It is tough to think small thoughts about pretty flowers when the news turns your stomach, but one must try. This is the time to remind yourself of some of your imperatives (to lead a kind, compassionate life that builds on all the beauty that this planet has to offer, to remain calm and positive, because if you are, then others around you are likely to remain that way too). And so once more, this morning, I turn my attention to the farmette's fields of flowers.
I snip off only 490 lily heads. That's less than half than a week or so ago. And so it is time now to stop counting and to look at the garden in a new way. I demand less of it and still, I am richly rewarded, because the fact is that with age, it all looks so very sweet and gentle.
It doesn't fire you up like, say at its peak. It soothes your soul and reminds you that the passage of time doesn't have to be your foe.
Breakfast. Late, because after I work outside for about an hour, I go back to bed and drift in and out of sleep for a good while longer. I never do that! But today, it seemed like a fine idea.
Afterwards, Ed nudges me to get on my bike. Since we have an errand to run -- picking up corn at Stoneman's farms -- we bike over there. It's a 14 minute ride each way, for the best, freshly harvested that morning, sweet corn.
Perhaps you recall from previous posts -- they keep goats there in the summer. For the children who come here... Or, for any goat loving people. Like us, the goatless duo.
Here's a reason to be happy about not having goats: they do eat... everything. My dress, for example.
Here's a reason to be wistful: they are affectionate.
Evening: the young family comes for dinner. They'd spent the afternoon swimming, so both kids are tired...
... and hungry.
Nothing that a rest, a pitchfork, and good snuggle couldn't cure!
Dinner sillies: is it okay to show feet for the photo?
Snowdrop, on her third ear of corn!
Out with Ed to feed the chickens and cats...
Much later, Ed and I walk the farmette lands. The sky is exquisite. You can see the faint blur of a bat against the very pink clouds.
A summer day. Like it should be. For everyone.
I snip off only 490 lily heads. That's less than half than a week or so ago. And so it is time now to stop counting and to look at the garden in a new way. I demand less of it and still, I am richly rewarded, because the fact is that with age, it all looks so very sweet and gentle.
It doesn't fire you up like, say at its peak. It soothes your soul and reminds you that the passage of time doesn't have to be your foe.
Breakfast. Late, because after I work outside for about an hour, I go back to bed and drift in and out of sleep for a good while longer. I never do that! But today, it seemed like a fine idea.
Afterwards, Ed nudges me to get on my bike. Since we have an errand to run -- picking up corn at Stoneman's farms -- we bike over there. It's a 14 minute ride each way, for the best, freshly harvested that morning, sweet corn.
Perhaps you recall from previous posts -- they keep goats there in the summer. For the children who come here... Or, for any goat loving people. Like us, the goatless duo.
Here's a reason to be happy about not having goats: they do eat... everything. My dress, for example.
Here's a reason to be wistful: they are affectionate.
Evening: the young family comes for dinner. They'd spent the afternoon swimming, so both kids are tired...
... and hungry.
Nothing that a rest, a pitchfork, and good snuggle couldn't cure!
Dinner sillies: is it okay to show feet for the photo?
Snowdrop, on her third ear of corn!
Out with Ed to feed the chickens and cats...
Much later, Ed and I walk the farmette lands. The sky is exquisite. You can see the faint blur of a bat against the very pink clouds.
A summer day. Like it should be. For everyone.
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