with a climb on the return. Which I hated. Too, Rural roads have their problems: ever since smart phones became ubiquitous, people's driving habits have deteriorated and I feel vulnerable sharing a road with speeding distracted drivers. And there are the dogs! I only have had one encounter with a barking growling dog chasing me down a road, but Ed has had several, and some have resulted in dog bites. Biking around here has lost its shine for me I've gone now two years without once taking out my bike.

And then things changed: bicycle paths were added, including one that cuts right through the development. And e-bikes, or in the case of the rentals, B-Bikes became ubiquitous. 

So is it time to try biking again? Suzanne encouraged me, and Ed gave the final push when he said this morning -- get the App on your phone and let's borrow a bike for just one try. $5. Let's see how it works.

Animals and garden walk first. I ignore the water hose.

And breakfast: it's back to oatmeal for me!

And then, with my loaded Smart phone, we walk over to the B-Bike station. I let Ed try it out first. He's such a cycle nut that he deserves to be at the head of the line. After his spin around the block, it's my turn.

And I love it! So much! Is it the novelty of the experience? I wonder... If it wasn't that I'm all spent out from all my travel, I swear I'd be at an e-bike showroom this afternoon, at least aspirationally! Ed (and my bank account) sensibly holds me back. Just rent it already! They do the maintenance, they do the charging. Don't get a new one!

I wont. Not just yet. First I'll sell my moped and my old bike. Both are pretty worn, but it will be a good start for a downpayment. And for at least the next few months, I'll ride like the wind on a rented B-bike!

Already today, I waved goodbye to Ed and took off. To the Capitol City trail, one that's so familiar from years of use, now mine again!

(with pauses to admire...)

Now, how does all this fit into my new knee issues? Well, I have to make sure I do not fall. I can be careless, taking pictures in motion and thus veering off toward the soft shoulder. Soooo me! At least for now I swear I will be super careful. I do NOT want another knee surgery this year! 

In the afternoon, I again ignore the hose. And toward evening, we go over to the bike station again. Ed's on his bike, I take out one of the B-Bikes and we pedal over to Lake Waubesa. It's a beautiful day to be out  and about again, on a bicycle. With an assist that makes all the difference in the world. No pain, lots to gain!

Monday

No, I am not addicted! Oh sure, some of you may wonder -- is she? Maybe hiding some of the clear indications of addiction? After all, the signs are all there. Others before her have claimed innocence only to be swallowed by the monster lurking within.

But I'm not!

Or am I?

There was no reason for me to work so hard in the flower fields today. The necessary work was done in the last four days. I could easily take a pause. Put my feet up. Read, write, learn how to use an electric bike. There would be time to water again in a week maybe, just to give that needed boost. Today, I could have let it go.

But I didn't let it go. During my morning walk...

... I did what I always do: I looked this way and that way, I noted the dryness of the earth in spots, I pulled a few weeds and saw where I could maybe pull some more. And still, like the good person who tries to kick the habit, I resisted. I went inside, fixed us some breakfast...

... And put my feet up. Ed went to water the fruit trees in the new orchard. I did not follow him. Initially.

After an hour I was done putting my feet up and I went to the new orchard and took over the hose while he tidied up some of the trees and I sprayed water over the meadow (it's so dry! but pretty!)...

... knowing all too well that a light watering job is sometimes worse than no job at all (the roots wont dig deep into the ground for a water source if you give them a superficial shower). Still, I could not leave that poor patch of grasses and flowers alone. 

And then I tried going inside again, but I thought maybe I should do just a few minutes of watering, in that neglected bed near the sheep shed, the one with the pretty Sweet William...

And that was the beginning of the end. You know what happens: "just one little dose more" turns into a whole afternoon of re-watering most of the Big Bed and the tubs, and pulling some weeds, and supporting some of the flowers that always fall by July and all the while I'm thinking -- I'm not addicted to this! If Ed was suddenly not in my life I'd leave it all tomorrow and get some kind of a small space without room for flower fields because they could never be this awesome again so why even bother?!

Still, seems pretty obsessive to me. I could have napped. Ed napped. Instead, I worked.

(these lilies always start blooming two weeks before the rest of the gang)

Toward evening, we head out to our beloved county park. The trail to the right is our favorite -- the prairie views are fantastic and it is far enough from any busy roads that you never are bothered by mechanical noise (except on the weekends when the adjacent lake fills with speed boat traffic). Today we are the only hikers. Well, except for this big guy...

The quiet allows you to hear each and every bird and unlike at the farmette, where the tree canopies prevent you from seeing the birds, here, the vast prairie offers a widescreen view of a vast expanse of grasses and yes, birds.

It's a heavenly walk! One that we can repeat a million times and still feel it to be special (except when the mosquitoes come out). 

There is much to love out there is nature. Perhaps the pull to be part of it is what drives me. In working in the fields I am that much closer to something magical and magnificent.

homes, gardens and fathers

Ed and I talked about house building. Could I build a whole livable structure by myself, knowing nothing about constructing homes? He claims that the only reason I cannot is because I have no interest in learning the essentials. In growing flowers, I picked up knowledge over the years. But I shut off any source of construction knowledge and leave that stuff to him. In my opinion, Ed can build anything at all: a complicated computer operated metal milling machine, or a beautiful house he, indeed we, could call home. He claims that with all the information online now, anyone could learn. I have my doubts.

My point is that we can learn, yes, of course, but to do a credible job, it helps to have a predisposition that allows you absorb the relevant information and learn well. Too, we should acknowledge our weaknesses. Writing well is a skill that some will never get to because they're not wired for it. Building a beautiful home is the same: from the design itself to the construction of it, you're using parts of your brain in ways that are commendable and I don't think those parts of my brain are developed well enough for me to ever move beyond something quite basic (and therefore, in today's times -- uninhabitable).

Yes, everyone has a genius within, but most people are not geniuses across all domains. 

We talk about this because my work in the flower fields is so very time consuming and exact that he is forever amazed how much is required to produce the effect we have now.

Today, for example, you'd think I would not be caught dead holding a hose (after three days of lengthy watering forays). But in fact, in weeding the sunny bed, I noticed that the soil around some of the flowers is unusually dry. They could do with a touch up. So, I pull out a bucket full of weeds and I watered some more.

All this after breakfast, of course. Which is on the porch.

The switch from garden talk to house construction came about because I once again have been catching up on the continuing saga of Pete the farmer on YouTube's Just A Few Acres Farm. Ed likes to watch all posted episodes (the guy puts something up about twice a week). I come to it now and then. Today he rewatched with me the part where Pete takes his great grandfather's dilapidated farmhouse and rebuilds it. The place is really totally falling down. Within a handful of years, Pete nearly singlehandedly reconstructs the place into something that is quite lovely and very true to the original structure. 

You have gardening skills because you like doing that stuff. If you liked building things, you'd acquire those skills as well.

I have gardening skills because I have been growing flowers for some forty years now. There was a lot of trial and error in the process of figuring out perennials, but the price of mistakes was a few lost flowers and a poorly designed bed, not a house that leaks water and crumbles at the foundation. While you're in it. 

It's hard for people to admit that they have talent, I think. Modesty and self-doubt (I could be better if only....), especially in girls, lead you to be cautious about making grandiose statements about the extent of your abilities. I know I have pretty good musical pitch and I can put ideas into words. But let me assure you, I do not think I could take a crumbling 19th century farmhouse and rebuild it with the help of YouTube videos all on my own.

In the evening, the young family comes over. It's Father's Day of course and I have two sons-in-law who have mastered the art of fatherhood in such a fine way that I can only step back with a happy smile when I think about the wealth of wisdom and love that they bring into their families. Kind, empathetic, gentle, easy-going, always sage. They're all those things and the five grandkids I have are so much the richer for it!

(Snowdrop is good at grabbing and putting to use a resting camera)

We walk the farmette land after dinner. I had hoped to do a major cherry picking with the kids, but almost overnight, three of the cherry trees were stripped of most cherries. Birds? Squirrels? Who??? Still, we could eek out a handful...

(Discovering the blooming lavender...)

 Oh, the fragrances of June! And here's a positive element of the dry spell: we haven't seen mosquitoes yet! Evening walks are sublime!

Tomorrow? For better or worse, we will have more sunshine.

With love...

markets, clinging to spring

You know that we're on our last days of that splendid season that transforms our environment and reminds us what's at stake out where the wild things grow, right? I love spring to pieces, but I am not sad when we slide into summer. Summer casts its own spell. Spring explodes with new growth. Summer explodes with color.

Today, after the morning animal care...

I rush to repeat what I had done last Saturday: first, I drive to the bakery...

(along the shores of a misty lake where the early fishermen and women cast their nets and lines)

(A long line! No big deal -- I always preorder and pick up without a wait. And I do love it when a good bakery is popular!)

I am to meet up at the usual spot with my daughter and her brood for a walk around the downtown farmers market. I'm early so I do a quick solo jaunt to do a preliminary shopping round.

I haven't enough words of praise for the last June market! The flowers are still delicate, favoring peonies and cornflowers and dainty flax.

There are the berries (the farmers who did not get that cold blast in April or whose varieties bloomed later, have the bigger redder berries; all are delicious!)...

And the last of the asparagus and baby carrots. It's all crisp and wonderfully fresh!

Here's the awesome foursome! They get berries as well.

And flowers. In containers and precut ones.

It's a little more packed out there on the square today, but not so that you cannot move! It really is a fine day to be out and about!

I'm back at the farmette before noon. In time for breakfast!

And then I return to yard work. (Here are my own berries: the first is a fraise des bois, the second a more conventional Mara)

I return to watering, while Ed works on my my moped. Remember that little machine? I used it a lot before the grandkids were born and before our mayor got it into his head that mopeds should not be parked on sidewalks. Once they fell under automobile parking regulations, there was no benefit to riding the little guy rather than driving Blue Moon. So I want to sell it and get, instead, an electric bike. Ed is making sure the moped works -- reliability was never its greatest feature.

The watering of the lily bed alone takes a couple of hours because I throw into the deal the west bed -- definitely the most neglected field of all the ones I planted (too much shade, too little attention; it looks good when the daffodils are blooming... at other times, I give it over to a few lilies and mostly to milkweed for our butterflies).

I pause for a few minutes, but I'm restless. I go back out.

The new meadow needs water, so in the late afternoon I drag the hose there. Oh, come on! Two baby groundhogs?! I mean, I love their multigenerational family that lives here because none of them eat chickens, or birds, and they leave the cats alone (and vice versa). But they have singlehandedly eaten most of the sunflowers I so carefully planted this year and I see that they are really enjoying the tender shoots in the seeded meadow. Ah well. This land is not really our land. We must share what grows here.

I work my way to the back of the barn to check on the newly planted peas. I water those, I water the melons. And I attend to the lavender field. Do you remember -- I started that project last year and it's sort of moving along. Some of the varieties have flourished, others have died. Unfortunately, the chickens have dug up the tags so I'm not quite sure which variety is best suited for our inhospitable growing conditions (lavender does not like clay soil), but come Fall, we can take clippings from the robust plants and continue this project (of creating a lavender field) indefinitely.

And now I am spent. I'm sure my PT guy would do a tsk tsk and remind me that the therapeutic window has long closed. Still, I do not stop. I hose down the new shady bed out front and I give a good soak to the roadside bed. I just want to get the mega watering job done!

And by late evening,  I do get it done. I'm stiff, sore, tired. And hungry.

Forget about a lovely meal for tonight. We order pizza. To which I add a huge salad of lettuces, radishes, carrots -- all wonderful spring stuff straight from our CSA farmers. Thank you! And good night!

Judy Blume, therapeutic window, and the color purple

Continuing with my stacation week, I have an agenda for today that includes many things, though sitting with reading material, legs elevated, cool drink in hand is not one of them.

Worth mentioning is the fact that our air quality has improved overnight. Yay kind winds that blew it all away (sorry if the smoke went in your direction). The morning walk to the barn was pleasant. I took note of what's blooming out there and seemed to have photographed lots of variations on the color purple.

(lavender!)

(Penstemon!)

(sweet pea, continued)

(another Clematis)

(another Iris)

(and a bunch of pink and whites, continued)

What's ripening out there? Cherries!

It's cool enough for us to eat breakfast inside. A lemon blueberry cake and a black walnut cranberry loaf from market bakers. I like both. And here's our special early summer treat: peaches (not local yet)!

I then have a presentation to go to. While the boys have been driving everyone nuts at home with their week off from school (well, especially one little guy!), Snowdrop has been attending a week-long program for kids at UW. The topic (this week) is broad: history. She has loved everything about it -- her classmates, the UW cafeteria lunches, and, too, the subject itself. They worked on presenting historically important figures of their choice in a clever show of a "Wax Museum," and a reenactment of their character's accomplishments. Today -- the final day of classes, family members were invited to attend the reenactments. At the last minute, the sitter called in sick and Snowdrop's dad had to stay home with the boys, but I got to meet up with my daughter in her office and walk over with her to watch the presentations.

There were many significant moments to all this: first of all, I should remind you that I retired from teaching at the Law School just about ten years ago. I haven't been back since. Why? Mostly because my daughter now teaches there and serves in an administrative capacity and I feel this is now completely her turf. And even though I taught at the Law School for a full 25 years, I have moved on to other projects in life. I hold onto an interest in some aspects of the law, but I don't need to attend Law School events to track legal things that interest me. And so it was very nostalgic for me to reenter that building!

I ran into someone from tech support and this was lovely because that particular staff was absolutely crucial to my happiness then -- they worked through many a computer issue with me. They were my heroes!

And then, in looking for my daughter's office, I got lost.

Now, some of you may do a tsk tsk on me -- gettin' old, are we?? But this is not the issue. The building has a complicated level structure and you may think you are on level 3 even as you are on level 5 and if you go down one on the elevator suddenly you are on level 2. Don't ask.

Eventually, with the help of tech support (the irony!), I found her and we walked the block to where Snowdrop's classes were held, and we watched each of the 12 kids do their show. Snowdrop, like several others, chose a big name author to act out. Judy Blume.  Her mom had helped curl her hair this morning  (Blume has notoriously frizzy hair) and she wore a loose mom cardigan, so fitting for the author.

It was all extremely lovely.

And not long after this, I zipped over for a meeting with my Physical Therapist. As usual, David, my chief PT guy, gave me a few raps on the knuckles and a chunk of praise.

No, you should not put cream on your scar yet. But the skin's dry! Until the very last scab falls off (there's one left), you want to keep it dry and keep those microbes out. Oops.

Are you doing all the exercises? Sure, except for the ones that have me doing those same movements in the course of my garden work. Perhaps that's why your quads aren't getting stronger: you're compensating with other muscle groups. You need to focus on the specific exercise! Yessir.

Am I doing too much? Is three hours straight of yard work and watering too much? My wife does the same thing: three hours of watering. I ask her -- why dont you turn the sprinkler on and let it do the work for you? David is an exceptionally good physical therapist but I can tell you right now -- he is clearly not a gardener. 

I retort -- I cant be doing too much. On the one day I did nothing, I could hardly sleep! What do you think, that doing too much ends the body's recovery that same day? You have to stay within the therapeutic window: do too little and you're doomed. Do to much and your body screams for a long time after. How do I know what the therapeutic window is? You have to figure that one out yourself. Thanks, David.

I am giving myself the two week challenge: strengthen those quads! Leg lifts and knee squeezes, here we come!

In the afternoon I do return to watering. I hose and weed the new sunny bed and the one next to the parked cars. Not too long -- I dont want to jump out of my therapeutic window! Tomorrow I'll do the lily field and the front road field and I will be done! For now. 

In the evening Ed and I go out for a walk. Short and sweet. Not for the exercise, but for that feeling of peace and well being that comes from a ramble just before sunset on a sunny June day.