This is when you start doubting your sanity: when you are up at 6, snipping lilies, hoping for moderation, and at the end of two hours you realize that the number hasn't moderated at all. It stands today at 921. Yes, that's 921 lilies that bloomed yesterday and moved aside for the new arrivals this morning. Filling one bucket, and then another. And you shrug your shoulders and think to yourself -- oh well. Lots of lilies. Like it or not, I guess I'll keep on snipping for a few more weeks this summer.
Because you cannot imagine stopping now. You've got your strategy all laid out, you know where the hidden passages are so that you can hit the center of a bed without trampling down the flowers growing toward the front. You know, too, which lilies snap like a pea pod -- crisply, easily -- and which require a secondary push with your middle finger.
Wait. You're skimming the post, aren't you? Looking for content that has more substance, that moves beyond lily talk. I can understand that. When Ed and I watch the video postings from Just A Few Acres (about a farming couple in upstate New York) I can't wait for the ones spelling out the details of old tractor repair to be over. Give me anything -- mowing hay, herding cattle, even cutting down brush -- just so that I don't have to listen to the minutia of replacing parts that I'd never heard of before, and likely will never come across again going forward. You may feel the same about lilies. Or even flower gardens in general. But I have to put in a tiny plug here: the post isn't really just about my flower fields, is it? For me at least, it's about waking up to a new day. About patience. About cultivating positive emotions as much as about cultivating flowers. About routines that give pleasure at the same time that they maybe make this place slightly better, more cared for, loved.
And of course, Ocean is so seasonal! Remember those winter posts where my best photo from the day was of the same path from the barn to the farmhouse, in its plain, unadorned state? Isn't it incredible that six months later it should be all about an abundance of color?
So, here's today's lot. Lilies and phloxes, and gladiolus, and false sunflower and real sunflower, and hyssop, and nasturtium, and daisies, and roses, and clematis, and sweet peas, and so much more.
(day lilies that look like tulips)
(these orange lilies, affectionately labeled by me as "nymphs and shepherds" because they nearly always have me break out in the Purcell song when they start their bloom period, are not yet fully opened in the early morning hours)
(I mean, just sublime!)
(bold!)
(I may have to rein in the phloxes next year!)
(a welcome lily resident)
(and another...)
(hiding in plain sight)
(this field gets the longest period of sunshine; lilies love sunshine!)
(lilies and sweet peas)
(I planted a lot of sunflower seeds throughout. Deer ate the tops of all of them, except for this lovely, if a bit twisted, lemon one)
(somewhat surprising is the success of this new meadow, planted where a giant maple once stood out front)
(one last glance...)
Yes, there was a breakfast somewhere in there. In the coolness of the kitchen.
Alright. It's noon. Time to pick up the two older ones from their summer Shakespeare program. We are a week away from the first performances and they appear to be "all memorized" and so spirits are high.
("I want a solo picture!")
("me too!")
Lunch is at the farmhouse. And it's been a while since we picked up the book that we're reading (about three Polish children and their struggles during World War II). We get through very many chapters to make up for the long break.
Thursday is our local market day and at least three out of the four farmhouse people today (the kids, Ed and myself) are really enthusiastic market shoppers. I know you can't tell this by studying the kids faces, but there's an explanation for the seriousness: I'm being pokey, and Ed is not there yet.
Finally, all here, cookies and cheese curds purchased.
We have on and off rain. Nothing significant, but still -- more wetness in the yard for tomorrow's work. At least the mosquitoes will have moderated, even if the lily count remains high. We did a third "natural" spraying today -- the last one for the summer. That usually chases about half of them away for a handful of days. I intend to do a last big effort in the flower fields over the weekend. After that, I slow down. Because, well, summer days are supposed to be lazy, aren't they?
with love...
