Sunday

When you live at the farmette, you notice the weather, each and every single minute. You hear it, smell it, work with it. And so if I plunge into a description of what front passes through when, it's because this is of huge significance for us. More than any one factor, the weather influences the day's events.

And so when we wake up to a forecast of occasional severe storms, we take note. We should not embark on anything ambitious. I will stay glued to the weather maps and work around what comes our way.

Well, not much does come our way. It turns out to be a warm, humid, windy day, with occasional gusts of showers, but not significant ones -- the kind where you work through them and shrug off the beads of wetness that drip down your face and arms.

Of course, Sunday is farmhouse cleaning day and Ed and I race each other with our dreaded chores: I clean, he mows. In the end, I finish first and he gives up after mowing about 85% of the land. And since we put off breakfast until we are done, we do not eat our morning meal until it is almost no longer morning.

Ah, but it is on the porch and it is lovely.





I'm displaying a high tolerance for Isie boy's wanderings over the table, since I rarely see the cat these days. He remains temporarily banished from the farmhouse. We're not sure why he has constant digestive issues when he is inside (we think it's a combination of Snowdrop envy and old age), but he does and Ed has agreed that for the time being, he can hang out in the sheep shed. The fact is, Ed spends the better part of the day and a good bit of the night working in the sheep shed (he is terribly preoccupied with his machining project) and so Isie boy has good company. And I have a restful night and a clean house.

Then, in an unusual move, I go grocery shopping. What?? Again?

Here's the deal: one way I imagine I can keep myself focused is of I do not make notes to myself as to what I should purchase, or attend to. I rely on the good old memory. It rarely fails me. Except when I forget the main ingredient of a meal planned for this week. And so back I go, shopping again..

Add to this a good chunk of time spent outside weeding and generally tidying the garden and you have the bulk of my Sunday. But hey! The plant containers are finally full!



Ed mixes my soils, Butter munches on ants








And, though most of the perennials are still green...







I can always find something that's blooming right now. It's time for aquilegia (commonly known as columbine)!






You gotta love this plant! It does not fuss about light, about water, about much of anything. And it self seeds so you'll find it popping up in the most unusual places, sort of like asparagus. (But not in an obnoxious, invasive way, like, say, my Japanese Anemone which I banished from all beds because it would not stop its domineering spread.)

The cheepers? Oh, congenial and happy with the bounty of bugs right now. And Oreo? Well, he's Oreo.






So this is my Sunday -- a beloved day because it begins with a clean house and most often ends with a dinner at the farmhouse for the five of us -- Snowdrop, her parents, Ed and me. For the first time this year it's warm enough to eat on the porch!

The food is passed through the window still (Oh, do I want that door!)...






I had ideas on how to keep Snowdrop happy on the porch tonight, but they were all unnecessary -- she is happy merely because the sun dapples on her little chin...






...and she can look up and see her mom (while holding on to her very own napkin).






This then is the most precious truth about little ones -- a sweet glance from a parent and their world is right again. And these two surely give Snowdrop a reason to smile.






It is a beautiful evening. Snowdrop agrees. Never once does she complain or fuss. It's all about warm breezes, happy people eating (fresh and honest) foods, with that occasional glance up to see that the ones who love her are there to care for her. Just in case.