Plants oh sweet plants!

The smell of spring!  The birds are back, the grass is growing, and we are roasting radishes over the fire, moving cows through fields, and they are thanking us by producing the most amazing, creamy milk!  The slugs are coming at us in numbers unseen in previous years, alas, we sacrifice our tender greens to their insatiable appetites…

We continue on in our pursuit of a full greenhouse of glorious plants awaiting their position in the garden, the cloche moved to it’s summer position, peas staked in the garden, and will we get our potatoes in?  If the rain stops for a wee bit, our plan for Saturday will stay the same, get our storage potatoes in the ground.  The fine line between seasons.

I was read the poem below and felt that it need to be shared.  It’s by E.E. Cummings.





sweet spontaneous

earth how often have

the doting fingers of prurient philosophers
pinched and poked thee,
has the naughty thumb of science prodded thy beauty,
how often have religions
taken thee upon their scraggy knees
squeezing and buffeting thee
that thou mightest conceive gods
(but true to the incomparable couch of death
thy rhythmic lover thou
answerest them only
with spring)



roasted radish

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