These last few days of March are so beautiful that expectations run high: what are your plans for us, April? Because, you know, we're kind of spoiled.
I wake up to a clear sky. It seems that overnight, every new growth gained an inch. The chickens are now energetically scratching for bugs (even as they still fight over the bits of corn or bread I give them), though they chase me when they see me go toward the house. Girls on the run!
After a winter of hiding, the bulbs are all pushing through, promising a long and varied flowering season. It all looks rather wonderful out there!
But I do not linger. After an early (and very sunny) breakfast...
... I'm off to be with Snowdrop.
She, too, has grown by very many leaps. Perhaps her own trip (to visit her grandparents in Buffalo) had expanded her vision of the possibilities because I surely notice a huge change in her. She has always known her own mind, but there is a certain insistence now that I hadn't quite seen before.
I can make an "ooo" sound, grandma -- no problem!
Snowdrop, I need to trim your nails. Perhaps running around with the scissors isn't such a great idea... But you can run with penguin!
You seem so very grownup, little one...
After lunch, we practice letter articulation (her idea)...
... then go for a walk. This is a day to spend outside -- it has to be one of the warmest ones we've had this year.
We do stop at a cafe and for the first time, we sit outside.
As always, what takes place around her is as interesting as the crumb she gets from grandpa Ed's cookie treat.
Me, I'm day dreaming about all the times I'll eat outside in the months to come.
Back at the farmette, I am so happy to see crocuses popping up in various places, including by the path to the farmhouse door.
No time to dawdle thought. Today is the day Ed and I plant the tomatoes (with a few melons and cucumbers thrown in). I didn't quite count the number of seeds planted, but it looks to be at around 130.
From a gardeners perspective, the crucially important (and therefore most wondrous) growing season has officially begun.
I wake up to a clear sky. It seems that overnight, every new growth gained an inch. The chickens are now energetically scratching for bugs (even as they still fight over the bits of corn or bread I give them), though they chase me when they see me go toward the house. Girls on the run!
After a winter of hiding, the bulbs are all pushing through, promising a long and varied flowering season. It all looks rather wonderful out there!
But I do not linger. After an early (and very sunny) breakfast...
... I'm off to be with Snowdrop.
She, too, has grown by very many leaps. Perhaps her own trip (to visit her grandparents in Buffalo) had expanded her vision of the possibilities because I surely notice a huge change in her. She has always known her own mind, but there is a certain insistence now that I hadn't quite seen before.
I can make an "ooo" sound, grandma -- no problem!
Snowdrop, I need to trim your nails. Perhaps running around with the scissors isn't such a great idea... But you can run with penguin!
You seem so very grownup, little one...
After lunch, we practice letter articulation (her idea)...
... then go for a walk. This is a day to spend outside -- it has to be one of the warmest ones we've had this year.
We do stop at a cafe and for the first time, we sit outside.
As always, what takes place around her is as interesting as the crumb she gets from grandpa Ed's cookie treat.
Me, I'm day dreaming about all the times I'll eat outside in the months to come.
Back at the farmette, I am so happy to see crocuses popping up in various places, including by the path to the farmhouse door.
No time to dawdle thought. Today is the day Ed and I plant the tomatoes (with a few melons and cucumbers thrown in). I didn't quite count the number of seeds planted, but it looks to be at around 130.
From a gardeners perspective, the crucially important (and therefore most wondrous) growing season has officially begun.
