Skipped the showers, on to flowers
So April flew by, eh? Between lessons, school, rehearsals, running, and therapies, I feel like we blinked and found ourselves in May.
Things here are good. We're neck deep in history and literature discussions, grammar and Latin study, math, sets of splints, tomato and squash seedlings, recitals, annual testing, and baby lettuces.
The trees have bloomed and promise oodles of pears and Asian pears, and maybe some little plums. The rosemaries are bright and healthy, the morning glories have volunteered, and baby lavenders are thriving. The bleeding hearts, bronze fennel, and blue hyssop have lost their minds - exceeding last year's growth by leaps and bounds. Sweet woodruff and blue vinca carpet the east side in front of the fence, while purple sage and succulents are taking over the west. Red yarrows are coming up, the Jethro Tull (ha!) coreopsis is all leafy, and the chocolate mint is doing it's work: holding down the hillside to the north and making the trash can area more pleasant on the east side, by the gate.
I was sure we'd killed the banana mint, but it's back, with two little leafy spires. I need to check on the cress seedling babies and probably give them a little water, since it's been warm and gorgeous for nearly a week, with no rain predicted. The hollyhocks did a nice job of self-sowing last fall, and their progeny have been watched with bated breath. The pink-flowering strawberries I found for twenty-five cents apiece are fluffing up, and approaching the edge of the wall - something I hoped would work out so Mr. Q could pick berries himself, from his chair or stander. Next year, the Hidcote lavenders will afford a similar opportunity - providing there aren't too many bees for Q.
In other news, it sounds like the quote for ramps might come down. The pharmacy rep was out during one of Q's therapies this week and noted that the math has shifted. So I'm waiting to hear.
To be clear, there's no budget for ramps, and I don't know what comes next here. Little and not so little miracles have strung together for the last nine months, and we're still afloat, and I just don't know what else to say about that. I find myself thinking that we can't possibly last another month like this, and then something completely unexpected occurs, et voila: speechless.
I'll come back and say more about the outdoor portions of the domicile, and our many hours of weeding. It's kind of amazing that we have so many plants - many of them gifts or grown from seed. Some have come from the local plant guy, who's been known to knock off 40% or just give my kids the plants they've dithered over, after they've fretted a little about how far their dollars would stretch. More miracles.
Time to crash - we have church, orchestra, recital, and running to come before Sunday evening. I hope you have a delightful weekend: all rest and sweetness, peace and renewal, with enough accomplishment to make the coming week easy and rewarding. Hug those babies, y'all.
Things here are good. We're neck deep in history and literature discussions, grammar and Latin study, math, sets of splints, tomato and squash seedlings, recitals, annual testing, and baby lettuces.
The trees have bloomed and promise oodles of pears and Asian pears, and maybe some little plums. The rosemaries are bright and healthy, the morning glories have volunteered, and baby lavenders are thriving. The bleeding hearts, bronze fennel, and blue hyssop have lost their minds - exceeding last year's growth by leaps and bounds. Sweet woodruff and blue vinca carpet the east side in front of the fence, while purple sage and succulents are taking over the west. Red yarrows are coming up, the Jethro Tull (ha!) coreopsis is all leafy, and the chocolate mint is doing it's work: holding down the hillside to the north and making the trash can area more pleasant on the east side, by the gate.
I was sure we'd killed the banana mint, but it's back, with two little leafy spires. I need to check on the cress seedling babies and probably give them a little water, since it's been warm and gorgeous for nearly a week, with no rain predicted. The hollyhocks did a nice job of self-sowing last fall, and their progeny have been watched with bated breath. The pink-flowering strawberries I found for twenty-five cents apiece are fluffing up, and approaching the edge of the wall - something I hoped would work out so Mr. Q could pick berries himself, from his chair or stander. Next year, the Hidcote lavenders will afford a similar opportunity - providing there aren't too many bees for Q.
In other news, it sounds like the quote for ramps might come down. The pharmacy rep was out during one of Q's therapies this week and noted that the math has shifted. So I'm waiting to hear.
To be clear, there's no budget for ramps, and I don't know what comes next here. Little and not so little miracles have strung together for the last nine months, and we're still afloat, and I just don't know what else to say about that. I find myself thinking that we can't possibly last another month like this, and then something completely unexpected occurs, et voila: speechless.
I'll come back and say more about the outdoor portions of the domicile, and our many hours of weeding. It's kind of amazing that we have so many plants - many of them gifts or grown from seed. Some have come from the local plant guy, who's been known to knock off 40% or just give my kids the plants they've dithered over, after they've fretted a little about how far their dollars would stretch. More miracles.
Time to crash - we have church, orchestra, recital, and running to come before Sunday evening. I hope you have a delightful weekend: all rest and sweetness, peace and renewal, with enough accomplishment to make the coming week easy and rewarding. Hug those babies, y'all.
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