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.

stuck in a song

It is not a day of new tasks or novel ideas or pursuits. I am, in fact, stuck in a pattern that may well continue for the next ten grand weather days (if they continue to be grand weather days). It's like a song that I have in my head -- hum one bar and you'll recognize the rest of the tune because you've heard it so often before. But it's no less pretty, just because it's familiar.

Here we go -- my lovely May song.

The old pear, in the early morning light:






I have another dig and divide project. I pick up the shovel right after letting the cheepers out. Scotch follows, watches, and gets the worms. She's very good at it. So is Butter. The new girls are still learning.






The crab is at its finest, I think. Opening buds. A canvas of color.






Still early. Buckets of composted soil, spades, flower pots, cart for toting chips.






What else is blooming?






Even the plants that aren't yet close to their flowering stage are looking grand in the dewy morning light.






To the north of us, the truck farmers are working long hours.






This is when the hens take turn laying. Henny's done. Out for a stroll now.






Breakfast on the porch. We're both eating, while the cheepers do their morning cleaning routines just at the other side of the screen.






Ed had promised to come with me for a quick trip to the Flower Factory to pick up a few plants that are not day lilies (for the ever expanding front bed). Their displays always look lovely along the colorful fences by the greenhouses.






Going there and coming back, we avoid the highway and stick to our favorite country roads. There are rewards to taking a longer route!






We pass a small greenhouse called Natalie's. Only annuals. We don't need annuals, but I tell Ed we should at least pick up one tiny flat of something to support this small grower.
You never plant marigolds... he mutters.
Alright. Let's get some for you. I'll put them in by the path to the sheep shed.






In the afternoon and early evening, I am with Snowdrop. I bring her to the farmhouse, thinking I can get some planting done during her nap. Well, that doesn't happen. Phone calls to return, emails to write. Still, it's terrific to have her here.






What's that buzzing by?
One of the many lovely bugs that share the gardens with us...






If ever there was a bucolic canvas...






She continues her conversation with the cheepers. They listen attentively.






Lunch, nap, wake up. Oh, how beautiful are her smiles after a solid rest!






Toward evening, I tell her we'll be making pizza again. It's such a good dish to make with a child!

She's giving directions.






She's not sure I got everything right...






I tell her she can go chill while the pizza bakes. She happily loses herself in her books at her table.






And then it's dinnertime and she is a most rewarding guest...






And poof! -- the day is done.

See? Not much was different. A rerun of the most beautiful melodies. Nothing more, nothing less.

farmhouse Monday

In a surprise move, Ed beat me to the chicken coop this morning. In other words, I had the luxury of watching the sun fill the bedroom as it rose to a blue sky.

And over breakfast, in the sun room, he surprised me again by asking -- do you really want to extend the front flower bed a few more feet? It's looking so good!





Well yes, but I'm running low on flowers to plant. This morning I was moving and dividing. That wont fill another empty flower bed.
I suppose we could go to the Verona ladies and pick up a few more day lilies.

Ed can be very unpredictable.

The fact is, we are so immensely lucky this year. The northeastern states had a more glorious March but then a more frosty April -- that's bad news for may flowers. Several nurseries offered to work with you to slowly replace all you may have lost to the rise and fall of temperatures. France had an even worse case of heaving: I read that the Loire Valley may have lost a significant portion of the grape crop to an unexpected hard frost mid April. We had none of this. I've complained of the cold and of the grayness during parts of April, but we have been progressing nicely with a warm up now and we never suffered the severe weather that so damaged the planting season for others.

And so I suppose we're celebrating this year's good fortune.






Even our annuals never once needed a blanket for the night. (Though I do wish the chipmunk family would feast on something other than what I've planted in the tubs. Ah well. We share.)






Of course, it's Monday and so Snowdrop spends the day at the farmette.
Where did the chickens go?






Her mom happened to dress her in blues and I have to smile at the appropriateness of this for an early May day which still is so full of yellows and gentle greens.






Want a dandelion, grandma?






I let her pick one daffodil...






And I try to get her to take in a whiff of our white lilacs, which are just starting to bloom and which fill the air with the most beautiful fragrance, and she is great at the exhale, the protracted ahhhh! -- but I'm not sure she fully appreciates the headiness of the season. She smiles indulgently when I rhapsodize over a lilac bloom.






Or maybe she does understand? The draw of the outdoors remains so strong for her. Too, there are the cheepers. She wants to be close to them and she keeps going back to the coop area to chat them up.






Do they understand each other? Do they all speak a basic language of life that we, adults, later rip apart and shape and mold to our own needs? She reaches out and makes cooing noises and the cheepers don't run away. I swear, they listen.






(All that time with the chickens means that her shoes need a thorough rinse. Hold her, Ed while I scrub each of them down!)






Lunchtime. This girl is such a good eater! And no one loves berries (which today had the addition of cherries) as much as Snowdrop! Such an appropriate bib for her.






Want to try a fork, little one?
Spear and pounce, eh? You spear, I'll pounce!






In the afternoon, Ed moves loads of wood chips to expand the flower bed.

What are you doing, grandpa Ed?










The cheepers hover. Snowdrop likes that.






Yes, there is time indoors. A small amount of time!






And in the evening, I drive over country roads...





... to the Verona ladies (or one of them -- the one whose heart is with day lilies) and I talk petal length and blooming time and all the other crazy things day lily people talk about. (But let me admit this much: often times, I will pick a day lily for its name. You already know about Prairie Moonlight. Today I reached for Channel Island and Gentle Shepherd and French Lingerie, though I still think the best is last week's choice of Nina Winegar, which looks good next to today's Gentle Ed.)