Wet is the Wet

Despair is creeping in. As the water rises, and keeps rising, so my bearings slip and the more I feel like Philip Seymour Hoffman in Synecdoche, New York. Losing my #%@t! Time has been frozen even though things keep happening, keep changing. Keep growing.

To mention a few of the greater things.....

*We went out to see a play last week, All My Sons by Arthur Miller at the Playmakers theater in Chapel Hill. WOWOWWOW. It was an amazing production, very powerful very sad. If you can go this week, GO.
*We saved ourselves hundreds of dollars, maybe more, by having the great epiphany to use Stuart's parents' old bathtub for our guest bathroom---it looks awesome and to top it all off it's freakin' Carolina Blue. What more could I ask for?
*The ranunculus as shooting up buds. I'm not getting my hopes up too high seeing as how our other hoophouse flowers have been acting up, but it is slightly thrilling, especially considering we are growing chocolate colored stems. I think my heartbeat just sped up thinking about the color. Or was that a physiological reaction to the word chocolate?
*The delphinium are looking like little giants, arms arched, ready to will themselves into this wild and crazy world. Bloom tall ladies. Strong and tall, and keep it real.

*The eating is good. As it should be.

As a side note, we got a lovely email over the weekend from some folks who would like to start farming in a few years who had some questions for us. Somehow that email was deleted, so please resend!!!