As is often the case on a busy day, I'll allow myself to step back and let the camera do the story telling.
It's a breathtakingly beautiful day. Cool, sunny, lovely.
July habits are strong and enduring. I begin the day with work in the flower beds.
(looking out toward the writer's shed)
465 spent lily blooms clipped and tossed. What remains is all that outrageous beauty that a tended garden offers.
The cheepers are close at my feet until I acquiesce and retreat to the barn to feed them.
(Cupcake wants to know why Stop Sign gets fed right away, while she and the other girls have to wait. Life is unfair, young girl. It's just plain unfair.)
I love all my flowers, of course, but the flower bed by the porch is the one I've worked on the longest: it has the greatest complexity and it's the one that I study all the time, from every angle, every side.
Breakfast.
Breakfast view.
And in the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop.
We come to the farmette, but again she wants to play outside. Yep, frisbees.
She wants more players. Ahah, will you come and play frisbee with us?
She sees his bare feet and tosses her own shoes aside. The cheepers are convinced they will soon get a treat. They hover. We try to ignore them.
She jumps...
Somewhere in that hour of outdoor play, Snowdrop gets a bug bite in her lower lip. I'm guessing a horsefly, though I did not see it nor hear it. Her lip swells to some great proportions. She insists on a bandaid. Well why not.
We prepare snacks for my guests who are about to arrive. Snowdrop devours half of them: cured meats, cheeses, olives -- she eats them by the handful.
My daughter arrives with her two good friends who are visiting right now. Sparrow and his dad are here, too, but I put down my camera after this shot.
Sometimes, you just have to let go of picture taking and listen. Young people almost always have clever and funny things to say about... really pretty much anything.
Evening. The light now is best in the back of the Big Bed. So full, so delicate and infinitely lovely.