sand, sun & soil

4.15.2021



What a beautiful weekend last.  Saturday we went to the outdoor market again to pick up some mushrooms, and we also got a few kale starts from a local farm.  My husband built a garden box on the far side of the red shed (the small hall) to be the home of all the greens, and I can't wait to fill it up.  I've planted some herb starts in the bed out front and started seeds for more.  It really feels like summer could be just around the corner.  It's still dipping to freezing at night occasionally, but the days are getting consistently warmer and sunnier.  Everything is in brilliant color again.  

Sunday, instead of taking Highway 101 south to our usual coastal destination, we headed north and drove along Neskowin Creek, past Nestucca Bay, and into Pacific City.  Blue skies and bright sunshine were tempered by a cold and whipping wind.  Hello, Haystack Rock.  And hello mob of people.  I'll never understand driving on a beach.  It seems wrong, an affront to nature, damaging.  (Aside from the damaging aspect, in another sense it's like when you go hiking and a motorbike goes roaring past or when people play loud music at the river.)  We drove a bit further north and took some side roads, finding nice lonely, quiet trails for slow walks and new views, with only the gentle sounds of nature in our ears. 

T had his first day of on-campus school Tuesday!  After a year of planning and moving and hoping and waiting, it finally happened.  His first day review was a good one, and I'm so relieved and so happy for him.  It's been a lonely couple of years for him.  I pray he finds his people here.  

I've been in the yard all day today - raking up gum tree seed pods, planting some lobelia, cleaning drainage areas, obsessively checking on my seedlings, basically looking for any excuse to stay outside in the glorious 73-degree weather.  We have five raspberry plants I'm hoping to get in the ground today, and I have a peony that is going to bloom before I finally decide where to plant it if I'm not careful.  So off I go, back to sun and soil.

slow notes:

  • This, on oak trees.  When we first moved in Salem 13 years ago, I fell in love with these magnificent trees with the massive arms.  Little did I know then how magical they truly are.  
  • This, from Wired.  "...plastic rain is the new acid rain."    
  • I attended a virtual live event yesterday afternoon, Nest Collective's Singing with the Nightingales: Homecoming.  It was absolutely magical, featuring the sounds of returning nightingales to the woods of England accompanied by music and poetry.  Transporting.  You can watch/listen to it here.  

 
PS:  Wasn't last night's crescent moon wonderful?

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by mlekoshi