virginiaisforlykoshes: Growth with the Music of the Universe

It's falling from the clouds
A strange and lovely sound
I hear it in the thunder and the rain
It's ringing in the skies
Like cannons in the night
The music of the universe plays

We're singing
You are holy
Great and mighty
The moon and the stars
Declare who you are

We sang this at church this morning, after a delightful inch of rain (FINALLY) fell last evening and night. Before we moved to the land, I didn't have much perspective on the truly lovely sound of rain falling. As Phil struggles to get the irrigation lines all laid out and functional, it was a very long ten days between watering for my nice garden and tree crops. And although the dew was heavy for the first week, by the last few days, I would look at the grey skies and cry out for them to release their gift—rain already! Bless the land! To wake in the night to the sound of rain, after longing for it and hoping for it: "strange and lovely sound" is hardly descriptive enough; "the music of the universe" praising God is more properly descriptive.

The glorious rain and long, temperate spring have been very good for the crops. Phil mowed the orchard about a month ago, and the ryegrass in the orchard is, in spots, three feet tall (in many other spots, the weeds are up about a foot). We'll get the sheep there soon, we hope.

(Speaking of sheep: little Chestnut, the latest born lamb, keeps getting out of the pen to graze and then can't get back in. I think she climbs up on the compost pile against the cattle panel corral, leaps over the barrier, and then is too chubby to fit back through the cattle panel openings. She bleats loudly, then runs when we try to catch her. When she finally makes a tactical mistake, like trying to hide under a tarp, we can finally catch her and return her to her mother.)

The small section connecting our orchard with the neighbor's land is also looking lush (although it is still a bit sparse when viewed directly from above).

And we have a few apples, about the size of a grape currently, and only on perhaps eight trees, but present!

And in one apple tree I found this absolutely stunning wasp nest. I almost reached out to take it down, it was so tempting in its roundness and rough-smoothness. Then a wasp flew into the bottom, and I was happy I hadn't disturbed it.

Phil noticed today that a good many of our peach trees, which came to us with surprisingly thick trunks, also have peaches! I am so pleased!

And some other photos of growth. First, a closeup of the beautiful blossoms on the peas.

Phil and I picked peas today. I planted both sweet and snow, and we came away with several pounds. The red bucket is larger than it looks in the photo, and I didn't capture well the depth of the peas in the pot. I found it interesting that the pollination of the peas determines their expression. I had very few snow peas, and on one sweetpea plant, I picked both snow and sweet.

Here is deer tongue lettuce (named for obvious reasons). One I cut about three days ago, and it's coming back a bit already! I like "cut and come again."

My blueberry bushes are loaded with blueberries. At least, they look loaded to me. There are still probably only enough to fill a bowl or two, hardly enough to keep a family in blueberries for a year, but the promise of even a few is quite exciting.

My cabbage and Asian greens have exploded.

The south side of the garden. Everything in this photo is planted. To the left of the beehives are the potato beds (with potatoes that may have gotten overheated; we'll have to see if anything comes up). The foreground has teeny asparagus shoots and rhubarb, but I plan to put in lavender and annual flowers, too. Maybe tomorrow.
garden

The north bed. Again, everything in this photo has been planted, with the foreground in asparagus.

And a close up of some of the more exciting crops, like cucumbers and basil, greens and tomatoes.

And, finally, a happy note about Isaiah. He found directions for a sailboat in a child's science book. He assembled the pieces and, with Phil's help, made a very nice toy sailboat.

A broken peat bale continues to block the drainage trench on the uphill side of the greenhouse site. Every time it rains, it creates a pond. (As I type, I can hear the frogs happily croaking in the temporary pond.) In the shadow of the mini-greenhouse, the ship went sailing.