the person you're trying to reach...

I feel like I should post an auto reply today to my email, text messages and phone: are you trying to reach me? sorry, not available. And please do not expect a call back -- I haven't the time.

In other words, my plate is full. So full that I planted zero one plant(s) today.

Morning, showing a tiny bit of sunshine...

 

Breakfast, where Ed wonders if it really is warm enough to eat on the porch and I am so powering through the day that I say -- yes, it's positively hot! (It's not hot, nor even warm. Suffice it to say that Ed puts on his jacket.)

Immediately after, I go over to the place where I hope to move my mom. We meet up there. This, after a year of no face to face contact. (She is being interviewed by the staff.)

The interview goes well. We'll see how this all plays out.

 

And then I was left with a dangling hour. I may as well drive over to the nurseries and pick up the still missing annual flowers for the tubs. I would love to put these in of course -- they would add vibrant color to the farmette landscape right now -- but I cannot. One more frosty morning is coming up (Sunday). As it is, I'll have to carry every blooming annual inside. It's easier to just hold them over in their little starter pots. 

 

By then the clock tells me it's pick up time for Snowdrop. My phone is ringing, the messages are popping up, the computer is flashing new emails. I can't get to any of it just now. Maybe next week!

 

Snowdrop is again in fine spirits. You don't appreciate how much she has missed playing with friends until she spends the entire twenty minute ride to the farmette talking about her two new "besties."

 

We do spend a good bit of time outside. Snapshots from things and places that grab her today:

Eventually, hunger and tiredness carry us indoors. As if on autopilot, she takes off her shoes and socks, washes her hands, pulls out the "school clips" from her hair.

She chooses her reading material and arranges her snacks and we lose ourselves in the next book and the one after that.

 

Evening. 

 

 

I am opening boxes of new arrivals. Plants. Lots of them. Of my 187 new perennials, only about a dozen aren't here yet. How am I going to get them all in the ground? Just taking them out of boxes and trays took over an hour. Whatever did I get myself into this year!!

(plants spilling out everywhere!)

The person you're trying to reach is not available right now, or tomorrow or the day after....

 

Earth Day

It's time to do more than just "care" about our planet. That's obvious, And celebrating the earth can't be just a one day thing. Plant a tree on Earth Day and be done with it. Nope, not enough.

But what what can I do? -- you ask. I haven't the answer. But I do have a cartoon for you -- long-ish but worth reading to the end (thanks to my Australian friend for passing it along!). 

It's a penguin's perspective. How can you not smile when a penguin sounds off? (Read it here.)

Though no one can change the course toward global warming on this one day celebrating our Earth, and, too, we know how pointless resolutions can be, I'll leave you to your own guilt and action or (wince!) inaction. But at least today, let's pay our respect to all living things on our beautiful planet. Together. Each in our own way.

For me, the day begins with frosty air but sunny skies. More daffodils tumbled in the cold night. But some steadfastly refused to give in.

I clipped a few more for my vase: better to admire in a vase than to see it face down on the ground. We enjoy them during our morning meal.

And now I begin planting. Our purchased saplings haven't arrived yet and that's good because Ed isn't quite ready for them, but my perennials keep coming. We expect another frost day this weekend, but nothing that will harm these plants.

Making things grow. Creating a landscape that attracts all. Pollinators, people, animals too (sometimes to my chagrin) and it hurts no one. But let's face it -- there are many many options that would do the same. My eleven flower fields, and our new orchard, and our soon to be planted grove of 75 trees -- these are  just one solution -- one that we love. Ed in his own way, I in mine.

To work then!

LATER:

I can't say that I did a lot of planting. Five Ten new ones in, but out of 186, so not very impressive. But stopping the digging was justifiable. I came across a grounding wire and though hitting it with a spade posed no real danger, nonetheless, I decided to be extra cautious and call the digger's hotline to get the exact placement of the power lines running underneath one of the new flower beds. Yes, Ed can give me approximate markers, but I'd rather be sure.

Since I paused with planting, I decided to make the six mile trip to Natalie's garden center again to start filling in the annuals checklist. It's splendid to walk around her greenhouses and pick out hanging baskets. Last year we couldn't do it, but this year we know we are safe. And it feels enormously grand.

(a bunch of impatiens, to remind us to be patient with spring's wild weather swings; I like their other name, often used by UK gardners -- busy lizzies)

There will be one more frosty night to worry about this weekend, but I'm betting that after that, all these bloomers will be able to stay outside for the remainder of the growing season.

STILL LATER:

I pick up Snowdrop in the brilliance of a sunny afternoon. The girl is happy. She tells me she is beginning to like kindergarten.

There is a reason for her big grin. She'd made some friends in these few months of class based instruction, but there have been skirmishes. Kids with strong opinions. The usual stuff that you would expect from school. Still, the class was tiny. There were few options but to join in or go off on your own. School became "just okay." Today, she connected with two new entrants into her class and for the first time, she reported that her day was "great!"

At the farmette, we stay outside...

... until she gets so frisky with the hose, that she gets us both wet.

(amazed at the rainbow formed by the sunbeams touching the spray of water...)

AND EVEN LATER:

On days like this one, you dont stop working just because it's dinner time. You forget about all else and keep on going. A few more plants to work with, just a few. The evening air is so lovely, the fading light so satisfying! 

We eventually call it a day. I reach for leftovers and heat them up in the microwave. Yes, there are times when dinner food has to take a back seat to everything else that's on your plate right now. 

When we finally do eat, reheated Chinese food never tasted so good.

68

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 64. Remember singing those lyrics back in 1967? I was 14 then and I thought 64 was really old! Heck, I thought 50 was over the hill. 

Those early years, when anxious longing was so much part of my everyday! Where do I belong? What contributions are mine to make? Much much later I read Mary Oliver. Her words, as usual, well placed.

Tell me,
what is it you plan to do
with your one
wild and precious life?

When you are young, you don't know any of that. You latch onto one thing, but pass on something else. I passed on my 7th grade teacher's excitement over Wordsworth. She had us memorize these thrilling lines:

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze

I thought it was a chore. Living then in New York, I could not imagine a field of daffodils. 

Now I can.

 

Notice the sunshine? April doesn't promise endless days of sunshine, but most often on my birthday I get at least a little!

(True, today we also get a snow flurry. Never mind, it was fleeting.)

I am 68 today, happy to be alive, grateful for all the privilege that has put me where I am right now. Grateful for my beloveds, family, friends, Ed. (Over breakfast, with a card which he managed to find on the internet. Lovely.)

I bring in boxes of plants. Arriving now, full speed ahead. Only I have to shelter them in the mudroom because we are to have another freezing night. Just one more!

I am also scheduled to pick up a plant order from the Flower Factory. We drive over, enjoying the landscape that is suddenly perfect. A thousand shades of green. Oh! Want to see what a controlled prairie burn looks like? We pass one on the way.

And from the perennial nursery, we head out to Owen Woods. An FB friend tipped me off: bluebells are in their fullest moment! To repeat: ours, on this side of the ocean, are Mertensia virginica. The flower heads are almost identical to the English bluebell (Hyacinthoides non-scripta). Downward facing bells. True blue. (There are very few true blue flowers out there. You'd think it would be a common floral color. It isn't.) But they are not the same as the English bell.

 

 

 

It seems dreamy and magical to sit in a patch of blue bells and so I do just that.

 

 

 

The Bronte sisters wrote poems about the bluebell, but I like this simple verse better -- it comes from a book of flower fairies (by Cicely Mary Barker) -- one that I think my grandkids would like, not as a school chore, but as a stepping stone to their treasured world of magic and make believe:

My hundred thousand bells of blue,
The splendour of the Spring,
They carpet all the woods anew
With royalty of sapphire hue;
The Primrose is the Queen, ’tis true.
But surely I am King!
Ah yes,
The peerless Woodland King!

We stop at my older girl's home for a birthday drink. And cards and presents. And cake! With candles! And kid hugs.

Candles lit. Ed, take a picture!

 

 

 

And now for something we haven't done in well over a year: on the way home, Ed and I pick up take out food. We go to Taigu Noodles and load up on Chinese boxes of favorites!

Day isn't done until I can visit with Primrose, another spring girl in my life! Her rendition of the happy birthday song is incredible!

And so I get used to that new number: 68.

Past middle age, I did finally come around to Wordsworth and Neruda and especially, in my ancient post 50s life -- to Mary Oliver. What nature loving soul does not also love Mary Oliver?!

("Wild Geese")

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Life. Yes, so beautiful, if you can free yourself of nonsense, often not of your making, to soak in its subtly magnificent moments.

Happy birthday indeed.

 

color your day

What colors your day? What leaves you feeling giddy, relieved, satisfied? I know poor weather can dampen the spirit. Cold air can send you indoors to hide under a warm blanket, preferably with a mug of hot tea in hand. But so many things can truly add pink tones to your mood! Here's one -- today a friend told me that for once she had some good medical news. Imagine -- she went from feeling apprehensive, like her days were numbered, to feeling euphoric. Granted a reprieve. I was delighted.

All this happened in rapid succession -- early morning wake up and walk to feed the animals...

(tulips, looking like they're huddled inside themselves trying to keep warm!)

Early morning appointments, a rush out, a trip to the UPS store, and finally, a leisurely breakfast with Ed, during which we talk about medicine and how it can deliver good results and at other times -- push you down a rabbit hole of never ending question marks.

But in the end, it is a day for farmhouse hibernation. Oh, not for the chicks -- the three young girls now have to get used to every kind of weather (so long as it stays above freezing). We plan on integrating them into the coop by the weekend. Sure, it's been good to bring them in for the night, knowing that they are safe and warm in the farmhouse, without (yet) the older chickens to harass them into submission, but they are growing and they do smell and it's been eight weeks. Time to make the house chicken-free once again.

In the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop. I wish I could offer her a nice romp in the garden. We do play outside a little. But just a little.

 

 

But it does feel good to get back inside. To the couch!

And that's fine. But I am looking forward to Earth Day  -- when sweet sunny spring returns once again with all that she delivers. Hey, maybe, just maybe some of her goodies will color my day even before Earth Day! Come on, surprise me with some sunshine tomorrow! Please. If you can. It's alright if you can't. But I surely would welcome some break in the clouds, just as a special Wednesday treat, okay?

new schedule

On this chilly, really chilly day, we make a few adjustments. First of all, I turn up the heat and pull on a very warm sweatshirt. There's no dilly dallying during the morning walk. Feed the animals, return home.

 

(still plenty of golden color out there...)

Breakfast in the kitchen. I feel it would not be inappropriate to light a candle -- something I reserve for the darker winter months. But, I hold back. I have a little guy here today. Candles and little ones are probably not a good combo.

Sparrow is here alone because his sister's school is now in session four days a week. I'm not a great substitute for Snowdrop, but at least the farmhouse offers a change of pace for the guy. 

 

We play. And I mean "we." Sparrow used to love to play by himself for a long stretches of time, but he's been in a world of babysitters and Snowdrop. I'm roped into everything.

 

 

 After lunch (he really holds his own on that strawberry, a member of the dreaded fruit family!) ...

 

 

 

...Sparrow really wants to go outside. This surprises me: he is usually reluctant to face the challenges of the great outdoors. And this day is an exceptionally cold day.

 

 

 

He hangs in there for a little while...

But not too long. I drop him off at home and then go over to Snowdrop's school to get in line for the pick up of the little girl.

I take her home today and eventually make my way back to the farmette. 

There wasn't much time for yard work, but nor was there the inclination to work outside. We're in for three days of cold. Well, relative cold. Not so long ago, a high of 44F (7C) would have been welcome news. Not today. We wait for this blast from the north to pass. There's talk of snow to the south of us. Good news only because the land is dry and any moisture is helpful. Ah well, it's spring. Never think that you can outsmart and outpredict this season. There will always be surprises.

with hardly a pause

The second half of April is intense here at the farmette. Everything picks up speed. Ed and I try to keep up with old demands even as new projects insert themselves into our spring routines. For example, this morning I found Ed measuring the temperature of water in a jar. He was aiming for some perfect number of degrees so that he could begin the process of "cold stratifying" Korean Pine seeds. Why we should be fussing with Korean Pine seeds is a long story, but let me just say that when mature, these trees do produce edible pine nuts. Yes, we're fully into the tree project once again and our assortment of nut trees will include the Korean Pine. If something comes of his sprouting project.

Me, I'm focused totally on the flower fields. I look beyond the daffodils (even though the daffodils are splendid right now!).

I dig out weeds and I cover exposed roots that the cheepers are determined to scratch up, and I chip the plants for good measure. Until the flower fields are thick with perennials, this is what I have to do to keep things growing. And because it is another lovely spring day, we start before breakfast (such pretty colors then!)...

Finally, a pause:  for the morning meal on the porch...

And continuing really without pause until late afternoon, when I am happy to stop bending, digging pulling, chipping, so that I can focus on the evening meal.

This nonstop outdoor work is really good for the soul. You're not doing it for the exercise, you're doing it because you care about something other than your physical health and yet the benefits accrue exponentially: the more you work, the better the garden looks and the better you feel. Funny how that works.

(Peach and Henny have taken to laying in the cart... The girls have too much freedom!)

 

 

Toward evening, the young family comes and we spend a good many moments outside. Yes, the "magic meadow" is in play again, announcements and all.

 

 

(we're never quite sure what Sparrow understands these announcements to be, but he always participates with total enthusiasm...)

 

 

 

Everyone is hungry. Time to go inside.

And so ends a very full weekend. Not much couch time, but hey, I can make up for it in the days to come. We're slated to have a blast of cold air. April is never a smooth sail. But I'm happy as anything to have had these prep days: everything is ready. Toward the end of next week, I'll begin filling the spaces created for the newcommers to the garden. How wonderful is that!