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dragonlady7via https://ift.tt/2LDFNg6
not to digital blackface this but i keep thinking of this meme
I am in fact ultra tide.
BUT! But. I have finished my work for the week, and I am back at the farm to sleep one last night in the yurt before I try as best I can to shut it up so no raccoons get in it, and go back to my real house to sleep in my real bed.
Harvested flowers every morning this week except Tuesday, arranged flowers all day yesterday, had a killer market– didn’t anywhere near sell out of flowers but sold a whole fuckton of them, including a bucket of 10 to a bride for her wedding (prearranged), and then separately just this afternoon installed the 37 arrangements we’d made for the other wedding– we drove all the way over to Mass MoCa for it, and like, I don’t know what it costs to rent out space in the museum of contemporary art but they had basically an entire floor in one of the buildings, with all kinds of art in it, and 36 tables and an open bar and just crazy-beautiful everything. I have photos, it was unreal. We left before the thing, of course, but. And the best part was maybe how there were museum visitors sort of bemusedly milling around through the whole thing, and there I am with this enormous vase full of flowers trying to navigate my way through and a particular 8-year-old kept standing in my way and then being astonished when I asked him to please let me through. It was kind of funny, if frustrating.
But damn, our arrangements looked really nice on those swanky tables. We did a good job, we made 36 totally unique and yet generally harmonious arrangements, repeated meditations on the same color scheme, custom-sized to fit the matching little glass vases provided.
Apart from the flowers, we also did really well in general selling things today– we saved out 100 chickens in the fridge (not freezer) to sell fresh, and sold every single last one of them, which is a lot more than usual. We also sold out of eggs on the farm, and brought home a whopping total of 5 dozen from the market. Record-breaking sales, for the second week in a row, so that was good too.
No weddings next week. Good, because I won’t be there. And also good, because I think Sister is coming down with a cold, and she feels miserable.
On the way back from the museum, which is over in North Adams, MA, B-I-L texted, could we run an errand at Square Roots, which is just down a little ways from there, and sure enough we could, so we did, but oh my gosh, we were ravenous by then and every roadside cider doughnuts place had shut down. (BASTARDS.) Fortunately Sister had a bag of cashews in her purse, so we could survive the hangryness. She then told a story of when she was pregnant, how our middle sister had saved her life by having nine cashews in a plastic bag in her purse when the two of them were stuck somewhere without other food.
“Nine Cashews In A Plastic Bag should be the title of your album,” I said.
“My spoken word album,” Sister agreed.
I spent much of the ride pointing at various mountains. “Is that one a Berkshire?” “I don’t know, it might be a Taconic?” “Maybe it’s a plateau.” “I think there’s just the one of those!” “The Plateau.” “Well?” “Is that a Berkshire?” “I think that one is.” “This one’s a Green Mountain, though, right?” “No, those are in Vermont, I know that much.” “They’re all green, though.” “Yes but that’s not the point. They’re only really Green Mountains capitalized if you’re in Vermont.” “Well what state are we in now?” “I mean, it’s either New York or Mass, I’m not sure which one.” “The road’s not shitty enough to be New York.” “Yeah but it’s nowhere near shitty enough to be Vermont.”
It was a quicker trip with two of us there, I think. Otherwise I think it would have been a lot of solitude and driving into painful sunsets.
Did a lot of roadside plant spotting. “It’s yarrow!” “No, that’s definitely tansy.” “Not even a little bit yarrow? The cloth of gold stuff, really?” “No, it’s one hundred percent tansy. I can see how you’d be confused, but look, there. Definitely tansy.” “Okay, you’re right.” “Those are some nice ferns though.” “If only we had a trowel we could steal some.” “I know.” “We even have a bucket!” “We do, that.” “Do you have a spoon in your purse? We could do it with a spoon.” “I don’t have a spoon. I can’t believe I don’t have a trowel. I took Kid’s shovel out of the car, I should’ve left it in there.” “Dang it.” “We could have been intra-state fern traffickers.” “The ferns don’t care what state they’re in.” “Hey, now that one– that’s definitely a Berkshire, right?” “Gotta be! Gotta be.”
We were pretty punchy towards the end. Everyone else has gone to a party that has fireworks, just down the street. (whyyyy does everyone have fireworks at every party all fucking summer long now??) I declined, however. It’s going to rain at 1am and I know it’ll wake me up so I’m going to go to bed early early.
But first I’m going to sit indoors with the snoring dog for a little while, because I probably won’t get mosquito-bit in here quite as much.
Also I have rusty-grapefruit-spoon cramps so I just don’t want to move at the moment. I will in a bit. But not yet. Ugh.
(Your picture was not posted)
not to digital blackface this but i keep thinking of this meme
I am in fact ultra tide.
BUT! But. I have finished my work for the week, and I am back at the farm to sleep one last night in the yurt before I try as best I can to shut it up so no raccoons get in it, and go back to my real house to sleep in my real bed.
Harvested flowers every morning this week except Tuesday, arranged flowers all day yesterday, had a killer market– didn’t anywhere near sell out of flowers but sold a whole fuckton of them, including a bucket of 10 to a bride for her wedding (prearranged), and then separately just this afternoon installed the 37 arrangements we’d made for the other wedding– we drove all the way over to Mass MoCa for it, and like, I don’t know what it costs to rent out space in the museum of contemporary art but they had basically an entire floor in one of the buildings, with all kinds of art in it, and 36 tables and an open bar and just crazy-beautiful everything. I have photos, it was unreal. We left before the thing, of course, but. And the best part was maybe how there were museum visitors sort of bemusedly milling around through the whole thing, and there I am with this enormous vase full of flowers trying to navigate my way through and a particular 8-year-old kept standing in my way and then being astonished when I asked him to please let me through. It was kind of funny, if frustrating.
But damn, our arrangements looked really nice on those swanky tables. We did a good job, we made 36 totally unique and yet generally harmonious arrangements, repeated meditations on the same color scheme, custom-sized to fit the matching little glass vases provided.
Apart from the flowers, we also did really well in general selling things today– we saved out 100 chickens in the fridge (not freezer) to sell fresh, and sold every single last one of them, which is a lot more than usual. We also sold out of eggs on the farm, and brought home a whopping total of 5 dozen from the market. Record-breaking sales, for the second week in a row, so that was good too.
No weddings next week. Good, because I won’t be there. And also good, because I think Sister is coming down with a cold, and she feels miserable.
On the way back from the museum, which is over in North Adams, MA, B-I-L texted, could we run an errand at Square Roots, which is just down a little ways from there, and sure enough we could, so we did, but oh my gosh, we were ravenous by then and every roadside cider doughnuts place had shut down. (BASTARDS.) Fortunately Sister had a bag of cashews in her purse, so we could survive the hangryness. She then told a story of when she was pregnant, how our middle sister had saved her life by having nine cashews in a plastic bag in her purse when the two of them were stuck somewhere without other food.
“Nine Cashews In A Plastic Bag should be the title of your album,” I said.
“My spoken word album,” Sister agreed.
I spent much of the ride pointing at various mountains. “Is that one a Berkshire?” “I don’t know, it might be a Taconic?” “Maybe it’s a plateau.” “I think there’s just the one of those!” “The Plateau.” “Well?” “Is that a Berkshire?” “I think that one is.” “This one’s a Green Mountain, though, right?” “No, those are in Vermont, I know that much.” “They’re all green, though.” “Yes but that’s not the point. They’re only really Green Mountains capitalized if you’re in Vermont.” “Well what state are we in now?” “I mean, it’s either New York or Mass, I’m not sure which one.” “The road’s not shitty enough to be New York.” “Yeah but it’s nowhere near shitty enough to be Vermont.”
It was a quicker trip with two of us there, I think. Otherwise I think it would have been a lot of solitude and driving into painful sunsets.
Did a lot of roadside plant spotting. “It’s yarrow!” “No, that’s definitely tansy.” “Not even a little bit yarrow? The cloth of gold stuff, really?” “No, it’s one hundred percent tansy. I can see how you’d be confused, but look, there. Definitely tansy.” “Okay, you’re right.” “Those are some nice ferns though.” “If only we had a trowel we could steal some.” “I know.” “We even have a bucket!” “We do, that.” “Do you have a spoon in your purse? We could do it with a spoon.” “I don’t have a spoon. I can’t believe I don’t have a trowel. I took Kid’s shovel out of the car, I should’ve left it in there.” “Dang it.” “We could have been intra-state fern traffickers.” “The ferns don’t care what state they’re in.” “Hey, now that one– that’s definitely a Berkshire, right?” “Gotta be! Gotta be.”
We were pretty punchy towards the end. Everyone else has gone to a party that has fireworks, just down the street. (whyyyy does everyone have fireworks at every party all fucking summer long now??) I declined, however. It’s going to rain at 1am and I know it’ll wake me up so I’m going to go to bed early early.
But first I’m going to sit indoors with the snoring dog for a little while, because I probably won’t get mosquito-bit in here quite as much.
Also I have rusty-grapefruit-spoon cramps so I just don’t want to move at the moment. I will in a bit. But not yet. Ugh.
(Your picture was not posted)
