The Joy of Chores…
…and some even requiring tools. Cobwebs and drifts of former caterpillars cleared away. Choreopsis trimmed and deadheaded. Stuff put away. New lamp assembled. Even an easygoing bike ride down to Ellen’s, where Pax took a good long swim.
Tomorrow, the pier, which with the extreme high water, though pulled up as high as the bank allows, is mostly inundated.
…and looks pretty good, too.
And delicious Italian dinner at Pinebox.
Been looking forward to this day for a while.
Dinner at the beach with nurse (and now friend) Karen, Then a long climb up a steep dune (kind of as a mistake), but beautiful nonetheless.
Day far too short to get everything in.
…headed north. With a vacation stop at Lac du Flambeau.
…to resume the interrupted journey north.
Kholrabi (not from our garden)
Packing and loading. On the road tomorrow.
…at the big table.
And, by late afternoon the long desired front went through, dropping the temperature and quite a bit of rain.
But in spite of that. , a new bike for Maddie (in advance of her birthday).
First as a lovely thunderstorm—lots of flashing, lots of rumbling, and steady, moderate rain from 5 am until 10 am, with lawns and fields and woodlands giving a sigh of relief and soaking it all up—and thus drought averted. Then, this afternoon, as moisture in the form of humidity, thick as honey, thick as molasses.
When corn gets water stressed it rolls its leaves into tubes which point straight up, like lances aiming skyward. Yesterday most fields looked like that. Today the leaves are flat and spreading. The beets and squash in the garden here are full and lush, and far beyond any threat from weeds.
Nice cumulus in every direction, and scattered showers, but the only moisture here oppressive humidity.
Echinacea, liatris, mondara, helianthus, indigo, among others, and the grasses.
Really just morning clouds, which made walking pleasant.
Under the spreading walnut tree
By afternoon hot, sunny, still, and dry, which is pretty much the only weather I don’t like.
The heat and drought continue.
Which makes it pleasant to see water, even if it is in an artificial setting.
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In a garden, food arises from partnership. If I don’t pick rocks and pull weeds, I’m not fulfilling my end of the bargain. I can do these things with my handy opposable thumb and capacity to use tools, to shovel manure. But I can do no more to create a tomato or embroider a trellis in beans than I can turn lead into gold. That is the plants’ responsibility and their gift: animating the inanimate. Now there is a gift.
People often ask me what one thing I would recommend to restore relationship between land and people. My answer is almost always, “Plant a garden.” It’s good for the health of the earth and it’s good for the health of people. A garden is a nursery for nurturing connection, the soil for cultivation of practical reverence. And Its power goes far beyond the garden gate—once you develop a relationship with a little patch of earth, it becomes a seed itself.
Something essential happens in a vegetable garden. It’s a place where if you can’t say “I love you” out loud, you can say it in seeds. And the land will reciprocate, in beans.
—Braiding Sweetgrass
Sunny, hot, and dry.
And, below, souvlaki, which as far as I can tell, is pretty much shish kabob by another name.
Ninety, or above, in the shade. Intense sun. Dry.
And for dinner, Mujaddara. A lot of work, but interesting and nutritious. Lentils, rice, crispy onions, lots of spices.
……in the blink of an eye. Garden, new apple tree, rosemary will be watered tomorrow morning, before full sun.
A day of many errands, including tracking down and eliminating the stink of dead mice in the Prius.
Bruschetta and pesto pasta on the menu tonight; that’s pretty Mediterranean.
With Sue doing her Jayne stuff, Irene became my minder.
Rowing club shells.
A good day, with a walk along the river, and backyard baths for both Pax and Emmee.
So, So, Pax and I decide to sit out back, on the patio, after naps and before dinner preparation. Things are quiet. Not much is going on. It’s hot, but we are in the shade and wind swirls around us. Sometimes blasts of hot wind come over the house and drive into the oak trees, tossing limbs and ripping off a leaf now and then.
We are reading. I’m reading a book and Pax is reading the neighborhood. We both seem to be processing a lot of information.
When I look up from the book and look around the yard I get a feeling of dryness. Not really much rain since the beginning of the month. After supper, when the sun is low, I will water the beets and squash, the rosemary, and the blueberry bushes.
Now time to light the grill.
…at the neighbor’s, across the street—the pilot and airframe/power-plant mechanic—who specializes in scones. We made cheese and herb, blueberry, ginger, and chocolate pecan. Actually very simple, and ultimately quite tasty.
Then this evening, to the City Market in downtown Whitewater where we picked up a Flying Cow pizza, in addition to local eggs and asparagus. No sweetcorn yet.
Morning gym workout, afternoon reading, dinner salmon on the Big Green Egg.
Calm and relatively noiseless after the thumping holiday. Pax regaining his equanimity.
…because of lovely conditions outside.
A stand of white pines
World Cup soccer this morning, then a drive to Williams Bay (Lake Geneva) just for a glimpse of water. Instead found a huge crush of cars, boats, and people. We hightailed it out of there.
And for dinner…very delicious “Braised Chicken with Mushroom and Tomatoes,” page 296 of our new cookbook, The Complete Mediterranean Cookbook. (Note: turkey substituted for chicken.)
