Saturday

It's tough sometimes not to evaluate everything, or to not compare and think -- this is better/worse/same as before.

I mean, it starts early. I open the coop at sunrise. The bugs are thick. (Are they less thick? Manageable? Hellacious?) I pause, swatting with one hand, taking pictures with the other.

(Sunrise. Crazy, beautiful sunrise.)






Maybe a little better. Ed, don't you think the bugs have come down just a little?
He gives me that look that says -- whatever you say, gorgeous; I do not necessarily agree with you, but whatever you say....







(Still beautiful to behold...)






However good we are at growing flowers, we do have to admit defeat in many of the farmette projects we undertake each year. Strawberries lost to animals. Buckwheat, nearly overwhelmed by bindweed. Chickens who get old too quickly, grapes, lost to beetles.

Or, are they lost? I venture out to the troubled grape vines. Hey, maybe not so troubled?





Damn bugs. I really stirred them up by walking out to the far ends of our young orchard. Time to hurry indoors.

(Looking out the front door -- it all seems so calm and untroubled... But I know that at the sidelines, there are the armies of bugs, waiting... waiting... )






Breakfast. Never better or worse. Always grounded, calm, wonderful.





I then take rosie (the moped) over to the young family's home. This will be one of our last walks to the summer market on the Capitol Square. The next several weeks have us all dispersed. After that -- well, we're pretty close to Fall.

The thing is, Snowdrop really delivers right now. Children grow, they pass through tough times, they pick up viruses, bad habits, they process the first parental "no!", they test you with tantrums, with teething, with food preferences, sleep habits. And Snowdrop did bits and pieces of that. She is a child after all. But right now, she is at her best. All I see is the joy. The delight.

And I'm sure I'm not unique in this, but I must admit, her growth, her adaptability and good humor -- they all make me beam with pride at the little one. She came through intact and then some! How cool is that!

I give you a string of market photos. A bit indulgent, sure, but I assure you, I could have really run amok with the camera. This series shows a good bit of restraint.

Approaching the market, we encounter a group of musicians. Snowdrop swings to their beat.





Next, a stop at the bakery stand: croissant for the little one.






Cherries and tomatoes.






And at the end of the market stroll (my purchases are modest: mushrooms, cherries, sunflowers, basil), we let Snowdrop run to her her heart's delight.






Yeah...






My daughter's out-of-town friend is with us. If people around her are happy, she is happy. It's a simple formula, isn't it?






I'll include a photo of gaga, mommy and Snowdrop...






And finally, this one of the girl herself. There is a lot of exuberance, a bit of seriousness -- so Snowdrop!






I ride rosie past the farmers' fields to the east of us, pausing in total appreciation for all that they deliver for us at the markets.





And then I hunker down inside the farmhouse with some mega computer work. But there is respite: toward evening, Ed and I go out and play tennis. It's the first time for us this year. Remarkable how our schedules have taken us away from this most satisfying game that we love so much.

I don't want to compare, I really don't, but we had such beautiful weather today! I don't take it for granted. Ever.