I come back to this question: why am I addicted to working outside? Because I really am that. And I knew it when I moved to the farmette and I sighed deeply and moved here anyway and now, when the weather is as it is (today: perfect), I will use every spare minute to dig, transplant, chop... oh, the list is so long! I ache just thinking back to it all.
Perennial planting has been in my blood for decades even as I can't say I'm very much of an expert at it. I move by impulse and that's not always a wise way to proceed. For instance, I pulled at least three plants out today and then hurriedly replanted them. They were not dead. (It's not always easy to tell on May 1.)
Ed worked with me for a while...
...but he has his indoor work projects and they did not end the same day I stopped teaching for the year. So much of the day I worked alone.
A late breakfast on the porch...
...a quick glance at the farmers to the east of us, working tirelessly, with bent backs, shielded in multiple ways from the sun.
And finally, a glance back at the farmhouse. Do you remember how brown it all was just a week ago? Not so now.
I know these warm days will moderate soon. There's rain in the forecast. That's fine. The soil remains dry here. We haven't quite left the drought of last year behind us. But these past few days, my hands are roughened and dirtied by the soil and scratches have appeared on my arms, legs, even stomach (an errant branch did that). I've caught two ticks and I've watched endless worms retreat as I poke at their breeding ground. It's been grand. Really, over the top wonderful.
