bucolic

If what follows is a string of posts that have one theme and one theme only, forgive me. We have a set of sunny days, warm days, blossoming days and life this week takes on that sweetness that reads like a gentle book -- a feel good book, with the same old story, one that you hope you never have to put down.

The cheepers are in that same springtime trance. Oreo's rough edges remain well concealed and the pack moves from favorite spot to favorite spot, sometimes getting bread from me...





...sometimes getting nothing at all except a dose of the familiar.


After breakfast...






...I go to a local greenhouse that I think has the best assortment of annuals. I am confident that the good weather is here to stay. I want to start filling my flower tubs.






Today I just look and pick a few small containers. In the days ahead, I'll return to planting.



(cheepers! get off the alyssum and pansies!)




(ready to plant)


Then, of course, there's that wonderful afternoon I spend with Snowdrop, whose nickname now is but a reminder of the month of her birth. She is the flower that never fades, never loses its petals. She just keeps on going!






... rewarding me with fist-in-mouth smiles.






We go for a walk around the lake with her mom and this, too, is lovely, effortless...



("oh, go ahead, grandma... take the photo!")



And finally, back at her home, we sing. I swear, mouthing words with big vowels really gets that girl going! Her attempt at imitation is beautiful!






Evening at the farmhouse. The cheepers move slowly toward the coop. It's quiet. There is a smell of fresh growth. Of cherry blossoms and new strawberry shoots. And it will continue, tomorrow and the next day. Utterly bucolic.