"This one, this one is the best."

The weather station showed average winds around 30mph, but didn't catch the gust(s) that cut down this tree, among others.

Thinning the lavender seedlings in their minuteness, not even an inch high, it smelled for all the world like distant fields in Europe, purple and baked and ancient, and I thought, "This one, this one is the best yet." Smiling there at the morning, and saying it of the day. Except it seems that I keep saying this, but truly, of the morning in its unexpected warmth or briskness, or of the wind as it finally makes a harbor of an afternoon. Let us add this to the short list of truths we hear ourselves speak, then smile in agreement at whomever must have spoken it.

Yes, indeed. This one, this day is the best yet.

The deer fence is up, nearly a quarter of the orchard is in, the tomatoes are seeded, the first month of beds I have gone over once, and the ginger just arrived from Hawaii. And, most importantly, while the wind came and went, the high tunnel stood what a number of trees couldn't.

The rock picking begins. For posterity, this is the wee pile before it becomes a monster. 

Fall garlic planting aside, these are Atelier's first beds. Spinach, carrots, peas, and fava beans go in next week, temperature dependent.

European pears and sour cherries to start, with some persimmons, goumi berries, and apples to the side. More pears, apples, figs, cherries, berries, jujubes, and pawpaws in the weeks to come. The berries will run horizontally, while the perennial herbs and flowers cross vertically in the shorter beds. Fingers crossed that a low-growing insectary mix seeded around the trees comes up.

Super cute mini soil blocks out for a reseeding of some of the (expectedly finicky) perennial herbs and flowers.