It took a long time to wake up today. My brain is still a little foggy–a little hung over from the long week. Even my tonic, my morning soy chai latte, had little effect. So I puttered in the garden, dragging the hose from here to their, since it’s been a dry spring and summer.
The woodpile of walnut is now a couple of logs smaller and several burnable-sized pieces of wood larger. There’s nothing like the smell of wet wood; this wood splits quite easily, for which I’m grateful. I spent many an hour in my youth splitting wood–the red oak was the best. Well, there was the maple, which was butter to the axe head. White oak, not so fun. But the worst was the elm. Before splitting it, we first to separate the bark from the wood–a horrendous task. And trying to split it? It seemed to eat wedges, sucking them into its grain, without separating into firewood. Or even smaller chunks of elm.
Here are some photos from my garden this morning. The hellenium are beautiful.
As are the echinacea.
The hens contentedly scratched and pecked at the seed-laden wheelbarrows of compost I put in their coop.