I noticed a crocus the day we turned the clocks ahead. I don’t remember planting it. It is the very first thing to show any color this year. I had to grab my cell phone and snap a portrait of this little guy while I could to celebrate our extra hour of light.
So, nesting is a real thing I’ve discovered. The desire, no the overwhelming NEED for the closet to be organized is something you just can’t put into words. I do feel like a momma bird who is getting her nest ready for a special little birdie’s arrival. That includes making sure there is a place for everything, cleaning and then cleaning again, and making lists upon lists and lists of lists. Hospital bag packed? Check! Washed the clothes for baby to come home in? Check! Make sure the car seat is in? Check! This could go on and on (and it has). Chris even has his daddy bird nesting going on. He’s been tirelessly putting coats of paint on the bureau for the baby’s room. He bought an erasable calendar for the fridge so that we would know exactly how the next weeks are scheduled. He put the stroller together (which apparently was no easy task). He even took it upon himself to take inventory a few weeks ago of what is in our pantry …
and how I’ve missed blogging. You wouldn’t even believe it. I’d still blog in my mind and take photographs and compose new and interesting posts in my thoughts. Yet, they didn’t even make it to my fingertips. So, where do I start? A recipe for tomato salad I made with homegrown tomatoes and my beautiful shiso? My last harvest where I pulled up all of my lovely carrots? The day after Thanksgiving when I found myself outside with my family tearing down the garden and putting it to bed for the winter? The series of photographs I took to discuss seed foraging? These things aren’t exactly timely anymore. I don’t think I can actually go back now. I think I have to move forward. There is so much ahead. So, I truly could blame a huge chunk of my blogging negligence on work. My job changed which added significantly more responsibility, longer hours, and more stress. However, I’d be lying to you if I used that and only that as an excuse. I could tell …
our backyard farm 