In trying to do everything -- get up not insanely early, do a little of garden care, get things ready for the kids, eat a leisurely breakfast on the porch -- you inevitably falter and do an imperfect job at each turn. Nonetheless, somehow we manage to get through the first hours of the day without me swatting the bug zapper at everything and everyone in sight.
I did snip spent lilies at least in some of the beds...
Ed finally did spray a little garlic oil along the driveway, so that you could walk from car to house without being driven crazy by the mosquito buzz, even though the deer flies are back and so the battle is only half won. Deer flies aren't repelled by the smell of garlic. Ah well, the garden, even in its partially cleaned up form, still looks pretty good.
And the lilies are magnificent! (view from porch)
And breakfast, while not leisurely, is very very nice.
The kids come running! One week's break and everything here is fresh and exciting once again.
And we do take a nature walk. Through the young orchard, past the little meadow...
... all the way to the floundering vineyard, where we also have a couple of mature blueberry bushes. And the blueberries are finally ripening!
Both Sparrow and Snowdrop love the job of picking out the blue fruits.
Sparrow even eats one! I mean, just one, but still, we're talking about the little guy who has decided to rebel against ingesting anything that grows out there on the farms of America (or elsewhere: he does not discriminate).
I'm mindful of the bugs, but we actually manage just fine! We don't have a full bucket of berries, or even a full cup of berries, but of course, that's not the point. Watching the berries grow, waiting for their golden moment -- all that matters far more than stocking the refrigerator with fruit, especially since Aggie, a local farmer, delivered a handful of containers of berries for us this morning. We are swimming in freshly picked fruit right now.
And it could be that in a few years, we'll be swimming in more fruit. Ed is giving serious thought to converting the weedy acre of land in back of the barn to a rather large orchard. Think: about 300 new fruit trees. Why? Well, we are zoned for agricultural ("rural residential") use. We tossed around a few ideas on how to live up to that designation and fruit trees seem like less maintenance than, say, growing an acre of produce. If we decide to plunge ahead with this, you'll be watching us do a lot of planting this autumn.
Inside again, the kids are happy to return to their favorites: books, story telling, art.
Lunch requires a trip to the basement, where we keep our oversize freezer. Such a small little thing, but the fact is, the kids love going down the rickety board steps, holding tight onto me and peering into the cavernous subterranean space of this hundred year old home. Well, actually Sparrow insists on being carried, so I hold onto him, clutch Snowdrop's hand and try to juggle the retrieved foods in the other, all the while making creeky scary noises to add drama to the trip.
Notable part of lunch? Ice cream, because, well, we have some heavenly chocolate chocolate chip ice cream and if they don't eat it, Ed and I will polish it off in a flash.
On the car trip home, I half hope to grill Snowdrop about her week by the lake, but she takes the conversation into her own hands by announcing -- gaga, did you know that humans come from monkeys? That my great great great, you know, many many greats, grandmother and grandfather were monkeys? And that birds come from dinosaurs? I know Ed always tells her that the cheepers are one step away from having dinosaur claws, but I hadn't heard her speculate about the evolution of the human form before. Once this topic has been put on the table we stick with it. It's rather remarkable what a five year old will come up with when you ask her what we've inherited from these very distant ancestors.
Evening. Reheated foods, quiet moments. Grateful thoughts.
With love.
I did snip spent lilies at least in some of the beds...
Ed finally did spray a little garlic oil along the driveway, so that you could walk from car to house without being driven crazy by the mosquito buzz, even though the deer flies are back and so the battle is only half won. Deer flies aren't repelled by the smell of garlic. Ah well, the garden, even in its partially cleaned up form, still looks pretty good.
And the lilies are magnificent! (view from porch)
And breakfast, while not leisurely, is very very nice.
The kids come running! One week's break and everything here is fresh and exciting once again.
And we do take a nature walk. Through the young orchard, past the little meadow...
... all the way to the floundering vineyard, where we also have a couple of mature blueberry bushes. And the blueberries are finally ripening!
Both Sparrow and Snowdrop love the job of picking out the blue fruits.
Sparrow even eats one! I mean, just one, but still, we're talking about the little guy who has decided to rebel against ingesting anything that grows out there on the farms of America (or elsewhere: he does not discriminate).
I'm mindful of the bugs, but we actually manage just fine! We don't have a full bucket of berries, or even a full cup of berries, but of course, that's not the point. Watching the berries grow, waiting for their golden moment -- all that matters far more than stocking the refrigerator with fruit, especially since Aggie, a local farmer, delivered a handful of containers of berries for us this morning. We are swimming in freshly picked fruit right now.
And it could be that in a few years, we'll be swimming in more fruit. Ed is giving serious thought to converting the weedy acre of land in back of the barn to a rather large orchard. Think: about 300 new fruit trees. Why? Well, we are zoned for agricultural ("rural residential") use. We tossed around a few ideas on how to live up to that designation and fruit trees seem like less maintenance than, say, growing an acre of produce. If we decide to plunge ahead with this, you'll be watching us do a lot of planting this autumn.
Inside again, the kids are happy to return to their favorites: books, story telling, art.
Lunch requires a trip to the basement, where we keep our oversize freezer. Such a small little thing, but the fact is, the kids love going down the rickety board steps, holding tight onto me and peering into the cavernous subterranean space of this hundred year old home. Well, actually Sparrow insists on being carried, so I hold onto him, clutch Snowdrop's hand and try to juggle the retrieved foods in the other, all the while making creeky scary noises to add drama to the trip.
Notable part of lunch? Ice cream, because, well, we have some heavenly chocolate chocolate chip ice cream and if they don't eat it, Ed and I will polish it off in a flash.
On the car trip home, I half hope to grill Snowdrop about her week by the lake, but she takes the conversation into her own hands by announcing -- gaga, did you know that humans come from monkeys? That my great great great, you know, many many greats, grandmother and grandfather were monkeys? And that birds come from dinosaurs? I know Ed always tells her that the cheepers are one step away from having dinosaur claws, but I hadn't heard her speculate about the evolution of the human form before. Once this topic has been put on the table we stick with it. It's rather remarkable what a five year old will come up with when you ask her what we've inherited from these very distant ancestors.
Evening. Reheated foods, quiet moments. Grateful thoughts.
With love.
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