butterfly

This morning I again took out the hose and the watering can and went out to the meadow and to some of the more distant fields to water a fragment of the garden. Another hot and sunny day means that anything I watered last week is drying up again. The meadow sprouts need a boost, the new plantings need a boost, heck, everything needs a boost. 

Too, I really wanted to do a basic clean up of the front bed. I told Ed I'd be out just for an hour, but that quickly changed to two hours, and then three, and it was nearly noon before we sat down to breakfast.

All this is unremarkable, right? The description of the morning resembles most mornings from the past week, right? Well yes, I would agree with that, except that each working morning is very different in that you're seeing a garden evolve, and you're watching lily buds emerge, and the tune your humming in your head is different than yesterday's tune, and your thoughts are most certainly different as well.

And in the middle of this watering - tidying project, a butterfly comes over and lands on my leg. I'm not really paying attention and I almost swat it instinctively, thinking it's surely one of those deer flies -- a lingering pest that hasn't quite bitten the dust yet. But I stop just in time and the butterfly takes off but then comes back and again rests on my leg. So I'm thinking -- this is a sign!

But of what?

As I come in for a drink of water, I check my email and I notice that I have a message from Patrizia from Parma. She asks if I'll be coming for a visit soon. I really want to see her and talk about what she went through this past year (it was tough) and I want to check out her new rooms -- she tells me that she revamped them some. Mainly I want to sit out on a terrace with her and eat a plate full of Parma's tortelli. So if her email comes right at the time of the landed butterfly, is it a sign for me to think about packing my suitcase again?

I look at the vaccination rates in Europe: they're getting there, but they're not great yet. How long should I wait? Part of me wants to go tomorrow, part of me wants to go never. 

In the evening, the young family is here for dinner.  Snowdrop is game for a little pre-meal adventure and I've got one for her.

The cherry trees. One of them has a few ripe fruits within reach. Ladder not necessary.

The girl is thrilled with fruit trees, thrilled with the cherries, thrilled with being able to eat stuff right off the tree.

As for Sparrow -- his interest in the great outdoors today is low. He prefers to climb up on the trash can and check out the cheese and cracker board.

Sandpiper doesn't even get that far.

Dinner.

And play.

And a little bit of both.

Time to go home. Can I pick just one more cherry??

 

 

Now if we could just pause with the beautiful sunshine and give over a day to rain...