And now the farmette landscape takes on the radiant colors of youthful glory -- the pinks, the purples, the dainty yellows -- so full of vigor and cockiness! Oh, how I love to see our land transformed in this way. If it can change from the dull brown of March to this, well then there is hope in this world for the best transformations, isn't there?
I'll start with the early morning walk to the coop. There was rain, which is a good thing -- rain and sunshine in good amounts are needed now. My rose, my poor poor rose that keeps on giving blooms every year even though by early summer the beetles will come and her leaves and petals will take on the impurities that nature gives to all living things. Right now, though, it displays its first flower and it is a beauty.
And now look toward the barn -- because this grand flower field is where the peonies are most exuberant, especially when coupled with those explosive irises.
All those weeks of planting, tending, weeding -- they are for these brief moments when it all comes together like this.
(Looking now toward the porch of the farmhouse.)
(With a quick peek at another iris that likes to nestle its blooms deeply inside the green stalks.)
Ed and I have a lovely breakfast on the porch -- honestly, I dream about these mornings in the winter months.
And now I sprint a little, because my daughter and granddaughter are waiting for me so that we can all walk downtown to our main farmers market. I worry that this is a long haul for Snowdrop -- the walk there, the stroll around the square, the walk back. She is a strong and active girl and even on our terribly long walks in Paris, she always had her periods of play in the park.
I needn't have worried. You could say that she had a modest version of Paris today: a croissant at the start of the market stroll (though I swear, she has that expression that says -- is this as good as it gets now?)...
... and then a really superb romp on the grassy lawn of our Capitol.
Yes, it may as well have been the Champ de Mars in front of the Eiffel Tower. Snowdrop is delighted to be set free.
Just rewards for being such a good stroller child.
In the afternoon, Ed and I set to work outside.
We finish planting the tomatoes. The tally: we have 99 strong growers and another 11 little guys that may or may not make it. And we have 10 cucumbers. Ed does finally admit that we may have over planted, but the fact is, the seed packets come with so many seeds and though they're not supposed to all germinate, most of them do. And so now we have tomato craziness out there.
I also do some hand mowing around the tough spots and of course, there is the perpetual weed pulling. Too, I have to undo a chicken mess: I'd planted cosmos seeds and the cheepers scratched the soil and scattered the seeds, so that suddenly I have sprouting cosmos in ridiculous places. Thanks, girls.
But all the work is against a backdrop of this:
It's just simply sublime.
And now comes the tiredness of a good day's work. The breeze is strong, the air is warm, the scents are heavenly.
It has been a brilliant day.
I'll start with the early morning walk to the coop. There was rain, which is a good thing -- rain and sunshine in good amounts are needed now. My rose, my poor poor rose that keeps on giving blooms every year even though by early summer the beetles will come and her leaves and petals will take on the impurities that nature gives to all living things. Right now, though, it displays its first flower and it is a beauty.
And now look toward the barn -- because this grand flower field is where the peonies are most exuberant, especially when coupled with those explosive irises.
All those weeks of planting, tending, weeding -- they are for these brief moments when it all comes together like this.
(Looking now toward the porch of the farmhouse.)
(With a quick peek at another iris that likes to nestle its blooms deeply inside the green stalks.)
Ed and I have a lovely breakfast on the porch -- honestly, I dream about these mornings in the winter months.
And now I sprint a little, because my daughter and granddaughter are waiting for me so that we can all walk downtown to our main farmers market. I worry that this is a long haul for Snowdrop -- the walk there, the stroll around the square, the walk back. She is a strong and active girl and even on our terribly long walks in Paris, she always had her periods of play in the park.
I needn't have worried. You could say that she had a modest version of Paris today: a croissant at the start of the market stroll (though I swear, she has that expression that says -- is this as good as it gets now?)...
... and then a really superb romp on the grassy lawn of our Capitol.
Yes, it may as well have been the Champ de Mars in front of the Eiffel Tower. Snowdrop is delighted to be set free.
Just rewards for being such a good stroller child.
In the afternoon, Ed and I set to work outside.
We finish planting the tomatoes. The tally: we have 99 strong growers and another 11 little guys that may or may not make it. And we have 10 cucumbers. Ed does finally admit that we may have over planted, but the fact is, the seed packets come with so many seeds and though they're not supposed to all germinate, most of them do. And so now we have tomato craziness out there.
I also do some hand mowing around the tough spots and of course, there is the perpetual weed pulling. Too, I have to undo a chicken mess: I'd planted cosmos seeds and the cheepers scratched the soil and scattered the seeds, so that suddenly I have sprouting cosmos in ridiculous places. Thanks, girls.
But all the work is against a backdrop of this:
It's just simply sublime.
And now comes the tiredness of a good day's work. The breeze is strong, the air is warm, the scents are heavenly.
It has been a brilliant day.
