Keeping up with the garden will be this month's big challenge. There's Snowdrop, there are family visits coming up, and there's a busy-with-his-machine-work Ed. All those additional layers are, of course, quite wonderful and the yard trumps none of them. Still, the season does not wait for you and good weather days require careful planning.
Ed marvels at my ability to do a little of everything and to flit from one task to the next. He has lists (mostly in his head) and he proceeds methodically, checking off completed items. Sometimes he'll pause with one thing to pitch in and help with a project, but the confusion of ten projects all tripping over each other is not something that he likes nor understands.
Perhaps in this way we make a great team! I keep track of the entirety, he concentrates on doing any single job well (insofar as he gets around to it!).
All this to say that I am in a spring rush. And I am in a Friday rush. And a preholiday rush. Basically, I am not going at a slow pace.
Except at breakfast. Things always move slowly at breakfast time.
Eventually I made my way to Snowdrop's home. My mere arrival leads her to run and put her shoes on. Yep, even on days without school, she associates my coming with an invitation to go out adventuring.
(Our "adventuring" time includes a visit to the playground and beach by the lesser lake...
... and a visit to the coffee shop where, I swear, she has found a new and comfortable way to wait for me to show up with whatever treat I may have purchased.)
She is excited to come then to the farmette. Hey, I am excited as well. I can't wait to show her the flowers we purchased yesterday evening -- all ready and waiting for me! Snowdrop is tickled with the new possibilities of putting her watering can to good use.
I show her the tips of emerging asparagus. They're purple! -- she exclaims. Yes, some of them are that. I promise her we'll be picking them in a few days.
Meanwhile, the daffodils keep multiplying and blossoming...
The cheepers hover. They always hover. They have concluded that more often than not one of us has something in hand for them. Snowdrop's palm is very low to the ground and they eye it with great hope. Cheepers live by a huge amount of hope. (And Snowdrop is ever hopeful as well -- that some day she'll be able to give the girls a long, affectionate pat.)
Don't even think about Henny, Snowdrop. She gives great eggs and she is very beautiful, but she has to be the most skittish hen ever!
In the farmhouse, we're on our own today, as Ed is off at his various meetings. Snowdrop, somewhat reliably, returns to her character play -- a new favorite is placing the "snowdrop" figure on the motorcycle.
... and taking her two dolls -- Rosie and Baby -- grocery shopping.
A light shower passes over the farmette toward evening. That's a good thing, of course. Keeps the soil moist, keeps the roots happy. And, too, it gives me a chance to take a wee cup outside on the porch, to look out at the changing landscape, not necessarily to spin about what to do next, but just to enjoy what's there now.
Ed marvels at my ability to do a little of everything and to flit from one task to the next. He has lists (mostly in his head) and he proceeds methodically, checking off completed items. Sometimes he'll pause with one thing to pitch in and help with a project, but the confusion of ten projects all tripping over each other is not something that he likes nor understands.
Perhaps in this way we make a great team! I keep track of the entirety, he concentrates on doing any single job well (insofar as he gets around to it!).
All this to say that I am in a spring rush. And I am in a Friday rush. And a preholiday rush. Basically, I am not going at a slow pace.
Except at breakfast. Things always move slowly at breakfast time.
Eventually I made my way to Snowdrop's home. My mere arrival leads her to run and put her shoes on. Yep, even on days without school, she associates my coming with an invitation to go out adventuring.
(Our "adventuring" time includes a visit to the playground and beach by the lesser lake...
... and a visit to the coffee shop where, I swear, she has found a new and comfortable way to wait for me to show up with whatever treat I may have purchased.)
She is excited to come then to the farmette. Hey, I am excited as well. I can't wait to show her the flowers we purchased yesterday evening -- all ready and waiting for me! Snowdrop is tickled with the new possibilities of putting her watering can to good use.
I show her the tips of emerging asparagus. They're purple! -- she exclaims. Yes, some of them are that. I promise her we'll be picking them in a few days.
Meanwhile, the daffodils keep multiplying and blossoming...
The cheepers hover. They always hover. They have concluded that more often than not one of us has something in hand for them. Snowdrop's palm is very low to the ground and they eye it with great hope. Cheepers live by a huge amount of hope. (And Snowdrop is ever hopeful as well -- that some day she'll be able to give the girls a long, affectionate pat.)
Don't even think about Henny, Snowdrop. She gives great eggs and she is very beautiful, but she has to be the most skittish hen ever!
In the farmhouse, we're on our own today, as Ed is off at his various meetings. Snowdrop, somewhat reliably, returns to her character play -- a new favorite is placing the "snowdrop" figure on the motorcycle.
... and taking her two dolls -- Rosie and Baby -- grocery shopping.
A light shower passes over the farmette toward evening. That's a good thing, of course. Keeps the soil moist, keeps the roots happy. And, too, it gives me a chance to take a wee cup outside on the porch, to look out at the changing landscape, not necessarily to spin about what to do next, but just to enjoy what's there now.
