A Nebulous State

                 Redbuds
Redbuds

Astounding to discover, I’ve not posted here, written here, even thought much about here, except for passing stray moments, for more than two weeks, give or take. Nor have I commented often to those whom I follow here. My apologies, truly.

In reaching to understand where I was (or, conversely, had been), I looked at my most recent posts. Ah, yes. The Happy Birthday to my mother. But what caught my attention was the one before, the previous full moon. Interesting that another full moon’s coming our way next weekend, Easter weekend.

From that post: …things are in a somewhat nebulous state, with confusion about the way the very structure of our lives could be morphing with reckless abandon, versus our diminishing capability to keep holding on….

Do tell.

So it’s been nuts. But it’s been constructive at the same time. And I haven’t hurt myself. All good things. So much was business work, but some, the best-non-thinking part, was farmer work. And now I’m sitting still, staring out my big window wondering how soon leaves will poke from the Oak’s tight-fisted buds; the backyard Redbud has already begun. Daffodils shine from the freshly mulched front garden. This year I added Blue Selvia to the same front garden, said garden being below huge oak which means shade, dappled shade, HOT midday sun. Ya gotta be adaptable in my garden. Not an easy match. Blue Selvia, says Springhill Nursery, is adaptable. It’s getting a tryout. And it draws either butterflies or hummingbirds, or maybe both. My son put together the bird bath, set the solar fountain inside, and it works. Robins have visited but I’ve seen few other birds yet this spring. It’s early, and today’s 50 degrees and damp weather hardly welcoming: March going out like a lion when it came in like a lamb. I’d stay south, too, if given the chance.

Yard work is not finished, but it’s close.

Our lawn is a golf-course-grounds-manager’s nightmare. It is a lawn from 1924. It’s gone through a lot. We have spent considerable time and money on this lawn, retilled (bought a tiller), reseeded, remulched, and watered, sometimes several times a week when seeds were newly down, repeat action in one way or another over the years. Oh, and fertilizer with pre-treat. Whatever all that did in the long or even short-term, we do not have a lawn. We have clover.

Last year we stopped the lawn battle. And one mid-morning, walking out to the car, I looked down and honey bees were busy around my feet. They just moved out of my way, intent on clover blossoms. I figure that’s a good thing all in all. So we don’t have a lawn, but we have bees.

But then, my friend Aaron is putting three hives into his yard ten blocks away, so maybe we’re working together. He says he’ll share honey. I’ve heard he’s also added six chickens to the mix. We farm in our different ways.

The next six weeks or so look full on my calendar. Ah well. I’ve chatted with you today. And that was fun. “Keep your cards and letter coming in,” as someone, Carol Burnett? so famously said at the end of each show. And I’ll say hello when I can.

16 thoughts on “A Nebulous State

  1. You can turn any topic to seem like a magical dream. I am in awe of your writing. Happy gardening and happy easter – if that’s your thing. 🙂

  2. The clover is abundant here now, too. I do love it. It really is a spring thing for us. As the weather warms, it fades away, letting summer take over.

    What suddenly strikes me is your use of the phrase, “nebulous state.” It reminds me that some of the nebulae that surround us in the galaxy shine like jewels — as do even those in the far reaches of space. Just think — this butterfly nebula is out there somewhere, fluttering above your clover!

    1. What a great comment. I’d forgotten about the butterfly nebula! Thanks so much for providing the link. I finished the planting for now, four butterfly plants near a honeysuckle climbing vine for the hummingbirds. I like adding patches especially for monarchs as life is hard for them these days. One of my to-do lists has getting more natural milkweed into the farm’s prairie. There’s so many chemicals on land now and so many fence row to fence row fields, monarchs are having a hard go of it. I saw the wintering place in Mexico once when I lived there. Maybe a good blog essay……

    1. Thanks so much. Easter week is always an over-the-top busy time, but I like the progression. And the new fire, water, lighted candles in a dark room calls to something very ancient in me. It seems appropriate that life is springing up all around at the same time. March, which came in like a lamb, is dashing out with a roar. It’s cold today, warmer tomorrow they say. That will be good. I still have four bare roots to plant. Three butterfly plants and an odd perennial, multi-flowered sunflower for the middle of the back garden. Oh, and two piles of leaves that still need to dry enough to sack up. But we’ve had some rain and that’s good. See, I can slip into farmer talk with hardly a beat!!

  3. There’s a time for everything under the sun. Seed time and harvest. Planting and plucking up. Your concentrating on growing things now sounds like spring to me. I have no doubt that words will be part of your harvest in due time. Enjoy. ❤

    1. Nicely said! Words as harvest. I like that. The north wind doth blow (it’s back) and chilly out although the sun shines. So the last of the planting will wait for tomorrow. March came in like a lamb and it’s going out like a lion. Blowing. Did you ever hear that childhood ditty? Or maybe it’s from a poem and my mom said it often: the north wind doth blow and we shall have snow; and what will poor robin do then, poor thing. He’ll sit in the barn to keep himself warm and hide his head under his wing. ….. robins must have found a barn somewhere. They aren’t in the yard today. 🙂

  4. Anything and anytime I read you, a calm and peaceful smile comes across my face. It’s a pleasure seeing you here again and see you soon when you can… Lovely thoughts of honey bees…. And chickens too.
    Much love and light,
    Lia

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