Late May on the farm feels less like a season and more like a turning point. Each day brings a subtle shift — new seedlings tucked into the soil, peas reaching for their trellises, the first spinach ready to harvest, and the gardens exchanging spring yellows for shades of lavender, pink, and deep purple. Much of this week has been devoted to the quiet, steady work of planting and tending what we hope will become the beauty and abundance of summer. Beans, sunflowers, scabiosa, bachelor buttons, indigo, Dyer’s chamomile, sunflowers, and gladioli have all found their places in freshly prepared beds, each tiny seedling carrying the promise of warm July mornings and overflowing garden baskets.
The sweet peas and snow peas have reached the stage where they need a bit of guidance, and we’ve spent time gently tying their wandering vines to trellises. It always feels remarkable how quickly they begin reaching upward once given something to climb. There’s a lesson in that somewhere — how growth so often needs both freedom and support.
In the flower gardens, the peonies are heavy with swelling buds, and this week we began the careful process of disbudding them. By removing the smaller side buds and allowing the central bud to receive the plant’s full energy, we nurture the possibility of those spectacular, oversized blooms that arrive in June. It’s one of those behind-the-scenes tasks that most visitors never see, but it feels a little like an act of faith each year — trusting that a season of patient tending will soon reward us with armfuls of blossoms.
And while we’ve been busy tending seedlings and harvests, the birds have been carrying on their own season of hard work around the farm. Just outside the gardens, a robin’s nest that we’ve been quietly watching for weeks is suddenly full of life. The eggs have hatched, and three tiny baby birds now spend their days stretching their necks skyward, waiting impatiently as their parents return again and again with worms for hungry mouths.
It’s impossible not to pause for a moment when passing by — to watch the constant motion, the devotion, and the fragile newness of it all. This time of year, it feels as though every corner of the farm is nurturing something: seedlings pushing through the soil, peony buds swelling toward bloom, and now these small birds growing stronger with each passing day.
Our training continues with the pups - here Kai is learning to “look but not touch!” - an important skill for a good farm dog!