The broody mama is happy to be out and about with her babies, teaching them to scratch and take dustbaths. They climb all over her and even peck at her face.
Onion beginning to bloom; attempting to save as much seed as possible this year.
I had the thought the other day that a garden is very much like a patchwork quilt, both visually and in it's story. Instead of "this patch is from my first jumper and this patch from grandpa's work-shirt," it's "these christmas limas are heirlooms from my mom, these sorrel seeds are from Sarah at Oxbow, the kale is from Cecelia in Washington," so on and so forth, a collection of people I've known and places I've been. How cool is that?
The house is still a work in progress, like just about everything around here or on any little farm, but it's coming along.