This is so like us! I walk over to check the blooms on the fruit trees in the new orchard and I pause by what used to be our tomato field and grape arbor. We've let that land go to seed, or to weed. Ed found better space for his veggie and melon garden. The grapes were routinely devoured by beetles. We just gave up.
But in the thick of that current mess, there once were blueberries. Planted by Ed and added to by me. Three bushes. They were protected by fencing, so reaching for berries was never easy, but a small child's hand could do it, and us big guys found ways as well, and if you have ever tasted blueberries right off the branch, you'll know how awesome they can be.
So I asked Ed to come out and see the mostly dried up blueberry bushes and give an opinion on whether to resume some berry production in that same spot (back of the new orchard). It would require chopping down six black walnuts which had invaded the space. For some reason, Ed did not immediately object. Indeed, before we even sat down to breakfast, he gave a thumbs up to the project and a minute later he was out there with his chainsaw.
Trees are down. An hour later, I ordered a half dozen blueberry bushes. And a new project is born!
It's as if nothing is really intentional here, on farmette lands. Sometimes we make plans, but most often, we walk out, or I walk out, and an idea is born, or a spot of land is cleared, or another bed is weeded. There is so much to do everywhere, that making lists and following a master plan would rapidly become a chore. What we love most is that outdoor work never rises to the level of a burden, or drudgery. It's our delight. And spontaneity figures deeply into that feeling of contentment and indeed -- joy.
All that took place this morning and I'm thinking now that the trigger for it all was such a chance thing: my morning glance out the window, looking east, toward the old orchard. There are apples and pears and firs and pines and quince trees, all smushed together. I'm responsible for the quinces, but the fruit trees are of the old variety and they were planted decades ago by the farmers who farmed this land way before we ever showed up. Ed likes the old world fruits. Too me, they have tough skins. I've grown used to the newfangled honeycrisps, so I leave these fruits to him and the animals. Still, what struck me today was how absolutely stunning one of the apples is right now. In full bloom.
This glance out the window is what prompted me to head out to our own new orchard. (Where the plum is blooming its head off! It always puts on a show, even as it has never produces any fruit.)
So, fruit trees are the star attraction at the moment. Well, the daffodils are going strong as well. April is unfolding gloriously this year.
Breakfast.
I should also say that this is the moment when I most love and admire the bronze statues that Ed's mom made and that we've placed in various corners of the garden. Here's one that I especially like:
And here's another:
The rest of my free time is sucked up by weeding and lily and clematis feeding (I do that once a year). I barely had time to drink a cup of coffee for lunch.
I need to pick up the girl at school!
It isn't hard to get her to spend a few minutes outside.
But just a few minutes. Food and books trump all, grand weather notwithstanding!
Evening drop off at her youngest brother's school, where we also meet up with Sparrow...
Long after I said goodbye to all of them, I remain in the garden. This is the day to start planting the lily and fern bulbs we purchased this February at the Garden Expo. I'm a little uneasy about them -- bulbs are hard to track in your garden and these are especially mysterious because they come from an unknown grower, but still -- in they go -- before the rains come at us tomorrow!
Dinner is very, very late.
And that's a good thing. So much accomplished... so much more still to do!
with love...
