numbers

Yesterday, during the drive from school to farmhouse, Snowdrop informed me -- when I turn sixteen, I can drive! She is four and a half, so it's a safe number of years away, but to her, it appears to be really soon. In some ways, she feels herself already to be "practically grown up."

I wish I had pictures of her mom at this age, but all the photo albums that I so laboriously put together as the kids were growing up are over with her father in Chicago. It's not his fault -- we agreed to store them there for a while and then the while become many years and perhaps forever. But I do have a few random photos from those now distant years and I looked through them today, searching for one when my older girl was about Snowdrop's age. This one is close enough: my daughter is just four and my younger daughter is a half a year old and they are sitting in front of my very first attempt at a flower bed. Oh, how things have grown and moved forward!







Everyone says Snowdrop looks just like her mom did then. I give the picture to Ed who says -- yes, and Sparrow looks like the little baby! People have a funny take on these things.

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It's a stunning day today! Utterly gorgeous! (There, I've used both Snowdrop's favorite complimentary term -- "stunning!"  and Ed's "gorgeous!")  The morning is cool and bug free. If you don't long to work outside on days like this, then at heart, you're not really a gardener. Or at least not one who loves to get her hands dirty in soil and flower juices. (My palms look like those of a purple grape harvester when I'm done with snipping spent lilies.) Because I have had house guests and because the bugs had been fierce, I had done only superficial work out there the last handful of days. Today, I set out to correct the omissions. For one thing, I snip millions of spent flower heads. Perhaps several million! It takes me nearly three hours to get the garden in good shape.






"Good shape" these days does not mean perfect shape. In August (and it is August),  you begin to back off. Your expectations are different. Your plants aren't toddlers, or even children. They're more like middle aged specimens, with any number of age related infirmities! You help them look their best, realizing that for the most part, they've done their work for you. Many are inching awfully close to retirement, even as some are refusing to even think about it!












(cheepers, following my every move...)












(one of the many flowers that bees love...)





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Breakfast. Today, I could linger over this meal for a very long time.





So why don't I?  After all, I would easily hand over a couple of hours to a restaurant meal. Why not to the porch?  This is the problem with being home: you always, always find things that require immediate attention.

Eventually Ed does coax me into some play: we spend a wonderful hour throwing frisbees at the disc golf course.


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In the early afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop. She is full of stories and art work!






At home, we build with legos. And get ready for her mom's birthday celebration!






Hey, look who's here!






I asked Ed to take a photo of my daughter, with me in it. But then the numbers grew. As in life: the family grew!





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We eat dinner at Forequarter. I don't take many photos. It's as if on the most special occasions, the camera is in the way...






Well, there's one that's a must: my girl and her two children. Time, marked by an added generation of young ones.





Happy birthday indeed...


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At the farmette, the evening light receded earlier now. August. Crisp, a little dry, still so very beautiful.