Oh, the unpredictability of scattered showers! If you look at the little weather chart on your device, you'll get drawn into believing that those percentages actually tell you something: At 10 a.m. there is a 40% chance of showers. At 1 it goes down to 12%. But by 4, it's 35%. Why do we buy into this? Showers spring up like pop corn -- randomly, in one place but not another. They'll try their damnedest to fool you! No, not coming your way. And then boom! The drizzle starts.
Mind you, we could use rain. A steady one. A good soak of all those thirsty roots. But this cold weather fleeting drizzle (thankfully only a day of it) is just a nuisance!
But, we start the day with no rain. Lookin' good out there!
(Still a lilac moment...)
Ed wants to get started with the tree planting right away. No way! Breakfast first.
And of course, life gets in the way immediately after: I need to tidy, clear, feed, put away, pick up asparagus -- I mean, a morning is never totally clear. Well, for Ed it may be. He works according to his own schedule, avoiding most dictates that the world may wish to impose on him.
Finally. We set out to the back of the barn. But how do we even begin? Setting up a step-by-step plan of attack is half the struggle.
Alright, I think we've got one! Here it is:
Mow down parallel rows.
Till a square spot every 25 feet on each row.
Dig out a hole.
Bring in composted dirt.
Put in the tree.
Bury it with compost and clay mix.
Cover it all with a tarp.
Nail down the tarp.
Put up the cage.
Wire it to the ground nails.
Voila! All that for each tree, so seventy times.
By noon, we have put in three trees.
And then, just as a drizzle moves into the area (completely by surprise of course), I have to stop. I'm off to a planned and predicted shower -- for my daughter, given by some of her friends.
The shower is outdoors and though I am absolutely sure that all adults there were fully vaccinated, we were still mostly in masks (well, not for the photo). Some kids were present, so it's good not to completely go hog wild just yet.
It was, despite the cold and the frequent spontaneous drizzle, a lovely afternoon. My daughter, whom we would all place high on the extrovert scale, has had (because of her work) an ungodly amount of zoom meetings this past year and almost no real face to face time with anyone and I know she has missed these guys (well, mostly women) terribly. Colleagues, school friends, book club friends, family. They make up her world and today, just ten days before the expected arrival of her third child, she got some of it back again. (Far away friends and family participated by Zoom, but we integrated them well I think, with some clever games that used the talents and recollections of all.)
In the late afternoon I am back at the farmhouse and my first goal is to dry off and warm up. Ed asks -- you want to plant some more trees?
No, I do not. Tomorrow, we can plunge into putting in more trees. Today -- I'm turning my back to the threat of showers. A nice tea with a stolen cupcake from the planned shower. That's my idea of a perfect late afternoon.
Evening. He does taxes, I do taxes. And in doing my mom's, I realize I omitted something in mine. Outcomes the X form, amending my omission. Gotta now do this one too. It's not only just late by the time we sit down to dinner -- it's stupidly late. Like maybe around 10. Take-out sushi, because it's the only place we know of around here that delivers. Rain, snow, sleet, late night, wet night, tax night. They will deliver.
