out and about

Can it be that I am becoming too tied to the farmette? That May, June -- will forever become months when my imagination doesn't run past images of budding flowers, flowering strawberries and emerging vegetables? That the routine of a day spent outdoors will grip me even more fiercely than the routine of an academic year once did?

Well, today, I put the brakes on outdoor farmette work. Oh, sure, I was up for the chickens...






All the rain  has caused weeds to sprout ten times over, so I worked on those a little, but not so much that I couldn't appreciate once again the drooping lilac...






And yes, we had our usual lovely breakfast on the porch...





But it was interrupted by the phone ringing. Then, too, I had terribly boring errands to run. [Longtime readers of Ocean may recall my last year's efforts to properly establish my dual citizenship; well those efforts are still in progress and much of the documentation that I obtained then has to be reissued and resubmitted elsewhere, so yes, I am still working that beast to its finale]. Broken up by a very delightful coffee meeting. And then more bureaucratic waits, filings, payments  -- all downtown. At least I had Rosie to zip me about. On a warm and sticky day, she is exceptionally awesome.



 
(from her seat, pausing for a light)


And before you know it, it's midafternoon -- quite a hot midafternoon, so that the idea of working outdoors is about as appealing to us as it is to the chickens. (Here they are, indulging in a good roll in the old barn.)






Isis, too, finds the heat and dampness distasteful (though he surely looks grand wading through the tall grasses).






Between thundershowers, we force ourselves to work. We trim tree branches. That is, Ed works the power saw and I, like a broken record, keep repeating that we should take shelter because of the claps of thunder (Eventually I took shelter while he finished the job.)






This was our day. Where, you might ask, is the color? The trickle of loveliness that you associate with the end of May? Oh, everywhere. I'll leave you with one example. Because the last week of May is iris time. Here are five ruffled girls, giggling away.