One week ago: incessant rain
3 days ago: high winds
This morning: good grief!
Our chickens were NOT happy with what greeted them as their door was opened this morning. Little Punkin, our tiniest hen, always pushing to be the first out the door, stopped inches from the opening but had the momentum of all her flock pushing behind.
Tuesday's dinner included our first spears of the season. Are the few brave shoots that were just piercing the soil yesterday lost this morning in the cold?
As I finish my morning coffee and put this post out into the stratosphere, I'm thinking that later this morning I'll do my daily walk about and get the garden blankets ready to be set out against tonight's predicted hard frost. But though I may have thoughts of woman against nature, I realize it's never really up to me. I can help, interfere, foolishly ignore, but I cannot control. As I age I'm realizing more every day that sense of relief knowing I don't have the responsibility of being in charge. I can "mother" my gardens but they are, as they've always been, in God's capable hands.
And rightly so.