the wind is my friend

Perhaps I overdid it. I know I overdid it. You can't really blame me: we had the perfect weather for it. Cooler, with some sunshine and importantly -- a boisterous breeze. That kind of wind wreaks havoc with mosquito attacks. They are lousy flyers and they resist the temptation to venture out and hunt down us humans when the winds are significant. They'd rather wait until things settle down. Therefore, it is the perfect day for doing major work in dense flower fields -- especially the overgrown distant ones, where I've basically given up maintaining any semblance of neatness or perfect order.

But as I've said before, I do aim to retain some control in those distant beds. I may not groom them to a great standard, but I do want to pull out invasives and creeping this and spreading that. And there's no better day for it than a day like this, with a soil softened by the rains and yes, with those lovely winds that keep the bugs more or less under control. 

I didn't begin the day with a plan of attack. I started with attending to my mother, whose calls are frequent and bounce around between some degree of the usual and, well, a little off the charts. I suppose it is impressive that she can still pick up the phone, in the dark of the night or in the early morning and figure out how to call me. Some of her issues I do try to investigate, but most aren't without a solution. As they say in the literature -- people sometimes just require your presence, nothing more than that. Perhaps that's why she calls. Who knows...

Eventually I do my walk to the barn...

(the lovely campanula that's not the creeping menace, but instead -- one with long stems of delicate white bells)

And a bit later, after more calls, Ed and I finally sit down to breakfast.

And only then do I decide to do some gardening. Light gardening, I tell myself, nothing too strenuous.

Until it becomes not light at all but intense and over the top -- pulling, pulling, endless pulling, until the mound of weeds becomes a mountain of weeds and I cannot pull any more.

By which time I have to head out to pick up the kids. Mix and match day! He wears different shoes, mixed up socks, she claims she is half punk.

Only one day left of school. Tomorrow. The last one. And then they are done!

We stop by at the local farmers market. A good place to pick up celebratory treats of their choice!

("can we also get some cheese curds?")

(Ed joins us at the market)

And now to the farmhouse, then eventually, to their drop off point. Not done with my day yet -- I have our CSA veggie box to pick up tonight. We're not doing a full summer of CSA boxes. Our farmers have cut back (cant blame them -- they're our age) and in any case, we really do not need a mountain of extra veggies each week, or even every other week. I'm back to post Covid regular market runs, where I can pick what I need for the week. Still, it's always great fun to see what's in a CSA box. Today's loot: asparagus, spinach, lettuce, mushrooms, radishes, baby garlic, and bunches of komatsuna greens -- a first for me. Oh, and a lovely tub of young strawberries. (There's also some rhubarb and a bunch of cilantro, but I deliver the rhubarb to market bakers and I put the cilantro into the communal sharing box. Ed positively hates cilantro.)

What a spring season this has been! So much growth, so much beauty in the farmette fields. So much good fortune.

with love...