Monday

We both rose with the sun today -- a demonstration of how full our plates are (or, in the alternative, how beautiful the day is this early morning).






With yesterday's filling of (most of) the pots with annuals, we've added color to the farmette in that sudden way that only planting more mature plants can accomplish. I used to scoff at annuals because in the past, greenhouses seemed to limit selections to marigolds and pansies. Or so it appeared to me. But as taste for gardening grew and expanded beyond the tried and true, so did the selection of plants. Yesterday at Kopke's I may have recognized half their offerings. At best. And so I've come back to these wonderful summer-long bloomers. I remember too well that on my late October visit to Giverny, I found that perennials had mostly finished their season, while the annuals soldiered on.

Here are a few pots, to give credit to what's really blooming in my gardens right now (and yes, I do include the violas, or violets, or johnny jump ups, which look like pansies, but their petal configuration is actually different)...






Well, too, I must include the daffodils. This is their prime time.






Our weather has been great the past few days -- too great for April. We'll go back to what this period typically offers (60 F, if we're not unlucky), but today we climbed to 81F  (27C). That's July weather! I can honestly say that it felt uncomfortably hot in the sun.

But great for a breakfast on the porch!






Snowdrop came a tad earlier than she usually does on Mondays -- straight from bed, still in her jammies. We were just finishing breakfast and so she joined us on the porch, thrilled to be appropriating the slingback chair again.






Bathed and dressed, she climbs onto grandpa Ed's chest and attempts to feed him some jam from one of those little jars I must have appropriated from some breakfast table elsewhere. (She loves to open our pantry door and reach for what's inside.) Can't open it, Snowdrop? A shame...






Alright. Let's not waste this summer-like day. Out we go!
And of course, guess who follows us as we walk the farmette lands...






Snowdrop takes off. Gone are the days of tentativeness and uncertainty.






Yes, little one, I know there are twigs on the ground from the willow. And that the grass is too tall. You see, we're kind of lackadaisical about stuff like that.
She's not put off by it. We continue along.






As do the cheepers, though they keep to the shade. If I were to guess which they dislike most -- the hot sun or cold winter winds -- I'd say it's a toss up.






Back inside now.
Grandma, do you think I have enough books about penguins?






She runs. Oh, it's good to be barefoot again!
Do I look like I'm flying, grandma?






There are many ways to read a book. Alone. Nestled in a lap. And now -- at the table.
Hey, we're both in polka dots! Coincidence.






Can I try the other chair?
Sure, Snowdrop.






During her nap time, I have a gentle coffee break out on the porch...





... and then I test the limits of the baby monitor by going out into the yard to study our landscaping work for this spring.

Alright. I have a planting schedule in mind. It's doable. I retreat to the farmhouse just as Snowdrop is starting to wake up.

Afternoon meal? Well, I thought about how I've favored the packs of pureed grains and vegetables for her (because they are nutritionally superior to anything I would whip up for her) and how maybe I should concentrate not only on nutritional value, but also on different textures and eating options.   So I make her a grilled cheese sandwich of sorts and I serve it with a cup of milk, using big girl cups and adult plates.





Oh, you amazing child, you like it all, don't you? Not for you the petty fusses of this or that. You just take on whatever the world (and within it grandma) presents to you.


Time to take you home. Ed, can you help me out a bit? I'm loaded down.

He does. She loves it.





On a day like this, what's there not to love?