Monday, May 26, 2014

divide and conquer

A quiet day. Hot to start with, even in the early morning.


And so we both begin outdoor work at 6, thinking that by noon, we'll feel burdened by the heat.


A pause for breakfast -- which is late both because neither of us wants to stop working and, too, because I detour to the rhubarb patch and pull off some more stalks for compote.


It becomes a breakfast meal for Ed: a rhubarb-honey-kefir smoothie.


Me, I dump the compote into my oatmeal.

The notable moment comes after we finish eating, when the air is so calm, the view onto the various gardens so soothing that neither of us wants to get going again. I tell Ed that a morning breakfast on the porch competes favorably with a pain au chocolat breakfast at the open air cafe in Sorede. (But Sorede comes in at the heels!)

Eventually we return to our work. For me, it's time to divide and conquer. A good perennial gardener will spend a lot of time dividing plants that have grown too big for their own good. I have made this inordinately difficult in my primary beds, because I mix in daffodils to get an early burst of blooms. And so the bed is always crowded, especially now, as I wait for the daffodils to die off, even as the summer flowers are pushing to take over.

(with a nod to the mightily fragrant lilac)

I can't do a thorough job. And, too, I see that one of my favorite late summer plants -- the Japanese Anemone. has significantly naturalized, so that I now have something else that poses control challenges for me (in addition to the chickens!).

A gardener's work is never done.

A few more photos for you from the day:

Of our very hidden entrance path (contributing to the theme of "what a difference a month makes").


Of the front yard to the farmhouse -- weeded by me today, cautiously explored by the hens.


Of the far western yard -- home to our new orchard, our vegetable garden and today -- to dandelions and Scotch!


Of Ocean author, with a lily of the valley behind her ear.


And finally, of a sudden downpour, which made the lilacs sag in the most splendid, moody fashion.


Appropriate, I think for this reflective holiday Monday.