forget about the flowers

That's right: forget about summer blooms. No! Not forever. Just for a few minutes. Is there something else that exquisitely belongs to summer, something that makes you feel so good it hurts? Indeed, if someone were to ask you to list things you absolutely love about this season, would that list be long? 

It struck me this morning that my list would be very lengthy indeed. And here's the weird thing: though I've long said that I love spring best, my list of beloveds for summer would be longer than for any other season. Flowers, yes, of course -- all those lilies in the company of so many blossoms. But they don't stand alone. I love that summer gives us endless breakfasts on the porch. I love summer fruits: peaches, cherries, blueberries.  I love feeling the warmth of the sun on me. I love watching fireflies at night. I love long days with plenty of daylight hours. I love that at least kids and sometimes adults are on vacation. I love wearing shorts and summer dresses. I love cool showers after sweating outside in the garden. I love biking over to Stoneman's with Ed to get some of their just-picked corn.

I can go on of course, but I'll stop there, because even these few bits of summer magic filled my day today. In other words, summer can pack in a heck of a lot of good stuff into a short space of time. What's there not to love? I know, I know -- the bugs. The humidity. The frustration of losing a crop of whatever you planted to bad weather or pests or predators. (SPeaking of predators, today we found a dead possum in the shed/garage. Oh, the smell!) I don't have to tell you that life is full of disappointments and irritations, year-round. But isn't it just a little easier to feel good anyway during a season that offers so many opportunities to be happy?

I do start the day with flower work. Even the animals had to wait! And it was still a big haul  -- 764 snipped lilies.That's over 200 more than yesterday -- who knows why. But there is sunshine outside and I find that working in the non-shady spots keeps the bugs down. Mosquitoes prefer shade. In any case, I feel at peace with my snipping work. It will end soon enough and in the meantime, my flowers look the better for it.

(one with, two without)

(again one with, two with out, plus the bonus of a gladiolus murielae, a.k.a. an Abyssinian gladiolus, or a peacock orchid)

(This year, just for the heck of it, I planted a bunch of standard gladiolus bulbs. I wont do that again. As they come up, their thin stalks are barely visible and I have trampled over more sprouting glads than I care to recall. But, to commemorate my summer of glads, let me include this photo of a trampling survivor: Gladiolus Princess Margaret Rose.)

(Sunshine is great for the soul and good for mosquito control, but not so good for flower photography!)

(well, there are exceptions!)

(taking in the Big Bed from the back)

We eat breakfast on the porch, but I know that's as a favor to me. It's starting to feel awfully warm out there.

And because we know that it will really heat up today, we do our one outing early -- right after breakfast. Despite his now full blown cold, Ed wants to do it with me: bike over to Stoneman's for the first corn of the season.

If you did a taste test, perhaps you'd say that other corns would be in close competition with the deliciousness of Stoneman's. We've had Eugster's and Alsum's and Natalie's this year and they were all good. But Stoneman's is special. Perhaps some of the warm feelings I have toward their corn come from the fact that the Stonemans are such a nice family. They work on selling corn from their farm together -- all three generations, with many kids and grandkids helping out. It's always a pleasure to go there and to watch them unload, check and sell the cobs. 

 

 (It's a family project...)

 

You know, too, that they just picked the corn a few hours ago and that you can have that unique experience of eating corn that is fresh off the stalk.

Because their farm is so close to us (2.5 miles away), we nearly always bike to it and that, too, is just plain fun.  

Places like Facebook have helped them: they post occasional photos of the grandkids picking and sampling corn and so you feel connected to the farmers as well as their product. The comments there are full of praise and admiration. It's just one lovely summer moment: to pick up and eat that awesome corn!

And we have reason to pick up a dozen ears today -- the young family is here for dinner. 

(coming down the secret path...) 

It's not really porch weather in the evening. We eat in the coolness of the kitchen. (Without Ed though: he doesn't want to share his cold with the others.)

And still, it feels like a summer dinner. It's a bright day, a bright evening, and of course, there is the corn. And peaches and ice cream. What a stunning day!

with so much love... 

Saturday flower care

If garden work was putting a drag on my mornings (the wetness, the humidity, and most of all -- the bugs), then something needed to change. If I am to stick with cleaning up the flower fields, then something else has to give. Going through the beds with clenched teeth isn't cutting it. 

I thought of a simple realignment: how about a new route? Instead of plunging into the thick of it all from the get go (which stirs up the bugs from the very first minute of lily snipping), how about starting easy and working the edges first? There are three benefits to this: the already mentioned deferred bug confrontation, but furthermore, it should keep my clothes dry for at least the first half of my time among the flowers. And finally, if it is a particularly difficult morning out there, I can stop and let the mid-sections go. I'm nearing that time of the season where the hardships of gardening start to mount. I can't keep up with the weeds, I'm recognizing poor planting decisions, and of course, there is the sad state of true lilies -- consumed by the red lily leaf beetles. None of it causes me to give it up for good, or even for the season, but I am looking for ways to make it once again a joyous enterprise. 

I'm not the only one feeling the sting of wet buggy weather. I talked to a farmer at the market today -- a friend who grows exquisite blueberries -- and she warned me not to come out to pick in the afternoons. You'll get eaten alive! Hmm. We may skip the u-pick this year. It's enough to have to fight the bugs here at home.

 

It was once again a wet morning, but the adjusted attitude and the changed pattern of lily snipping helped. Too, the lily count is really going down. I was at 577 today. That is entirely manageable! I can do it in a few secs more than an hour, picture taking and all!

(this is one of my favorite lilies; the froggie agrees -- wet, but beautiful!)

(you learn that lily blooms like to face the sun; this field is probably the richest of them all and very beautiful if you stay on the secret path to the south of it)

(the orange trumpets before snipping)

 

 

(a cleaned up bed)

 

 

( one that I love...) 

 

 

 (Big Bed and a chicken)

 

 

 

 

 

By 9 all my morning work was finished: animals fed, lilies clipped, spot weeding accomplished. I went in to check on Ed.

His cold is just starting to recede and though we'd planned on going to the farmers market together, I told him to reconsider. Stay in bed! Of course, he makes up his own mind in these matters and today he insisted that he'd tag along. 

I have to say that it was wonderful to have him there -- we did the whole market and picked up flowers for our table and also for my daughter, we stocked up on lots of carrots from Bill (it may be the last week of the good ones!), blueberries from Kay, and maple syrup from a couple of different vendors. No corn. Our farmers down the road (the Stonemans) are finally selling theirs and we are part of their fan club. We'll bike over there tomorrow!

A few fresh croissants from Madison Sourdough...

... and we're home again, just as the rain comes down. A late but awesome breakfast on the porch.

A heavy rain does bring down the phloxes. Some will shake off the drenching water and get back up. Some will not.

 

 

 

Next on my schedule: a side trip, to deliver my daughter's flowers to this carrier-person (at the end of her drama program):

You wont ever guess what I did then: I sat down at my computer and looked at the bulb listings, selecting several hundred daffodils, tulips and crocuses for Fall planting. This is the time to get the ones you like and at good prices. They wont come until late September (if then), but at least I'm demonstrating my enduring commitment to growing things! (And the good news is that when it comes time to plant the bulbs, the mosquitoes will be history.)

The sun finally came out in the late afternoon. I did some flower pot feeding, and porch plant maintenance. Good stuff, to remind me that working with flowers is actually quite lovely. I really do believe that. 

 

 

with love... 

frustrations and fundamentals

I so love to preach patience, resilience, and gratitude (to myself; I promise you, I do not like telling others how to live their lives). Sometimes one fails and the other two win me over. Sometimes all three fail. The good days are ones where I can shake off adversity, stay calm and thank my lucky stars for being where I am right now. 

Today I got one out of three right. That's a pretty low score, considering the effort I put into the enterprise.

Sure, I had my reasons. Every person who fails at maintaining a level head has his or her reasons for losing it. I can't say that's much of an excuse. But they do reassure me that my lapses belonged to the moment. Tomorrow I'll do better!

What happened?

Well, I did spend the afternoon at the clinic undergoing a GI procedure that everyone loathes. It was fine, and I've had it so often that I don't particularly mind it. They drug you nicely, and not being a drug user myself, I always think the rare times I'm forced to be made happy artificially are kind of pleasant! But the fact is, I couldn't eat my usuals all week and I couldn't eat anything for a day before and I couldn't sleep last night, and to top it off, both Ed and I have been steadily sniffling for 24 hours (no, not Covid, not anything serious at all, just an annoying summer cold). So physically, I was off.

Nonetheless, at 7 a.m., I'm out there snipping lilies. I can't remember how many. Fewer than yesterday but more than 700. 

The cleaned up flower fields, with a few favorite lilies spotlighted:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was supposed to be a pleasant morning in the garden, but I had no breakfast to look forward to and it was humid and the mosquitoes! Oh, the mosquitoes! We had just agreed to a spraying yesterday and  it was to be a weekend of very enjoyable outdoor work. No such luck. Ed and I had to admit it: the "natural" spray may not scare away the pollinators, but it also does not scare away mosquitoes. Though I did comment that perhaps it's like the United Nations: it may not be effective in preventing wars, but we'd be far worse off without it. Maybe the mosquitoes would be unbearably awful (we've had such years!) without yesterday's spray?

Still, it was a challenging set of hours, and honestly, after snipping about 125 flowers, I was tired of it all. In good weather and with few bugs it is an awesome project. The clean garden that emerges is breathtakingly beautiful. But today I was sticky, and wet, and bitten from all sides, and I swore that this would be my last lily snipping day. So what if for the rest of my living days all spent lilies dangle limply? They'll fall to the ground eventually.

I did not mean it of course. But clearly my patience and resilience were hovering at low levels. 

But then there followed my medical interlude. Ed came along because they make you have a designated driver. I stretched out comfortably on a bed and they wrapped me in warm blankets. I thought about people who endure sickness and pain in war torn regions of this world and here I am, in an air conditioned clean room with a warm blanket around my shoulders and a concerned medical staff hovering, and Ed snoozing at my side. I closed my eyes and forgot about the grumpy morning. (And no, the drugs had nothing to do with it -- that came later!)

When I was done with my visit, I received a nice clean bill of health and I thought once again how much life would have changed for me, for us, had the outcome been different. Earlier, I had said to Ed -- listen, if I am sick, I am not snipping a single more lily! 

Really? -- he asked, genuinely surprised.

I didn't mean it.

So yes, I'm grateful. For a good medical visit -- yes, of course. But also for the drudgery and chore of the morning session in the garden: the tiredness, hunger, achiness, the monotony, the humidity, the wetness and stickiness and messiness of the whole thing, and yes, the bugs. I appreciate the lesson and challenge that comes with it. I like that I stick with it, despite everything. (I wish I would stick with other projects with equal dedication!) 

And in the afternoon I rested because 1. they told me to do that, and 2. because I had done my chores for today and now could put it all aside. For now. Tomorrow, you'll likely find me in the garden again. In a better frame of mind. I'm betting on three out of three then!

with love... 

summer follies

This is when you start doubting your sanity: when you are up at 6, snipping lilies, hoping for moderation,  and at the end of two hours you realize that the number hasn't moderated at all. It stands today at 921. Yes, that's 921 lilies that bloomed yesterday and moved aside for the new arrivals this morning. Filling one bucket, and then another. And you shrug your shoulders and think to yourself -- oh well. Lots of lilies. Like it or not, I guess I'll keep on snipping for a few more weeks this summer. 

Because you cannot imagine stopping now. You've got your strategy all laid out, you know where the hidden passages are so that you can hit the center of a bed without trampling down the flowers growing toward the front. You know, too, which lilies snap like a pea pod -- crisply, easily -- and which require a secondary push with your middle finger. 

Wait. You're skimming the post, aren't you? Looking for content that has more substance, that moves beyond lily talk. I can understand that. When Ed and I watch the video postings from Just A Few Acres (about a farming couple in upstate New York) I can't wait for the ones spelling out the details of old tractor repair to be over. Give me anything -- mowing hay, herding cattle, even cutting down brush -- just so that I don't have to listen to the minutia of replacing parts that I'd never heard of before, and likely will never come across again going forward. You may feel the same about lilies. Or even flower gardens in general. But I have to put in a tiny plug here: the post isn't really just about my flower fields, is it? For me at least, it's about waking up to a new day. About patience. About cultivating positive emotions as much as about cultivating flowers. About routines that give pleasure at the same time that they maybe make this place slightly better, more cared for, loved. 

And of course, Ocean is so seasonal! Remember those winter posts where my best photo from the day was of the same path from the barn to the farmhouse, in its plain, unadorned state? Isn't it incredible that six months later it should be all about an abundance of color?

So, here's today's lot. Lilies and phloxes, and gladiolus, and false sunflower and real sunflower, and hyssop, and nasturtium, and daisies, and roses, and clematis, and sweet peas, and so much more. 

(day lilies that look like tulips)

(these orange lilies, affectionately labeled by me as "nymphs and shepherds" because they nearly always have me break out in the Purcell song when they start their bloom period, are not yet fully opened in the early morning hours)

(I mean, just sublime!)

(bold!)

(I may have to rein in the phloxes next year!)

(a welcome lily resident)

(and another...)

(hiding in plain sight)

(this field gets the longest period of sunshine; lilies love sunshine!)

(lilies and sweet peas)

(I planted a lot of sunflower seeds throughout. Deer ate the tops of all of them, except for this lovely, if a bit twisted, lemon one)

 

(somewhat surprising is the success of this new meadow, planted where a giant maple once stood out front)

 

 

(one last glance...)

 

Yes, there was a breakfast somewhere in there. In the coolness of the kitchen.

 

 

 

Alright. It's noon. Time to pick up the two older ones from their summer Shakespeare program. We are a week away from the first performances and they appear to be "all memorized" and so spirits are high. 

("I want a solo picture!")

("me too!")

 

Lunch is at the farmhouse. And it's been a while since we picked up the book that we're reading (about three Polish children and their struggles during World War II). We get through very many chapters to make up for the long break.

Thursday is our local market day and at least three out of the four farmhouse people today (the kids, Ed and myself) are really enthusiastic market shoppers. I know you can't tell this by studying the kids faces, but there's an explanation for the seriousness: I'm being pokey, and Ed is not there yet.

Finally, all here, cookies and cheese curds purchased.

We have on and off rain. Nothing significant, but still -- more wetness in the yard for tomorrow's work. At least the mosquitoes will have moderated, even if the lily count remains high. We did a third "natural"  spraying today -- the last one for the summer. That usually chases about half of them away for a handful of days. I intend to do a last big effort in the flower fields over the weekend. After that, I slow down. Because, well, summer days are supposed to be lazy, aren't they? 

with love...