Thursday

I watch this day fill up, starting from zero -- nothing planned, nothing expected, then slowly, as if I let the hose on and point it into a wheelbarrow and within minutes, it becomes full (I say this because in the afternoon, I actually do fill a wheelbarrow -- to water the strawberry hydrangea out front).

It begins early. At sunrise. Or just minutes before. Ed insists he's up for letting the cheepers out, but instead of rolling over and succumbing to delicious morning sleep, I think -- wouldn't it be nice to see the sun come up over the lake again? I haven't chased a sunrise in a long long time. It's a clear morning. Why not do it now?

And the minute I pull Rosie (the moped) out onto the road, I remember how stupid it is to go out like this without properly pulling on warm clothing. It's in the low fifties this morning. On a moped -- it feels really really cold.

Never mind. No time to go in for an extra jacket. It's nearly six. Sunrise happens around now and once the summer sun breaks through the horizon, its climb is brilliant and rapid. And so I continue and just as I pull up to the shore, I witness that beautiful moment, right there over Lake Waubesa when night is no longer night.






Satisfied (and cold), I leave the lake, awed by how quickly that speck of orange becomes a ball of golden fire...






...and I turn back to do my rural loop home.

Past cornfields...






...onwards, with deer crossing my path and two sandhill cranes standing, watching...






...while wispy strands of morning mist still touch the fields around us.






Oh, I'm so cold now! I pull up the farmette driveway, past the old orchard that always looks so good just after sunrise...





...and into the farmette courtyard, noting that the cheepers are out and about and Ed is in the sheep shed already, working on his latest machining project.

At the farmhouse, I bury myself deeply under the quilt --  but it's no good. Still cold. Not until much later, when I stand under a hot shower do I let the morning chill leave me and I feel like I am waking to a summer day again.

Though the "waking" part comes rather late.

And the breakfast part comes even later, since just when I'm ready to get going, Ed comes back to take a morning nap.

It is nearly 11 by the time we take our morning meal out onto the porch.






And shortly after, I am ever so happy to meet up with my Albuquerque friend -- she is in town and she has a window and that window is right now and so out comes Rosie again and off I go downtown. It's been only two months, but it always feels like life has taken so many shifts and turns since our last encounter. Time to catch up!






And then I am back at the farmette, but not for long. After rolling that water filled wheelbarrow down to my hydrangeas, I hop on behind Ed on his motorbike and we make our way to the local (evening) farmers market.  We mean to pick up only corn and to do our weekly exchange of eggs for cheese curds, but the beets look good as well and before you know it, we have a bagful of fresh produce.





Home then? No, not yet! We have our tennis rackets and so we stop in our secret forested courts and we play a dynamic if brief game of tennis.  Why brief? Because it's already late and there is supper to fix and freshly picked tomatoes to sort through (every two days Ed brings in about this many)...






So that wheelbarrow of mine surely filled quickly and I have no complaints because every hour today was (in my book) good, even if in the retelling it all seems rather straightforward. I assure you, it felt quite beautiful.

Oh, did you miss a posting of farmette flowers? Here, I haven't forgotten! At noon, in full sunlight: