Ed and I have had our noses to the grindstone all week. On Monday, we had 13 cubic yards of mulch delivered to Farm Dover. (Our pickup truck bed holds 1 cubic yard, so just imagine that times 13.) We are creating a bee garden, planted with native flowers that our honey bees and other native bees and butterflies will surely love. But before the plants can go in, we had to kill the fescue grass, put down layers of newspaper, and then top it with 2 inches of natural hardwood mulch. Believe me, it is much harder than it sounds.
On top of that, there was grass to cut, weeds to whip, potatoes to plant, strawberries to uncover, asparagus and radishes to harvest, beds to mulch, planters of Lilly of the Nile to divide and replant, ferns to haircut, roses to fertilize, and, of course, honeysuckle to battle.
In the middle of all this work, I managed to look up and around and noticed the solid yellow field just across the way on the adjacent farm. Like a siren of mythology, I heard it calling me to come explore. So, just as the sun was headed down and my work was mostly done, I climbed the barbed wire fence between our and our neighbor's property, closed my eyes and jumped, landing in another world. In honor of Earth Day this week, I invite you to come along and see what I saw....
Acres upon acres of canola flowers. Their subtly sweet fragrance engulfed me. Like Dorothy in Oz, I wanted to lay down in the field, and just nap for a bit. Obviously, I wasn't on Farm Dover anymore.
My lesson for the week: yes, there is work to be done and it must be done. But I mustn't forget to look up and look out, and go where I'm called.