Today was to be a day of no obligation. No commitment, no rules, no lists, no schedules. (Unexpectedly, Snowdrop had an activity for the afternoon and so I did not need to pick her up, nor bring her to the farmhouse.)
So you'd think I'd turn this day on its belly and cavort left and right with the freedom that it offered! You'd think I would do something big -- explore the world, take Ed out on a breakfast date (hey, that would be very big!), or read a whole book, or write a whole book! Days with nothing scheduled are so rare -- use it well, use it creatively!
Well, okay, but first I must clip the garden (oh, that counting habit has really stuck: 450 spent lily blooms this morning).
So many colors in an August garden! Is there any color that's missing? Sure -- it's a rare flower bed that will have a true blue in the second half of summer.
You do have to be very careful when you snip spent blooms. For example, if you move fast and your head is covered with mosquito netting, you can very well miss this:
What, you're not seeing it? She blends well into the background, warts and all!
Okay, garden work done! Pots watered! (Yep, from wet weeks, we have moved to a dry week: pots don't like dry weeks.) Lilies cleared!
Breakfast? For the first time since I can remember, Ed is not hungry, not even for fruit. Too much pizza last night!
I'll keep you company -- he offers.
Well fine -- I may as well buck my own trend and eat something that is not oatmeal. It would be cool to have a bakery within spittin' distance, but the closest good croissant is 15 minutes away by car, so I reach for a bread product that is now two days old -- Snowdrop was to have it for snack but hey, it's now available! Heat it for a few secs in the oven, add tasty jam, and with eyes closed, you can pretend it's just baked.
From the porch, looking out... (This is why we linger for such a long time over breakfast!)
Ed has a scheduled lunch meeting and so now is my time to truly soar into new levels of solo adventuring!
Instead, I fill a bucket with soapy water, climb up on the porch roof and scrub the window panes clean.
It so happens that the pollen in the air really clings to glass and despite torrential downpours, our glass roof has a thin coating of plant dust. I'm sure no one would notice or care, but we know it's there and I really do love a sparkly clear glass roof. So I scrub.
On the upside, it takes a mosquito a very long time to discover that there is a human form way up high in the sky and so none reach me until the very end and by that time it's too late -- I've done my work. (In other words, I have a lovely hour working outside without bug interference.)
Too, and more importantly, I get an aerial view of my flower beds. For instance, here's a look at the Great Bed that borders the path to the sheep shed and barn.
This is the time to sing to yourself (not necessarily quietly -- on the roof, the world is yours)! Predictably, I stick with this beautiful old number:
Later, much later, Ed and I zip over to the farm up the road to pick up what will be our August staple:
It's incredible corn! Really, you cannot compare it to the stuff you buy elsewhere. And right now it is at its best -- young, tender and sweet.
The storms that were predicted for this evening moved elsewhere and so Ed is out biking (as is his habit on summer Wednesday evenings). And it strikes me that I ought to bike too! A short but intense loop! Up the scenic rural road, to check on how a favorite prairie is faring.
We live in a beautiful spot. We really do. Every once in a while, Ed asks -- do you want to move somewhere where there are no mosquitoes? He isn't really serious, but were I to waffle, we'd push the thought one step further. Of course, I gasp in horror and remind him that my family is here (which he well knows).
But honestly, we do love our small corner of the planet. We wish there weren't the mosquitoes -- this is true. But we cope and wiggle our way around them. Bugs are everywhere. We've had tremendous mosquito encounters in Canadian Rockies, in New York's Adirondacks, in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. And if it's not mosquitoes, then I'll find other reasons why one place is less perfect than another.
But forget the bugs. Look instead at what else this place has to offer each and every day: beauty, peace, seasonal change. And family nearby. Pretty close to ideal, don't you think?
So you'd think I'd turn this day on its belly and cavort left and right with the freedom that it offered! You'd think I would do something big -- explore the world, take Ed out on a breakfast date (hey, that would be very big!), or read a whole book, or write a whole book! Days with nothing scheduled are so rare -- use it well, use it creatively!
Well, okay, but first I must clip the garden (oh, that counting habit has really stuck: 450 spent lily blooms this morning).
So many colors in an August garden! Is there any color that's missing? Sure -- it's a rare flower bed that will have a true blue in the second half of summer.
You do have to be very careful when you snip spent blooms. For example, if you move fast and your head is covered with mosquito netting, you can very well miss this:
What, you're not seeing it? She blends well into the background, warts and all!
Okay, garden work done! Pots watered! (Yep, from wet weeks, we have moved to a dry week: pots don't like dry weeks.) Lilies cleared!
Breakfast? For the first time since I can remember, Ed is not hungry, not even for fruit. Too much pizza last night!
I'll keep you company -- he offers.
Well fine -- I may as well buck my own trend and eat something that is not oatmeal. It would be cool to have a bakery within spittin' distance, but the closest good croissant is 15 minutes away by car, so I reach for a bread product that is now two days old -- Snowdrop was to have it for snack but hey, it's now available! Heat it for a few secs in the oven, add tasty jam, and with eyes closed, you can pretend it's just baked.
From the porch, looking out... (This is why we linger for such a long time over breakfast!)
Ed has a scheduled lunch meeting and so now is my time to truly soar into new levels of solo adventuring!
Instead, I fill a bucket with soapy water, climb up on the porch roof and scrub the window panes clean.
It so happens that the pollen in the air really clings to glass and despite torrential downpours, our glass roof has a thin coating of plant dust. I'm sure no one would notice or care, but we know it's there and I really do love a sparkly clear glass roof. So I scrub.
On the upside, it takes a mosquito a very long time to discover that there is a human form way up high in the sky and so none reach me until the very end and by that time it's too late -- I've done my work. (In other words, I have a lovely hour working outside without bug interference.)
Too, and more importantly, I get an aerial view of my flower beds. For instance, here's a look at the Great Bed that borders the path to the sheep shed and barn.
This is the time to sing to yourself (not necessarily quietly -- on the roof, the world is yours)! Predictably, I stick with this beautiful old number:
Later, much later, Ed and I zip over to the farm up the road to pick up what will be our August staple:
It's incredible corn! Really, you cannot compare it to the stuff you buy elsewhere. And right now it is at its best -- young, tender and sweet.
The storms that were predicted for this evening moved elsewhere and so Ed is out biking (as is his habit on summer Wednesday evenings). And it strikes me that I ought to bike too! A short but intense loop! Up the scenic rural road, to check on how a favorite prairie is faring.
We live in a beautiful spot. We really do. Every once in a while, Ed asks -- do you want to move somewhere where there are no mosquitoes? He isn't really serious, but were I to waffle, we'd push the thought one step further. Of course, I gasp in horror and remind him that my family is here (which he well knows).
But honestly, we do love our small corner of the planet. We wish there weren't the mosquitoes -- this is true. But we cope and wiggle our way around them. Bugs are everywhere. We've had tremendous mosquito encounters in Canadian Rockies, in New York's Adirondacks, in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. And if it's not mosquitoes, then I'll find other reasons why one place is less perfect than another.
But forget the bugs. Look instead at what else this place has to offer each and every day: beauty, peace, seasonal change. And family nearby. Pretty close to ideal, don't you think?
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