I look outside. We're expecting rain, that same rain that has been incessantly coming back to torment the Midwest.
But not immediately. I see Dance is waiting for me. She comes out in the morning and watches the farmhouse from the perch of the picnic table. Or, since Ed rolled that piece of felled tree over -- from the nicely smoothed surface of the stump.
The garden is unfurling its petals, but it is a slow process. Perhaps that's good -- you don't want everything to be there and gone too quickly! We've waited so long!
Oops, the rumble of thunder. In I go. Breakfast with my calm and happy guy.
We talk about goats.
The sun pops out after a few hours. In and out, all day long. I tell Ed we have a mountain of things to do, but when he asks for specifics, I can't think of a blessed thing except to find the sign we painted for the wedding, informing people where to park.
He finds the sign.
I weed the gardens. That's a constant, of course. The weeds grow slowly because of the abundance of wood chips, but after all these rains, they do come up.
(Here's a view that I like; and do notice our second lilac to the right -- it's a late bloomer, but it's pretty and fragrant!)
In the afternoon, I pick up a very happy little girl.
Want to stay out for a little bit?
No, I'm going straight inside! (I had mentioned a new book and a plateful of cherries...)
Only when it's time to go home does she linger, complaining that she hasn't had her outdoor time today!
She pauses to smell the alyssum (I have taught her well! Does any flower have a sweeter fragrance?)...
... and explains to me that she and Happy (the rooster) know how to talk to each other. (Snowdrop does a fine imitation of a crow. You can tell this kid's been around a rooster!)
As I drop off one child, I have a chance to say hello to the younger one.
But I don't stay long. I return home in time to see the last wisps of light play with the flowers in the Big Bed...
... and yes, we continue to toss around goat ideas. Slightly more concrete now, as there came to be available two little ones nearby...
But not immediately. I see Dance is waiting for me. She comes out in the morning and watches the farmhouse from the perch of the picnic table. Or, since Ed rolled that piece of felled tree over -- from the nicely smoothed surface of the stump.
The garden is unfurling its petals, but it is a slow process. Perhaps that's good -- you don't want everything to be there and gone too quickly! We've waited so long!
Oops, the rumble of thunder. In I go. Breakfast with my calm and happy guy.
We talk about goats.
The sun pops out after a few hours. In and out, all day long. I tell Ed we have a mountain of things to do, but when he asks for specifics, I can't think of a blessed thing except to find the sign we painted for the wedding, informing people where to park.
He finds the sign.
I weed the gardens. That's a constant, of course. The weeds grow slowly because of the abundance of wood chips, but after all these rains, they do come up.
(Here's a view that I like; and do notice our second lilac to the right -- it's a late bloomer, but it's pretty and fragrant!)
In the afternoon, I pick up a very happy little girl.
Want to stay out for a little bit?
No, I'm going straight inside! (I had mentioned a new book and a plateful of cherries...)
Only when it's time to go home does she linger, complaining that she hasn't had her outdoor time today!
She pauses to smell the alyssum (I have taught her well! Does any flower have a sweeter fragrance?)...
... and explains to me that she and Happy (the rooster) know how to talk to each other. (Snowdrop does a fine imitation of a crow. You can tell this kid's been around a rooster!)
As I drop off one child, I have a chance to say hello to the younger one.
But I don't stay long. I return home in time to see the last wisps of light play with the flowers in the Big Bed...
... and yes, we continue to toss around goat ideas. Slightly more concrete now, as there came to be available two little ones nearby...
