Tulip time!

I adore tulips! We have lots of varieties and an assortment of colors growing in our yard. I thought I'd share a few with you.

And this orange-y red variety with its yellow center makes me smile. It just looks like it'd be equally at home in a Christmas bouquet as a spring arrangement, doesn't it?

Does anything say cheerful better than yellow? Hmm? I think not. These yellow tulips (we have loads of them planted all over the place) are the workhorse of the spring gardens. Along with the daffodils, which are beginning to die off, they fill in every odd spot and provide bright bursts of color. And, they make me smile, so it's all good with the yellow tulips.

And really, bringing up the rear, doesn't it just figure? The pink tulips always seem, I don't know, almost child-like in their simplicity and beauty. It's no surprise, then, that these darlings are dawdling and taking their time putting in an appearance. The last to bloom, and the last to drop their petals, these pink tulips leave a lingering impression.

Can you tell I adore tulips? I'm saving photos of the lavender ones for a day when the snow is blowing, the wind howling and the sky as dark as coal. Then, I'll share them with you. That way we'll remember, together, the warm, bright, cheerful days of spring.

:)

Soon, the hyacinths...

Time passages

These photos are from a few days ago. Today I'll take the same shots so you can see what's going on in the garden now. It's quite a bit different, I assure you!

Mama Hen

I love it that the Hens and Chicks are growing so nicely. This mama hen is pretty big, surrounded by dozens of tiny chicks. Only Mother Nature could pair purple and green and get something so pleasing. It's an odd color combination but for this Mama, at least, it works!

So many possibilities...

Some of the seeds I've planted. Lots of flowers so far. A lot of the veggies (corn, summer squash, cukes, beans) are direct-sow seeds so we'll poke them right into the ground when the soil warms. But the flowers? Most I've given a head start!

So exciting!

Seedstorm

I love this time of year. No, not because of the snow, although I don’t generally mind snow. In fact, I love cross-country skiing and snowshoeing, so I welcome the big white drifts. But I’m not thinking of snow, or even snowshoes, as I write this. I’m thinking of the catalogs that fill our mailbox every day—and I’m smiling.

Honestly, most catalogs annoy me. I see them as a ridiculous waste of natural resources, at least when they’re sent to our address. Most never make it into the house. Instead, I stop at the recycling bin in the garage and drop them off before I bring any bills and personal correspondence inside.

But these catalogs, the ones that fill my mailbox now, are different. These catalogs aren’t annoyances. They are threads from which I’ll weave a year’s worth of productive dreams. They are the seed catalogs.

I love them all. Burpee, Park Seed Co., Thompson & Morgan, Seeds of Change, Territorial Seed Company, Harris Seeds—the list goes on and on. I love ‘em all. And Stark Brothers, the fruit tree people? Oh, their catalog nearly makes me weep with joy. And let’s not even begin to talk about Jackson & Perkins, the rose suppliers. I get shivers up my spine just thinking about that one.

The wind may howl and the snow may fly, but once I’m safely inside, my daily trek to the mailbox complete, it is spring, summer and even autumn at our house. I sit for hours, perusing the coveted catalogs. I weigh one variety of winter squash against another. I debate the merits of deep salmon versus light pink and magenta when I choose flowers. I even justify the need for four types of cucumbers, wondering whether or not a fifth variety might be called for as well.

With the seriousness of a judge I mull over my desire to try kale. What is kale, anyway? Do people actually eat it? And if they do, why haven’t I tried it yet? And if I grow it and don’t like it, what then? Where does one dispose of a glut of kale? Invariably there will be a bumper crop of the stuff if I don’t like it. That’s just the way it is with gardening. One year we had so many brussel sprouts we couldn’t give them away fast enough. And while I’m on the topic of the brussel sprout explosion, I may as well confess to my neighbors. I’m the one who left brussel sprouts on your doorstep. Yes, it was I. I, um, hope you enjoyed them. Really, I do.

I’m still choosing this year’s seeds. I’ve got to finalize my orders by next week if I’m going to receive the seeds in time to plant them in our greenhouse. I’m pretty much set on most of what we’ll grow this season but I’m still debating over a couple of items. When the list is firmed up I’ll let you know what we’ll be ordering. Until then, you’ve got your own garden catalogs to keep you busy, haven’t you?

What? Not a gardener? Why not? Black thumb? Oh, I don’t believe in that black thumb business. Anyone can garden. Anyone. All it takes is a little patience and a measure of commitment. If you’ve got those, you’re equipped to garden. And if you haven’t cultivated those traits a garden is a good place to find them.

Pardon? Oh, the kale? Well, to tell the truth, I’m still undecided about that one. Maybe tomorrow a new seed catalog will show up and I’ll be swayed one way or the other. Until then, I’m on the fence about kale. What about you? Any seed you’re not sure about? Maybe we gardeners can band together. You tell me kale stories and I’ll tell you my vegetable tales.

Eggplant. Now that’s a vegetable I could really begin to talk about… But that’s a story for another day, isn’t it?

The neighbors

Our neighbors.

They stop in at least once a day for a snack. I don't mind their visiting, since they pretty much serve themselves.

The sentry. He's the one they park at the door to the banquet room, just in case anyone tries to eat the diners while they're chowing down.

Interesting lifestyle, huh? Sort of mobster-ish, don't you think?

A Turkey Tale

On Christmas Eve eleven turkeys showed up at our bird feeder. They look like little old men, bobbing and weaving, clucking and wobbling as they walk. I am mesmerized by the twice-daily dance they do near our house.

It is comical to watch them, especially when they argue over who is to be the "sentry" while they feast. Invariably one is singled out to stand on the knoll and watch. For what, I'm not sure. Predators, I imagine.

Personally I'd like to see a wild beast come snarling over the hill, intent on chasing the feathered feeders. I wouldn't want to see the beast kill one of the turkeys. I've gotten pretty attached to them. Well, maybe not attached, exactly. Intrigued is more like it. And that's the draw of a snarling beast chasing them from their cozy spot. I'd like to see what they'd do, how they'd react. Like to see their feathers ruffled. My husband says turkeys can fly pretty fast when they've got to. I'd like to see that, see them flap those big wings and lift off the ground.

I'm hoping to get a "good" picture of the turkey mob. One where they're all looking my way and saying "cheese." Smiling, maybe. If I do, I'll post it here.

Bought the Farm

Before my husband retired we bought a farm. An old, neglected farm, complete with ramshackle barns, a pond and rusty old farm equipment. The farm is in the middle of nowhere, on a winding lane in the hills where no one ventures. It is Paradise.

There are no animals on the farm anymore. Just me and my husband and our two cats. What's that? Oh, Mimi and Piglet aren't animals! Certainly not! Why, the very idea of it! No, no, Mimi and Piglet are not ordinary cats...not like those domesticated felines other households keep. No, they are much, much more. But I digress. More about Mimi and Piglet later. For now, shall we simply agree that there are no animals on our farm? Hmm?

So here we are, two folks from the New York City area living on a seen-better-days farm, miles from family and friends and far removed from the bustling lifestyle we once knew. From time to time I'll fill you in on what's happening here on the farm. Particularly, on what's going on in the garden because I've found I like playing in the dirt. Who would have guessed?