farmer's market

farmer's market, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

Loving these strawberries on my grandmother's fried chicken plate.

john works the saturday list. {loving the chalkboard}

john works his saturday list. {loving the chalkboard}, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

I've got some planting to do today.

the little white turnips

the little white turnips, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

John went out to the market yesterday morning and came home with lots of vegetables and plants. These little white turnips are one of my very favorites. We ate all of them for lunch, just raw and sliced on a plate. I cooked the tender tops in a pot of lentil soup for dinner with carrots, celery, onion, tomato, and fennel.

author's tea. she volunteered to go first..

author's tea. she volunteered to go first.., a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

dance {it is freezing}

dance {it is freezing}, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

ella miranda :: author's tea 2012

ella miranda :: author's tea 2012, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

run

run, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

wish

dandelion, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

dandelion

dandelion, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

fly

fly, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

I miss the little folks so much. I am, however, enjoying the quiet, cooking, and the whole book I read yesterday.

april

Today it snowed. No, it really wasn't all that bad. I don't even think it froze, but it was decidedly unfriendly for mamas wearing sandals.

I'm headed for Richmond tomorrow for a few days. My mama has a new hip, and I'm going to go make her something to eat. The wildest part is that I'm going absolutely alone. I don't ever do anything alone.

smell

smell, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

ruby

ruby, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

tulips

tulips, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

a door closed

We closed on our old house yesterday. I know. We took a huge risk, found out it was an even bigger risk, and then some very brave people bought our house. They first looked at our house on October 8. They are taking on a big project, but it is one that they will probably turn a profit on, and I wish them godspeed, but we are blissfully done.

I haven't even wanted to talk about it just in case it didn't happen. But it did. Today we finished the first mowing of our little 2.25 acres. It seems much bigger when you are mowing it. Hopefully we will get a bigger lawnmower soon, but this is building muscles and character.

I ordered a chicken coop that will arrive next week. It is big enough for ten chickens. The kids have a list on names on the refridgerator. Ella wants to have a rooster named Ra, but we are hoping for just hens. I think we will have chicks by the end of the week.

Peonies and poppies are getting taller, and the weeds are running rampant.

growing

I'm currently involved in a race against growing grass. The moment that I win I have to start weeding furiously. Next week I'm going to try to stay at home as much as possible.

Lilies of the valley are coming up next to the front porch.

I need tools. A post hole digger, a saw that works, and a string trimmer.

thunderstorm

thunderstorm, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

blooms

blooms, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

grapes

making nests, a photo by oyabakamama on Flickr.

Not so long ago it was stlil winter. Back before the daffadils popped out and the grass started growing wildly I pruned our grape vines. I read a few articles on the internet, and then just went out and did it. I felt like a was cutting away a lot, but that it what you are supposed to do. I don't think anyone has pruned them in many years.

the force that through the green fuse drives the flower

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.

The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman's lime.

The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather's wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.

And I am dumb to tell the lover's tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.

Dylan Thomas 1934