a mother's Sunday

While lingering over a very prolonged and very late breakfast on the porch, Ed says -- this could well be the most beautiful day of the year. The crab apple is at its peak, the lilac is blossoming, the sun is out, the air is pleasantly warm...

So true.

It is, of course Mother's Day and I hope that if you are a mom, you're feeling good about all that you have done in that role, because I'm sure it's a lot. I hope, too, that you have a chance to smile today at the joys that went along with all that hard work. And if you're not a mom, well, you surely had one in your own life in some small or large fashion. You can muse a bit about that connection. I hope, in the end, the day brought you many smiles and pleasant thoughts.



Because of all this good weather, I am, once more, in the yard shortly after 6. I want to finish planting today! I start with the front bed and work my way inward.

After putting in the last plant (for now; flower fields are always a work in progress), I am tempted to take a photo of the entire bed, but the field is too long and it runs parallel to the road and so it doesn't lend itself to a good panorama. So for now, I'll just include a photo of what's blooming there and of course, it's sort of a cheat, because these two (the gaura and the lavender) were planted with buds ready to pop. Still, they are awfully pretty at this early hour of the morning.






I'm not the only one working at this hour. In the fields to our east, the truck farmers are tilling and planting as well...






This is our day! The one where the outside world is so very inviting!

(Perhaps the best perspective right now is one that acknowledges the lilac by the farmhouse. I didn't plant it -- it's old and though I keep trimming it each year, I have to work with what I have there. I have no complaints. It's a great bloomer with a heady perfume and the cheepers love hiding underneath its bushy twigs.)






(That is, when they are not messing with my plants.)






(I mind it less when they go after the little buds in the pots: those always grow back. Here's Butter enjoying a salad of alyssum.)






Our own breakfast is exquisite.






Since it's Mother's Day, I hand the camera over to Ed -- somehow I feel it's right to be part of the breakfast post today.





If there is one flaw to this beautiful set of minutes, it's that the gang of five chooses this time to come look for grub. Hawks. Typically, I do not worry once the trees have dense foliage. The girls know to hide. But this group is particularly aggressive. A few of them settle on the silo and I hear a racket there. Do they go after the pair of doves that live inside? I hear a cooing sound for the rest of the afternoon. Is it a sad mother who has lost her chicks? Or is it a content mother, glad that everyone is safe?

Too, Henny has just finished laying and there is a skittish innocence about that girl! The hawks are in the yard and two land on the barn right when she leaves the coop. I'm out shouting and waving my arms and the big birds eventually leave. Our girls are safe.

The day picks up its gentle rhythm again.






In the evening, the young family and my daughter's visiting friend are here for dinner. It's time to use farmette bounty: eggs for baking, rhubarb that is exploding right now.






Everything's ready just as our guests arrive...






We take the meal outside to the porch.






And it's glorious -- it really is (though I do miss my younger daughter -- but hey, I'll be seeing her and her husband soon!).  Snowdrop loves shrimp and they are part of dinner. But honestly, since she arrived, she has wanted so very badly to walk the land. She reminds us, plaintively, passionately.

Finally, she walks. First with her mom and friend...





Later, with her dad too. How she adores that stroll through the flower fields, under the willow, around the barn and up by the raspberries! Perhaps almost as much as I do.

She is at first reluctant to get back in her high chair, but when rhubarb and strawberry "pudding cake" with whipped cream are put before her, Snowdrop digs in with joyful enthusiasm.





I'll end with that  phrase -- joyful enthusiasm. Those are good words that quite accurately describe my own mothering adventures. Grandmothering as well!

work Saturday

What drives people to work so hard at something that they do not have to do? Sure, you want to have a pretty yard if you are lucky enough to have one. But who would spend long hours day after day without pause or interruption bending, digging, heaving, pulling, and digging some more without a need for it? If the yard looked plenty good without that extra effort?

I would.






I don't know why. As I set out in the morning, I know it's going to be tough work. And I know that the farmette meets my definition of sublime without the additional extensions of flower beds, I know, I know! And yet, the draw is so huge, so powerful that I swear, I'd neglect all responsibilities and life's tasks and pleasures (and I have done this in my younger years) just so that I can be out there digging, planting.

(Lilac's blooming!)






(And so are the first irises!)






The only explanation I can offer is that there is a heretofore unidentified gene for this kind of madness. One that skips generations, because my daughters don't have it and my parents didn't have it. But my grandfather did and maybe Snowdrop does (or else she's just humoring me by picking up a clump of dirt, holding it tightly, oh so tightly, as if it represented all her deepest passions).

In any case, today, I was up with the cheeprs at 6. I worked on the flower beds until 8. I went back to bed and slept for another hour. Then we had a (late) breakfast.






And by 10am, I was out again...


 








... and I did not come inside (not to eat, to drink, to check my phone, or to exhale) until after 5.


(Ed, bringing in the asparagus for dinner.)






Am I tired? Yes, of course and so there is a real danger that the blog post will be hurried and raw. But it hardly matters. The farmette grew today by leaps and bounds! And somehow, in some hard to describe way, I grew with it.
 

hot Friday

It was not so hot when I went out at 6 to let the cheepers out and to plant a few more flowers. I wore my fleece.

Still, the promise of a warm day lead me to take our breakfast outside onto the porch.
You sure? Ed asks...
Yes, it's so good to look out on the yard!






And it is. Though there is a downside to sitting out in such close proximity to the flower fields. The cheepers hear us and they very much want to be close to wherever we are. (Here they are, rushing toward our voices.)






They don't seem to mind that they can't actually be on the porch. They work the soil close by and I have to endure watching their claws scratch at the roots of my plants. Ed reminds me that the actual damage is insignificant. But I think that's because I do a lot of damage control after they've barrelled through the yard.  Ah well... on balance there is more benefit (the fertilizing, the bug control, the joy of watching them be free and productive and yes, happy).

And what's blooming at the farmette? Well, this morning, before the heat wave, I have the usual suspects.






Much of the color is in the potted annuals.






Though as you can see, not only there.

I have for you a chicken's perspective on one of the beds. I'm cleaning up some of the pots, the cheepers, as always, are keeping me company.






And in the late afternoon, Snowdrop comes over.






It is by now so warm that I feel we should feast outside and picnic on the grass! I have picnic stuff ready. Off we go in the wagon (which she now loves!).






In the young fruit orchard, we spread out her baby quilt, lay out a tea towel and arrange the foods. They're not complicated -- it's just an afternoon snack after all. But we have that joy of eating outside, on the ground...






I tell her that if she looks up, she can see the expanse of the willow against a deep blue sky.






We smell the white lilacs, spin around the property in the wagon and eventually return home, where grandpa Ed makes sure she has her upside down moment.






In the evening, there is dinner. She loves corn on the cob!






And she loves salmon and really, all the veggies and fruits known to us.

After, we play.





And we walk outside then again and the whiff of the lilac is so strong that I tell Snowdrop to just stand still and inhale deeply.

It is a fitting way to end a day.

Thursday

The weather is perfect. There may be detractors ("too sunny!") and there may be gardeners who will shake their heads and say it's too cool in the morning, and there will be the occasional killjoy who'll remind us that it will not last. Me, I just think it's gorgeous. No qualifications, no worries about tomorrow. We have a perfect day now.

I'm up at at 6. It's easy to be out at this hour. The light, oh that early morning light!


















I do a few small things in the yard, but not much. I'm waiting for the warmer hours.

At breakfast, in the sun room...






... I groan about the fact that one must schedule dental check ups before one knows the weather for that day. Ah well. It's in the morning. I can be out digging, moving and planting by noon.

The air warms, the crab apple explodes into full bloom






No, I'm not with Snowdrop today. Her parents have a house guest and so schedules are reshuffled and my hours with the little one are reduced.


And what's blooming (if I can take my eyes off the flowers of the crab apple)? Lets go back to the handful of tulips...






Though honestly, today's loveliness cannot be measured by counting blooms. It's the greening of the land that's so thrilling.

Ed comes out every now and then to help...






(or to pet a chicken...)






And it's evening all too quickly. Time to put down the tools and think about tomorrow's tasks.






We catch the last bits of sun from behind the willow...





...and retreat inside. Tired, very very tired, but in that fine way that comes after a day of doing work you love.

Wednesday!

What a day! Sure, cool for May. But what a day!






Remember January? Well now!






So much loveliness it hurts!






In the sun room.





And then to Snowdrop's home.

And from the beginning -- please! here are your shoes, grandma, please!






Later.
Then can we play ball?
Sure, Snowdrop.






That smile comes so easily to her...






Finally, the walk.

(In the neighborhood.)






(So playful!)






And in the afternoon, I do the big push to fill the new front flower field. Ed catches me in the act of stomping, studying, selecting and finally -- digging and planting.





This is my day. Beautiful.