Well, the days are getting complicated. A simple two word title wouldn't work. I did not "just plant." Indeed, I failed to meet my planting goal because, well, life interfered.
It is a strangely warm day. Not initially. Indeed, we eat breakfast in the kitchen. But with each hour, the temps soar and somewhere in the afternoon we reach 76F (24C). During the car ride Snowdrop asks why the car feels so hot. It's simple, dear girl: so far I've been concentrating on making the car toasty inside against the cold outside, I haven't switched the mindset to cooling it off.
The morning meal is pretty, with a bouquet of clipped fallen daffodils, but it's hardly leisurely. We bring the laptop to the table and search the internet to figure out if the time is right to integrate the chicks into the brood. At nine and a half weeks, they're medium sized. Is this good enough? As you can imagine, there are many opinions out there.
Looking out at the gardens, I would say that this is the year of abundant daffodils. And they keep on performing!
But that's all I have time for in terms of yard work: look and assess.
Sparrow comes soon after breakfast. I put aside flower field maps and plans and pay attention to the little guy. I have a few phone calls coming in and he puts up with this, but I do hear twice his plaintive little voice asking -- gaga, will you play with me?
So I do.
Outside, too.
The phone calls were of the kind that require more phone calls. My mom's transfer to another (improved) assisted living facility has been approved. She'll be moving soon. Very soon. So we have a move before us and all that it entails. We need furniture, we need a wheelchair. We need movers!
In the thick of all this, I pick up Snowdrop at school ...
I take her home and return to the phone calls. It's close to 4 before I finally put in my first plant for the day.
Thirteen. I plant a total of thirteen. It's one crazy spring, isn't it? And aren't we lucky to be alive and well so that we can roll with all the interesting developments that come our way?!
Late. Very late. We take the chicks from their sheltered enclosure and plunk them into the coop with the big girls and Happy, the rooster.
Tomorrow, the pecking to establish a new order will begin, but for now, all is quiet, inside and out.
And that's a good thing.
