May flowers, you better compensate for this wet and cold weekend! (April showers bring May flowers...) On the list of the day's distresses: sore hip (age!), gray skies, cold temps (never to pass the 40s F), seeds that stay in their little packets, even as they should have gone in days ago, tomatoes that can't possibly go out in this weather. And then there are the day's outings: Ed has a buddy pot luck picnic tonight (yep, in the cold rain), and I want to visit the women who sell their own plants down in Verona (17 mins from here). And the rain continues.
Have I kvetched enough?
On the upside, well, it was in fact a glorious day!
Yes, it does rain from the get go. Not good news for the cheepers, but I am not especially feeling kind toward them as they had dug up a plant I liked. At least you'll keep out of my flowers today! -- I say this in my sternest voice, but my heart melts and I scatter some tasty dried corn close to the barn door.
At first, the rain is light. I can take a photo (still admiring the daffodils...).
But the desire to work on weeding is tempered by the stiff hip and the cold wind and so instead, I spend the next hour appreciating the very warm quilt covering our bed.
Breakfast is leisurely.
And after we review the day's possibilities, I decide to try a little work outdoors.
[Ed in the meantime cooks up his very own version of a potato salad for his picnic. This includes cooking the potatoes in the microwave. Hmm. I should note that when I'm around, he never cooks for us, because I don't like the shortcuts he takes and so I prefer to take control over all kitchen matters. Nonetheless, the man does not lack confidence in the cooking department and he is never disappointed with his own creations, which may or may not have something to do with expectations.]
As I work outside, Ed proudly brings out the finished product. I must admit -- it's great! Not too much mayo, well spiced, with pickles, only of the best kind, and eggs, ah the eggs!
And here, let me interject that today is historic for our cheeper brood: for the first time, Java has laid an egg. True, it is a small one, but hey! All four girls are properly leaving their beautiful eggs in the coop now. (Each one is of a different color -- how cool is that!)
We have a lot of eggs.
Though the rain comes down, I continue to work outside. Somehow, I'm not bothered by the cold, the hip joint, the muddy terrain. A few more plants go in, some transplanting of ferns gets checked off -- it all is moving forward so well that I even suggest to Ed that we go out and pay a visit to the Verona gardening women. Why not pick through their day lilies now, when no one in their right mind is shopping for plants?
I call Karen, the one who has most of what I want. Sure, come over! I'm working in my raincoat out back!
The air is pungent with that wet smell of good soil. Ed comes with me (despite the very funny Car Talk radio episode we'd both been enjoying on the drive over). He talks dirt and chips and winter growing with Karen. I ogle the beautifully vibrant daylilies.
We pick out a few and the rain is really coming down now, but it doesn't matter -- my work outdoors can be put aside for the day. On the way back, we pause at a chocolate shop and then at Paul's coffee shop and like in the old days, Ed and I lose ourselves in printed newspapers that are scattered there, he with a bowl of soup, me with a cup of coffee.
At home, we unload the lilies, Ed gives a hen a hug, I go inside and read about Paris cafes on the internet.
Yes, a strangely beautiful day. Unexpectedly so. Like Ed's bowl of potato salad which I'm still thinking about now.
Have I kvetched enough?
On the upside, well, it was in fact a glorious day!
Yes, it does rain from the get go. Not good news for the cheepers, but I am not especially feeling kind toward them as they had dug up a plant I liked. At least you'll keep out of my flowers today! -- I say this in my sternest voice, but my heart melts and I scatter some tasty dried corn close to the barn door.
At first, the rain is light. I can take a photo (still admiring the daffodils...).
But the desire to work on weeding is tempered by the stiff hip and the cold wind and so instead, I spend the next hour appreciating the very warm quilt covering our bed.
Breakfast is leisurely.
And after we review the day's possibilities, I decide to try a little work outdoors.
[Ed in the meantime cooks up his very own version of a potato salad for his picnic. This includes cooking the potatoes in the microwave. Hmm. I should note that when I'm around, he never cooks for us, because I don't like the shortcuts he takes and so I prefer to take control over all kitchen matters. Nonetheless, the man does not lack confidence in the cooking department and he is never disappointed with his own creations, which may or may not have something to do with expectations.]
As I work outside, Ed proudly brings out the finished product. I must admit -- it's great! Not too much mayo, well spiced, with pickles, only of the best kind, and eggs, ah the eggs!
And here, let me interject that today is historic for our cheeper brood: for the first time, Java has laid an egg. True, it is a small one, but hey! All four girls are properly leaving their beautiful eggs in the coop now. (Each one is of a different color -- how cool is that!)
We have a lot of eggs.
Though the rain comes down, I continue to work outside. Somehow, I'm not bothered by the cold, the hip joint, the muddy terrain. A few more plants go in, some transplanting of ferns gets checked off -- it all is moving forward so well that I even suggest to Ed that we go out and pay a visit to the Verona gardening women. Why not pick through their day lilies now, when no one in their right mind is shopping for plants?
I call Karen, the one who has most of what I want. Sure, come over! I'm working in my raincoat out back!
The air is pungent with that wet smell of good soil. Ed comes with me (despite the very funny Car Talk radio episode we'd both been enjoying on the drive over). He talks dirt and chips and winter growing with Karen. I ogle the beautifully vibrant daylilies.
We pick out a few and the rain is really coming down now, but it doesn't matter -- my work outdoors can be put aside for the day. On the way back, we pause at a chocolate shop and then at Paul's coffee shop and like in the old days, Ed and I lose ourselves in printed newspapers that are scattered there, he with a bowl of soup, me with a cup of coffee.
At home, we unload the lilies, Ed gives a hen a hug, I go inside and read about Paris cafes on the internet.
Yes, a strangely beautiful day. Unexpectedly so. Like Ed's bowl of potato salad which I'm still thinking about now.
