Wednesday, August 15, 2018

path well traveled

There are many ways to get to know a person and a place. Observe, listen, watch, read -- all good means to that end.

Most of you know me only because I blog. But since I write daily, whether I'm peppy or morose, meditative, or bummed and punchy, or just plain tired, if you pop in on a regular basis, you'll have yourself a mountain of words and images.

When I am in a hurry (and name me one day this summer when I haven't been in a hurry), I tend to favor taking the predictable picture. I know what is loveliest in my garden (at least to my eye). I go there. I photograph it, always with a sigh of pleasure at having had a chance to pin it down, to put something into the camera that I can look at (and work on) later.

(the big bed in late summer: green and lush)

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And so you get to see the farmette most often at her best. But of course, for me, she always has a grand side showing. The way I present the farmhouse and gardens here is the way I see them myself. These are the images that I carry with me.

Sometimes predictable...

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Sometimes a little less so....

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I suppose breakfast is always predictable! I take no chances -- I take it where I know beauty abounds.

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When I asked my Mom where I could take her this morning (there are still big box items that we need to purchase for her new apartment), she did mention one store, but she also asked if she could see the farmette gardens. She is feeling strong enough for such an adventure (the farmette holds many navigational challenges for an older person).

I tell her that the garden is past its prime, but still, it is beautiful in a wild and crazy sort of way.

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She looks at it from the perspective of her great grandchildren. And she understands the enchantment. Because really, the farmette is very enchanting.

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I do have to smile when she says of both the garden and the inside of the farmhouse -- it's just like in your blog!

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So, if you are a reader who has never been here and is not likely to ever visit, know that it looks and feels pretty much just as it appears here.

(Path from the barn to the farmhouse -- a bit wild now, but it surely is a path well traveled...)

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In the meantime, the sailors are skirting storms and navigating locks. They will be making a big turn and by tomorrow, the bow of the boat will be pointed in the direction of their final destination. Estimated Time of Arrival? You can never ask. Because they can never say.

In the afternoon, Snowdrop comes to the farmhouse.

Sweet, sweet child: she'd been working through the challenges of life in her head the past few days, but today it looks like she reached some resolution. She is her usual happy, playful, incredibly imaginative self.

We play (among countless other games) flower shop.

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I buy them all. She asks me to pay with a credit card. In the alternative, I can use my pennies. She likes their color -- under a certain light, you can even recognize a pink sheen to them.

Evening. Calm, still, as if waiting for the big moment when summer turns to fall.