Monday

We have two more days of unseasonably warm weather and I intend to make good use of them both!

My day is split evenly in half: the first chunk is spent digging, hauling, and planting and the second chunk is with Snowdrop.

But first, there is breakfast.






Immediately after, I step outside.

An appreciative look to the east...






A look to the west...






A frown at Java, who is about to trample over tender shoots...






And I'm off to work on the expanded front flower field.

The cheepers follow. I don't mind their company here. They look quite lovely (in my view) on the young lawn and they don't like to join me on the bed because the chips are dense and they yield little that is tasty for them. Too, I think we provide sympathetic, bucolic vignette for the cars that zip by on our rural road: I work the flower field and the hens hover and though they come close to the pavement, they would scoff at the old question -- why does the chicken cross the road? They never venture on the road. Ever. Their sense of boundary is quite remarkable. What's beyond our three acres? They don't care.






Just past noon, I pick up a tired Snowdrop. She looks like she has been into a million things in her morning at school and a priority is to get her home and changed. (A bath may also have been a good idea!) But we do take the time to walk the neighborhood a bit first. She loves the quiet stroller ride and I like walking with her too. Especially when it's 70F (21C) outside!

At the farmhouse, she wants quiet time with her toys and so we play indoors. (Snowdrop, you now also have croissant crumbs on your face!)












When Ed comes in, he shares a bit of cinnamon roll with her...






I think she is long overdue for a nap, but she appears to have a small burst of energy and she coaxes him into dancing the polka. As always and despite having just done a lot of heavy work outside (oh those feet!), he is incapable of saying no.






A few more minutes, gaga! Fine. I don't want to discourage a construction project.






While she naps, I sow peas -- both the edible kind and the flowering ones. We have some clever/foolish ideas on how to keep them out of reach of farmette wildlife. It's an experiment! If it fails, we'll continue to pick up peas at the market and try something else next year.

This is what spring is for us: a chance to recommit to past successes, but also to step out and try something new. There is so much opportunity for being creative, for pulling out a "what if."

Clouds roll in in the evening, but the air stays warm. It's a beautiful time here, at the farmette! Outrageously beautiful!