Paint party anyone?

We painted and weeded and fenced all weekend. And this time I'm not speaking in the Royal We. Nope, I toiled right along with the rest of the family. Except when I was sitting in an adirondack chair sipping iced tea.

In typical Suite family fashion, things went wrong but it was mostly funny.

Madeleine and Sarah and I painted. But the "barn red" paint is undeniably pink. Even after two coats and plenty of time to dry. It's pink. And not in a cute way. So now we call it primer and can look forward to another weekend or three of painting. Gah.

The deer fencing around our garden is complete -- I got gates for Mother's Day! But my new raised beds didn't go in because the rabbits and chickens kept getting out. So Mr. Suite spent his time rebuilding the hens' yard and making new doors for the rabbit hutch. The girls have an elaborate rabbit run complete with ramps and toys planned, materials purchased, waiting for their daddy's spare time to complete. They worry for their rabbits' mental health if they are cooped up too long.

Nothing really went wrong with the weeding. Except it's weeding in the middle of hay country where fescue and alfalfa seeds fall from the sky and look specifically for my flowerbeds and therefore it's not nearly as fun as splashing pink paint around. Oh, wait, I forgot. We broke the last hoe handle. So that put a stop to the weeding. I think I'll call it a natural wildlife refuge in the front flowerbeds. How does that work for you?

We planted. Marigolds and cabbages and geraniums and herbs and and ground cherries and tomatillos and more. But we didn't plant the tomatoes because we need new beds for those. (Last year's tomato blight prevents us from planting tomatoes in our existing beds.) A pesky little thing called the office will probably keep Mr. Suite from building the new beds and filling them with my million-dollar soil until next weekend. And of course, in our area, it's not yet time for some of the really fun stuff: corn, squash, peppers.

We babied the asparagus. My competitive nature is irrationally proud of the tiny purple and green stalks and their growth. (Look! Another inch today!) One of my neighbors, who owns a large portion of a huge CSA (community supported agriculture) farm, stopped by and bemoaned her own three-year journey with asparagus. I am probably having beginner's luck. Don't tell anyone.

We had a campfire. Again, nothing went wrong there. Although the nearby rural fire hall did have a call in the middle of our starlit marshmallow-roasting evening. Laura ran to the picket fence and hung on it to watch the engines go by. They returned quickly so we assumed everything was okay.

WE LEARNED THE NEIGHBORS HAVE AN OFFER ON THEIR HOUSE. But it's not from the cute family with the two children who played on our swings while their parents toured the property; it's from a hopeful new B&B proprietor. I guess we can't have everything.

We played Scrabble. I lost. Need I say more?

How was your weekend?