Beautiful quiet morning today. Only cardinals flitting around. I slept later than usual and ate a late breakfast on the porch pondering in the swing. I could smell the gardenias blooming beside the porch banister. Chief rooted the bush from a bloom he picked one Sunday at St. Barnabas Episcopal Church here in Roanoke. Had to cut a big limb that was dead off the bush and thought cutting that limb, plus the late cold spell we had, would cause the bush to not bloom. A bit subdued but she’s blooming her best. Gave her a big drink of Miracle Grow.

Had my first garden harvest this morning. Two cucumbers and a yellow squash. Saw two “coming along” (as my daddy used to say) bell peppers that are growing quickly. Tomato count is up to three, all on the same branch. Ate the cucumbers in a salad. I love them. Looking forward to the squash producing more. Gave all the vegetable pots a gallon of water and filled the bird baths with fresh water. Didn’t fill the bird feeders up. Gonna do that in the morning. My birds are spoiled. I usually fill the feeders up when they are half way empty. I’ll fill them all up promptly in the morning.

Youngest sister-in-law called me to come sit by the pool with her after lunch. That’s an invitation I’ll never turn down. We floated around in the pool for a couple of hours discussing our children and grandchildren. Her youngest grandson is at the beach being spoiled like a little prince. Saw a video of him in a little tent beginning his nap, watching a movie, snuggled contently with his pacifier. He’s going to be a heartbreaker when he’s older. Precious little fella!

There were luxurious clouds in the sky at the farm. Had a better view on the hill at baby brother’s house than here in my yard. The sun was so bright and warm and the large fluffy tufts of the cumulus clouds were as white as new fallen snow. The sun just illuminated them. Youngest sister-in-law and I watched them as we talked and floated on our rafts.

Going down their driveway I saw a beautiful new born calf kicking up his legs and frisking around. I love to stop and talk to the cows closest to the fence. My grandchildren think I know all their names but I just make them up and it thrills them. Today I called them Flossie Belle, Petunia, Pansy, Sally, and Louise. Louise was sitting down under a small tree happy in the shade. When my niece had her wedding reception at their farm my grandchildren were young and so happy and excited to see the cows wandering around in a distant field.

You ask a classroom of elementary school students where milk comes from and I promise you one child will say, “Walmart.” Then try telling them hamburgers are from cows and bacon from pigs. Bless their hearts.

Growing up on a family farm must be a wonderful childhood. Watching the animals born and mature. Learning to drive at an early age and speeding around on the farm’s dirt roads when no one is watching. Wading in the creek to cool off. Finding the perfect dirt road for a little smooching. Lots of hard back breaking work, too, in all sorts of weather. Machinery ornery and breaking down at crucial times. But farmers find a way to persevere. They carry on and are the backbone of our country. Really is a noble profession.

Was reading about farming in America and read Bill Gates and his estranged wife Melinda Gates are the largest land owners in the United States with 269,000 acres of farmland across 18 states. That depressed me for some reason. Also read that one acre of soybeans can produce 82,358 crayons and one acre of Kansas wheat can make enough bread to feed 9,000 people for one day. I love those kind of facts.

I have happy memories of feeding the cows up at the farm with my daddy. My three brothers spent their childhood working on the farm and grew up to be accomplished men. I’m proud of them. I didn’t enjoy working in the garden up there because middle vet brother was fond of throwing dirt clods my way. Threw a dirt clod at the mule’s butt when daddy was teaching me how to plow. Never a dull moment!

“You can’t have the family farm without the family,” — Gilbert K. Chesterton