I just bought 12 laundry baskets. They will be here on Friday. Why would anyone need 12 laundry baskets, you ask? For ranunculus, naturally.
You guys, there’s a lot going on right now. And one of the things that’s going on is we are looking for a farm. And Maine is kind of nuts for the real estate these days so there’s a constant feeling that if we don’t jump NOW, we won’t get the farm we want. Which is a gross feeling. We lost one farm that we were in love with because the market is moving so fast. And we thought we had decided to just wait until November, grow here, keep our head down and look again mid summer so we can get things in order after all the flowers are put to bed again. And then we saw another place that we might love last night. So the apple cart is turned over again and all the apples are mid flight on their way to the ground. And the ranunculus need to go in the ground right quick or they are going to die and I’ll be damned if I lose perfectly healthy ranunculus a second year in a row because of my stupidity.
Did you know that you can get beautiful crates from bulb suppliers, but only in the autumn? I learned that in January. And then I started looking for any kind of milk carton or portable crate. Until tonight when I thought okay ANYTHING will work. What has holes in it and can put up with a season or two of planting? Bingo. Laundry baskets. So hopefully our neighbors won’t mind the bit of laundry on the back porch as we try to keep our hearts on wheels a while longer here. I’ll post a picture when they are all planted. Hopefully it won’t look too trashy!
Aside from the flowers, I have a lot of really strong feelings about moving. Firstly, it’s hateful, so I never want to move. Secondly, if this business is going to expand in the way that I’m determined to grow it, I’ll need more space, plain and simple. And that space has to be out from under two beautiful, nearly 100 year old silver maples. But thirdly. Thirdly is a big one. I love this home. It makes me cry to have it and it makes me cry to think of leaving it and I don’t know if I will ever be ready. This is our first home. It’s where we learned to be in the same space for real. It’s where we really began to make decisions together. For the entire first year we lived here, I would come down the stairs, take a deep breath and say “I love this house so much.” We came home here after we were married. Our kittens have only known this place (although they will be fine wherever we go). It’s where we remembered how to breathe, and cry, and hurt, and heal, and love, and laugh, and sing again. Our friends are in this home all the time. They have keys and have become our family here. I painted every single room listening to the Original Broadway Cast Recording of Hamilton. I’ve replaced both toilets (no joke), the kitchen faucet, the garbage disposal, and Hanz has replaced every light fixture and switch in the joint. We built the garden beds (with lots of help), we got to know our neighbors, we sit and watch people blow through the stop sign on the corner every day. The little rhythms of this place are as much a part of us as anything else in our life. I hate to leave it. I wish we could keep it and get a farm at the same time. And I know someone else will love it as well. But on the day we leave this place, I will be a hot mess, I can promise you that. Me and my 12 laundry baskets full of ranunculus.