Spring on our Small Farm
In the Pacific Northwest, a long, misty, overcast winter eventually gives way to a lush, vibrant, incredible Spring. The clouds break, blue skies are endless, and birds sing from sun up till sun down. On our small farm – the horses are shedding their winter coats to reveal sleek, defined figures, and the sheep have been shorn, generously donating bags of amazingly soft wool. The seed starts & fragile, baby plants have been brought out from their indoor nursery and are finally being planted outside in their permanent home for growth in our yard.
These days, transplanting flowers is a task Wally & I sometimes share together in the cool shade of the evening. We sit on either side of the flower bed, covered in dirt, swapping stories and appreciating our (sometimes very limited) chance to just delight in each other's company while working side-by-side. The kitties usually join us, watching from a safe distance – but sometimes curiously stepping through the beds for a sniff.
There is an impatient excitement for the baby plants to grow and bloom into mature flowers – gracing our property for the first time, and adding romantic shades of color to our field. However, there is a thoughtful beauty to this careful beginning. The slowing down of time & letting go of tomorrow's chores and tasks – just letting nature run its course one moment at a time.
Starting as a new farmer-florist is full of its challenges, and usually the work load on our small farm is more than two people can hardly keep up with. It's true that we have made sacrifices in order to follow our inner-desires and see where they will lead us.
But as I sit here writing our story, under the shade of a tall flowering tree, I remember that I'm living a real life fairytale. And sharing the beauty of our unique life with people who live in very different places, doing very different things, brings me joy and comfort.
"'O Tiger-lily,’ said Alice, addressing herself to one that was waving gracefully about in the wind, `I wish you could talk!’
`We can talk,’ said the Tiger-lily: `when there’s anybody worth talking to.”
Alice was so astonished that she could not speak for a minute: it quite seemed to take her breath away. At length, as the Tiger-lily only went on waving about, she spoke again, in a timid voice — almost in a whisper. `And can all the flowers talk?’
`As well as all can,’ said the Tiger-lily. `And a great deal louder.’"
- Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There : The Garden of Live Flowers