Seems like rose hips (hurray!) and maybe a daisy. But the bottom middle is mingled with burdock and tall grasses in a formally un-daisy area. Let’s see what grows! Thanks Kathy. xo
For the past few days, I’ve been pulling up old burdock—and looking for new. I’ve also been uncovering old gardens on the property. Exciting! I don’t know what’s growing in most spaces. I took my camera for a spin—Can anyone ID some of these? I know I have Service Berry (thx Nancy).
Prudence—a lovely, warm, kind and yummy dog. She’s always by our sides. Today and yesterday, she’s kept me company racking, building the greenhouse and tending the barn. She’s a love.
Sammie brought me these salts from her travels in Spain years ago. They’ve been around—used, tied-up and battered in tattered plastic bags with worn twists. Today, I picked up some containers at Grian Herbs—downtown Montpelier—while stocking up on some digestive cleansing herbs and mushrooms for soup. Thanks Sammie! They still rock the kitchen. Try sprinkling some on a slice of more mild, soft cheese. Truly brings out something amazing… akin to what pepper does with strawberries or gewerstemeiner with lobster.
Tinctured the bark and canbium of willow. Good for aches and pains. The menstrum turned totally bright green—a beautiful, surreal spring green There are so many types of willow. Thanks so much Sandra.
Lymphatic. Cleavers, Nettles, Calendula with Red Clover.
Wow. So lucky. Big sun. Warmth and continually melting snow. The back yard is muddy and deep in moisture, but the garlic shows. Woke to the sun…and spring-ness. Deep breath. Needed to be outside. Baked biscuits, walked, fixed the coop, made jelly, prepped bath salts—went to the grocery store and Kenyon’s (dog food, chicken feed, sheep salts, seeds). Transplanted seedlings. Packed eggs. Worked. Walked more. Worked. Closed the barn. All is well.
Vermont is so full of so much “lovely.” Marshfield spaces can look over Groton, Cabot and … the expanse is wide and beautiful. The homestead I covet.
When Etsy hit the scene, I was totally taken: so many artists getting some exposure and space to be artists on the web. For me, it was like a treasures in a museum. Now, I find it less intimate—and less creative overall, but it’s still a great idea. These potholders were too fabulous to trash with use, so I found a different thing to do with them for now. I love to decorate. Love to make lovely spaces. Love to cherish pretty things. Someday, I’ll use these as they were meant, but for now, they are sweet on the table.
I never drank milk—or at least had stopped right before my teenage years. When I tasted the Von Trapp milk, everything changed. Memories: childhood rumps up Hell’s Peak Road for a bucket of fresh milk from the Hazelton farm. The mile walk back with a heavy load. This was milk. THIS IS MILK—the way it should be.