Wherever in the house I happen to be working I frequently glance out the nearest window.
On Thursday, turning from stove to kitchen sink I caught sight of the rippling grass of the meadow.
Wind blowing through a stand of grass, bending the stalks, creating a sheen of moving light, has always captured my attention.
For a brief instant I was transported to other meadows, other times and places, struck by the recognizable prickle of delight.
By the time I walked outside with my camera the riffle of wind had dropped, the tall grass barely moved. The hay is ready for mowing. Our good neighbor Titus Beachy and his boys have managed the hay crop for several years.
When the local Beachy Amish church decreed a division of membership, lots were drawn to determine which families must relocate to start a new church.
The lot fell, among others, to Titus and Lillian.
Their fresh produce sales and the surplus grocery store are already missed as well as their presence in our lives.
Titus assured Jim that a cousin [or is it a nephew] still nearby would take over the care of the meadow, and the man in question did roar in earlier to spread fertilizer.
Frequent rain has slowed the hay harvest in the area and as I walk the boundary loop the scent of ripe grass mingles with the perfume of blossoming blackberry canes, of invasive wild roses and the exotic sweetness of honeysuckle, all rampant in the hedgerows.
Jim's potatoes are up and growing.
In my untidy west wall garden perennial foxglove is making a statement.
The prolonged mild and wet autumn brought decay to several of the parent plants and the usual crop of seedlings was tardy in emerging. Each time I walk by the wall I stop to tweak out a few weeds, clearing space around each tiny volunteer plant. Some, too near the edge of the retaining wall, will need to be relocated when they are larger, others will be allowed to grow where they have sprung up.
May--the season of headlong growth, the rush into summer.
You're way ahead of us. Here late June is the earliest hay is cut (unless this hot weather continues). Blackberries don't flower for 6 weeks or so either. Foxgloves still in tight bud here. Dogroses are normally June flowering (though I did see one out in Hay car park last week).
ReplyDeleteI never knew that the Amish would divide up established communities to Go Start Afresh elsewhere. Sadly, I do know that a lot of their horses (many overworked and abused) end up in the killer pen at auctions as I follow several charities who rescue them - though on occasion just to mercifully have them pts as they are in too bad a state to make any journey anywhere.
You must miss your lovely neighbours though. I hope their replacements are as friendly and helpful.
Jennie; Your season of bud and bloom sound more like my native New England; here the spring rush starts in April and by June most familiar perennial plants have passed their peak.
DeleteI gather that all Amish 'home churches' are subject to the whims of the community's 'bishops'--and they divide when a district is considered too large.
We have the Old Amish here; those are the 'horse and buggy' Amish who live primitively without electricity. If they want/need to travel outside the range of a buggy trip they hire 'English' drivers.
The Beachy Amish are far more 'worldly' although they adhere to plain dress. Beachy homes are electrified, they own vehicles [although those should be black and no fancy chrome trim.] Their women are allowed to drive automobiles!
Several beautiful farms and homes in the local Beachy district have been abandoned, put up for sale as part of the relocating edit. Jim and I shake our heads, not understanding the kind of group faith and loyalty that this demands.
We have seen a first cutting of hay here. We have some Amish, but like you, I fail to understand the loyalty.
ReplyDeleteThe Beachys were very competently haying a number of neighborhood fields--we wonder now what will happen. Lillian Beachy grieved over the move but its apparently not allowed to balk at the process of drawing lots. Their little store and the produce farm made life easier for many of us.
DeleteOur meadow grass is beginning that wind dance now, but won't be ready to cut for a few weeks. But oh it is lovely to watch.
ReplyDeleteYou are so fortunate to have foxglove. I have never had any luck with it.
G.M. 'wind dance'--what a lovely descriptive phrase! I've raised several varieties of foxglove from seed--most of the plants, classed as biennials, didn't self-sow as they were meant to do. The ones that remain are less showy than others, but very welcome. The soil where I planted them isn't best suited to their needs--too dry and compacted, so I'm grateful that they survive. I bought the seed several years ago from a company called 'Select Seeds.' They specialize in old-fashioned flowers.
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