This morning, if you were to look outside from the porch, you'd see this:
And from the other end, were you to stand on the sheep shed path and look toward the porch, you'd see this:
I put these two photos up for several reasons, though not at all because either of us so much as sat down for a second on the porch today. Mainly, I want to say that to me, this is what hope looks like. I mean, remember Ocean photos from a month ago? I did not think spring would ever come. And now, it's as if those cold, flowerless, leafless months belong to another epoch. So much good can come in the space of one month. We should remember that during the drab cold days of prespring (or pre anything).
Another reason for posting many many photos of the farmhouse now is that I always think building structures set in a flowering landscape look their finest in May. The light's good, the greens are warm and not yet dusty. This is the time to go nuts with the camera. May is a very photogenic month! So much so that I have to say, it's almost unfair how ravishing the landscape is right now. I mean, come on, May -- wouldn't you like to spread your wealth onto the other months?
It's Mother's Day for me today. My little one and her fiance are here from Chicago and we're all to go out to brunch. But before we set out (and while the young ones are still sleeping) Ed and I head down to the new orchard. Now's the time to finish planting the grape vines.
A few hours later, we're done. The young orchard gets a proper vote of approval from the visiting urban pair. They walk the farmette land with me and we talk about future plans -- theirs, mine...
And now we're downtown at El Dorado -- the younger pair, along with my older girl and her husband...
... and the ever impish Ed...
And yes, there are presents (any time I dress decently, you can assume that what I'm wearing is a a gift from daughters) and good foods and best of all, there's laughter. If I passed on anything to my girls it is the joy of sitting down together for a meal. As often as possible.
Afternoon. The kids have their various activities and Ed and I return to the farmette. I have the post-rain weeding to do and, too, we finish putting tomatoes in place.
Evening comes. Ed and I take stock.
We had started trenching a hose for the new orchard. That project needs to be completed. And, too, I still have seeds of annuals to throw on the new flower bed. Tomorrow. Or the next day. We check off one item from the list but add two new ones. The thing about living at the farmette is that the list can never be entirely without items on it. Even as the landscape is glorious now, at this very moment -- so very lush and abundant in that blush of full spring -- we cannot ever sit back and let it be. There will always be jobs to be done, improvements to be made, plants needing our attention.
And that's a good thing.