"I am from the fields, you know..."

Lupine Days

A friend asked for me to get some pictures of the lupines that bloom along our roadsides and fields at the beginning of summer, and of course I was more than happy to oblige! 😁 Enjoy!!! 

Spring Garden

It's been so long since I did a post on my garden, you all might be wondering if it's still there! 😂 Well, it very much is, and it's been keeping me quite busy this spring! I'll start with pictures from a few weeks ago, when the crocuses were in bloom...

This spring has been very early. Daffodils and hyacinths are already in bloom, and the tulips are looking like they will soon follow! I apologize for the poor quality of some of these pictures...my trusty old camera broke down last fall, and the new one, I am discovering, does not do a good job with flowers. 😂 

The greenhouse is quite full as well...

'Peppermint Sticks' Balsam...my favorite annual! 😊

Hollyhocks and dahlias...

The tomatoes are looking great! These are from seed I saved from some really large tomatoes our Amish friends gave us a couple years ago. I'm hoping they do as well for me as they did for them! I've also planted 'Black Krim' which is our favorite for fresh eating. 

This is called Garden Blackberry. It's not a true blackberry (obviously!) but is actually a nightshade! the berries must be completely ripe to be safe for eating. 

Petunias are ready to go out!! 

I hope your gardens are also growing well! 😊

Soldiers of the Flower World

"Sometimes I think of the coltsfoot flowers as brushes, prepared and laid out ready by Nature - whose palette is the sun - for the painting of roadside, hill-bank, and meadow with the yellow of buttercup, celandine, dandelion, cowslip, and charlock. The coltsfoot might in fact be a brush-head that had been dipped in molten gold, and then twisted round so swiftly between the fingers, that every hair of the brush-head had sprayed itself out stiffly from the centre. But more often I think of those spare straight flowers, standing so erectly at 'attention' upon their leafless stalks, as soldiers who have donned their burnished helmets, while on duty as a guard of honour to welcome the advent of the Queen of Spring, and her consort, the Sun. The soldiers of the flower-world, indeed, they are, the 'markers' or 'single spies' sent on in advance to denote the spot on which the battalions and companies of the oncoming army of Spring and Summer shall form." 

                                                                              ~COULSON KERNAHAN: Dreams Dead Ernest and Half Jest

White-out Conditions

Today was one of those blustery days we often seem to get about the first of March! The temperature dropped last night from 33 above to 3 below zero with 30 MPH winds and gusts of 50+! My father and I decided to take a little drive and get some videos of the white-out conditions, but only got about a half mile from home before we were stuck in a drift right in the middle of the road! There was another vehicle stuck right next to us, so the whole road was blocked. Thankfully there wasn't any more traffic while we were there, and our local tow truck was able to push us out! Needless to say, we got a little more excitement than we bargained for! 😂 I did manage to get a short video before we got stuck, though...

The Pageant

A brightness which outshines the morning,

    A splendor brooking no delay,

    Beckons and tempts my feet away.

I leave the trodden village highway

    For virgin snow-paths glimmering through

    A jewelled elm-tree avenue;

Where, keen against the walls of sapphire,

    The gleaming tree-bolls, ice-embossed,

    Hold up their chandeliers of frost.

I tread in Orient halls enchanted,

    I dream the Saga’s dream of caves

    Gem-lit beneath the North Sea waves!

I walk the land of Eldorado,

    I touch its mimic garden bowers,

    Its silver leaves and diamond flowers!

The flora of the mystic mine-world

    Around me lifts on crystal stems

    The petals of its clustered gems!

What miracle of weird transforming

    In this wild work of frost and light,

    This glimpse of glory infinite!

This foregleam of the Holy City

    Like that to him of Patmos given,

    The white bride coming down from heaven!

How flash the ranked and mail-clad alders,

    Through what sharp-glancing spears of reeds

    The brook its muffled water leads!

Yon maple, like the bush of Horeb,

    Burns unconsumed: a white, cold fire

    Rays out from every grassy spire.

Each slender rush and spike of mullein,

    Low laurel shrub and drooping fern,

    Transfigured, blaze where’er I turn.

Here, where the forest opens southward,

    Between its hospitable pines,

    As through a door, the warm sun shines.

Rebuke me not, O sapphire heaven!

    Thou stainless earth, lay not on me,

    Thy keen reproach of purity,

If, in this August presence-chamber,

    I sigh for summer’s leaf-green gloom

    And warm airs thick with odorous bloom!

Let the strange frost-work sink and crumble,

    And let the loosened tree-boughs swing,

    Till all their bells of silver ring.

Shine warmly down, thou sun of noontime,

    On this chill pageant, melt and move

    The winter’s frozen heart with love.

And, soft and low, thou wind south-blowing,

    Breathe through a veil of tenderest haze

    Thy prophecy of summer days.

Come with thy green relief of promise,

    And to this dead, cold splendor bring

    The living jewels of the spring!

                                                    ~John Greenleaf Whittier

Better Things

 Better to smell the violet

Than sip the glowing wine;

Better to hearken to a brook

Than watch a diamond shine.

Better to have a loving friend

Than ten admiring foes;

Better a daisy's earthy root

Than a gorgeous, dying rose.

Better to love in loneliness

Than bask in love all day;

Better the fountain in the heart

Than the fountain by the way.

Better be fed by mother's hand

Than eat alone at will;

Better to trust in God, than say,

My goods my storehouse fill.

Better to have a quiet grief

Than many turbulent joys;

Better to miss thy manhood's aim

Than sacrifice the boy's.

Better a death when work is done

Than earth's most favoured birth;

Better a child in God's great house

Than the king of all the earth.

                                              ~George MacDonald