a string of bests

It's July and yet I haven't been griping about the weather or bugs. That's because the weather is just about perfect -- sunny and mild, and the bugs -- well, they're there, but in manageable numbers. I can work in the flower beds without being eaten alive.

And work I do. The number of lilies snipped today rose to 690. Some of the garden clearing is pleasant, but some is a daily reminder of what I need to improve next year. There are plants that are planted incorrectly, completely shielded from view. There are portions of beds that fail to do much of anything important. They really need to be replanted next year. There are places that are so dense and hard to get to that I have to wonder -- what was I thinking when I worked out this part of the garden? And of course, there are the more distant beds that need significant weeding and reimagining. So I hum to myself (Cat Stevens music this morning), and I count the lilies that fill the bucket, and I think about next year: what should I change? Will I be up for a major reworking of some of the beds, or should I just slog along and maintain as best as I can what is already here? After all, there's plenty that's solid and good. I do not aim for better than "very good!"

(good morning!)

(bucket at work)

Breakfast, on the porch.

There is an annual meeting or get together or celebration or something of the company that once was Ed's but now is employee owned, and this event takes place at a barn just to the east of us, so we both bike over to put in our time. I dont know most of the 40 or 50 people who form the company now, so I don't linger for long, but still, I'm quite proud of all the work Ed has done to help grow this company, so I stick around long enough to pass on my congrats to the people in charge. Then I pick up some free company t-shirts and bike home, along the path that allows me to see the farmette from this other side -- across the prairie that separates us from the New Development.

Thursday is just Snowdrop day and here's another twist -- I pick her up (and the dad picks Sparrow up) at the Dane County Fairgrounds, where the two had spent a terrific time with their summer camp program.

The girl and I don't immediately go home -- I have to pick up corn at the first official day of bi-colored sweet corn at Stoneman's Farms. They saved us a dozen ears and it is truly exciting for me to bring it home. (It's exciting for her to visit with the Stoneman cat and then to be given a bag of scraps to feed to their summer farm residents -- the sheep and the goat.)

(think about her cat...)

(Rosie the goat...)

(the black sheep...)

(yay, Stoneman's!)

At the farmhouse, 

 

 

... she keeps herself busy while I trim and store the ears of corn. The drill is always the same: take off some, but not all of the husk, stick it neatly in the fridge. The sooner you do that, the better the taste when you do finally cook it.

(stomach as a comfy pillow...)

Snowdrop and I have work to do -- go over lines for her forthcoming Young Shakespeare Players performance. This does take time and still, we have plenty left for our ongoing reading of the next World War II series that we're thoroughly immersed in. 

Evening now. I steam corn. This is going to be a repeat performance for the next month! Nothing, nothing is better for a summer supper than Stoneman's corn. Best weather, brightest flowers yet, best corn. Summer at her finest!

a full July day

Sometime in that magic moment of predawn, yesterday's lilies fade and today's begin to unfurl. It very much reminds me of Grieg's Pier Gynt Morning Mood -- that melody that rolls out notes in a slow progression to welcome a new day. 

When I am up early -- today, for example -- the lilies are still just opening up. Only years of doing this allows me to see the spent ones for being what they are -- finished, while the new ones slowly take their place, moving toward their day of glory. 

This is when my "trumpets" really do look like trumpets!

(a slow, beautiful opening...)

By the time I am done snipping spent ones, the the faded ones look totally wilted and the new lilies are in full bloom.

I am very surprised at the total -- 677 lily blooms in the bucket today. I expect the number to now start to go down. Which will not be a terrible thing! I'm starting to feel snipped out for the year!

Photos are lovely because they catch the flowers in the very early morning light. Well, at least I think they're lovely!

Finally. Time for breakfast.

Then a rush to get the house in order for a lunch date. It'll be at the farmhouse, with a couple of friends. Mine, from the past. Ed is out of this one. 

A pause for a haircut -- I need one! -- then home, just as my two friends pull into the driveway. Welcome! So good to see you here!

Lunch...

 

 

... on the porch.

It's a beautiful few hours. I do have to shoo them out, however, at 2, because that's when I leave to pick up the kids. 

The two were swimming with their school today, so I get a tired and hungry bunch. They talk me into ice cream, I talk them into photos in different corners of the garden!

I wish I could say the day ends sweetly for them, but it doesn't. One of their cats -- the one who has been sick on and off for very many years now -- is finally too ill to move into yet another life and the news of having to put him down hits hard. I send them off for their final cat good byes. Many, many tears were shed.

My own evening is quiet. I tidy up the lunch dishes, I take a slow walk through the garden...

 

 

... and think about how lucky some animals are to have such caring protectors and how tough it is for those who struggle in less hospitable and friendly environments. Animals, people, all of life -- so much of it is a matter of luck! Those of us who have had their share of happy outcomes -- shouldn't we do a grateful jig at the end of each day? 

Yes we should.

with love...

feels like July, continued

They say it's cooling down, but today is transitional -- not beastly hot, still humid, very wet after yet another rain shower overnight. 

Up early, snipping away. And yes, I exceeded yesterday's count: 672 lilies. Two bucketfuls! This is what a cleaned up garden looks like:

(stepping out of the farmhouse)

(lilies by the porch)

(the never seen by anyone --including us! -- bed to the west of the porch)

(to the east of the house)

(just by the door)

(to the east again...)

(along the secret path)

(by the driveway)

(nymphs and shepherds and everything else)

(checking on the new orchard: lots of pears this year, and a meadow that's beginning to look a bit like a prairie!)

(returning from the new orchard: the Big Bed)

(Breakfast)

I pick up my now finally fixed car, I stop at the grocery store once more, I come home. And again I lose myself in the details of daily life. One task -- finally completed! -- is to put together my new camera. It used to be simple: by a UV filter, screw the darn thing on, call it a day. These days, at least for certain compact cameras (namely Fujifilm compact cameras) the procedure gets complicated. To put on a filter, you need an adapter ring. Separate purchase. But what if you also want a hood? You know, for the glare? (I never used my hoods in the past because they were too clunky to pack, but this small camera has a very nice small hood, so I add that to the list of necessities.) I pick up a recommended hood. Which has a separate adapter ring. Off comes the other adapter ring. I screw on this one, then retrieve the filter then attach the hood. With screws. Meaning -- that baby is not comin' off until I croak! It all has to work together: moving parts, separate pieces. 

I'm done now, but it took a while to figure all this stuff out. Here's a photo taken with the new kid in town, with its hood and filter. I'm sure you would not have noticed any difference. Indeed, much of this initial prep stuff is to have your camera ready for those extreme conditions that will hit you just as you're crossing Tasmania, or some such destination. All you get is the farmhouse, in the late afternoon.

The kids are here today. Again, they want solo pictures, then one together. Happy to oblige!

(he always picks this spot for a photo...)

(together; we'll skip the shots where she photo bombs his solo pic!)

A bit of a rush at the end: she has Girl Scouts, he needs to get home. And I need to get home for my own period of far niente (doing nothing)! Wait, did you say I need to fix dinner first? Damn! There's always something, no? How about a kir vin blanc, to give the appearance of a vacation moment? A dash of cassis, a splash of white wine. Just like on vacation! With a smile...

And with love...