Thursday

You know how sometimes you look forward to a splendid, sunny day and then suddenly, out of nowhere, clouds show up and your parade is rained out? Well, you could say that this morning was the opposite of that disappointment. We expected rain. All week, we heard about the storms and rains that would come on Thursday. Ed was asked to attend a work meeting. When he hesitated, I said -- might as well go. You can't do much farmette work. It's going to rain. And so he went.

I had some early morning appointments as well and so we agreed not to eat breakfast together. It was all just too damn early. I fed the cats, admired the flowers and then we both took off.

 (what's blooming here right now? well, daffodils of course...






... but along the brick path to our door, we have other stuff...






... including the splendid Merrybells (Uvularia) -- a reliable and undervalued early spring bloomer, though you have to stoop low to see its pretty butter-yellow face.)






When I return to the farmette, I am surprised to see blue skies. No trace of clouds at all!

I linger over a solo breakfast on the porch...






... and then set to work outside. Not filling the rest of the pots: the remaining trays of annuals will have to wait.





Why? Well, unfortunately, the predictions for this weekend are dire. The new forecast tells us that there'll be no small benign frost, but instead -- a deep freeze. We will have to move pots in and cover those that re so brittle that they cannot be budged. It will be a tough weekend for the Wisconsin gardener!

I turn my attention to the more distant flower beds that more often than not get neglected. We're going to try throwing down some wildflower seeds that have a fast germination rate. Maybe they'll outcompete the weeds that usually settle in for the summer. So I weed the entire field. That's a lot of weeds! Too, I plant sweet peas -- both the eating kind and the ornamental flowers. This is typically a futile enterprise. Farmette animals (groundhogs, rabbits, etc) love pea plants and always eat everything that sprouts. Still, I never give up.

I work until it is time to pick up Snowdrop.

A funny thing happens on the way to her school: I'm thinking she'd like time at the playground on this warm April day. I check the weather: no rain expected until evening. Still, just in case, I leave the car near the playground, then walk to her school. This way, if we're caught in the rain while playing, we'll be able to quickly seek shelter in the car.

And now I have the flipside of the morning: this time, a promise of good weather turns sour. As I get ready to leave the school with the little one, I see sheets of rain coming down. We have no choice but to head out in the rain, all the way to the playground, some ten minutes away. Of course, we forego the playing outside. We hightail it over to the coffee shop instead.







It's still raining by the time we return to the farmette. She hurries inside...






Happy as anything now to hit a big stack of current favorite books...






... then retreating to a quiet game of Mary Poppins.


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You just never know what an April day will deliver. There is a unique morsel of beauty in that unexpected surprise. I hope Snowdrop recognizes it as we drag ourselves indoors, wet and rather disheveled. We're brave adventurers! -- I tell her. She looks at me skeptically, but I detect a wisp of a smile.