It's the last day of spring. Everything beautiful about the last three months unfolded here at the farmette, without the horrors of a more violent season. No big storms, no killing frost, no endless rains and horrible mosquitoes. Such an exquisite unfurling of nature's magic, even though it did take place against a drama that brought a lot of disruption and sadness to the lives of so many.
Am I ready for summer? Of course, though I am already looking forward to next year's spring!
Our morning is quick and busy.
Breakfast is on the early side.
The kids come immediately after and as always we start with a nature walk. Well, nature in name at least, though I do try to spot and admire at least one miraculous little wonder out along the mowed paths or in the meadow fields. It's not hard.
Inevitably, we walk over to the barn. Snowdrop loves to check the coop for eggs and Sparrow loves a visit with Happy. (The girl is generous with her corn treat for the cheepers!)
Sparrow wants to hold the discovered egg, but the instruction to hold it gently backfires: his hold is so gentle that twice the egg rolls out of his hand and hits the ground. Strong shell! Nothing breaks.
Inside the farmhouse, we do short spurts of everything: music, art... (for father's day!)
And we complete the kite project.
Let's go fly it!
There is no wind outside...
Then let's fly it inside, Gaga. You be the wind!
I am the wind.
Reading, pretend play...
My girls eat plenty of vegetables! -- Snowdrop proclaims proudly. Her brother acts as if he doesn't understand. (Sparrow has an aversion to anything that grows out of the ground, it seems. Fruits? Vegetables? Bleh. He is in this way the complete opposite of his sister.)
After a farmhouse lunch, Sparrow returns home for his nap, but Snowdrop stays with me for the afternoon. This is the time to build Legos and do quiet stuff. Her workbooks, which she loves. Big girl stuff. Sometimes with me, sometimes on her own.
Evening. The clouds roll in. I'm glad. The seeds I sowed in the meadow last weekend never got a needed shower. The flowers need water too.
Ed and I take a farmette walk. To the orchard, where small cherries are ripening and delicate flowers are popping up in the meadows...
Then round the barn and back again. We pause and review patterns of growth so often that this little stroll takes a good half hour. If I weren't hungry for dinner, it would take even longer!
I take out the ingredients for a frittata with broccoli, garlic scapes, a potato and mushrooms. And don't forget the copious amounts of cheese!
June 19th. I tell Ed that I had never really focused on this date before. Having studied and taught Property at an American Law School, I am well aware of the history of slavery and of the very slow granting of rights to African American people in the decades that followed the Civil War, but I did not link any of it to this specific day.
Ed laughs -- You missed school here. You don't have a lot of American culture in your head!
Maybe. But it seems to me that there are many others who haven't paid much attention to June 19th before this year.
It's a time to pause and think a little about what we know and what we probably don't know, but should know about the lives of those around us. Here we are, on this last day of spring, when the garden is quiet, your house is quiet, and no one is asking me to be somewhere or do something at this moment. So, chop the mushrooms and scapes, stir in the broccoli flowerettes and think.
With love.
Am I ready for summer? Of course, though I am already looking forward to next year's spring!
Our morning is quick and busy.
Breakfast is on the early side.
The kids come immediately after and as always we start with a nature walk. Well, nature in name at least, though I do try to spot and admire at least one miraculous little wonder out along the mowed paths or in the meadow fields. It's not hard.
Inevitably, we walk over to the barn. Snowdrop loves to check the coop for eggs and Sparrow loves a visit with Happy. (The girl is generous with her corn treat for the cheepers!)
Sparrow wants to hold the discovered egg, but the instruction to hold it gently backfires: his hold is so gentle that twice the egg rolls out of his hand and hits the ground. Strong shell! Nothing breaks.
Inside the farmhouse, we do short spurts of everything: music, art... (for father's day!)
And we complete the kite project.
Let's go fly it!
There is no wind outside...
Then let's fly it inside, Gaga. You be the wind!
I am the wind.
Reading, pretend play...
My girls eat plenty of vegetables! -- Snowdrop proclaims proudly. Her brother acts as if he doesn't understand. (Sparrow has an aversion to anything that grows out of the ground, it seems. Fruits? Vegetables? Bleh. He is in this way the complete opposite of his sister.)
After a farmhouse lunch, Sparrow returns home for his nap, but Snowdrop stays with me for the afternoon. This is the time to build Legos and do quiet stuff. Her workbooks, which she loves. Big girl stuff. Sometimes with me, sometimes on her own.
Evening. The clouds roll in. I'm glad. The seeds I sowed in the meadow last weekend never got a needed shower. The flowers need water too.
Ed and I take a farmette walk. To the orchard, where small cherries are ripening and delicate flowers are popping up in the meadows...
Then round the barn and back again. We pause and review patterns of growth so often that this little stroll takes a good half hour. If I weren't hungry for dinner, it would take even longer!
I take out the ingredients for a frittata with broccoli, garlic scapes, a potato and mushrooms. And don't forget the copious amounts of cheese!
June 19th. I tell Ed that I had never really focused on this date before. Having studied and taught Property at an American Law School, I am well aware of the history of slavery and of the very slow granting of rights to African American people in the decades that followed the Civil War, but I did not link any of it to this specific day.
Ed laughs -- You missed school here. You don't have a lot of American culture in your head!
Maybe. But it seems to me that there are many others who haven't paid much attention to June 19th before this year.
It's a time to pause and think a little about what we know and what we probably don't know, but should know about the lives of those around us. Here we are, on this last day of spring, when the garden is quiet, your house is quiet, and no one is asking me to be somewhere or do something at this moment. So, chop the mushrooms and scapes, stir in the broccoli flowerettes and think.
With love.
