Friday - 63rd

We all love our kids, our grandkids, our partners, our friends. We love being with them. We love hearing stories about them, we love hugging them. All that is a given. Those are our big loves. Our anchors in life.

Then there are the little loves. Things that consistently make us happy. Content. At peace. Guaranteed. You do them, the smile comes back.

Everyone has a different bucket of small loves. Of course. And it's so interesting that the people you love will likely have only a little overlap with you in their own bucket of small joys. Oh, you may both like music or a beer at the local bar, but inevitably, you will diverge on hobbies or life styles or, well, a whole lot of things. As I often said -- Ed and I merged lives even though we had ostensibly very little in common.  It didn't diminish our love for each other. We just went on to fill our free time in very different ways.

I thought about this as I worked outside today. And what a day it is! 70F (21C), sunny. One of those totally perfect May days.

And I love perfect May days! I'm so hungry for them! The weather, the blossoms, or buds that soon will be blossoms, the freshness of it all!






I love it all completely. A small love, to be sure, but it's always there and it comes back each year as I am reminded of how much beauty returns to the landscape that we almost give up on in the dead of winter.

Breakfast, on the porch. We both love this morning interlude outside.






And then I work. I mow the path through the new orchard. I weed the front bed. I plant nasturtium. It takes up the whole morning and indeed, creeps into the afternoon, but it's time well spent. Working outside on a perfect May day stirs all those good endorphins within your brain, forcing a feeling of peace and yes, hope. You can't help but smile. A handful of small loves, all coinciding on this day to bring you a much needed break from worry.

(The crab apple is one day short of blooming!)






In the afternoon, Snowdrop is at the famhouse. But first come those moments of outside play.






I have these two garden fairies and I ask her to hide them in secret places. They'll keep an eye on the garden for us all season long.






And then she is off chasing a cabbage butterfly.






A field of dandelions brings out the puffs.






And my hurried attempt to produce a crown. I do this every year and she puts up with it every year.






But she is in a hurry to go inside. Those cherries! I show her the colander-ful. She says -- an infinity of cherries!  Ed challenges her: what's infinity? She comes up with a very credible answer.

And again a grandma thing: making earrings of the double stemmed cherries!






The rest of our time is a predictable mix of reading, building and longest of all -- story telling.





And then I take her home.


Evening. A May supper.  Just as on Mondays we want something snappy, so too on Fridays I never aim high. Today's foods? Chicken brats! With Blue Valley Farms spinach on the side.

Followed by pop corn. And cheese puffs.

You know what those are, don't you? -- Ed asks pointing an accusing finger at the bag of puffs. Ground up cornmeal with tumeric and who knows what else.
Hey, some people say tumeric is good for you.
Let's read the ingredients.
Let's not.

He does.

We laugh.

It's a good ending to a beautiful day. For all the impossibly tough times that we muddle through, there are days like this one. Yes really. Buckets of tiny loves and looming joys. Around the corner, waiting for us.

(Cat, on the porch, liking it as much as we do.)

Thursday - 62nd

The day lends itself perfectly to the cliche -- when it rains... well, it rains a lot.

For one thing, there is the wetness. A solid drizzle. Plants are happy so I'm happy. A little gray outside, but the warmth now is palpable. Skip the jacket. Don't need it. Not even a sweater.






(I was pleased to learn that the May freeze was not awful for apple growers. They may have lost a few buds and blooms, but a diminished load may actually be a good thing for the life of a fruit tree.)

(Old orchard bloomers: pears, apples, quince.)






Early in the day, I begin work on my supplemental grocery list. Typically the weekend is round two for me: I check to see if the items that were missing on the big list are now available. And this time, I am really gunning for cherries. The small bag I got on Tuesday was gone the next day. Pfft! Just like that. Snowdrop really loves cherries. At this time of the year they are erratic and so if you want them, you have to keep checking.

And bingo! They are in stock! So I place the supplemental weekend order now. And I get the answer telling me that a morning delivery is available. Today. Okay. I'll take it. Even though the kids are on their way to the farmhouse. It's a small order. I can manage.

Breakfast first.






Kids are here!






(He so tries to imitate all that she does...)






(Appreciative hug...)






And now all hell breaks loose. The phone rings. A mega mix-up with my mom's forthcoming doctor's appointment. It has to be solved immediately. It requires many calls to many people. At the same time that the groceries arrive. Only two items need a wash and a refrigerator, but still, it is drizzling outside. Bags need to come in.

Ed!

He's on it. Groceries are in. I'm washing the perishables. The phone keeps ringing. Snowdrop and Sparrow turn to him for amusement and conversation.






Snowdrop is especially happy to have Ed listen to her Barbie dilemmas and developments (she brought a handful of them to the farmhouse today).
Did you play with Barbies when you were little, ahah?
No...
What dolls did you play with?
I guess my stuffed teddy bears...

Who knew.






They bake cookies...






Lots of chocolate chip cookies.

And eventually the calls slow down, calm is restored and the kids settle in for an hour of drawing.



In the afternoon, the flurry of farmhouse activity subsides. The kids are back in their home. I step outside to take stock of what still needs to be done.

It's not sunny, but the warm air overtakes the senses. You have the feeling of incredible beauty all around you.






I scatter a few seeds, I pull a few weeds. I'm nearing the tail end of spring work. A few more days of planting and I'll be switching to a maintenance program.

And I have to say, so far so good! Even the wildflower seeds are starting to sprout and ones that I sowed in the autumn are pushing out the first handfuls of lovely flowers. I pick a few forget-me-nots and a few stalks of the invasive but nonetheless pretty lily-of-the-valley (I let it grow in a few shady areas of the farmette and it never fails to enchant me. The fragrance is everything you want in a small flower -- a delicate sweetness.)






Evening. I've defrosted fish from the Community Supported Alaskan Fisheries. This is the day to bring out Matt's asparagus. Steam it, sprinkle a bit of parmesan on it and dig in!

And nab some cherries for dessert! The first bag that I purchased on Monday was tiny and so this time I ordered three. Well now, Snowdrop will be pleased!





An evening of quiet. Of gratitude to all those who worked hard these last months to understand how best to keep people safe.

Wednesday - 61st

The first day after a cold spell often has no coherence to it. You know you have a pile of stuff waiting for you outside. You touch this, you touch that. You finish nothing. It's always like that.

But hey, it's a beautiful day! As promised, the temps are climbing, the sun is doing an in and out dance, the breeze is warm.

We did have a cool night and therefore a cold morning, but it's now warm enough for the annuals and so immediately after feeding the animals and saying good morning to the fantastic May day, I bring the remaining pots and baskets outside. There they will stay until the first frost in the Fall. My, but that seems a long way away!

(toward the farmhouse, from the Big Bed)






(morning light)






Breakfast is still inside though. I'm mindful of the fact that when Ed wakes up, things feel cool to him outside, especially if we take our time over the bowls of fruits or oatmeal.





My first task is a terrifically pleasant one: Ed and I take the pretty drive along rural roads to Natalie's Greenhouse for a curbside pickup of some replacement annuals. It's not just the polar blast that did some minor damage to a few plants, it's the animals: the chickens chomp on the alyssum. Someone has been chomping on the gaura, and phlox, and not a few number of tulips. The usual exasperations of a gardener.


(planting, on a bigger scale! Across the road from Natalie's)






And then I get to work. Fix the annual pots. Pull some weeds. Put in a perennial. Or two. Scold the chickens. Round and round this circle I go. Let's just say I make progress!






(one of my favorite spots at the farmette in mid-May: by the quince trees in the old orchard. It's all blooms and violets!)


 



Lunch? Oh, it's wonderful! On the porch. A nut spread with blood orange and hibiscus marmalade (a mother's day gift).






And immediately after, Snowdrop comes over.

Yes, cherries! All about cherries! "They make smiles in my tummy!"











(it cannot be said that she rushed through her art work today...)






In the evening, Ed is out riding his bike and I'm fixing a frittata. Still with spinach (Matt, the asparagus farmer, had some winter spinach left and we were happy to nab some) and with mushrooms. And lots of cheese. Always delicious!






I take a small walk outside afterwards. For the light. For the beauty of a May evening. I'm thinking -- this month offers all the good stuff: the lushness, freshness, the color, the eternal hope of a better tomorrow. And it doesn't have the mosquitoes, the heatwaves, the constant thunderstorms of summer. It's a month that forces you to take a pause. To look around, to smell deeply, to feel connected to the natural world.






(first iris!)






If you haven't already, open the window and let that breeze into your home. Close your eyes, exhale...

Tuesday - 60th

And now, let's resume spring! (That was some cold spell... The garden survived, though the toll is still unknown. Some little guys are struggling. Always the little guys! The weaker plants, the little kitties, the vulnerables.)

The signs are good: plenty of sunshine and a gradual upswing in the temperatures.






Sure, breakfast is still indoors.






But the temptation to go outside is strong. At the very least, I spend some time moving most but not all of the big pots to their regular posts. (Some tender flowers would not like the lows that will still be with us tonight and so they'll stay inside a little longer.)

(The last tulips of the season...)






And then I run (well, drive) to join up with the grand kids at their home. It's our springtime Tuesday routine.











It's a funny playtime. Snowdrop is totally absorbed in a story that she is spinning with her Barbies (yes, she loves those Barbies and at her house it's where most of her storytelling takes places).






Sparrow, not to be outdone, appropriates one of the Disney Barbies and has her act out a wake up from deep sleep routine (with me providing a voice-over) again and again and again.






Eventually, they settle to do art.






And soon after lunch, I head home. I want to sow the rest of the seeds  -- both flowers and the root vegetables (carrots and beets).

It is not easy to plant seeds when you have free ranging chickens at your heels.






We finish up with the veggies and I do many but not all of the flowers. More to do tomorrow. I have to pause with planting because the weekly groceries have arrived. I go on to spend a very soapy set of hours scrubbing stuff. Oh, but the rewards! Snowdrop will be very happy tomorrow when she sees the arrival of these!






Evening. Shrimp with veggies. It's a toss up! Go with the asparagus Matt the asparagus farmer delivered today...






... or use up the big bundle of broccoli from our grocery order?

Aren't we lucky to have such dilemmas...






Here's a treat: at least part of my dinner is with Primrose! I chomp down on broccoli, which happens to be one of her all time favorites, while she finishes off a dessert of berries. (And then washes herself up in the kitchen sink.)






(Goodnight, Primrose... Good night, grandma...)






And who am I thinking about tonight? Who gets my attention? The kids. Not only my kids, but all kids. The ones who wistfully say (as Snowdrop did today) - I wish this Coronavirus would be over. Kids who miss their friends. Their cousins. Their routines. Their days that did not include such words as social distancing. Their trips, their adventures!


Today, too, is International Nurses Day. Even if I recited all that nurses do in a pandemic, I would understate their importance and the toughness of their lives right now. So, just a brief but heartfelt thank you. Really, thank you.