Ron was the chain saw guy. Today we are working on this part of the fence.
While Ron was weed eating on the other side of the fence, I was pulling out stinging nettles out of the garden. Our little kitchen garden is what we are calling it this year. He then got the tractor and used that to break up the soil. We had rain all night so we have standing water in the yard and everything got sopping wet.
We had wind and we had this tree that I thought was going to fall over. Ron and Peter got out there with a chain and this last windstorm it kept the tree up. I am afraid it could fall on my chicken coop. The wind was so crazy on Friday and Saturday but it stood strong. Like us don't you think, we sometimes need someone to come along side and give us a bit of strength to get us through the storms.
|I wandered lonely as a cloud|
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
*Excerpt from Dorothy's journal:
'When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow Park, we saw a few daffodils close to the water side. We fancied that the lake had floated the seed ashore and that the little colony had so sprung up. But as we went along there were more and more and at last under the boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them along the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road.
I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about and about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness and the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the lake, they looked so gay ever dancing ever changing.
This wind blew directly over the lake to them. There was here and there a little knot and a few stragglers a few yards higher up but they were so few as not to disturb the simplicity and unity and life of that one busy highway. We rested again and again. The Bays were stormy, and we heard the waves at different distances and in the middle of the water like the sea'.
Dorothy Wordsworth, The Grasmere Journal - Thursday 15 April 1802.