easter morning

Hail and gale strength winds earlier in the week, mammoth snow elsewhere, yet I can hear the woodpecker — it’s back, or out (not sure if it migrates), and hopefully will not peck at the house again.

Stamp Farms will offer farm side pick-up by April 25th. Wahoo!

The Farmer’s Daughter is open and offering curbside pick-up, so yesterday I ordered herbs and lettuces and some other stuff, and took a ride to get them. Spoke to Finny on the way there, and my Mom on the way back. Then Facetimed (did I verbalize a noun | name? Merriam-Webster has a literal translation =) with grandchildren in Maine. It was so good to spend so much time with family in one day, from Maine to New Jersey to Puerto Rico, as supposed to an hour one day, forty-five minutes another day … plus it was so good to move, drive and see the landscape whiz by.

then my husband asked me to video him making a French 75 — yum —

and was so taken by the video that, as he folded dinner napkins (something new, a COVID by-product), he asked I video him doing that.

i digressed | that was yesterday

Back to this blessed morning. What we think, hope, expected to be rye reminds me of savannahs in Africa — not that I’ve ever been, but have read about and seen in movies enough to know. Last fall, we saw in This Old House how to winterize a garden bed with winter rye. “We” (aka, my husband) did it. But looking at the tall, green shoots, we are now doubtful. It’s supposed to die back in heat, according to my husband. Perhaps not — will have to weed-wack it before turning the soil. We are a bit skeptical and wonder about what “we” possibly sowed. At least it gave me something to look at all winter long.

In the greenhouse, I have already sowed cilantro, bunching onions, and radishes, as well as in one of the beds. What’s in there are leftover plants I transplanted in the fall instead of tossing in the (very informal) compost mound. Peonies — must separate later in the year.  Will link to a peony gallery (no, not peanut =). Bulbs dug from the de-stoned herb bed, a handful bought years ago, have multiplied like bunnies (is that really true?). Have no idea what they are, I call them palm trees. Since then, I keep labels and packets or photograph everything I buy. If they survive in the bucket in the garage (they should, we don’t use the cars that much right now — strange, no?), we may have an oasis when we plant them in the empty and forlorn mound in the front yard.


chives can weather winter. Our chive had gotten so big last year, I divided it into four. One went in the greenhouse but didn’t make it. Might have been too steamy for it.

rosemary survived in the greenhouse until the weather started changing, warming up with more sun hours, somewhere in February. Next year, I shall take it out and put it somewhere in the house. Shouldn’t be inside long enough to get mildewy or powdery.

the new seedlings and plants will sit on the kitchen windowsill or in the living room, where I CANNOT FORGET THEM, until April 19 (last frost date) or thereabouts.