Crazy weather! Weather is not climate, of course, and climate is not weather but still, we live in a season that's swinging wildly. It's hot today! But luckily, it's not wet. We've had enough of wet stuff! All the rain has been an invitation to summer bugs. While working in the garden, I slapped my first mosquito today. In May! There used to be a time when we'd watch the mosquitoes make their grand entrance in time for the Fourth of July fireworks. A few years ago they surprised us by arriving in time for Summer Solstice (and my daughter's wedding). This year: May. Not even the bitter cold winter scared these guys away.
Well, it's never a big swarm at the beginning. After feeding Stop Sign and Dance...
... I continue picking out weeds and putting in the couple of replacement plants Ed and I picked up yesterday.
And breakfast most definitely and wonderfully is on the porch.
Ed, hurry up!
During our morning meal, I tell him that I have a list of things I want to accomplish in the next few days. I need his help.
Like what? he asks.
Mowing.
Okay, mowing. What else?
Not just your old mowing where half the grass is left tall. Careful mowing!
I'm listing tasks because on Thursday afternoon we're having a party of sorts. We expect some two dozen people -- local landowners, gardeners, environmental activists. It's not our guest list -- a friend asked us to host it and she is supplying the people. They all want to learn more about the project that's taking shape just across the road from us -- the Groundswell Conservancy has purchased (through donations) the fields of corn, with a plan to convert them into educational plots, for those seeking to rebuild their lives, perhaps through farming, even as they have few resources at their disposal.
We need to neaten the compost and really, I have a long list! The place can't look too funky...
But gorgeous, it's who we are.
Ed has me thinking about this for the rest of the morning: he is right, of course. We don't have order here. My flower fields were born out of chaos and I've added to them without careful planning. I keep an eye as to what should grow where, yes, of course. But we've never sought to create anything even close to tidy and perfect. We're always changing things around, trying to improve things gradually even as forces of nature push forward, threatening to overwhelm us.
And at a deeper level, we are a compilation of traits that are specific to us, our choices, our place on this earth. Everyone is, no? Ours happens to be a little hodge podgy and humble inside and at the moment -- flower heavy and unmowed around the edges outside. Do we really want to show ourselves to be different than who we are?
In the afternoon, I bring Snowdrop home. This is what she asks for when I come and she is having a very hard time shifting from an interrupted nap to real time: I want to go home. To her, on a school day afternoon, the farmhouse is home.
And she always, always regains her energies here. Bouncing back and engaging in play with joy and panache!
Toward the end of her visit, she steps out to spemnd a little time on the porch. She is, as always, tempted to pick a bloom or two. There is still the belief in her that if placed in water, that picked bloom will never die. Typically, I just tell her that I prefer to leave the flower on the plant, but today, I harness her enthusiasm for snipping off buds and tell her she should help me look for the spent ones. I make the mistake of calling them the stupid ones. "Look for the stupid ones!" For the rest of the afternoon, I hear -- look, Gogs! here's a stupid one! And here's a stupid one!
Kids, unfortunately, listen to grownups.
Tonight, my daughter is returning from a D.C. conference. When I bring Snowdrop home, her mom has just come in. We all spend a wonderful set of minutes on the deck.
Well, after the kids have gotten in their minutes of swinging. Sparrow tries to keep up with his sister, but I tell you, that girl likes to swing hard and high!
I return home. Our home.
A warm, beautiful day. We topped 84f (29c). Crazy weather, but for once, I don't think anyone was complaining!
Well, it's never a big swarm at the beginning. After feeding Stop Sign and Dance...
... I continue picking out weeds and putting in the couple of replacement plants Ed and I picked up yesterday.
And breakfast most definitely and wonderfully is on the porch.
Ed, hurry up!
During our morning meal, I tell him that I have a list of things I want to accomplish in the next few days. I need his help.
Like what? he asks.
Mowing.
Okay, mowing. What else?
Not just your old mowing where half the grass is left tall. Careful mowing!
I'm listing tasks because on Thursday afternoon we're having a party of sorts. We expect some two dozen people -- local landowners, gardeners, environmental activists. It's not our guest list -- a friend asked us to host it and she is supplying the people. They all want to learn more about the project that's taking shape just across the road from us -- the Groundswell Conservancy has purchased (through donations) the fields of corn, with a plan to convert them into educational plots, for those seeking to rebuild their lives, perhaps through farming, even as they have few resources at their disposal.
We need to neaten the compost and really, I have a long list! The place can't look too funky...
But gorgeous, it's who we are.
Ed has me thinking about this for the rest of the morning: he is right, of course. We don't have order here. My flower fields were born out of chaos and I've added to them without careful planning. I keep an eye as to what should grow where, yes, of course. But we've never sought to create anything even close to tidy and perfect. We're always changing things around, trying to improve things gradually even as forces of nature push forward, threatening to overwhelm us.
And at a deeper level, we are a compilation of traits that are specific to us, our choices, our place on this earth. Everyone is, no? Ours happens to be a little hodge podgy and humble inside and at the moment -- flower heavy and unmowed around the edges outside. Do we really want to show ourselves to be different than who we are?
In the afternoon, I bring Snowdrop home. This is what she asks for when I come and she is having a very hard time shifting from an interrupted nap to real time: I want to go home. To her, on a school day afternoon, the farmhouse is home.
And she always, always regains her energies here. Bouncing back and engaging in play with joy and panache!
Toward the end of her visit, she steps out to spemnd a little time on the porch. She is, as always, tempted to pick a bloom or two. There is still the belief in her that if placed in water, that picked bloom will never die. Typically, I just tell her that I prefer to leave the flower on the plant, but today, I harness her enthusiasm for snipping off buds and tell her she should help me look for the spent ones. I make the mistake of calling them the stupid ones. "Look for the stupid ones!" For the rest of the afternoon, I hear -- look, Gogs! here's a stupid one! And here's a stupid one!
Kids, unfortunately, listen to grownups.
Tonight, my daughter is returning from a D.C. conference. When I bring Snowdrop home, her mom has just come in. We all spend a wonderful set of minutes on the deck.
Well, after the kids have gotten in their minutes of swinging. Sparrow tries to keep up with his sister, but I tell you, that girl likes to swing hard and high!
I return home. Our home.
A warm, beautiful day. We topped 84f (29c). Crazy weather, but for once, I don't think anyone was complaining!
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