I thoroughly enjoyed our week at the gulf. It was just the kind of unplugging I needed. But in those down times I couldn’t help but think of the many things I wish I could be taking care of at my house. I’m probably the only person that wishes she was at home working her way through the mountain of laundry while she’s lounging on a beach. But I did miss my garden.
This summer has been uncommonly wet and cool. I haven’t had to water my garden at all. We didn’t even set out the soaker hose or set the timer while we were away. The garden truly is my choice of relaxation. The smell of crushed tomato leaves is as soothing as a bunch of lavender. My zucchini was terrible ambitious while we were away and I foresee great amounts of tasty zucchini bread in our future.
A few weeks ago when we were sure that the animals would be lining up two by two, I was invited to tour P. Allen Smith’s Moss Mountain Farm. I donned my boots and my favorite sun hat which I figured could double nicely as an umbrella when the moment came.
Even though the yard was crawling with bloggers and those of the social media bent the land and home gave off quite a calm serene feel. As if you could just start walking without a care and let the mind wander…. and wonder.
Meandering the garden paths in the mist and thunder.
Wishing you could waste the day on the sleeping porch as the clouds rolled over the river.
Pondering the vegetable patch.
And traipsing through wet fields and muddy roads to visit chickens.
I was especially captivated by an original painting of Allen’s hanging in the front parlor. A larger landscape of rolling hills and pasture land.
This was his family’s farm in Tennessee. If you stared long enough you could see the trees and grass almost sway with wind. And imagine the work happening on the homestead. I love pieces of art that hold personal history.
The house is full of windows big and small that open up to a view that seemed to never end.
They all invited you to lounge on a cushion or rest your shoulder into a windowsill and just take in the drizzle and fog of the Arkansas River Valley.
By the time we were leaving I was damp and muddy and all my curls had sprung despite my big hat. But it was a wonderful, wanderful day.
“I like this place and willingly could waste my time in it.” -William Shakespeare, As You Like It
I was rather sad Saturday morning. I knew I couldn’t and didn’t want to spend the day with my face in a tear soaked pillow. I had to find a project. Be productive.
I’m obsessed with keeping a clear path around my beds and through the yard. But I can’t always get my landscape team (husband and oldest son) to be as proactive as I would like them to be. And there is only so much I can do with my weed-eater. So I have been researching (Pinteresting
) all kind of garden walk ideas.
I finally found one that I liked and still looked very natural. Ben doesn’t want full on sidewalks throughout the yard. And he rolls his eyes every time I mention pavers.
So on Saturday after a good cry I jumped up and started cutting some leftover wood. I took a large cardboard box from the recycling at work to lay down over the knee high grass. Then fit the wood planks in snugly between the raised beds.
The plan is to fill in between the boards with river rock. There is a place in town by the river that sells it for $7 a ton. Awesome landscaping deal there. Once the rock is down I’m going to sprinkle in concrete then spray it with water to set everything.
I can’t wait till it’s all finished!
Moss Mountain Farm. Roland, AR.