a man and his hoe

every day is a good day

Category: Reflections

  • Earth Lives


    The first of the apple trees are starting to bloom. Apples wait to bloom until they have few leaves unfurled. Which makes me wonder, is it right to say leaves unfurl? If you’re going to unfurl something, don’t you need to furl it up in the first place? At what stage do the apple trees ever furl up their new sprouts.



    Joy is being able to give eggs of many hues without having to die them yourself.


    The young Barred-Rocks are trying out the roost during the day. They are still spending their nights in the hoop-house nursery where their mother raised them. Hopefully, they’ll soon join the adults at night in the chicken yard.




    It’s been three weeks since the Asian Pear started opening its flowers. The flowers look a long way from being ready to drop. They aren’t so ephemeral as cherry blossoms which start blowing away in the wind far too soon.


    One of my favorite things to eat is sprouting on its own. The Spring Chrysanthemum I let bloom and seed last summer is coming up on its own. There are beds of arugula, ruby streaks, and kale that come up on their own too. Add asparagus, lovage, stinging nettles, chives to the greens that you don’t need to plant once they get going, and you can have a vegetable garden that feeds you with very little tending.

  • The Great Unfolding


    The great unfolding is underway. New leaves, flowers of all colors, slowly unfolding, stretching, breathing, transforming the woodlands with every stretch. We could call Spring The Unfolding. Another word that comes to mind is Bird Song. From now into June you can’t step outside but hear the birds singing their love songs. By midsummer, the birds quiet down, their baby-making done, their children out the nest.







    Unfolding rhubarb leaves with their crimson hue, you know, if you go live on Mars, you’ll never see such a sight. Among all the vegetable seeds future explorations to Mars will pack for their voyage and Martian colony, I don’t think rhubarb seeds will be on the list.

    I can’t see myself traveling six months to a year in a capsule barely large enough to stand in, only to be trapped on a dusty planet, never to witness the spectacle of Unfolding or sit in the woods, eyes closed, enjoying Bird Song. How sad that would be. I’ll stick to earth and lie in the woods in the spring, watching the leaves unfold, and listening to the birds singing. I can close my eyes and dream of Martian adventures, and when I open my eyes, I can breathe in the freshness of new life.


  • Beauty Can’t be Hidden


    Sunshine or clouds, cherry blossoms can’t hide their beauty. Their blossoms buzz all day with hundreds of bees.




    The cherries are in full bloom, with a few blossoms already falling. In a week or two, blizzards of cherry blossom petals will blanket the grass and driveway like snow. It’s a special time of the year. Each day something new is budding out, something new is blooming.



  • In a Perfect World


    Sometimes you can’t be any happier. With our long, cold spell, I had no expectations of seeing any cherry blossoms when I went to see how the cherry buds were faring. I was sure it would be April before they would bloom. But I looked up and there they were, open blossoms, dancing in the spring breeze, dazzling against a cobalt-blue sky.



    In a perfect world, the first cherry blossoms would make us stop everything we are doing, call into work and say, “I’m on vacation for the next few weeks. The cherry trees are in bloom.” We’d spend all day lying under the trees and clap each new blossom that opened. Or you could close your eyes, take a nap, and count how many more blossoms opened while you slept bathed in the sweet fragrance of cherry blossoms. And after two weeks or three, when the blooms were over, we’d lie under the trees and let the falling snow of cherry blossom petals bury us in pure joy.

  • Along Friday Creek to Get Coffee


    Last night’s rain washed away nearly all the snow. Just a few patches remain, and with the forecast of warmer days ahead, it will soon be but a memory.


    The chicks in the nursery are doing well. They’ve bonded with their mother and have figured out when she is telling them she’s found good things to eat, and when there is danger. When she is resting, she doesn’t mind them hopping all over her. Since these aren’t chicks she hatched, I wasn’t sure if she’d take to them, or them to her.


    I don’t suppose there are that many people lucky enough to pedal along an idyllic creek when they go pick up their roasted coffee beans. It’s not a long ride to where I get my coffee, but the windy Friday Creek Road passes over Friday Creek six times in two miles. It’s hard pedaling over the bridges without stopping to see how the creek is doing.


    Friday Creek today was on a tear, flush with last night’s rain. On summer days, it flows soft and clear, skipping over pebbles, and laughing past the trees.