A day of motion, boughs streaming, meadow grass bending, the woods a dance of green veils.
The trees give the wind a face, Thoreau wrote, and the wind gives the trees a voice. In the woods, the voice and movement reminds us of a Baptist choir.
A good day for errands in town, where the talk is about expected snow.
It is the day before Mother's Day, busiest day of the year for Somerset Floral and our friend Craig Oglevee, the hardest working florist we know.
"We stopped answering the phone an hour ago," he said at mid-afternoon, barley looking up from one more ambrosial creation. But he did not seem unhappy.
We always wander in his greenhouse when we visit. It's like living in the future. Today we are pleased to find sturdy heritage tomatoes he has grown from his own seeds for years.
No more big-box-store plants for us, shipped in from foreign latitudes. This year, if our tomatoes get the blight, they will have come by it honestly.
We water the begonias and tomato plants and put them back in the Subaru in case it does snow tonight, and it might. Our trip to town accomplished for the week, we're not going anywhere. Like we often say, no need to rush the seasons.
