Marshal announced that he needed some vacation therapy. His therapy is to hunt (and it's wild turkey season), turn a tiller in the soil, prune some trees, mow grass, dream of being a real farmer, and launch a boat on the lake for a bit of fishing to boot. So he took leave, and I went along. :-)
I've had a love for violets, their short wild bloom and delicate
fragrance wafting on the breeze, or picking a real little nosegay to
bury my own nose in, ever since I was a child and they appeared like a gift
under the bank of holly trees for my March birthday. My sister sent me
the same little blooms all the way from South Central Asia this
birthday, pressed in an envelope - such sweetness. And what a
delightful surprise to arrive at the farm last week and find those
nostalgic wild violets blooming EVERYWHERE throughout the yard, front,
back, sides - just for me! Lylla must have loved them as much as I do in the spring. I wouldn't allow Marshal to cut the lawn.
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| A wonderful line up of sunshine even on a cloudy day, daffodils, my true birth flower, planted along the wall. |
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| A rainbow on our land of promise. Think I'm being wooed to call this home? |
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| Mr and Mrs Bluebird were starting to nest just outside the front window. We awoke our first morning to their fluttering about with nesting intentions. Hopefully our unexpected visit didn't dissuade them from the front and center location. |
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| Our fishing expedition became more of a boating expedition to Gabe's dismay. He was all bummed out, not a bite, no noteworthy activity on the fish finder. |
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| Trying not to smile, but Dad had been harassing and tickling him. The real fish story took place after we trailered the boat and drove it up the ramp out of the lake. Gabe saw a big fish jump right off the end of the ramp. He ran and grabbed a pole with flashy lure and cast it just off shore between the boats entering and exiting the ramp. Within a minute he was trying to hold and reel, yelling, "Dad, I got one! It's a big one!" With much excitement, Gabe trying to hold it, loosening the drag instead of tightening it, and finally reeling it through the reeds, Marshal got it scooped out with a fishing net. We had a handful of marveling fishermen shaking their heads and laughing at the catch. One new arrival said he'd go park his boat and try shore fishing instead! So, Gabe got his fish, an 18" rainbow trout. It must have been 6-8 inches wide in the middle. The fish didn't fit in my largest frying pan with its head off! |
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| Lydia growing out of her life jacket. |
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| I brought this second hand patchwork quilt with me, dreaming of this scene, green grass, sunshine, blanket, cuddle dog, binoculars, and a good book. (I was reading a good book, that bestseller: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.) |
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| The fragrance of violets on the gentle breeze that blew through my let down hair surpassed my imaginings. |
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| More violets in the lawn at the edge of my blanket. And I did manage to have my leisure after cleaning out all the flower beds and garden. Asparagus spears are just bursting from the soil. Strawberries, raspberries, celery, rhubarb, roses, and so many perennials in the border beds are now free to grow their stalks, vines, and leaves, bud, blossom, and fruit. |
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| Wild Turkey Hunters |
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| Marshal and Gabe coming off the hill in the evening sun. |
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| Boy coming home from the hunt. |
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| This is man therapy. Doesn't he look happy? |
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| Story to tell. Turkey made a bust. |
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| Lydia borrowing brother's camo. |
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| Lydia can look tough too. She says she is ready to hunt some turkey. |
