~
Friday, April 30, 2004, 6:30 a.m.
51 degrees, calm, partly sunny
Streaks of pale pewter high cloud paint the sky and the
sun is struggling
to shine through, a big hazy ball over the mountains. It
is delightful outdoors,
warm enough for a little early morning jacket-free stroll
among the daffodils.
I listened for frogs last night, but they still haven’t
begun their spring chorus.
I didn’t return to the Hill until nearly dark
yesterday, but I had a lovely walk
along the Black River Canal Trail in Boonville. Trilliums
are in full bloom along
the towpath and blades of grass are eight inches long
There is a thousand foot
difference in altitude between there and Gomer Hill, and
flatland flora is always
at least a week ahead of ours. Trillium leaves haven’t
yet unfolded in our woodlot.
We have both kinds of them up here, deep red and delicate
white with a pink throat.
The red ones are really stinky and make a poor addition
to a bouquet; the plant will
not recover if they are picked, either. I do not know if
they are a protected species
here in New York, but be aware that you kill the plant if
you pick the flower.
I tried to transplant some to a rock garden, but they are
pretty particular
about their growing conditions. We may be in for a little
stormy weather later,
so get out early and enjoy the day.
Bid farewell to April,
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 29, 2004, 7:00 a.m.
44 degrees, breezy, partly cloudy
A thunderstorm rumbles in the distance and we can see it
moving down
the Black River Valley, a mass of dense blackness filled
with lightning strikes.
It almost looks like a special effect from a gothic film,
it is that self-contained.
The sky above us is bright grey and clouds scud from west
to east, the forerunners
of a warm front headed our way. Today is supposed to be
nice and warm and this
sets the trend for the next few days. I have indoor
assignments all day long but you
betcha I will enjoy the view from the car window as I
travel to and fro. Yesterday
turned into a gorgeous day and a walk in the afternoon
filled me with enough sights
and sounds to carry me through today’s jobs.
Bluebirds are all over the hill; every
time we turned a corner there was one to greet us.
Turkeys left textbook-clear
impressions in soft mud at the side of the road, and
prints of deer abounded.
There are dozens of huge pools of standing water, and I’ll
bet that frogs will
start their spring peeping tonight. Small yellow
coltsfoot blooms are scattered
here and there along the roadside and big patches of
purply-green leeks
brighten the woods. Well, time to put on my sensible
shoes and go to work.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 28, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
29 degrees, breezy, cloudy
A light dusting of snow fell last night and random
flurries are still moseying
around from time to time. Bright white accents soften the
emerald green lawns
and meadows and mini-drifts blur the edges of rich brown
garden soil. Birds are
active as ever, ignoring the wintry kiss of white in
favor of spring’s rising sap and
the driving urge to reproduce. Blackbirds are flying into
every available nook and
cranny with dried bits of weed-straw; soon the ground
will be decorated with a
mosaic of blue shell fragments as parents drop them from
the nests. Most birds
will discard both shells and solid waste fairly far from
the nesting site to misdirect
predators from the helpless hatchlings. Starlings,
however, just kind of tip the shells
over the lip of the nest and let them stay where they
fall. We occasionally find a young
starling dead under the nest as well. For all that I
admire these birds for their wonderful
sense of community and beautiful vocalizations, they seem
to be pretty careless in the
parenting department. They must be doing something right;
starlings are far from
extinction, at least in our yard. Today’s weather
will improve, becoming warmer
with some sunny breaks. By tomorrow all will be spring-like
again and sticking
around for a while. It won’t be long before lawn
mowers come out of storage
and the wonderful smell of fresh-cut grass fills the air.
This little bit of snow is
just a small reminder that Mother Nature still calls the
shots.
Listen to Mom,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, April 27, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
46 degrees, windy, mostly sunny
A few huge billowy clouds hover over the western
treeline, and the wind
is blowing strongly from that direction, so I reckon this
beautiful clear blue
sky is about to disappear. The valley is hazy, and we can’t
see the Adirondack
Mountains this morning, we just take it on faith that
they are still over there. That is
a natural tendency for mankind... to believe things that
aren’t seen. One time I was
imitating the call of a barred owl, trying to see if our
nesting pair had returned to the
woodlot. Who cooks for you, who cooks for youuuuu...
it is easy to do by blowing
across the thumbs after making an air chamber between two
cupped hands. I returned
home and my son said “Those owls must be back, I
heard them.” Coyote calls, raven
alarums, turkey gobbles, fox screams, frogsongs, all of
the things we hear but do not
see we assume to come from what we believe to be the
critters associated with the sounds.
This is faith on a very basic level. We make the
transition from seeing is believing to blind
acceptance of things we believe unseen without
even blinking an eye. Think about things you
strongly believe in, and how it came to be. For many
Christians it is easy; “the Bible tells me so”
is a song fragment from Sunday School. Case closed, blind
acceptance, the end. Perhaps you
are one of millions who have strong alternative
convictions and spend your days honing your faith,
improving and reforming your agenda without letting dogma
dictate your every move.
There is room for all on this vast planet; vanilla is not
the only flavor.
Namaste,
Daisy
~
Monday, April 26, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
39 degrees, breezy, foggy
If it were a morning in early March I would say that
spring might just
be on the way. However, it is almost May, and Mother
Nature seems to
have taken a step backwards. Yesterday afternoon we got
pummeled by
sleet and graupple, followed by some serious
frighteningly close lightning strikes.
Snow is in the forecast for tomorrow, really not all that
unusual for April, but still
a surprise when it happens. It sounds like a much nicer
morning than it looks; all
kinds of birds are singing at top volume, enticing me to
stand outside in the chilly
fog just for the sheer enjoyment their songs convey. A
pileated woodpecker was
belting out his crazy laugh as he cruised the hedgerow
looking for love. Tom turkeys
are dueling with sharp gobblegobblegobbles, unseen
in the mist but using lust-filled
braggadocio to lure the hens close. The usual cast of
characters is here; robins,
blackbirds, chickadees, bluebirds, redwings, finches,
sparrows, crows, doves,
and ravens all filling the air with springsong. If it
looks like late winter, it certainly
doesn’t sound like it. Now I am going to take my
coffee and a warm blanket to
the back porch to enjoy the concert.
Keep a song in your heart,
Daisy
~
Sunday, April 25, 2004, 8:15 a.m.
36 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
The temperature dropped to thirty degrees last night and
water in the birdbath
still has a skimcoat of ice. There was no frost but grass
blades crunched under my
feet when I was out earlier today. The sun is shining
brightly enough to cast shadows,
but the sky is nearly colorless. Luminescent grey clouds
seamlessly blend into the pale
blue background and the quality of light streaming down
has a metallic late November
feeling to it. Spring is still here, however. Lettuce and
spinach have sprouted up out of
the garden with a straight line of green announcing near-perfect
germination. The peas
and potatoes have not yet come up for air. Wild leeks
lurk under big trees in the hedgerow
but will have bigger bulbs if we wait a week. They are
usually at their best when field sorrel
is two inches long. Both of these tasty free ingredients
can be combined with eggs and
cheese to make a wonderful spring quiche, or mixed with
rice for a pungent side dish.
Wild leeks are tedious to clean but the onion-garlic
flavor is a great addition to just about
anything: well, probably not chocolate cake... Although,
at one harvest festival last summer
garlic ice cream was on the menu. We took a long walk
yesterday and noticed the mottled
leaves of trout lilies thrusting up like spearheads from
the forest duff, and yellow coltsfoot
blooms are poking up along the roadsides. A friend of
mine at lower altitude reports spring
beauties blooming in her woodlot, but these delicate pink
harbingers of spring do not yet
have buds on them here on Gomer Hill. Our daffodils are
fully abloom; I picked dozens
of them last night in case the temperature dipped as low
as predicted. The kitchen is merrily
adorned with bright bouquets of April sunshine, scattered
here and there in jugs and jars.
During long winter months I will sometimes treat myself
to a four-dollar bunch of supermarket
flowers, extravagant but necessary; from now until
October there will be several bunches
of priceless blossoms both domestic and wild all over the
house, a visual treat as well as a
spiritual one. Take a minute today to bring a little of
the outdoors inside. Every time you
admire your arrangement you will be reminded of some
aspect of how they came to be there...
the way the sun felt on your back as you bent to collect
the blooms... the birdsong that
surrounded you... the vase your son made in the third
grade... the random assortment
of different things coming together into one beautiful
entity that didn’t exist until you made it...
Take time to smell (and pick) the flowers,
Daisy
~
Saturday, April 24, 2004, 5:45 a.m.
34 degrees, windy, some clouds
A brief hard rain shower passed through our area a couple
of hours ago,
accompanied by loud gusts of wind. Now the wind is still
here, but the rain has moved on.
The eastern sky is beginning to take on pink hues; I will
be on the road during sunrise,
hope I can catch it. Yesterday I noticed that houseplants
are getting into the swing of
spring right along with their fresh-air cousins.
Geraniums are putting out lots of blossoms
after a winter of near dormancy. As an experiment I put
four potted geraniums in a cellar
window for the winter and then just plain ignored them
until last month. No water,
minimal sunlight, cold, dark, and damp. I brought them
upstairs and cut off all the dead
parts (there were many) and two of those plants have
bounced back and are loaded with
buds. I have a friend who just yanks them bare-root out
of their window boxes and tosses
them into a garbage bag for the winter. She keeps the bag
in her cellar, that’s where I got
the idea. The geraniums that lived on various windowsills
all winter long are blooming like
crazy. I will cut them back before I put them outdoors,
and they will recover in time for
another summer-long display of bright red blossoms. Some
of our cactus is covered
with pretty yellow flowers, and one large mother-in-law
tongue plant has sent up a bloom
spike loaded with sticky white trumpets. It seems like
everything is popping with life
both indoors and out. It looks like it is going to be a
stunning sunrise and a beautiful day.
Enjoy your weekend,
Daisy
~
Friday, April 23, 2004, 8:45 a.m.
42 degrees, breezy, mostly cloudy
The sun has made a few brief appearances this
morning and there are
some very small patches of pale blue sky showing between
the layers of
slow-moving grey clouds. There is a dampness to the air
that carries good
earthy aromas with it, those of soil, mud puddles,
earthworms, and rotting wood.
A pair of bluebirds is inspecting the single nesting box
behind the house at the
corner of our garden. When tree swallows move back into
the area, they will take
over this site, as we intended. Bluebirds are ground-feeders,
and to lure them to set
up housekeeping this close to our three cats would be
cruel. Swallows, who feed on
the wing, will be safe as they raise their chicks. When
birdhouses are put up in pairs,
swallows will take one and bluebirds the other. Both
species are fiercely territorial
within their own kind, but will easily allow the presence
of others. Occasionally a wren
will decide to move in, which is fine with us, as there
are more than enough houses to go
around. If you have only two sites, then wrens should be
discouraged, as they will attack
any other birds that come near their nest. They may be
tiny, but their spear-like bills can
inflict deadly harm. I have seen several pairs of
bluebirds on the Hill this spring; it is good
that the state bird is making such a strong comeback.
Daffodils are almost blooming;
I brought some budded stems in yesterday morning and they
have opened right up.
They are early this year, probably because of all the
mild weather during March. I can
remember many Mother’s Days when the daffodils were
just barely ready for a bouquet,
accompanied by a sticky kiss. Come to think of it,
sometimes on May Day I had to look
hard for a few crocuses and windflowers for a May basket.
I’d say our springtime blooms
may be a good two weeks ahead of schedule, when compared
to previous years.
The skies are going to gradually clear today and give us
a gorgeous weekend;
try to get the indoor stuff done this morning so you can
enjoy the beautiful days ahead.
Happy Friday,
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 22, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
53 degrees, breezy, overcast
Thick fog comes right up to the edge of our property but
the top of Gomer Hill
is under bright overcast skies. A big marsh hawk is
working the west meadow,
black wingtips standing out in stark contrast to the
white underwings. This bird
(or one exactly like it) has been hunting our property
for several years. It soars
close to the ground, riding air currents invisible to
humans; then sharp talons briefly
touch down and it rises with a young bird or rodent in
its clutches and retreats to a
treetop to eat its prey. Yesterday it had a little
trouble managing the high winds and
powerful updrafts that swept across the Hill all day long.
It flew swiftly, tilting its
wings this way and that, but kept coming up empty handed.
We worked outdoors
buzzing up limbwood; sawdust was rising straight up into
the air (when it wasn’t
being blown up my nose). Dried leaves were swirling and
rising a hundred feet off
the ground before swooping off over the valley. The sun
came out late in the morning
and was hot on our backs as we bent to various tasks.
When clouds passed over,
we got chilly. A day that started out full of contrasts
continued to mete them out all
day long, even after the sun went down. At 11:00 I was
marveling at the brilliance
of the stars and the clean fresh spring air. A half hour
later we were being pounded
with rain and thunderbolts split the sky. This morning’s
clouds and fog will eventually
head out and leave us with a pleasant spring day. It is
Earth Day, a time to take
stock of ways in which we can improve and preserve our
environment. Take a
garbage bag for a walk, and fill it on your return trip.
Wear gloves; there will be little
wriggly surprises camping out underneath those empty cans
and styrofoam clamshells.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 21, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
48 degrees, breezy, cloudy, raining
Light rain showers are moving in and out of our area this
morning.
Just when it looks like it might be clearing up, more
sprinkles fill the air.
The wind comes and goes just like the rain; one minute it
is fairly calm and
the next twigs are swirling like dervishes at the ends of
their branches. I guess
this indicates a front passing through, bringing changes
which we hope are for the better...
but in this neck of the woods, change often is just
change, neither good nor bad. It is a day
of contrasts. The house was chilly, so I lit a fire in
the kitchen range earlier. Now it is too
hot in here. Even the cats can’t make up their minds
whether to go out or stay in. We might
as well put in a revolving door for one of them; he has
been out (and back in) half a dozen
times so far. I don’t believe I will make any
important decisions today, just fill the hours
with simple straightforward housework chores. I think I’ll
go fishing later; maybe
I’ll have trout for supper, maybe not. Right now a
space has opened up in the
clouds and white sunbeams are streaming down through the
raindrops,
a beautiful sight ! I love unpredictable weather like
this,
and I am happy to have the day off so I can experience
every part of it.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, April 20, 2004, 7:15 a.m.
33 degrees, breezy. overcast
High thin clouds shade Gomer Hill this morning but there
is a bright strip
over the Adirondack Mountains. The sun is supposed to
make an appearance
later but it won’t be as warm as yesterday. Our
daffodils are full of buds and I
noticed some blooming on the East Road; it won’t
be long before the sunny yellow
trumpets shine in our yard. Crocuses and windflowers are
in full display and lately
they have been full of bees, both yellow jackets and
honeybees. It was tricky business
picking a little bouquet of blooms to put on the kitchen
windowsill, but the bees around
here are pretty friendly. Years ago a friend kept a few
dozen hives across the road and
we had bumper crops of melons, squash and cucumbers, as
well as beautiful dark sweet
honey. The gardens were literally abuzz with apian
activity in those days, and nobody was
ever stung. The hives are gone now, and so is the New
York State Beehive Inspector.
In most states this important position was victim of
budget cuts. Now, nationwide there
are only 10% of the bees there used to be, due to the
lack of proper hive inspection.
Foul brood and mites are the biggest enemies of
honeybees, and unless hives are
disinfected, fumigated, or destroyed these pests will
quickly spread from hive to hive.
Without sufficient bees, crops will not become properly
pollinated and there will be
less fruits and veggies as a result. It is the
responsibility of each individual beekeeper
to inspect the hives and take action at the first sign of
infestation. I have noticed that the
bees are slowly increasing their numbers in our area;
perhaps it is an example of
survival of the fittest and the hives are adapting to
pestilence and becoming
stronger. I hope the abundance of bees on our spring
blossoms is a portent
of good pollination for the summer to come.
Have a honey of a day,
Daisy
~
Monday, April 19, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
58 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
It would be easy to have a second or even a third cup of
coffee on the back porch
this morning. Sunlight is streaming down and feels
wonderful on bare legs. Did you
know that just ten minutes of direct sunlight every day
is enough to give you your RDA
of vitamin D? This important vitamin is not absorbed
through sunscreen, however, so it
is a good idea to do a little early morning basking
whenever you can manage it, before
you put on your protective creams and lotions. Vitamin D
is important in helping prevent
osteoporosis (brittle bones). Beginning your day with a
few minutes outdoors is also a
great way to gather your thoughts and prepare both
mentally and physically for whatever
tasks you are about to accomplish. Even on dull sunless
days there are little messages
waiting for a quiet moment to sneak into your brain.
Perhaps it is something as obvious
as the way many species of birds share the same tree in
harmony and friendly fellowship.
Or it may be information so subtle that its meaning doesn’t
develop into a cohesive thought
until later in the day, when you smack your head and
think AHA! So that’s what the
ladybug bite on the toe was all about... or the crow,
or the odd clouds, or the special
ray of light that landed right on your husband as he took
the garbage out...
Open your eyes and ears, and your spirit will follow.
What are you still doing sitting at your computer?
Get out and look around,
Daisy
~
Sunday, April 18, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
56 degrees, calm, sunny
It is warm and sunny on Tug Hill but we can see that the
lowlands are flooded
with fog. We were able to enjoy coffee on the back porch
for the first time this
spring, accompanied by about a billion houseflies who
were almost as loud as
the birds. Five turkey hens followed a tom strutting his
stuff in the east meadow.
He only stopped once to fluff his tailfeathers and croon
a lusty gobble-gobble-gobble
but that was enough to keep the harem hot on his
trail. Yesterday’s thunderstorms
and frequent showers left everything supersoaked this
morning. Fat drops of water
cling to every horizontal twig and shimmer in the
sunlight. The air is wonderfully clear,
cleansed of dust and pollen. A great blue heron just flew
past the window; I see this
bird nearly every day. I am not sure where it comes from
and it always flies due west.
There is a heron rookery about two miles from here. We
discovered it last month
when skiing through a beaver pond, six crudely built twig-nests
high atop dead trees
in the middle of the pond. We want to hike there before
the black flies hatch to see
if it is an active nesting site. This particular pond had
been empty and inactive for
about five years, but a family of beavers has reclaimed
it and it is once again full of water.
Years ago we would ski back there in the spring and watch
the little guys hard at work
repairing the dam, busy as, well, busy as beavers.
Lately, I know how they feel. Give
yourself a time-out from your busy day and just sit
still; listen to the sounds of spring.
Feel the sun on your face, or let the fog wash over you.
Infuse your spirit with the sensations of spring.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, April 17, 2004, 7:45 a.m.
52 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
A steady stream of blackbirds is coming out of the field
behind the house
to light in one of our maple trees. For thirty seconds
they passed by the window,
and now there are hundreds of them raising holy heck in a
big noisy mob. Some time
ago I was visiting the midwest and saw a flight of
blackbirds that lasted more than
twenty minutes. They just gradually came pouring into
view, following the path of the
Ohio Canal. I have never seen anything like that,
literally hundreds of thousands of birds
(maybe even millions!) all flying in graceful unison,
headed somewhere without so much
as one bird dropping out of the flock. I love the sound
of their noisy chatter as they hang
out in the yard; it is such a vibrant lively noise, full
of good cheer. Yesterday I got home
from work before noon, and we were able to split a lot of
wood before dark. We have
been thinning the hedgerows, so most of what we cut is
ash or cherry, nothing too big in
diameter and pretty easy to split. We also took down a
couple of old gnarly apple trees,
past their prime and starting to rot. Even with a gas-powered
hydraulic splitter those
puppies didn’t want to give it up. We ended up with
a pile of twisted, tortured, partially
split rounds that will need to be manhandled with a six
pound maul in order to fit into the
firebox. An old poem says Apple wood will scent the
room with an incense-like perfume...
but first you have to get the wretched stuff cut into
stove-sized chunks, not an easy task.
In our younger years we used to have picnics at the edge
of an old cowpasture, using
dead limbs from nearby apple trees to make our cooking
fire. The smoke is wonderfully
fragrant and every time I smell it I am transported back
in time to those soft summer
nights of charred rare beefsteak and icy cold rum drinks.
Hmmmm... think I will go
pile some apple limbs at the edge of the meadow for
picnics yet to come...
Remember, today is the youth you will yearn for in twenty
years time,
no matter what your age.
You are never too old,
Daisy
~
Friday, April 16, 2004, 4:00 a.m.
31 degrees, calm, clear
It is very early in the morning and stars are out in full
force.
I just had the dog out for a little walk and didn’t
see the moon,
which would be a little sliver by now anyway. It
may be hiding behind
the barn, or is possibly shining over Hawaii
instead.
The birds are still snoozing on their roosts and all is
quiet.
It is a beautiful calm morning, and will be a beautiful
day.
Make the most of it,
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 15, 2004, 7:00 a.m.
30 degrees, windy, sunny
Clouds cleared away late in the afternoon yesterday,
leaving the air
crystal clear and washed clean. Sunset was beautiful with
colors spreading
from west to east, diffusing through different kinds of
clouds with shading
variations from subtle to sublime. For the most part the
day was rainy and raw
and I was grateful for the chores that kept me indoors. I
transplanted tomato
seedlings into individual pots; as usual I am growing
many more plants than I will
actually need. I started some early varieties from last
year’s seed, and have several
trays of smaller plants that came in this year’s
seed order. Gardening experts always
say that tomatoes shouldn’t be sewn until mid-April,
otherwise they get leggy. This is true,
but not necessarily a bad thing; the plants I start in
early March are pretty tall by the time
I set them out at the end of May. I dig a trench and lay
the plant down with just the top
four inches sticking up out of the soil. The stem puts
out roots all along its length and I
have beautiful strong tomato plants in no time. Sometimes
they even have blossoms on
them when I set them out, making for some pretty early
tomatoes. We don’t have any
fancy indoor grow-light setup either; by this time of
year every windowsill is filled with
little plants, and flats of bigger plants are hauled in
and out of the sunporch every day.
In mid-May the back porch will be full of plants left out
to harden in the night air, brought
in only if frost threatens. I am already dreaming of
those first few handfuls of sweet
grape tomatoes, and big thick slices of later varieties
atop my grilled cheese sandwich.
Yum !
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 14, 2004, 7:00 a.m.
31 degrees, windy, foggy, drizzling
Hard rain yesterday afternoon and all night long has
swelled Horsey Creek
to a raging torrent. The drainage ditch is full and our
yard is a gooey muddy mess.
We did some digging last fall to bury electric cables and
haven’t had a chance to
cover the dirt with shale yet. Boards form a crude
walkway into the house and even
the cats stay on the wood when they go out on a wet day
like this. We managed to
split a pile of firewood yesterday morning before the
rain moved in and were paid
several visits by a lone vulture circling overhead. While
very ugly when viewed close up,
vultures are beautiful as they gracefully soar the air
currents with their huge wings held
in a wide vee-shape. This bird was flying low enough
to see the bright red head and
naked neck that are the marks of a turkey vulture,
abundant in our area. Less common
is the black vulture, although there is usually a nest or
two of them every year in nearby
Whetstone Gulf. It is unusual to see just one vulture of
either species; they usually form
groups that will make quick work of cleaning up roadkill
that has ripened in the sun.
Imagine how our country fresh air would smell if
carrion eaters were not so diligent !
Today will be a good one to catch up on indoor chores.
The north wind is strong and drives this foggy drizzle
right to the bone.
If you plan venture out, bundle up and wear your snuggies.
Stay warm,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, April 13, 2004, 7:45 a.m.
32 degrees, breezy, overcast
A little rain fell overnight, nothing near the heavy
downpour and possible sleet
that was in the forecast. It is a moist chilly morning
but the sky is considerably
brighter than it was an hour ago, and I think it will
shape up into a decent day
with short intervals of rain. It is, after all, April,
famous for its showers. Yesterday
we took a gamble and planted some potatoes, peas, lettuce
and spinach. The earliest
we have ever put in a few rows until now was April 15th.
The worst that can happen
is we lose a buck’s worth of seed to torrential
rain, rot, or freezing. Most often we get
great early potatoes and decent germination on the other
things with mixed results on peas.
It says on the package plant as early as the soil can
be worked but we think it should
also contain the phrase except on Tug Hill. One
year we had exactly two pea plants
show up at the end of April. The garlic that we planted
last fall is poking through the dirt
and it looks like every single clove sprouted. We
finished raking winter detritus from the
yard (except where there are still several piles of snow)
and things are greening up nicely.
This weekend’s temperature will approach seventy, so
get out the picnic table and
clean out the outdoor barbecue pit in anticipation of a
cookout or two.
Enjoy this April day,
Daisy
~
Monday, April 12, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
31 degrees, calm, partly sunny
A lovely sunrise was warm only in the hues that
accompanied it;
occasional golden rays that poke through the clouds do
little to remove
the chill from the Hill. Another day of hard work cutting
firewood will warm
us quickly enough. It is kind of a relief to do this kind
of work in cold weather
where the weight of ballistic chaps, helmet, and leather
gloves isn’t stifling and
hot as it would be on a July day. Critters such as bees,
wasps, and snakes that
live in deadwood are likely to be torpid from the cold as
well, and less prone to
retaliate at the loss of habitat. Repetitive (those who
are easily bored might even
call it monotonous) physical labor can be very
satisfying, a mantra of mindless muscle
work that enlivens all the senses: the sweet smell of
applewood and the dank miasma
of moss and mold; beautiful colors of fungi, buds, and
inner barks; the woodsy taste
of an ash twig, chewed to a frazzle; the rough touch of
cherry bark through the worn
fingers of last year’s old gloves as brush is
dragged into huge piles; the sudden silence
after saws are turned off and the kill switch is pulled
on the tractor, broken by the call
of ravens from the nearby forest. Best of all, after the
wood is all buzzed up, split,
and stacked, are the slow after-dinner rambles on rare
lazy evenings that end
up over on the knoll, admiring straight rows of stovewood
curing in the
breeze and fondly recalling the toil that produced them.
To the woods !
Daisy
~
Sunday, April 11, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
30 degrees, windy, mostly sunny
Water in the birdbath is frozen solid, but an english
sparrow is patiently
chipping away at one edge of the ice. Birds are all over
the place, and the sun
will soon melt frost and ice from this beautiful spring
morning. Today is Easter,
and like all Christian holidays the date for this grew
from pagan tradition. It is
the final day of a seven-day festival to honor Cybele (the
Great Mother) of whom
all goddesses are seen as aspects. Easter is named for
the goddess of spring,
Eostre or Ostara. Signs of rebirth and
resurrection abound even on a frigid morn
such as this; crocuses are finally glowing with color and
grass is green all across Tug
Hill. Spring birdsong fills the air and the sound of
rushing water from snowmelt freshets
is borne on the wind. We spent most of the past few days
outdoors culling trees from the
hedgerow and cutting them into kitchen stovewood.
Yesterday I noticed that deer had
been through the brushpiles and nipped off every single
tender leaf bud; I hope this new
smorgasbord distracts them from the daffodils for a while.
While we were working I kept
getting a whiff of a wonderful sweet fragrance, a little
flowery with just a hint of fruitiness.
It was a nice change from chainsaw fumes, but the source
of the aroma eluded me.
It was hauntingly familiar, like the way the choir room
smelled in church when I was young,
a blend of women’s perfume and aerosol Right-Guard.
We returned to the house late in
the day and I took off my gear, tossing my leather gloves
onto the warming rack of the
kitchen range so they would be dry the next time I needed
them. Ah, yes, what’s this?
They landed on top of a bundle of Satya Superhit incense
sticks... mystery solved !
Ah, don’t I wish all questions had such obvious
answers.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, April 10, 2004, 7:00 a.m.
28 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
The sun came up at 6:30 on the dot, rising over the
Adirondacks
with a little color and a lot of brilliance. Tug Hill is
topped with a mass of clouds
and clear blue skies surround the puffy grey island over
my head. Yesterday we
were coming home from Utica just after noon and saw an
amazing and unusual sight.
The sky was a beautiful shade of blue to the south, and
wispy cirrus streaks were on
the leading edge of a bright white solid flat cloud
extending to the northern horizon.
Something was headed our way, and it is the clouds upon
the cloud that were so spectacular.
Crescents of slate-grey were describing delicate arcs and
half-moons, legions of graceful
clouds looking exactly like a school of dolphins
cavorting from west to east. In over half a
century on earth I have never seen anything like this
beautiful tableau, something conjured
out of a dream. One by one the graceful sky-dancers
escaped from the drab overcast half
of the sky and slid out into the blue, where they became
larger and pearly white, whales
rather than porpoises. The whole scene moved slowly
toward the east with shapes shifting
and blending; every time we looked up it had changed
again. We worked outside all
afternoon and gradually the heavens returned to a more
ordinary condition. Sunset was
gorgeous, with radiant beams parting leftover clouds and
running the whole warm
spectrum until all was quiet in the purple hour before
dark. Moonrise was very late, and
the stars preceding its appearance were a fitting end to
an absolutely perfect day of skywatching.
Keep looking up,
Daisy
~
Friday, April 9, 2004, 7:00 a.m.
28 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
Bright sunshine is leaking out from behind a bank of
cumulus clouds
that hangs over the Black River Valley. Yellowgold beams
streaming toward
Earth light up rooftops and silos here and there along
the East Road. Smaller
fast-moving clouds in the western sky are outlined with
peach and plum, lovely
against patches of bluebird sky. Robins are warbling
their mating songs at full volume,
and every so often they pair up and take off in a frenzy
of touch-and-go aerobatics.
Blackbirds are swarming all over the meadows, alternating
between swooping around
in unison and grazing on the frozen groundcover. Mourning
doves lend their velvety
kooooooo to the morning songfest and a cacophony
of crows voices their opinion
from the woodlot across the road. A pair of canada geese
has been hanging around
for about a week, flying low over the house every morning.
The only open water in the
area is a small pond a half mile from here, home to fat
muskrats and a variety of frogs.
In summers past ducks have set up housekeeping on the
edge of this pond; perhaps
the geese will join them this year. It is a chilly
morning, but full of spring song.
Pull on your fleecy coat and take a little stroll before
you begin your chores.
Have a fine day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 8, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
38 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
Sunrise was a beautiful color show this morning, and a
thick carpet
of frost crystals bounced the bright razzle-dazzle across
the land. Juncos are
still hanging around, and their alternative name of snowbird
may be portentous.
Flurries are in the forecast for the next few days, but
no significant accumulation
is expected. I am amazed that our crocuses are apparently
in a state of suspended
animation, literally frozen into a tight-budded pre-blossom
condition, waiting for a
warm day to open their purple and yellow faces to the sun.
How can they survive
the frequent freeze-and-thaw cycles they have been
through the past week ?
Snowdrops are equally mysterious; these delicate waxy
white harbingers of spring
first bloomed weeks ago, and some days they are perkier
than others, depending on
the temperature. Perennials are beginning to emerge from
the cold soil: sharp lily stems,
feathery poppy fronds, spears of chive and iris, fragrant
mints and balms. Last fall I
divided hundreds of daffodil clumps, and a mass of sunny
color springing up in new
places will be our reward in a few weeks. Snow is almost
gone from the meadows
and grass is showing green under the thatch. Spring is
making some progress,
although this past week it was two steps forward, one
step back.
It’s all good,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 7, 2004, 7:00 a.m.
30 degrees, calm, overcast
Clouds hang in varigated grey vertical layers. A small
thin line of pale
pink hangs over the Adirondack Mountains, the only color
in the morning sky.
Tiny purple crocus buds are trying their darndest to
burst into bloom, but there is
little to encourage them on this dull chilly morning. The
birds are back, floating and
flitting about, testing the sound system with bits of
song and low chatter. A huge flock
of juncos lifted off when I pulled into the yard last
night and many of them have returned
to peck heartily at the frozen ground. Five deer are
wandering through the east meadow,
heads down and concentrating on the task of fueling up on
the scant shoots that emerged
last week. It is time to grate a bar of aromatic bath
soap and place the shavings near tender
daffodils and tulips. Many sources advise the use of
dried blood to keep away deer, but in
our neighborhood that attracts skunks. A friend of mine
obtained some fresh lion droppings
from a traveling circus to keep deer out of her
strawberry patch, and I have had luck with
litterbox dumpage at the edges of flowerbeds, but holy P-U!
Clippings from the dog’s spring
haircut will also deter wildlife, but it has been too
cold to take away the little guy’s winter coat.
He is beginning to look like a mop in search of a handle.
Clouds appear to be thinning out and there is a promise
of sunshine for later.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, April 6, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
22 degrees, windy, sunny
It is a beautiful morning, crystal clear and a little
warmer than yesterday.
Clouds cleared out late in the day, with the sky
perfectly divided into blue and grey.
The sunset was wonderful, with a sharp surreal quality
often seen immediately following
a thunderstorm. Warm colors flooded the land and every
twig and dry seedhead was
precisely defined against the monochromatic background.
That perfect hue hung around
while Mother Earth turned halfway ‘round and
returned to greet the dawn. A full moon set
just after sunrise, having finished its job of
brightening the night sky with eerie silver light.
It will be a sunny day, windy and chilly enough for a hat.
It looks like this year’s Easter bonnet may have to
be wool.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Monday, April 5, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
5 degrees, windy, overcast, flurries
Five degrees ! Five, as in single digit, middle of
January, brittle-nose-hairs,
wear-your-hat-and-mittens, for pete’s sake keep your
brass monkeys indoors,
five freakin’ degrees! Even the birds can’t
believe it and are staying under cover to
dream about warmer days. The fields were full of life
yesterday; this morning they have
been abandoned. Flurries are in the air but have provided
a mere dusting of white, less
than half an inch. Yesterday’s climate seemed a
little harsh until we got out in it for a ski
trip. Although twigs and branches outside the kitchen
window were swished around by
a stiff breeze, it was calm and quiet in the woods. We
headed for the balsam swamp up
the road, but a week of thaw had softened the edges and
made access to the area a little
tricky. A few bare spots have opened up in the woods, but
for the most part the skiing
was excellent. Poor planning on my part ended our
adventure in an old hayfield which was
absolutely bare of snow, so we had to skirt the edges
through the surrounding woodlot to
avoid a hike across thirty soggy acres. Pussy willows are
out in full force, and the buds on
many trees are starting to swell and show traces of red
and orange at the tips. Critter tracks
were everywhere, but few were fresh. The wildlife must
have started to dig in for this last
gasp of arctic air, curled into little furballs to doze
through stormy weather.
The worst of the storm has passed us by, and although
more flurries are in the forecast,
it looks like we can keep the plowtruck in the garage, at
least for today.
Stay warm,
Daisy
~
Sunday, April 4, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
30 degrees, a little breezy, fog, flurries
Hundreds of birds going about their business in unison
combine with thick fog
to lend a Hitchcockian aura to the morning. Several large
flocks of blackbirds are
methodically combing the meadows for food in anticipation
of new snowcover making
for slim pickin’s later today. Robins are pairing up
in lovely mating spirals, soaring into
the air while circling each other in a crazy double helix
pattern. English sparrows are all
over the place, their drab woodsy camouflage useless
against a growing background of
white. A pair of mourning doves is hanging out in the
apple tree that still bears remnants
of last year’s slipshod nest. Crows are closing in,
loud calls announcing their approach.
In spite of the wintry setting, the birds are getting on
with the business of spring, singing
and making whoopie. Little jars of snowdrops, crocus, and
pussy willow twigs placed
along the kitchen windowsill remind me that the long
winter is over; even if the Old Man
leaves reluctantly with a few last threats and blusters
he is gone for another year. It won’t
be long before we are happily planting the first rows of
lettuce and spinach, and poking
peas and onions into the soil. Can strawberries and
asparagus be very far away ?
The rich promise of the season is upon us, in spite of
the fat flakes swirling around
that try to tell us otherwise. Here is a timely haiku
from California composer Robert Gerster,
who wrote it as part of his orchestral work The
Pavilion of Eternal Spring :
Let us celebrate
the great Creator and sing
the splendor of Spring!
Celebrate
spring,
Daisy
~
Saturday, April 3, 2004, 7:00 a.m.
34 degrees, breezy, foggy
If humidity can exceed 100%, it is doing so today.
The air is saturated with moisture, rich with the earthy
fragrances of early spring.
Even a brief walk requires a change of clothing at the
end; cotton trousers wicked
water right out of the air, and the high-tech waterproof
jacket allowed droplets to
seep in under the collar and cuffs, where thirsty flannel
shirting wicked dampness
farther into the garment. If you are heading out for some
adventure today make
sure you put a layer of synthetic garb next to your skin,
so you will stay relatively
toasty. It was definitely worth taking that little stroll
earlier. Even if it doesn’t look
much like spring, the air is filled with birdsong, each
species seeming to outsing the
other in terms of volume and endurance. Several ducks
flew overhead, silent and
flapping madly to gain altitude. The yard is full of
english sparrows. These small
brown birds may have been here all along; they are
perfectly camouflaged against
the dried thatch of last year’s lawn. If you have
early bulbs beginning to bloom,
you may want to gather some and put them in a small jar
to remind you it is
indeed the season of rebirth and renewal. Six inches of
snow is headed
our way tonight and tomorrow, and sadly, this is no April
Fool joke.
At least we will have that extra hour of evening light to
dig ourselves out;
don’t forget to set your clocks ahead tonight.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Friday, April 2, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
34 degrees, breezy, overcast
The morning is cold and extremely damp, chilly in a way
that a sunny subzero
winter day never achieves. Even a brisk walk does little
to warm up a body,
and the home fires feel especially comfortable. Even on a
dull day such as this,
crocuses are beginning to show plump buds, and as the
snow withdraws patches
of alabaster snowdrops announce that the season of
rebirth is truly under way.
As if defying the gloom, robins have begun their full-throated
courtship warbles.
Happy musical chirps of the past few weeks have been
replaced by the rise and
fall of a single phrase, trilled over and over, yet not
monotonous in the repetition.
The beautiful familiar call is being broadcast from tree
branches; I don’t see any
robins on the ground searching for tidbits, some other
hunger drives their behavior.
They are perched all around the yard in tall maple trees,
singing their hearts’ desire.
Perhaps the urge to mate is more a function of day length
than of weather conditions.
Today we pick up four whole minutes of added daylight. It
has been wonderful to
drive home from work and enjoy the lowland sights of
rushing streams and kids
at play outdoors and still have enough time to take a
short twilight walk on the
Hill before dinner. In a couple of days a longer hike
will be possible,
after we set our clocks ahead an hour tomorrow night.
More April showers are on the way, and a few flurries
might even show up later.
The birds don’t seem to care, and neither do I.
Have a fine day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 1, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
-2 degrees, windy, blizzard conditions
In a rare weather phenomenon known to meteorologists as Inverse
Thermal Vortex
a small area east of the Great Lakes is currently
experiencing severe wintry weather that
seemed to come out of nowhere. It roared in just after
sunrise; the temperature dropped
almost forty degrees in the space of a few minutes and a
whirling cloud of heavy snowflakes
is pounding the vicinity. Almost six inches of snow has
accumulated in less than an hour.
Visibility is zero, and the wind is picking up even as I
write this. Oddly enough, this
particular weather event tends to crop up on the same
date, April First... tee hee...
But seriously, folks...
it is 38 degrees, breezy, and overcast. Dense fog filled
the Black River Valley with fragile
wisps breaking away from time to time to drift speedily
south. The fog has been steadily
dispersing from that initial thick band and is slowly
creeping up the hill. Earlier we had a
clear view of the Adirondack Mountains, but now they are
smothered in haze. Rain is in
the forecast for later, but if it is like yesterday there
will be sunny breaks as well. Deer are
herding up and have already started to pillage emerging
domestic greenery, heading straight
for tender daffodil and tulip shoots right by the house.
It is time to gather the AOL startup
discs that cluttered the mailbox from time to time. If I
hang them on ski poles here and there,
the reflection as well as the metallic sound will help
deter deer. I’d better get a move on;
I can see five brown-eyed beauties heading this way right
now.
Fool somebody today,
Daisy
~
|