For me, these days, right now in mid May, truly offer up the most ravishing, absolutely bewitching moments outside. It really cannot be finer than now.
Of course, the farmette flowers haven't yet plunged into their period of bloom, but it hardly matters. We have beautiful weather, exquisite colors everywhere, subtle greens, swelling buds, sweet sweet whiffs of fragrance, and we have time: Ed and I have time to take it all in.
A comment on today's photos: I admit to there being quite a bit of Snowdrop. And yes, she's a sweet child and my most wondrous granddaughter, but beyond that, she, like all children, shows off best the mood of the outdoors now. I take a photo of a meadow and it's nice, sure, even pretty if I get it right. Place a child in the tall grass and you understand immediately the beauty of a walk through that lush field of dandelions and violets. You feel the breezes. You see the curiosity in her eyes and it becomes your curiosity too.
My first walks this morning though are solo walks.
That lilac! It dominates the landscape now.
... as the crab girls continue to shed their pretty petals.
Ed and I eat out on the porch. And again, it is a very long breakfast.
We did well here -- he says, looking out.
I smile at that. We've gone through so many projects, so many mistakes, so many new ideas, but ultimately, we love what we have created all around us: it's a little crazy, a little unkempt, a little excessive and a lot beautiful.
(Just by the porch, the white narcissus continues to put out a round of flowers.)
After breakfast, I clean up the daylily bed (where the daffodils are now blooming). I want so much to remove the last few rows of tiger lilies, but Ed is devoted to keeping them there. They don't fit, they are quite ordinary, they spread voraciously (they don't call them ditch lilies for nothing), but they somehow have become familiar to him and he associates them with that corner of the farmhouse.
Plant your extra day lilies somewhere else -- he suggests, hoping that I'll give up on wanting to ditch the orange spotted tigers.
You wont trim the trees and so we actually do not have that much sunny space within view of the porch.
What if you enlarge the bed by the big crab?
I agree to that and spend the rest of the morning preparing a space for the last of the plants that I'll be putting in this weekend.
And now it's time to drive over and pick up Snowdrop. (This is the view toward the crabs from where we park our cars.)
I ask her if she wants to ride the stroller or walk and for the first time since school started for her last August, she chooses to walk the whole time.
It does make for a longer adventure. The little one has to explore, to pick the dandelions...
... to show off her puffing skills.
Too, we spend a lot of time identifying flowers. She knows them all by now and I sincerely believe she loves them almost as much as I do.
The swing: of course, there must be the swing in the park by the lesser lake.
It's hard to lure her away. A snack will do it!
Sit here, right next to me, gaga!
And then we are back at the farmette. She already announced in the car that she is going straight to the sandbox. She does exactly that. (Meanwhile Scotch wonders what all the fuss is about. Sand? Weird stuff. What's the attraction??)
I don't know, you should ask Snowdrop.
I worried that all our outdoor time would be spent making stuff out of sand, but this turns out not to be the case. After a while, Snowdrop is ready to explore. She picks her own path (and her own dandelions). The cheepers always follow us...
For once I'm glad Ed isn't a spectacular mower. Bits of meadowland are delightful at this time of year.
As we walk to the eastern edge of the farmette, I point to her the truck farmers working the land, planting vegetables.
She puts it together right away. They take it to the market! -- she tells me emphatically.
Yes they do.
We walk through what is one of my favorite farmette spaces -- between tall white pines that someday may offer her terrific climbing opportunities. Today, she is the explorer and I am her partner in crime.
And the cheepers are her faithful followers.
I remember times when Snowdrop felt a little uneasy up high on Ed's shoulders. Not any more. She asks quite often -- ahah, can I ride on top?
He never says no. Ah, the world must be especially fragrant and lovely from way up there today!
Evening. We don't slow down just yet. When Snowdrop leaves, Ed and I drive to the local farmers market (first time this season!) and then we continue on to visit two women who sell plants out of their back yards (we stop by their place every year). I buy something: a baby peony that many would call a tree (it's really an "itoh"), if only because its habit is quite different from that of the conventional herbaceous peony. I have great hopes for it as an entrance anchor into our beloved courtyard, where so much of farmette life takes place. Yes, it will take years to establish itself. Have I grown this patient in life? Perhaps.
Thai take out for supper and then we're outside again, working on our outdoor projects until it is so dark that I can't see the end of the shovel, let alone what it is that I'm digging.
We retreat indoors then. I sit down to my favorite wine. Ed and I talk about how sometimes in life, you discover your passions and talents when you're no longer young. I think about this for the rest of the evening. Has my palate grown? Have I shifted and side stepped? Maybe. Restless people never stay in one place. Ever.
Such a beautiful day! Such a gorgeous night!
Of course, the farmette flowers haven't yet plunged into their period of bloom, but it hardly matters. We have beautiful weather, exquisite colors everywhere, subtle greens, swelling buds, sweet sweet whiffs of fragrance, and we have time: Ed and I have time to take it all in.
A comment on today's photos: I admit to there being quite a bit of Snowdrop. And yes, she's a sweet child and my most wondrous granddaughter, but beyond that, she, like all children, shows off best the mood of the outdoors now. I take a photo of a meadow and it's nice, sure, even pretty if I get it right. Place a child in the tall grass and you understand immediately the beauty of a walk through that lush field of dandelions and violets. You feel the breezes. You see the curiosity in her eyes and it becomes your curiosity too.
My first walks this morning though are solo walks.
That lilac! It dominates the landscape now.
... as the crab girls continue to shed their pretty petals.
Ed and I eat out on the porch. And again, it is a very long breakfast.
We did well here -- he says, looking out.
I smile at that. We've gone through so many projects, so many mistakes, so many new ideas, but ultimately, we love what we have created all around us: it's a little crazy, a little unkempt, a little excessive and a lot beautiful.
(Just by the porch, the white narcissus continues to put out a round of flowers.)
After breakfast, I clean up the daylily bed (where the daffodils are now blooming). I want so much to remove the last few rows of tiger lilies, but Ed is devoted to keeping them there. They don't fit, they are quite ordinary, they spread voraciously (they don't call them ditch lilies for nothing), but they somehow have become familiar to him and he associates them with that corner of the farmhouse.
Plant your extra day lilies somewhere else -- he suggests, hoping that I'll give up on wanting to ditch the orange spotted tigers.
You wont trim the trees and so we actually do not have that much sunny space within view of the porch.
What if you enlarge the bed by the big crab?
I agree to that and spend the rest of the morning preparing a space for the last of the plants that I'll be putting in this weekend.
And now it's time to drive over and pick up Snowdrop. (This is the view toward the crabs from where we park our cars.)
I ask her if she wants to ride the stroller or walk and for the first time since school started for her last August, she chooses to walk the whole time.
It does make for a longer adventure. The little one has to explore, to pick the dandelions...
... to show off her puffing skills.
Too, we spend a lot of time identifying flowers. She knows them all by now and I sincerely believe she loves them almost as much as I do.
The swing: of course, there must be the swing in the park by the lesser lake.
It's hard to lure her away. A snack will do it!
Sit here, right next to me, gaga!
And then we are back at the farmette. She already announced in the car that she is going straight to the sandbox. She does exactly that. (Meanwhile Scotch wonders what all the fuss is about. Sand? Weird stuff. What's the attraction??)
I don't know, you should ask Snowdrop.
I worried that all our outdoor time would be spent making stuff out of sand, but this turns out not to be the case. After a while, Snowdrop is ready to explore. She picks her own path (and her own dandelions). The cheepers always follow us...
For once I'm glad Ed isn't a spectacular mower. Bits of meadowland are delightful at this time of year.
As we walk to the eastern edge of the farmette, I point to her the truck farmers working the land, planting vegetables.
She puts it together right away. They take it to the market! -- she tells me emphatically.
Yes they do.
We walk through what is one of my favorite farmette spaces -- between tall white pines that someday may offer her terrific climbing opportunities. Today, she is the explorer and I am her partner in crime.
And the cheepers are her faithful followers.
I remember times when Snowdrop felt a little uneasy up high on Ed's shoulders. Not any more. She asks quite often -- ahah, can I ride on top?
He never says no. Ah, the world must be especially fragrant and lovely from way up there today!
Evening. We don't slow down just yet. When Snowdrop leaves, Ed and I drive to the local farmers market (first time this season!) and then we continue on to visit two women who sell plants out of their back yards (we stop by their place every year). I buy something: a baby peony that many would call a tree (it's really an "itoh"), if only because its habit is quite different from that of the conventional herbaceous peony. I have great hopes for it as an entrance anchor into our beloved courtyard, where so much of farmette life takes place. Yes, it will take years to establish itself. Have I grown this patient in life? Perhaps.
Thai take out for supper and then we're outside again, working on our outdoor projects until it is so dark that I can't see the end of the shovel, let alone what it is that I'm digging.
We retreat indoors then. I sit down to my favorite wine. Ed and I talk about how sometimes in life, you discover your passions and talents when you're no longer young. I think about this for the rest of the evening. Has my palate grown? Have I shifted and side stepped? Maybe. Restless people never stay in one place. Ever.
Such a beautiful day! Such a gorgeous night!
