The first day after a cold spell often has no coherence to it. You know you have a pile of stuff waiting for you outside. You touch this, you touch that. You finish nothing. It's always like that.
But hey, it's a beautiful day! As promised, the temps are climbing, the sun is doing an in and out dance, the breeze is warm.
We did have a cool night and therefore a cold morning, but it's now warm enough for the annuals and so immediately after feeding the animals and saying good morning to the fantastic May day, I bring the remaining pots and baskets outside. There they will stay until the first frost in the Fall. My, but that seems a long way away!
(toward the farmhouse, from the Big Bed)
(morning light)
Breakfast is still inside though. I'm mindful of the fact that when Ed wakes up, things feel cool to him outside, especially if we take our time over the bowls of fruits or oatmeal.
My first task is a terrifically pleasant one: Ed and I take the pretty drive along rural roads to Natalie's Greenhouse for a curbside pickup of some replacement annuals. It's not just the polar blast that did some minor damage to a few plants, it's the animals: the chickens chomp on the alyssum. Someone has been chomping on the gaura, and phlox, and not a few number of tulips. The usual exasperations of a gardener.
(planting, on a bigger scale! Across the road from Natalie's)
And then I get to work. Fix the annual pots. Pull some weeds. Put in a perennial. Or two. Scold the chickens. Round and round this circle I go. Let's just say I make progress!
(one of my favorite spots at the farmette in mid-May: by the quince trees in the old orchard. It's all blooms and violets!)
Lunch? Oh, it's wonderful! On the porch. A nut spread with blood orange and hibiscus marmalade (a mother's day gift).
And immediately after, Snowdrop comes over.
Yes, cherries! All about cherries! "They make smiles in my tummy!"
(it cannot be said that she rushed through her art work today...)
In the evening, Ed is out riding his bike and I'm fixing a frittata. Still with spinach (Matt, the asparagus farmer, had some winter spinach left and we were happy to nab some) and with mushrooms. And lots of cheese. Always delicious!
I take a small walk outside afterwards. For the light. For the beauty of a May evening. I'm thinking -- this month offers all the good stuff: the lushness, freshness, the color, the eternal hope of a better tomorrow. And it doesn't have the mosquitoes, the heatwaves, the constant thunderstorms of summer. It's a month that forces you to take a pause. To look around, to smell deeply, to feel connected to the natural world.
(first iris!)
If you haven't already, open the window and let that breeze into your home. Close your eyes, exhale...
But hey, it's a beautiful day! As promised, the temps are climbing, the sun is doing an in and out dance, the breeze is warm.
We did have a cool night and therefore a cold morning, but it's now warm enough for the annuals and so immediately after feeding the animals and saying good morning to the fantastic May day, I bring the remaining pots and baskets outside. There they will stay until the first frost in the Fall. My, but that seems a long way away!
(toward the farmhouse, from the Big Bed)
(morning light)
Breakfast is still inside though. I'm mindful of the fact that when Ed wakes up, things feel cool to him outside, especially if we take our time over the bowls of fruits or oatmeal.
My first task is a terrifically pleasant one: Ed and I take the pretty drive along rural roads to Natalie's Greenhouse for a curbside pickup of some replacement annuals. It's not just the polar blast that did some minor damage to a few plants, it's the animals: the chickens chomp on the alyssum. Someone has been chomping on the gaura, and phlox, and not a few number of tulips. The usual exasperations of a gardener.
(planting, on a bigger scale! Across the road from Natalie's)
And then I get to work. Fix the annual pots. Pull some weeds. Put in a perennial. Or two. Scold the chickens. Round and round this circle I go. Let's just say I make progress!
(one of my favorite spots at the farmette in mid-May: by the quince trees in the old orchard. It's all blooms and violets!)
Lunch? Oh, it's wonderful! On the porch. A nut spread with blood orange and hibiscus marmalade (a mother's day gift).
And immediately after, Snowdrop comes over.
Yes, cherries! All about cherries! "They make smiles in my tummy!"
(it cannot be said that she rushed through her art work today...)
In the evening, Ed is out riding his bike and I'm fixing a frittata. Still with spinach (Matt, the asparagus farmer, had some winter spinach left and we were happy to nab some) and with mushrooms. And lots of cheese. Always delicious!
I take a small walk outside afterwards. For the light. For the beauty of a May evening. I'm thinking -- this month offers all the good stuff: the lushness, freshness, the color, the eternal hope of a better tomorrow. And it doesn't have the mosquitoes, the heatwaves, the constant thunderstorms of summer. It's a month that forces you to take a pause. To look around, to smell deeply, to feel connected to the natural world.
(first iris!)
If you haven't already, open the window and let that breeze into your home. Close your eyes, exhale...
