A splendid sky, a warm breeze, an awakening landscape.
True, it is dry. We need rain. The forests, prairies, fields are parched and waiting for a good steady drizzle. It will come. For now, I am completely lost in the sunny beauty of the season.
It's the kind of day when you can't stop singing in your head.
...hill and vale and tree and flower...la la la, la la, la la, la la..
...brother, sister, parent, child...
And then we walk the farmette lands.
The construction of the development to our north has just begun. We want to look out at the trucks and diggers that are moving back and forth...
And we want to check up on our young orchard. So far so good! (The cheepers follow us everywhere!)
We just can't get enough of that whiff of greenery and the rich palate of color!
It is a spectacular afternoon! 80F (26C)! Who would not want to be outside?!
Snowdrop asks to pick a flower. I steer her toward some toppled daffodils (thanks, cheepers). She is so happy with her nipped bud! She brings together all farmhouse flowers -- real and not so real -- just to behold their enormous beauty.
Inside, it's as if she hasn't seen her toys for years instead of a mere week!
... but eventually she has to return home and Ed and I have to attend to our routines, only in reverse: put away the tomatoes, the cheepers, the chicks.
(Chasing down chickens who have just discovered the world is.... a challenge!)
After a supper of leftovers, Ed and I collapse into a solid recline. A beautiful day needs to be followed by a restful sleep! We are so ready for it.
True, it is dry. We need rain. The forests, prairies, fields are parched and waiting for a good steady drizzle. It will come. For now, I am completely lost in the sunny beauty of the season.
It's the kind of day when you can't stop singing in your head.
...hill and vale and tree and flower...la la la, la la, la la, la la..
...brother, sister, parent, child...
Breakfast on the porch! How grand it is to eat the morning meal outdoors once more!
We go about our morning routines. Chicks out, box cleaned, big cheepers fed, flowers and tomatoes taken outside. The tomatoes right now are Ed's job. They're doing well! All 96 of them!
And then we walk the farmette lands.
The construction of the development to our north has just begun. We want to look out at the trucks and diggers that are moving back and forth...
And we want to check up on our young orchard. So far so good! (The cheepers follow us everywhere!)
But all this is small stuff. We have a goal for this morning: to make my annual pilgrimage to the Flower Factory -- the perennial wonderland which happens to be a mere twleve minute drive from the farmette.
We take the circuitous country roads and this takes us right past a place that we rarely visit, because we see these people weekly at our local farmers market.
It's a small business (Natalie's Greenhouse) and it's run by two lovely people who grow their own everything! And right now, even though spring has just this week taken hold, their greenhouses are incredibly rich in color and beauty!
We take the circuitous country roads and this takes us right past a place that we rarely visit, because we see these people weekly at our local farmers market.
It's a small business (Natalie's Greenhouse) and it's run by two lovely people who grow their own everything! And right now, even though spring has just this week taken hold, their greenhouses are incredibly rich in color and beauty!
We just can't get enough of that whiff of greenery and the rich palate of color!
But it's only a stop over. The Flower Factory is our big time destination. Here is where my gardening habits really took hold!
There's little about this place that I don't know or love. It has grown and I have grown with it. The dozen greenhouses, the rows of potted plants inbetween -- they follow a master plan established decades ago. I know exactly where to find a false indigo, a siberian iris, a daylily with a pink blush.
Our constant flower bed expansions make it possible for me to introduce a few new plants each year. It takes me forever to decide what's best. I'm always surprised that Ed puts up with these long flower hunts. (These days, he brings along a book.)
Done! The fun of planting is still before me. It's best when I don't rush it: preparing the beds, tending to them in critical times during hot summer months -- that's all fine, but planting is uniquely special. This task of planting will fill most of May for me.
And suddenly, it's time to pick up Snowdrop!
Our constant flower bed expansions make it possible for me to introduce a few new plants each year. It takes me forever to decide what's best. I'm always surprised that Ed puts up with these long flower hunts. (These days, he brings along a book.)
Done! The fun of planting is still before me. It's best when I don't rush it: preparing the beds, tending to them in critical times during hot summer months -- that's all fine, but planting is uniquely special. This task of planting will fill most of May for me.
And suddenly, it's time to pick up Snowdrop!
Long time readers of Ocean may notice something different this season: she is no longer fiercely attached to her sweater!
She can't wait to come to the farmette and attend to her bug pies in the sand box!
She can't wait to come to the farmette and attend to her bug pies in the sand box!
It is a spectacular afternoon! 80F (26C)! Who would not want to be outside?!
Snowdrop asks to pick a flower. I steer her toward some toppled daffodils (thanks, cheepers). She is so happy with her nipped bud! She brings together all farmhouse flowers -- real and not so real -- just to behold their enormous beauty.
Inside, it's as if she hasn't seen her toys for years instead of a mere week!
... but eventually she has to return home and Ed and I have to attend to our routines, only in reverse: put away the tomatoes, the cheepers, the chicks.
(Chasing down chickens who have just discovered the world is.... a challenge!)
After a supper of leftovers, Ed and I collapse into a solid recline. A beautiful day needs to be followed by a restful sleep! We are so ready for it.
