Sunday, June 07, 2015

Sunday

By my calculation, the next very normal Sunday doesn't come around until July 19th and even that one is a bit iffy. You may be yawning when you read this post -- nothing happens! same old, same old! -- but for me, the routines fall into place beautifully, forming a pattern of habits that I rather love. (I love disruptions too. I'm conflicted that way.)

I suppose scrubbing the farmhouse -- my Sunday morning special -- can't fall under the heading of "love this!" but I do adore the freshness that comes immediately after. (Ed is less comfortable in the clean house. It usually comes with many directives -- just for today, don't do this, don't do that, put this away, please don't leave that on the floor... etc.)

Breakfast outside -- that needs no introduction or amplification.


farmette-12.jpg



And then we work outside. Not of necessity, but because it feels good to labor in tandem, hauling chips to places that need them, trimming, pulling out, cutting down -- the usual stuff that keeps us busy, especially now, before we have any signs of mosquitoes. (Last year, they started to show up in the second week of June and by mid month, we used our paddle zappers every time we went outside.)

It is warm and breezy. Storms were to rumble through but they seem to have passed us by. The sun pokes through now and then -- it really is the perfect day to be outside.



garden-2




farmette-14.jpg




In the evening, the young family comes for dinner.


farmette-18.jpg



Snowdrop is her most wonderful self...


farmette-6.jpg



... and we spend a blissful time eating on the porch.


farmette-14-2.jpg



Later, much later, the doorbell rings. That's curious. No one ever comes this way unannounced. I send Ed to answer it and he comes back with a big container of perfectly amazing strawberries. Just like my grandma's!


 farmette-1.jpg


They're from one of the Hmong farmers with whom we share this glorious landscape. A gift. Nothing more, nothing less.

Yes, the day shines. Inside and out.

3 comments:

  1. Hi Nina,

    The farmette is so colorful and alive now. It's quite a transformation from winter. Lush, that is a word for the farmette. It would be difficult for me to ever leave the property if I lived there. It's a little paradise.

    Snow Flower continues to bring smiles to me and it's really fun to watch her grow and glisten.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I think lush is the perfect word for the farmette. It's so verdant and, yes, lush. I too would be incredibly happy living there. But then again, look at the work you and Ed put into the place. There's no doubt that the beauty there is the product of your green thumbs and fertile imaginations.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Strawberries already... wow! Not in WNY!!! Love the yarrow... and peonies... and irises... and all the green, green, green!
    How can a five month old look so "grown up"?!

    ReplyDelete

I welcome comments, but I will not publish submissions that insult or demean, or that are posted anonymously. I am sorry to lose commenting Ocean friends who are not registered, but I want to encourage readers to submit remarks only if they feel they can stand behind their words. I do not seek a free-for-all here. I like camaraderie far more than conflict.