The garden is wet when I step outside this morning. It feels a little humid, but maybe it's just that there is so much moisture all around me. We had a good rainfall overnight. The flowers are happy.
The early phlox has come and gone. But the late July phlox? It's gorgeous right now and in my view, it's a perfect companion to day lilies. See above, see below!
The sun is out, the landscape dries out. The air dries out. We're in for another stellar day! And as I look ahead, it seems we're going to get a string of perfect days! It's as if nature is apologizing for the whammy it dealt us this year!
The front bed is now dominated by the towering Strawberries and Cream Hydrangeas. Well, it should be "cream and strawberries," since they start out creamy white and slowly turn pink.
Breakfast.
(Looking out from the porch...)
We're still messing around with childcare schedules. We have some minor adjustments to make this week, as things got a little wacky the last few days. This morning, I drive over to my daughter's place to pick up just Snowdrop for another solo day at the farmhouse.
The girl is in an especially sweet and loving mood. She's feeling the seasonal progression, the slow movement toward fall, a fall where once again nothing will be as before.
But there's also that indubitable twinkle in her soul that leads her to be such a smiling child. And of course, there is her love of words. On the car ride to the farmette, we talk about numbers. She has a favorite (16). And a second favorite (11). And a third favorite (100). I ask her -- why eleven?
Oh, the sound of it, gaga! Say it -- eleven. Isn't that pretty?
She doesn't want to play outside. She wants to read and eat peaches. Well alright. It takes two cups of tea to get me through all that reading, but it's really a grand way to pass our time, right there on the orange couch, with pillows arranged just so...
I had gotten her a very cheap collection of fairies, thinking that she'd like adding them to her various setups in her play space, but she doesn't do that. She keeps them by the couch and spends a good half hour creating characters for them, spinning the next tale, one that you can hear if you try, but you sort of feel like perhaps you shouldn't, because this is her world, shared only through your witnessing her pleasure in losing herself in her own words.
Evening. A stunning one of cool breezes and brilliant light. A most perfect one, if you can just forget everyone's sad news, everyone's anxiety. I take a walk to the new orchard. Are there still blueberries to pick? Yes, a few.
And a meadow to admire...
Reheat the frittata, make a salad, look out at the garden. For this one brief minute, give yourself permission to smile.
The early phlox has come and gone. But the late July phlox? It's gorgeous right now and in my view, it's a perfect companion to day lilies. See above, see below!
The sun is out, the landscape dries out. The air dries out. We're in for another stellar day! And as I look ahead, it seems we're going to get a string of perfect days! It's as if nature is apologizing for the whammy it dealt us this year!
The front bed is now dominated by the towering Strawberries and Cream Hydrangeas. Well, it should be "cream and strawberries," since they start out creamy white and slowly turn pink.
Breakfast.
(Looking out from the porch...)
We're still messing around with childcare schedules. We have some minor adjustments to make this week, as things got a little wacky the last few days. This morning, I drive over to my daughter's place to pick up just Snowdrop for another solo day at the farmhouse.
The girl is in an especially sweet and loving mood. She's feeling the seasonal progression, the slow movement toward fall, a fall where once again nothing will be as before.
But there's also that indubitable twinkle in her soul that leads her to be such a smiling child. And of course, there is her love of words. On the car ride to the farmette, we talk about numbers. She has a favorite (16). And a second favorite (11). And a third favorite (100). I ask her -- why eleven?
Oh, the sound of it, gaga! Say it -- eleven. Isn't that pretty?
She doesn't want to play outside. She wants to read and eat peaches. Well alright. It takes two cups of tea to get me through all that reading, but it's really a grand way to pass our time, right there on the orange couch, with pillows arranged just so...
I had gotten her a very cheap collection of fairies, thinking that she'd like adding them to her various setups in her play space, but she doesn't do that. She keeps them by the couch and spends a good half hour creating characters for them, spinning the next tale, one that you can hear if you try, but you sort of feel like perhaps you shouldn't, because this is her world, shared only through your witnessing her pleasure in losing herself in her own words.
Evening. A stunning one of cool breezes and brilliant light. A most perfect one, if you can just forget everyone's sad news, everyone's anxiety. I take a walk to the new orchard. Are there still blueberries to pick? Yes, a few.
And a meadow to admire...
Reheat the frittata, make a salad, look out at the garden. For this one brief minute, give yourself permission to smile.
