All good sources tell us that this will be a tough week, so let's exhale a little here, on Ocean.
First, let me show you what we woke up to:
It was amazingly pretty. So fine and delicate, like powdered sugar on a landscape that needed some sweetening. And of course, I knew it would melt soon.
We are having a very gentle spring. The temps are right on target, the nights are mild.
Ed and I are preparing to plant our tomato seeds. Talk about being stubbornly persistent! Last year we created a tomato bed that was absolutely perfect but for the sunshine factor. We gambled by putting it in a spot that did not get a full 6 hours of sun and we got very few tomatoes for our efforts. This year, we're going to do it right! (It should be noted that I say this every year.)
Once again we banter over which seeds to plant: Ed wants to use old seeds. I want new ones. It's a problem when you buy a handful of packets each year. You wont use all of them. There are just too many in each little envelope. We plant 100 tomatoes and still have dozens of seeds to spare.
(Ed, over breakfast, with the accumulated packets of leftover seeds which he carefully puts away each year...)
But dearest one, I already ordered new ones! He rolls his eyes at that. So unnecessary... I roll his eyes at his ancient collection. There are new varieties to try! The old ones are just as good.
In the end, we will plant both. And we'll never know which ones did better, because we don't keep track of which seeds came from which packets. Next year, we'll have this discussion all over again. There is comfort in repeating one's gentle skirmishes!
The kids come to the farmette in the morning today. I sense a greater relaxation -- it's as if they are getting used to their days being turned upside down.
They play as they often do -- side by side.
(He builds structures, she constructs sets; here, the characters bought tickets and now are enjoying a play.)
And we read (finding books of interest to both is not hard. Without him, she listens to Charlotte's Web and All-of-a-kind Family; with him, she adores Bernstein Bears or Katie Morag)...
(Both love playing with flap books)
And they eat lunch...
(Even though Sparrow polished off a bowlful of cheddar broccoli puffs beforehand; a gaga indulgence...)
And don't forget about artwork! Snowdrop does a "surprise" picture for Ed. Of a boat, of course!
And then I take them home. Or, as I like to say, to their set of rooms at the end of the long corridor that separates them from us.
Toward evening I finish clearing the flower beds. I can't say it's an immaculate job, but it's a good enough job. If I did nothing else (except for chasing the cheepers away from the tender young roots and shoots!)...
(Happy, with Peach, Henny and Tomato. We got three eggs today. Thank you, girls!)
(Don't forget about Pepper!)
... the beds will be fine and ready for April planting.
Supper? Oh, there are always leftovers after a Sunday family dinner. Crunchy chicken, steamed spinach, and a few bits of pasta that the kids left behind.
Evenings at home: do you love them as much as we do? Do you exhale after too full a day? Did you start in on War and Peace? (It's Ann Patchett's recommendation for isolation: you read it, 14 pages a day, you finish it and the pandemic is over and you'll have read War and Peace!) Do you fall asleep on the couch? Oh, that couch never felt so comfy and good! Ed, will you pop some popcorn?
Of course, gorgeous.
First, let me show you what we woke up to:
It was amazingly pretty. So fine and delicate, like powdered sugar on a landscape that needed some sweetening. And of course, I knew it would melt soon.
We are having a very gentle spring. The temps are right on target, the nights are mild.
Ed and I are preparing to plant our tomato seeds. Talk about being stubbornly persistent! Last year we created a tomato bed that was absolutely perfect but for the sunshine factor. We gambled by putting it in a spot that did not get a full 6 hours of sun and we got very few tomatoes for our efforts. This year, we're going to do it right! (It should be noted that I say this every year.)
Once again we banter over which seeds to plant: Ed wants to use old seeds. I want new ones. It's a problem when you buy a handful of packets each year. You wont use all of them. There are just too many in each little envelope. We plant 100 tomatoes and still have dozens of seeds to spare.
(Ed, over breakfast, with the accumulated packets of leftover seeds which he carefully puts away each year...)
But dearest one, I already ordered new ones! He rolls his eyes at that. So unnecessary... I roll his eyes at his ancient collection. There are new varieties to try! The old ones are just as good.
In the end, we will plant both. And we'll never know which ones did better, because we don't keep track of which seeds came from which packets. Next year, we'll have this discussion all over again. There is comfort in repeating one's gentle skirmishes!
The kids come to the farmette in the morning today. I sense a greater relaxation -- it's as if they are getting used to their days being turned upside down.
They play as they often do -- side by side.
(He builds structures, she constructs sets; here, the characters bought tickets and now are enjoying a play.)
And we read (finding books of interest to both is not hard. Without him, she listens to Charlotte's Web and All-of-a-kind Family; with him, she adores Bernstein Bears or Katie Morag)...
(Both love playing with flap books)
And they eat lunch...
(Even though Sparrow polished off a bowlful of cheddar broccoli puffs beforehand; a gaga indulgence...)
And don't forget about artwork! Snowdrop does a "surprise" picture for Ed. Of a boat, of course!
And then I take them home. Or, as I like to say, to their set of rooms at the end of the long corridor that separates them from us.
Toward evening I finish clearing the flower beds. I can't say it's an immaculate job, but it's a good enough job. If I did nothing else (except for chasing the cheepers away from the tender young roots and shoots!)...
(Happy, with Peach, Henny and Tomato. We got three eggs today. Thank you, girls!)
(Don't forget about Pepper!)
... the beds will be fine and ready for April planting.
Supper? Oh, there are always leftovers after a Sunday family dinner. Crunchy chicken, steamed spinach, and a few bits of pasta that the kids left behind.
Evenings at home: do you love them as much as we do? Do you exhale after too full a day? Did you start in on War and Peace? (It's Ann Patchett's recommendation for isolation: you read it, 14 pages a day, you finish it and the pandemic is over and you'll have read War and Peace!) Do you fall asleep on the couch? Oh, that couch never felt so comfy and good! Ed, will you pop some popcorn?
Of course, gorgeous.
