You could say that for Ed, absolutely every day is Earth Day. I'm sure he finds all this hoopla associated with a designated day demeaning to the real enterprise of protecting the environment. How will you benefited the planet if you pay attention to your deeds just this one day of the year? I feel differently: for me, Earth Day isn't a signal to give the planet a birthday present of kindness. It's a day to take a good look around, to notice all the small details, to exalt the beauty of our Earth! Then, like Ed, spend the next 364 days trying to do well by it, listening to the science of cause and effect, learning to live respectfully, with care and concern for the well being of animals and plants alike.
So, today we rejoice. And it is a very lovely day! Rejoicing isn't hard when you can once again open your windows wide and listen to the morning sounds of birds stirring.
(Jacket is on the picnic table, crab apple is full of baby leaves and flower buds, flowers are really growing fast now. What's there not to love!)
(The daffodil of the day)
(I throw down some stale bread for the cheepers. Dance thinks they should share. )
Sparrow is with us today. Happy guy, taking apart the little train that once belonged to Snowdrop.
Breakfast on the porch!
Afterwards, Sparrow and I walk the farmette lands. He is a little overwhelmed by it all. And the willow gently sways, and Ed takes a look at the construction crews that keep moving dirt, back and forth, every day, for the second year now, back and forth.
Inside again, playing with the truck toy that we typically leave on the porch, where it spontaneously bursts into a song that is as irritating as the worst TV commercial.
Every year I try to photograph the kids with the fresh burst of daffodil gold. Every year they resist. Sparrow puts up with it for one second. This is it. Now move on, gaga!
Afternoon. I pick up a sleepy Snowdrop. She really really wants to go to the coffee shop then the playground. Really. Well why not. We're to get rain later, but right now it's partly sunny and 77F (25C).
We don't stay too long. She's anxious to get to the farmhouse. Hungry for snacks, for a new book. Still, on our way in, she sees Ed about to go out. Well that does it: if he's going out, then she wants to go out too. With bubbles!
Two children.
In love with the beauty of soapy bubbles.
(This is the only daffodil pic I get out of my time with Snowdrop. The girl accepts my camera, so long as she can go about her business. She does not like to be told where to go or what to do for a picture, so I do not make such demands.)
(Sometimes, I can't tell if I'm photographing a grandchild, or Ed, or spring, or the farmette lands, or a combination of the above.)
(Here, it's the grandchild, for sure!)
For Snowdrop, playing with the hose ranks up there with ice cream and cake and pretty much anything else you can think of..
The farmhouse Easter bunny enabled Mary Poppins to "magically" appear. Snowdrop is significantly obsessed with Mary Poppins at the moment. Her stories spin around the nanny who can whip anything into order, snip snop.
And now it's evening and storms are rumbling all around us. Stop Sign, farmette's feral cat, had come around just before the first pounding of rain. Her tummy was smaller and sagging. She had delivered her babies somewhere. She ate ravenously, then slowly moved on to her secret safe place, out there beneath the pouty skies.
Today my eyes feasted on all that spring has delivered here at the farmette thus far. Tomorrow, I'll return to tending the gardens.
So, today we rejoice. And it is a very lovely day! Rejoicing isn't hard when you can once again open your windows wide and listen to the morning sounds of birds stirring.
(Jacket is on the picnic table, crab apple is full of baby leaves and flower buds, flowers are really growing fast now. What's there not to love!)
(The daffodil of the day)
(I throw down some stale bread for the cheepers. Dance thinks they should share. )
Sparrow is with us today. Happy guy, taking apart the little train that once belonged to Snowdrop.
Breakfast on the porch!
Afterwards, Sparrow and I walk the farmette lands. He is a little overwhelmed by it all. And the willow gently sways, and Ed takes a look at the construction crews that keep moving dirt, back and forth, every day, for the second year now, back and forth.
Inside again, playing with the truck toy that we typically leave on the porch, where it spontaneously bursts into a song that is as irritating as the worst TV commercial.
Every year I try to photograph the kids with the fresh burst of daffodil gold. Every year they resist. Sparrow puts up with it for one second. This is it. Now move on, gaga!
Afternoon. I pick up a sleepy Snowdrop. She really really wants to go to the coffee shop then the playground. Really. Well why not. We're to get rain later, but right now it's partly sunny and 77F (25C).
We don't stay too long. She's anxious to get to the farmhouse. Hungry for snacks, for a new book. Still, on our way in, she sees Ed about to go out. Well that does it: if he's going out, then she wants to go out too. With bubbles!
Two children.
In love with the beauty of soapy bubbles.
(This is the only daffodil pic I get out of my time with Snowdrop. The girl accepts my camera, so long as she can go about her business. She does not like to be told where to go or what to do for a picture, so I do not make such demands.)
(Sometimes, I can't tell if I'm photographing a grandchild, or Ed, or spring, or the farmette lands, or a combination of the above.)
(Here, it's the grandchild, for sure!)
For Snowdrop, playing with the hose ranks up there with ice cream and cake and pretty much anything else you can think of..
The farmhouse Easter bunny enabled Mary Poppins to "magically" appear. Snowdrop is significantly obsessed with Mary Poppins at the moment. Her stories spin around the nanny who can whip anything into order, snip snop.
And now it's evening and storms are rumbling all around us. Stop Sign, farmette's feral cat, had come around just before the first pounding of rain. Her tummy was smaller and sagging. She had delivered her babies somewhere. She ate ravenously, then slowly moved on to her secret safe place, out there beneath the pouty skies.
Today my eyes feasted on all that spring has delivered here at the farmette thus far. Tomorrow, I'll return to tending the gardens.
