each and every one

When you grow hundreds of perennials (some day I will count them all! Are there thousands? I keep adding, extending, adding and almost all do come back each year...), you tend to concentrate on the impression they make within their bigger group of flowers. The Big Bed. The lily field. The sloping bed along the secret path. The bed by the road, the bed by the driveway, the bed by the parked cars, and so on. Sure, sometimes a favorite flower stands out and every now and then you'll see a photo of a day's selection...

(clematis, this morning, on the walk to the barn)

But mostly, our vision is broad and it takes in the entirety.

(a part of the Big Bed, this morning)

It's like a walk in the forest: the sensual experience is multifaceted and we're always trying to use every bit of each gift that we have to take it all in: the smell, sound, sight of birches and poplars and walnuts and chestnuts, the birds, the breezes, the bugs!

But there is a time when I am entirely focused on one single plant at a time. My special moment with it, where I pay attention to just that one guy. That time happens when I take up the hose to water the flower fields, pointing the stream to that one, staying there for a minute, before moving on to the next one.

 

Once again I am up very early and after feeding the animals, I check the weather one final time (25% chance of rain today and then nothing more until next week) and I decide that this level of moisture, with a low likelihood of rain is not good enough. In spring especially, the newbies especially, this week especially -- they need a steady amount of water.

And so I turn on the hose and make my way through most of the courtyard-facing fields.

Most people underwater their plants. A good soak means that the roots will not strain toward the surface to pick up the incoming water. It makes the plant more drought resistant and we may well be facing another hot and dry summer this year. But a good soak for every plant in fields of hundreds (thousands?) is not doable, so I do my usual triage: more for the newbies and for the fragile, but also more for the well established beloveds.

There is no way I can cover the entirety. And there's no need for that. I'm hosing them this morning because a water bath would be good for them, but also because I want this alone time with each plant. (And I know them, each and every one, by heart, intimately!)

This is the time to mark the progression. What's coming up soon (peonies!), what will need staking (irises!). What's not germinating (some of the nasturtium seeds), what is sprouting (cosmos), what is getting too big for its britches (the tree peony and the iris clump). It's also the time to admire and smile at the little guys who never get any attention whatsoever, even though they are instrumental in making the whole thing work. Team players! For example, this line of hostas that makes the walk from the car to the house so pleasant. Never saw them before, right? Under-photographed, but not ignored by me!

It's also the time to take note of all that I should do in the next few weeks. 

 

Okay, duly noted. Time for breakfast. Sure, it's now late enough that the temps have already climbed to the mid-sixties F (about 18C). But all those hours with the hose chilled me and so we eat in the kitchen.

More garden work. I think I needed the garden even more than it needed me. Even though the kids yesterday were fantastic, the earlier meetings were real downers. It took a while to shake off the gloom that comes when you're around those who are determined never to let light in to their inner core. By evening, I was calm. By this morning, out in my garden, I was full of smiles. I'm sure you've come across this Camus quote in any number of places? I think it works for me -- today, most days actually:

Quand tu te lèves le matin, pense aux précieux privilèges que tu as d'être vivant, de respirer, de penser, de sentir, de toucher et d'aimer. (When you get up in the morning, think of the precious privileges you have to be alive, to breathe, to think, to feel, to touch and to love.)

Walking the farmette lands, it all becomes so obvious... 

 

The kids are with me in the afternoon. 

 

 

 

Fine moods once again! They want to go to our local farmers market. I am so glad! I let them pick bakery treat of choice. 

 

 

 

Chocolate covered scone for Sparrow (it was pajama day in his class today), a small cherry pie for Snowdrop. (Ed joins us, motorbiking in from the farmette.)

Evening. I love this time of day so much! Today, I pop a cork on a Alsatian Cremant (sort of like Prosecco only from France) and I mix in a touch of Campari, with a splash of Torino Vermouth. An absolutely delicious (in my view) combination of sunshine, cloves, and rhubarb. Beautiful colors!

An easy reheat of veggie soup topped with Parmesan, a luscious salad and chocolates for dessert. On the couch. With Ed. And so much love...