The solitude of solitary gardening…it’s so seductive.  Talking to myself, singing maybe…random thoughts coming and going, answers to unasked questions, questions with no answers at all. Pulling weeds, arranging the order of things.  Perfect contentment. It appears to the world that one is hard at work…but we solitary gardeners know, it is an escape from the world, secret play.  And, of late, the weeds have offered that chance for escape to the garden as often as I care to take the invitation.  We could use some rain…drought never seems to slow those weeds down, but certainly wilts the vegetables.  Threats or promises of showers for the next several days, humid thick air, fog hanging over us in the morning…but no real rain.

Our small pasture areas are getting brown, the grass grazed to it’s limit.  Hoping second crop hay is not too far off..is the hay getting rain?  The “hay man” is the one who has my attention…hay from Vermont this year.  The loft is looking nearly empty.  Planning the next round of rations for the moms and lambs….it’s like hamburger helper for hay.  I never like adding a grain to the rations, the sheep get so unruly and greedy…pushing and shoving,  yelling for more…Maybe today the rain will come and the grass will green up and the hay will be nearer to cutting…

The thistle wars are in full swing..someone went to seed last year, and the progeny are springing up like a Tolkien army.

Strawberry season is nearly over…our stash from  our friends’ farm is safely in the freezer, jam of the future. The taste of June all year long. Peanut butter and homemade jam on homemade bread…it can’t get better than that. Raspberry season is just around the corner, then our own blueberries…brings me back to that solitary gardening. Picking berries is just like pulling weeds, only sweeter.