Monday of Thanksgiving week

The important thing to note is that this is the last of the warm-ish dry days. The last chance for us to work outside. Sow the meadow wildflowers? It's now or wait until spring.

Thanksgiving preparations will have to wait.

Before I can plant, Ed has to mow down the maple leaves out front. And so we set to work.






The cats watch. (Can you tell these triplets apart? We cannot!)






The cheepers come out.






(Breakfast break)






I have buckets of seeds and, too, I have a whole pail of pods from our own gardens.





All this has to be dispersed. It doesn't take long. Millions of seeds: an hour later, I'm done.

I'm not sure any of this will lead to any abundance of meadow flowers. We don't prep the soil nearly enough. That job would overwhelm us. Still, there is a spark of hope that some flowers will make an appearance next spring or summer. Sowing is an act of hope.


In the afternoon, of course, I play with Sparrow and Snowdrop.

(Doesn't he look like a guy coming home from work?)






We go to pick up Snowdrop. In her class, he is at once shy and insecure and daring and bold.






At the farmette, we cycle through the usual. A few secs of outdoor play...






Many, many minutes of reading (with a corn on the cob snack)...





And then whatever else strikes their fancy.


By evening, I realize I haven't done a blessed thing today to prepare for Thanksgiving. You better wish me demonic speed for the days ahead!