I got a message from Aggie, the asparagus farmer who comes to our local farmers market each Thursday. The market starts its season today, but she wont be there. It's been too chilly -- she writes. There is no asparagus.
We weren't supposed to get a day of rain, but we got one anyway. The kittens came around asking for food...
... and I have to juggle their demands with the arrival of their mother who is feeding another litter of young ones who knows where. She is not on great terms with her two winter kittens (she hisses at them when they come near, curious to see what she is eating). Possibly she is protecting the next generation. Or, she knows they are more limber than she is. Or, cats grow out of love over time.
Breakfast.
I have a list of outdoor projects to attend to, but I do very little. I wait for the rain to stop. And wait.
And wait.
Okay. The drizzle is almost imperceptible. Ed, let's go to the Flower Factory. I need some calamintha plants and I'm afraid they'll sell out.
I'm not really afraid they'll sell out. I'm sure their traffic is low right now. You don't think about planting when it's drizzly and just 50f (10c) outside. But staying home and waiting for the weather to improve is like standing in the path of a glacier and waiting for it to melt. It's not gonna happen before your eyes. So we head out.
Predictably, there aren't many people shopping for perennials today. In all the decades I've been coming here, it's never been so cold and, well, as the weatherperson described it on our local station -- gloomy. We have had a week of gloomy weather.
Still, walking through the greenhouse, it's easy to get inspired. The weather will change. The flowers will keep on growing.
We pull our wagon of plants to the checkout hut. Thank you for coming today. Just don't plant these immediately. The soil should dry out a little.
Yes, we should all dry out a little.
I pick up a Snowdrop who is deeply asleep at her going home time. The girl who hasn't napped at home for years has been dozing off daily in school in recent months. And that's a good thing, even as she is a tough one to get moving after a nap.
At the farmhouse, a snack and a book revive her. She is full of play!
(She is at work in a store full of blankets. Can I buy one? They're not for sale, gaga.)
In the last half hour, I read her a book that she'd resisted for a while now. And of course she loves it.
Totally. From its plot, she spins her own story.
In the evening, the drizzle stops. You can see a distant break in the clouds. The air is fresh, wiped clean, ready for a fresh start.
We weren't supposed to get a day of rain, but we got one anyway. The kittens came around asking for food...
... and I have to juggle their demands with the arrival of their mother who is feeding another litter of young ones who knows where. She is not on great terms with her two winter kittens (she hisses at them when they come near, curious to see what she is eating). Possibly she is protecting the next generation. Or, she knows they are more limber than she is. Or, cats grow out of love over time.
Breakfast.
I have a list of outdoor projects to attend to, but I do very little. I wait for the rain to stop. And wait.
And wait.
Okay. The drizzle is almost imperceptible. Ed, let's go to the Flower Factory. I need some calamintha plants and I'm afraid they'll sell out.
I'm not really afraid they'll sell out. I'm sure their traffic is low right now. You don't think about planting when it's drizzly and just 50f (10c) outside. But staying home and waiting for the weather to improve is like standing in the path of a glacier and waiting for it to melt. It's not gonna happen before your eyes. So we head out.
Predictably, there aren't many people shopping for perennials today. In all the decades I've been coming here, it's never been so cold and, well, as the weatherperson described it on our local station -- gloomy. We have had a week of gloomy weather.
Still, walking through the greenhouse, it's easy to get inspired. The weather will change. The flowers will keep on growing.
We pull our wagon of plants to the checkout hut. Thank you for coming today. Just don't plant these immediately. The soil should dry out a little.
Yes, we should all dry out a little.
I pick up a Snowdrop who is deeply asleep at her going home time. The girl who hasn't napped at home for years has been dozing off daily in school in recent months. And that's a good thing, even as she is a tough one to get moving after a nap.
At the farmhouse, a snack and a book revive her. She is full of play!
(She is at work in a store full of blankets. Can I buy one? They're not for sale, gaga.)
In the last half hour, I read her a book that she'd resisted for a while now. And of course she loves it.
Totally. From its plot, she spins her own story.
In the evening, the drizzle stops. You can see a distant break in the clouds. The air is fresh, wiped clean, ready for a fresh start.
