Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Wandering through another beautiful day

Last evening after a sweep through the garden, I stood in the shower, letting the water rinse the small clods of dirt out of my hair (I'm an enthusiastic weeder), and the bits of green stuff off my shins that had embedded themselves.  I realized that I was smiling as my brain reviewed the day; a day filled with nothing special, but many, many small joys.
On a really perfect day, I get to jump from project to project, driven only by my imagination.  The weather was unusually stunning for the tail-end of July.  Low humidity and low 80's with sunshine and puffy clouds, a rare and scrumptious treat between heat waves and heavy, damp air.
Need to find just the right place for this butterfly weed.  Soon.

Almost every morning starts with a quick check of the computer while listening to the bickering and calling of many types of birds.  Now that the butterflies have arrived, I can see them bouncing around on the buddleia outside the window.  Then the overnight orders are packed and put into the mailbox.  Coffee finished, the day begins.
At this time of year, that probably means that the trip back from the mailbox pulls me into some new project or inspiration.  Oh, the holy basil needs to be pinched back.
The rows of holy basil are thriving.

Lots of ripe elderberries, maybe I should start drying them... Some of that comfrey should be laid out on sheets upstairs... where's my camera?  I should get in there and pull that crazy vine that's taking over the echinacea plot, and while I'm at it, maybe start a tincture?
Yesterday the project of the morning turned out to be a pile of cucumbers that needed to be picked.  I've been wanting to try drying them (my sister and I both have way too many cucumber plants) to powder for winter projects, both culinary and cosmetic.  First try, thin slices laid out inside the back door to take in the full sun without contact with the wildlife.
Oh!  Better label that salve that was poured into jars last night and get it set up on the website.
Next, down the hill to help with wrapping soap for a couple hours.
At some point, the gist of this issue's field notes starts percolating in my head.  I'd intentionally put off writing it until after we got back from the trade show, expecting something meaningful to occur to me from that.  It did.
The fig tree is none the worse for wear after being transplanted this spring - whew!

The kitchen was filled with the scent of fresh melon that needed to be cut up for the fridge - and sampled.
In the early evening, I took the cucumber slices out back to work on, getting them ready to go into a warm oven for a few hours to finish. 
Piles of thin slices of dried cucumber.

I heard my sister and her husband talking while they worked on the herb patch across the field.  The dogs were "helping" them.  Snippets of words, laughter, barking and every so often, "No!"  Those crazy dogs...
Into my own garden, I watched juvenile rabbits running and hopping outside the fence.  My arm brushed against the Greek columnar basil, and the scent filled the air.  Weeding around the row of black raspberry plants brought my attention back into place as the vicious thorns were just waiting for it to waver.  All the while, thinking, thinking, thinking about the subject of my article.
Hibiscus blooms greeted us upon our arrival home last Wednesday.

Maryanne pulled into the driveway with a large bouquet of rose geranium branches that Fargo (dog) had decided were ready to be harvested, and walking up from the garden, their scent met me 10 yards away.
I sat down to write. 
Hyssop has established herself well in the bottom garden, and the bees love it.
It poured out of me right onto the page.  I went back to sand off the rough edges.  Checking back through it to try to be sure it says what it's supposed to say - not always as easy as it should be.  Sometimes it wanders off (and if you're still reading, you now understand).  Then into the shower.

And what will today bring?  It's one more perfect, gorgeous day before we jump back into the primordial ooze that is our typical weather.  Seems that it should be taken advantage of, so whatever it brings, part of it will be outside playing.  One thing is for sure, there will be no straight lines from point A to point B.

1 comment:

Laura said...

Thank you for transporting me from the wilds of Manhattan into your beautiful realm "on the hill." Gosh, I needed that! I love your world, Tina, your perspective, your incredible connection with nature, and I thank you for sharing it so lushly.


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