A grey day with a beautiful soft rain, a day to be productive ~ indoors. Reluctantly.
Today’s rain is the perfect kind, tiny fine droplets, causing everything it touches to be canopied with gossamer mist.
Earlier in the morning, I stood filling the coffee pot , gazing out at the garden. A chubby robin sat perched upon the grape arbor. He shook himself to be free of the moisture and he was surrounded by droplets larger than were falling from the sky. I wish I had my camera in hand.
The peas are in the garden*; it’s a perfectly timed rain.
I’ll add more Chard and Spinach this afternoon, and the lettuces tomorrow, they like the cooler weather.
*If the thunder-storm in the early hours of the morning didn’t wash them away, that is.
The dogs are sleeping in the kitchen, soaking in the silence.
I better be moving on, I have dresses to be altered and pants to be hemmed.
Be well, enjoy your day.
This is what April [usually] looks like on our little cottage farm. Do you suppose Mother Nature plays April fools jokes? I’d like to think she has a sense of humor.
How this place we call home looks today?
They are too discomfited to allow for company. You do understand, don’t you?
Perhaps the chooks will let us visit?
Uhm, guess not, they choose to not even show their faces.
The goats are happy go-lucky, let’s ask Shelby for a visit.
Oh, Okay. We get the message, we’ll visit another day.
Be well, and take the light of the Lord with you wherever you go.
A simple bit of earth has the impressive power of evoking grand dreams. The magic begins with the arrival of winter’s dispersal of seed catalogs.
If you garden and are anything like me you dream, and plan you scratch lines in the soil with the toe of your boot, you carve and through grassy strips creating new beds and expanding the old. You move this here and that there, in hope of better growth. Maybe this next to that would be better…you have illusions of a grand garden (or perhaps delusions).
Notions gleaming with possibility and loosely tangled treasure bounce through your noggin, like spring peepers on your pond.
Ideas flash like a a photographer’s bulb, if only they were as easily created as they are imagined.
I imagine more garden paths, lined with pea stone beckoning you to enter herb gardens filled with basils, thyme, rosemary, and sage, or a bench tucked away in a secret cutting garden.
Fields of french lavender lending their fragrance to dawn’s solitude.
You feel the moss under your bare feet that cling to the damp slate slabs in an outdoor dining area. You sit, senses drenched with wisteria draping from the pergola overhead. Birds, bees, and butterflies going about the daily task of pollination (no chemicals to harm them in sight).
It’s still much too cold here to get out and work the soil, so I sit sipping Earl Grey whilst I bide my time, content to plan and dream.
“My garden of flowers is also my garden of thoughts and dreams. The thoughts grow as freely as the flowers, and the dreams are as beautiful.” Abram L. Urban
Be well, dream, and do.
Press Publish ~ Portland. Celi’s there you know. Hers was the first blog I followed when first starting mine in May of 2011. Her blog is a treat. If you haven’t already you should check it out. Some sessions will be live streamed, you have to register for tickets. Her session will begin at 1:45. There will also be so many helpful sessions, I hope to catch this one, as I am new to WordPress Premium. I am a little excited. Here is my very first post, have you read it? It seems so long ago, so much has happened since that day in May. There have been failures and unexpected successes. Moments to embrace and lessons in letting go. Through it all, I have laughed, cried, and learned. Delightfully alive. Be well, Jess
Do you sometimes feel too comfortable, like you need to shake things up a bit to keep from standing still?
Is there some deep down craving, a story left untold, a path grown over from lack of treading? Or is it just me that has to push, to find detours, over mountainous obstacles, brought to a dead end; only to turn around, catch my breath only to be propelled forward yet again.
Its only human, I suppose, to want to hide from change. To stay snugged in your box of contentment. Why venture out; it’s warm and cozy there.
We should leave our lives open to serendipity; creative souls are not meant to be boxed in. There are discoveries out there that may make our hearts quiver, or shake us to our souls.
(Howie is so cute in his hat.) You only have to take the chance. Bring a friend, or go it alone.
Come out from behind your self imposed barriers, (yes, you Sidney)
We have dreams, we have fears to conquer. (Well, Sidney; I do)
We have an adventure ahead. Let’s not waste a moment. (You’re not coming with me, are you Sidney?)
How does the saying go? ” “I’m an idealist. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m on my way!” (No wonder Sidney doesn’t wanna come.)
Maybe Cicely will come? Maybe not.
The first day of spring is a perfect time to build your home; at least this couple thinks so.
Just outside my living-room window a sparrow family is building their nest in the Forsythia just swelling with buds.
It’s not a terribly pleasant day for building. The sun is struggling to be seen through the clouds and we expect snow to fall.
She is dressed rather plainly today, you wouldn’t want to muss your best finery would you. I don’t think she expected visitors.
She simply won’t be seen this way in public and takes her leave. Thank you very much.
Or perhaps she has stepped out for a few items of decoration to enhance the new abode.
I think he’s decided to use this time to tidy up his appearance. I do believe she’ll appreciate his efforts. (or perhaps he has an itch)
Where did she get off to; she can’t think I can do this alone.
Oh, there she is.
Do like how things are coming along? No? Oh well, it’s just the foundation.
Maybe she doesn’t know I’m here…
I believe she can see me now.
Let me show off my chest a little; she’ll like that.
How embarrassing, she didn’t even notice.
Perhaps I should get back to work, she might like that more…I have to impress her somehow.
Enjoy your day.
Break out the inspiration box; I’m looking for Spring.
It has to be here somewhere, it just does. No matter that thermometer out side my door reads 7 degrees. Look away.
It is Spring tomorrow, the calendar said so.
I hear birds singing their chilly songs.
There are animals who are waiting to awaken; the sun’s warmth waiting to tell them it’s time.
Be gone with you Old Man Winter, how can we miss you if you never leave. Don’t worry you won’t soon be forgotten.
We have seeds to start and gardens to sow.
There are babies to be born and eggs to be laid.
My crocus’ are desperate to break from the frozen depths.
Where is Spring? If you have seen her, could you please tell she is missed.