the great outdoors

This day is a teaser: here, take a look at what's coming!

By the time Ed and I sit down to breakfast, the clouds have parted and the temperatures start to climb. Not for good. The rest of the week will be wet and cold. But I get that: we need the rain, we need that reasonable progression toward full blown spring. And yes, I'll take today's sidestep and peek at the gloriousness of what's to come.






And though it's true: the farmhouse framed by a bed of blooming daylilies in July is more regal than its plain old facade in late March, but hey! Do you see those bunches of narcissus? And the plump buds on the lilac (to the right)? We are so on our way!






And yes, there are, finally, the emerging flowers of early spring.






Ed and I spend a few minutes working outdoors, but unfortunately, neither of us has the time to do as much as we might have done with a freer set of hours. I rake, of course. Clearing the flower beds is a priority and though I did much of the work during our February heat wave, there are still things to be done before the flowers emerge full force.

Too, we need to get started on the tomatoes. Last year we planted seeds on March 29th. I don't think this year we'll pull it off that soon!

Never mind. We're still only in March. We'll get to everything in early April.

In the meantime, we all get a real thrill out of having this gloriously sunny spring day.  I pick up an excited Snowdrop. She knows there'll be a flower hunt and a stroller ride in store.






The little girl and I both sing songs as we walk the blocks of her neighborhood. True, she sings a different song than I do, but that's okay. We're singing! That's plenty good enough!


Later, at the farmette, she has no intention of keeping her jacket on. Nor does she head for the farmhouse. She knows it's outdoor weather!

She saunters to the cart where we had been piling fallen leaves and spent plantings.






I want to climb inside!
Sure, Snowdrop.






The cheepers hear us and they come running, excited at the possibilities!






Snowdrop watches them, amused at their enthusiasm.






I don't think, though, that a ride in the cart is what Scotch, our older brown girl, had in mind!






I tell the little girl that perhaps her new doll Rosie (yes, I know -- her new doll has the same name as my scooter; I can't help it -- she chose the name) would enjoy being wheeled around more than Scotch does.

Oh, Snowdrop loves the idea of taking out the doll with stroller! She would be running down the rural road behind her charge for hours on end if I didn't remind her that the roads are off limits for play.






Time to redirect.
Look, Snowdrop! The crocuses are blooming!
Just yesterday, they were only a bud. Today -- perfection.






We go inside now. Snowdrop looks around for Ed. He comes over from the sheep shed and she is just too excited, explaining to him every detail of her life right now. The girl loves to recount what's happening in the here and now.











I suppose there is now a certain predictability to these posts: they start with breakfast and they end with Snowdrop enticing us to her tea party. I understand her happiness. After all, I too relish that time around a table.





And yes, I admit to the predictability. The thing is, with every new week, it all seems so different to me. Snowdrop grows, the seasons change, inclinations and perceptions shift and so in fact, nothing stays the same. It's as if each day I begin with something unknown and unexpected. Sure, it's the same good meal, but nothing about it tastes like the one from the day before. To me, it's always one incredible, beautiful surprise.