Perambulate

And here we are. At the end of a full week of daily bloggin’.

You know, this was a rare thing even back in the days when I considered myself a “serious blogger.” (Note: I didn’t blog about anything even remotely serious; I just did it a whole lot more than I do now.)

But, in other completionist news, Jen and I did a daily set of laps around our farm each morning this week too. We take three circuits around the Christmas trees (totaling about a mile and a half) and spend that 45-ish minutes talking about what’s been on our minds, the things we’d like to get done, what we’ve been reading about, and generally spending some time out among the trees holding hands as “husband and wife,” and not “parents.”

The back path of our Christmas tree farm.

And it’s been lovely.

It’s been a long winter (they all are up here, even when they’re as mild as the last one) and so it’s really nice when we can get outside without having to first wrap ourselves in a 7-layer burrito of technical fabrics.

We’ve seen consistent 70’s this week, so the apple blossoms are all starting to bloom…

And we have a carpet of yellow dandelions stretching from one side of our acreage to the other for the early pollinators. (Not mine, unfortunately…but still great for the natives.)

We also found what is my absolute favorite summer beer at the co-op this week, Schilling San Jacinto. And yes, it amuses me to no end that there’s a “San Jacinto” lager up here in Vermont.

Storytime: last summer I went to the local brewery to buy it in bulk for our 4th of July party and, when I told the guy I wanted “2 cases of San Jack,” and he just stared at me…having no clue what I was talking about.

‘Oh, do you mean our ‘San Hah-chinto?”
“Um, you bet.”

One of those interesting moments where both parties roll their eyes at the foolishness of the other.

Anyway, I say all this to convey that spring has finally made its way to sproinging up here. And as such, I’m going to head out into it and call this a completed work week.

Perhaps I’ll see you Monday.

j.s.

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