Wife, writer, tinkerer, grower of food. I'm happiest outside our rambling farmhouse with a basket looped on my arm, picking dinner from the garden. That's joy right there. Please follow along; I'm so glad you're here!
There's no turning back now. We're drowning in asparagus, drowning in baby greens, drowning in pretty green shoots in the flower bed, drowning in weeds.
I believe we have had our last frost.
While the guys installed the cabinets on Wednesday, my mom and I headed to Frog Pond to buy flowers and have girl time, and-- sure sign of optimism-- I bought my tomato and pepper seedlings. They're not in yet, they won't be in yet for another week, but yesterday evening I went out and set up the trellis framing where they will live, and thought about the high-summer season ahead. The humid and the crazy and the sticky and the canning-- oh, it's all ahead.
And I thought about last year, walking around in my new red baseball cap as a hummingbird followed me, trying repeatedly to pollinate my head. I remembered last year.
The weeds in the circle garden, where now there are pretty flowers all around. The things that hadn't been planted yet, the stories that hadn't been started yet. The stories always yet to come. Oh, it's a good season, and a good time to be living.
And, I won't lie-- I'm a little more excited and eager for it all, the canning especially-- knowing what a gloriously efficient and durable kitchen I will have in which to practice my craft. The countertop people are coming to measure today....