If you came over for a visit today, you would probably find me in the kitchen, bulk-cooking away to pack that freezer full of easy things to eat once baby comes. We'd sit at the kitchen table for a bit, maybe with some tea, where this happy orchid stands, a Valentine's pressy from the hubs. I would tell you how I've always wanted an orchid and that I hope I don't kill it.
Then, we would step outside, and we'd look at the tulips, another flower I've always wanted but didn't have until now. I might get a little giddy with anticipation for those daffodil blooms.
And then, we'd stop to admire the mint coming back from it's winter's sleep.
We would hear the buzzing of bees, zipping around the maple blossoms, and it would feel like spring really is around the corner. One of my kids would probably ask to tap it for syrup and I would (again) remind them that sugar maples don't grow in our neck of the woods, and we would be a little sad for a minute. We love maple syrple.
I would take a deep breath, and we would head down the hill as I start gasping for air after the first few steps. It's called being full-term, folks. We would glance at the grapevines, desperate for a good pruning, and I would want to stop and help them, but then just might collapse with exhaustion. So we continue down the hill.
We would find my husband planting our six new apple trees, and most likely this guy would be with him, working as hard as his face shows (love ya, Graham).
I would start gushing about each kind of heirloom tree: one will have fruit with pink flesh, one is a dessert apple that hales from 1918 England, one will bear apples that taste like they have cinnamon in them, and that we will have apples for eating fresh, baking, and making cider. You will be told you'll have to come over and harvest with us because sharing the harvest with friends is always sweeter.
Then, I would remember that I left the refried beans in the kitchen alone for too long and I might whimper a little about trudging this distended body back up the hill. But then I would remember that movement is healthy, so up we would go, to tend to the beans. We might talk about our plans for the upcoming spring, what we want to plant, a new tasty recipe we tried out, and some hilarious things the kids have said lately. Before you could leave, my kids would talk your ear off, sharing all the latest and greatest in their lives. You might catch every fourth word because they'd be talking all at once, and your car would never feel so peaceful as you drive home after four boisterous children have finished filling you in on their lives.
Thanks for visiting. I'm glad you stopped by!
