markets, clinging to spring

You know that we're on our last days of that splendid season that transforms our environment and reminds us what's at stake out where the wild things grow, right? I love spring to pieces, but I am not sad when we slide into summer. Summer casts its own spell. Spring explodes with new growth. Summer explodes with color.

Today, after the morning animal care...

I rush to repeat what I had done last Saturday: first, I drive to the bakery...

(along the shores of a misty lake where the early fishermen and women cast their nets and lines)

(A long line! No big deal -- I always preorder and pick up without a wait. And I do love it when a good bakery is popular!)

I am to meet up at the usual spot with my daughter and her brood for a walk around the downtown farmers market. I'm early so I do a quick solo jaunt to do a preliminary shopping round.

I haven't enough words of praise for the last June market! The flowers are still delicate, favoring peonies and cornflowers and dainty flax.

There are the berries (the farmers who did not get that cold blast in April or whose varieties bloomed later, have the bigger redder berries; all are delicious!)...

And the last of the asparagus and baby carrots. It's all crisp and wonderfully fresh!

Here's the awesome foursome! They get berries as well.

And flowers. In containers and precut ones.

It's a little more packed out there on the square today, but not so that you cannot move! It really is a fine day to be out and about!

I'm back at the farmette before noon. In time for breakfast!

And then I return to yard work. (Here are my own berries: the first is a fraise des bois, the second a more conventional Mara)

I return to watering, while Ed works on my my moped. Remember that little machine? I used it a lot before the grandkids were born and before our mayor got it into his head that mopeds should not be parked on sidewalks. Once they fell under automobile parking regulations, there was no benefit to riding the little guy rather than driving Blue Moon. So I want to sell it and get, instead, an electric bike. Ed is making sure the moped works -- reliability was never its greatest feature.

The watering of the lily bed alone takes a couple of hours because I throw into the deal the west bed -- definitely the most neglected field of all the ones I planted (too much shade, too little attention; it looks good when the daffodils are blooming... at other times, I give it over to a few lilies and mostly to milkweed for our butterflies).

I pause for a few minutes, but I'm restless. I go back out.

The new meadow needs water, so in the late afternoon I drag the hose there. Oh, come on! Two baby groundhogs?! I mean, I love their multigenerational family that lives here because none of them eat chickens, or birds, and they leave the cats alone (and vice versa). But they have singlehandedly eaten most of the sunflowers I so carefully planted this year and I see that they are really enjoying the tender shoots in the seeded meadow. Ah well. This land is not really our land. We must share what grows here.

I work my way to the back of the barn to check on the newly planted peas. I water those, I water the melons. And I attend to the lavender field. Do you remember -- I started that project last year and it's sort of moving along. Some of the varieties have flourished, others have died. Unfortunately, the chickens have dug up the tags so I'm not quite sure which variety is best suited for our inhospitable growing conditions (lavender does not like clay soil), but come Fall, we can take clippings from the robust plants and continue this project (of creating a lavender field) indefinitely.

And now I am spent. I'm sure my PT guy would do a tsk tsk and remind me that the therapeutic window has long closed. Still, I do not stop. I hose down the new shady bed out front and I give a good soak to the roadside bed. I just want to get the mega watering job done!

And by late evening,  I do get it done. I'm stiff, sore, tired. And hungry.

Forget about a lovely meal for tonight. We order pizza. To which I add a huge salad of lettuces, radishes, carrots -- all wonderful spring stuff straight from our CSA farmers. Thank you! And good night!