Monday

You step out to feed the kitties, you look around and you can't believe how stunning it all is! You say to yourself -- I wish I had my camera with me! And of course, you're just three steps away from your home, so you have the following conversation with yourself:

Everything in life does not need to be photographed. Sometimes you just have to stand still and love the moment in its magnificence. No props needed.

Yes, but in February, I'll be longing for this day. I'll want to remember it. Look forward to it!

You have plenty of May photos. Why not go easy on the camera today?

Why not? Because it's all too beautiful! And fleeting. I see the first petals drifting toward the walkway.

You run in and return with the camera, reminding yourself that in May, you should never again step outside without it.











But breakfast is in the kitchen. It's a cool morning. A very cool morning.






Though if you tilt your head toward the porch door, you still get that heavenly view of lilac and crab apple in full bloom. What more could you possibly ask for!






(Well, you could ask the cheepers to quit using the blooming phlox patch as a comfy tromping platform!)






It's not a good day for outdoor work. But that's fine -- I'm caught up with the flower beds for now! What I need is to find a plant for the newly created rock bed by the front door. It's a shady spot. Not many flowers sprout blooms in shade.

I take Ed along with me to the local greenhouses. (On our way there, we stop at Walmart to restock on cat food: these guys eat like there's no tomorrow! We can't keep up!) Ed isn't by any means a "decorator." Still, whenever he chooses to insert himself into decorating decisions, he comes up with clever and always very cheap solutions. Like this one:






(A moment to admire the garden. Ed is very generous with his praise of my efforts here.)






One last small task: I had been keeping three small annuals to fill in spots where animals/weather/etc have done damage, be it in the beds or in the flower pots. But why wait for a disaster? I find three old pots in the garage and by morning's end, I have a new center piece for the picnic table.

Is that all right? -- I ask Ed.
So long as I can still put my junk up there when I need to -- he answers. No one has ever used the picnic table for a picnic. It's a place of work. A base for tools, spare parts, garden paraphernalia and two deer antlers that we found lying around.






When I pick up Snowdrop at school, there is a momentary break in the clouds. She asks for a walk to the coffee shop and neighboring playground. I hesitate. I mean, it's in the 50sF (lower teens C). But she is insistent.






(Oh those swings!)






At the farmhouse, she spots the watermelon in the mudroom. It is no longer Ed's post-bike ride watermelon. The girl loves it almost as much as she loves cherries.






Evening. I'm thinking how hard it is to juggle care for those who need your care. Take the cats, for instance. You want to do well by the mother cat. You want to give her peace and quiet to eat her foods, to not have to look around her shoulder to see if someone is ready to pounce. Then there are her energetic young ones: each one deserves time and attention. 

The kitties eat in and around the garage. We've taken to placing Stop Sign's feeding dish on the porch, to give her space and quiet. That's all fine and well, though it does mean that she gets to peek inside our home!





And so long as I'm on the subject of care for young ones, I should note that I'll be on the night bus to Chicago. Little Primrose is a bit under the weather. By morning, I should be with the little city girl. We'll see what's blooming in Chicago right now. If only it would stop storming/raining long enough for me to take a look around me, once there.