Oh, did it rain today! Snowdrop said -- close the porch door! It's so loud!
Loud and long. But no storms. For that, we are grateful!
On wet, summer days, you resist getting up early. It's so much easier just to stay in bed, to go in and out of sleep, to take in the sound outside and tune it out again. One more minute, ten more minutes...
Oh no! How did it get to be so late?!
The rain settles for a while into a gentle drizzle. I feed the animals, take note of new flowers...
... and old flowers.
... and am horrified to see that someone has just dug out all my little herbs! The pot is a mess! I fix it. Ten minutes later, I find Unfriendly lying on top of it! Did you do this?? (Two of the cats have contrasting personalities. One is friendly, the other is... not.)
Ed tells me cats don't dig up plants. Great. I have more than one animal attacking my herb plantings.
Breakfast, on the porch, because the rain is gentle now and the air is warm.
And then the grandkids come for their morning at the farmette.
Want to stay outside? It's only drizzling a little!
I suppose I am a bit of a tease. Still, a few minutes of fresh air -- that's always good, right?
Snowdrop shakes her head and goes inside, probably to complain to Ed about the absurdities of life.
We follow, imitating chicken noises all the way.
A good thing, too. The rains grow heavy, thrashing and pummeling the farmette lands, driving all animals to seek shelter.
And here's a treat: the phone is ringing, and it's cousin Primrose, eager to say hi to the kids and to patiently listen to Snowdrop's demonstration of one toy or another.
Oh, kids! Everyone wants a normal life for the little guys! Still, we at least have this: the love of cousins, aunts and uncles, the shared smiles, toy castles and toy macarons... Grandmas, grandpas, delighted, on screens, watching, waiting patiently.
(Lunch: awed and perhaps a little frightened by the pounding rain...)
(Doors and windows closed. Smiles restored.)
In the afternoon, the kids are back home and Ed and I try to solve a Blogger bug that I anticipate will become an issue when Blogger changes its interface next month. We get nowhere. That's okay. It was good to focus on the technical aspects of posting for a change. I've been writing here for so long that I do it on automatic pilot. Retracing your steps, understanding the mechanical aspects of what you do on a daily basis is a good way to keep your mind nimble.
But it does take time.
By evening, the rain turns into a wimpy trickle. I stake a few irises, pull a few weeds, enjoy the fragrance of a very wet garden.
And again we turn to leftovers for dinner. Someone overcooked or under-ate this past week! No matter. Easy evenings are good for you.
Everyone is thinking about, talking about the summer before us. I hope, if nothing else, they'll give us all some easy evenings. And brimming jugfuls of love.
Loud and long. But no storms. For that, we are grateful!
On wet, summer days, you resist getting up early. It's so much easier just to stay in bed, to go in and out of sleep, to take in the sound outside and tune it out again. One more minute, ten more minutes...
Oh no! How did it get to be so late?!
The rain settles for a while into a gentle drizzle. I feed the animals, take note of new flowers...
... and old flowers.
... and am horrified to see that someone has just dug out all my little herbs! The pot is a mess! I fix it. Ten minutes later, I find Unfriendly lying on top of it! Did you do this?? (Two of the cats have contrasting personalities. One is friendly, the other is... not.)
Ed tells me cats don't dig up plants. Great. I have more than one animal attacking my herb plantings.
Breakfast, on the porch, because the rain is gentle now and the air is warm.
And then the grandkids come for their morning at the farmette.
Want to stay outside? It's only drizzling a little!
I suppose I am a bit of a tease. Still, a few minutes of fresh air -- that's always good, right?
Snowdrop shakes her head and goes inside, probably to complain to Ed about the absurdities of life.
We follow, imitating chicken noises all the way.
A good thing, too. The rains grow heavy, thrashing and pummeling the farmette lands, driving all animals to seek shelter.
And here's a treat: the phone is ringing, and it's cousin Primrose, eager to say hi to the kids and to patiently listen to Snowdrop's demonstration of one toy or another.
Oh, kids! Everyone wants a normal life for the little guys! Still, we at least have this: the love of cousins, aunts and uncles, the shared smiles, toy castles and toy macarons... Grandmas, grandpas, delighted, on screens, watching, waiting patiently.
(Lunch: awed and perhaps a little frightened by the pounding rain...)
(Doors and windows closed. Smiles restored.)
In the afternoon, the kids are back home and Ed and I try to solve a Blogger bug that I anticipate will become an issue when Blogger changes its interface next month. We get nowhere. That's okay. It was good to focus on the technical aspects of posting for a change. I've been writing here for so long that I do it on automatic pilot. Retracing your steps, understanding the mechanical aspects of what you do on a daily basis is a good way to keep your mind nimble.
But it does take time.
By evening, the rain turns into a wimpy trickle. I stake a few irises, pull a few weeds, enjoy the fragrance of a very wet garden.
And again we turn to leftovers for dinner. Someone overcooked or under-ate this past week! No matter. Easy evenings are good for you.
Everyone is thinking about, talking about the summer before us. I hope, if nothing else, they'll give us all some easy evenings. And brimming jugfuls of love.
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