We had our first grouping of sunny days last week and I jumped at the chance to work in my garden. I only have one raised bed, because the yard is too small for anything else. I like to think of it as my “practice garden.” That way, when we move onto the farm, I’ll be a professional gardener who produces a beautiful and bountiful crop every year without any mistakes (Don’t knock my fantasy, please.)
I mixed in fresh compost and planted my first crop of mixed greens, butterhead lettuce, baby carrots and spinach. Once it’s warmer I’ll add basil, parsley and cilantro, but here in Washington, that won’t happen until mid-June.
This was Sam’s first time playing in the grass and he had an amazing afternoon (or so it seemed anyway). He played in the raised bed, ate dirt and leaves, (even though I pulled everything out of his mouth, I’m pretty sure a few pieces escaped my prying fingers), and most importantly received instructions from his father on how to use his pushcart. The last part didn’t interest him too much. He was much happier crawling inside and letting The Man push him around. To each their own, I suppose.
(BTW, did anyone else notice my knees look about twice my age? How did that happen?)
We took The Baby to our local aquarium last week. We had never been, and it was a beautiful and sunny day in Washington, so naturally we had to go out and do something fun. He seemed to enjoy banging on the glass more than looking at the creatures beyond the glass, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. There was room dedicated to touching and feeling starfish, sea anemone, and other squishy things I couldn’t identify. He LOVED that…almost as much as I love his little pudgy hand. Who knew that knuckle dimples could be so cute?!
Spring is so close, I can practically smell it. The Man and I walked the farm today; discussing property lines, possible building sites, and drainage issues. It was a riveting conversation, believe you me. One that I have no doubt, would have held no interest to anyone but us. Sam couldn’t have cared less. I gave him my house keys to play with and he was a happy boy. During our walk, I stopped a few times to take pictures of a few blooming plants, namely the daffodils (I love that you can see the tiny yellow farmhouse in the background) and the forsythia. Because we bought the property in December, most of the flora has gone unidentified by their new owners (us). Now that spring is coming, the plants are showing their true colors (ha!) and slowly becoming recognizable. The forsythia (a gorgeous flowering yellow bush) is growing along the side of the house; had I known that I already had a giant forsythia, I would not have had The Man plant two new ones on either side of the barn. Oh well, you can never have too many forsythia, I always say…
(I love that word. For-si-thee-ya…say that three times fast.)
I think that’s what makes the anticipation of this particular Spring season so much fun. I don’t know what’s going to grow, or where it’s going to grow. This farm is over 100 years old, and there’s layers upon layers of growth that have remained dormant since we became the owners. I’m so excited to see what other people in the past have planted and to see how the land looks after everything has bloomed. Yay for Spring.