OLD FRIENDS

The air has movement, not quite reaching the level of wind.  With the overcast sky the air is close and  even small gestures cause my skin to be damp.  There is much to accomplish, and deciding where to start so as not to be overwhelmed and start nowhere is the task of the morning.  It can not all be finished in a day, and truly it can never be finished at all.
I see the birds in the garden, because the trees are not so dense as the woods along the edges, where I see movement but more often just hear the chatter of the inhabitants.  The corn that Frank planted a little over a week ago is pushing up in straight little rows in the fields, and the alfalfa is growing back rapidly after the harvest.  The Bobolinks are gone.
We had a visitor to the farm the past week, my dear friend Karen.  It was lovely on many levels, but seeing the land and the gardens through the eyes of another is always inspirational.  Parker, Zoe and I feel her absence this morning.