~
Saturday, April 30, 2005 7:30 a.m.
44 degrees, calm, overcast
Rain is in the forecast, but for now the scene is one of
100% humidity with no actual raindrops
falling from the sky. The air is heavy with moisture;
when the dog came in from his brief trot around
the yard his hair was laced with cool mist, perched above
his skin like a cloud. Robins are everywhere,
feeding and singing up a storm. Yesterday was chilly and
very windy, but we took a good hike through
the woods anyway. The sound of the breeze through the
treetops resembled very much the ocean’s roar,
without the ebb and flow of the sea, just a constant
primal whooooosh! We trekked through many shallow
marshes, and the theme of the day was green. The
marshes were full of false hellebore (erroneously refer-
red to as skunk cabbage in this neck of the woods)
and marsh marigolds in such a startling shade of green
they seemed to vibrate. In a day or two their fat buds
will have burst into golden bloom, one of the most
spectacular of our native wildflowers. Tiny pink striped
spring beauties were underfoot everywhere, and
the small nodding bells of golden trout lilies are
beginning to emerge from their dappled foliage. We didn’t
really know where we were, as we entered the forest at
the edge of a familiar meadow and just followed
a line of State Forest trees, blazed yellow here and
there. We skirted many huge piles of blowdown, evi-
dence of the high winds last autumn. We came to an old
skidder frame partly buried in a stream, and an
unidentifiable pile of angle iron with a blue tape tied
to one corner. “Hey, I’ve been lost here in the
winter,
I recognize that...” At least in the winter we could
follow our ski tracks back out if we got turned around.
Ah well, the sun was out, and we knew which shoulder to
keep it over for the return trip if it got too late
in the day and we still hadn’t found our bearings.
After crossing several more juicy low spots and a few
tree-covered hills, we finally came upon a familiar
logging road and followed it part of the way back out
to the Smith Road. It was so pretty in the woods that we
decided to forgo the easy way back and de-
scended into a gorge to make our way home the hard way.
The stream at the bottom was too swift
to wade through, so we crossed on a log and were met with
a seemingly impossible wall of shale
on the opposite side. An occasional root provided good
hand-holds, and we scrambled up like
a couple of lizards, clinging to the gorge side for dear
life. We made our way through a dense
balsam forest dotted here and there with huge boulders,
erratics left from the last Ice Age,
dropped by the glacier like so much loose change. We
finally emerged into the meadow
where we started, into the teeth of a cold wind and then
home sweet home, the
comfort of wood heat and a frosty beverage after a good
day’s endeavor.
Have yourself a little adventure soon;
take a chance,
Daisy
~
Friday, April 29, 2005 7:00 a.m.
40 degrees, windy, mostly sunny
There is light fog in the valley and heavy black clouds
along the northwest treeline, but
the rest of the sky is perfectly blue. The temperature
has come up ten degrees since dawn,
and it is quite pleasant on the back porch this morning,
out of the wind. Thick frost quickly gives
way to dew as the sun’s rays strike the dull white
rime, changing chalkdust into diamonds. A par-
tridge drums somewhere in the distance, and the usual
cast of birds whoops it up in the yard, greet-
ing the day as well as potential mates. I would love to
take such a perfect spring morn and trap it in
a jar, to be opened in the middle of a January blizzard;
memory will have to suffice. Bright white
clouds have broken away from the ominous mass in the west
and are scudding quickly across
the sky, and the valley fog is beginning to creep up a
little closer to home. I think the sky
will be interesting today as it ushers in a spell of wet
and wild weather for the
weekend. Batten down your hatches, it’s gonna be
windy !
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 28, 2005 6:30 a.m.
36 degrees, windy, partly cloudy
The air may be damp but my spirit soars when I see
beautiful deep blue sky opening up
beyond massive banks of clouds. We spent the day in the
city, dashing from place to place
between heavy showers. We arrived back on Tug Hill just
in time for the air to clear and watch
clouds become swept away down into the valley. As sunset
drew near, fog rolled in, but not heavy
and dense; this was in wispy layers, a regular
atmospheric lasagna of green meadow, blue sky, and
pearly mist. The setting sun illuminated different parts
of the whole view from time to time, and the
overall effect was stunning! Soon the sky was filled with
pink and orange clouds, blue sky, fog,
rainbow lights, and bits of green shining through from
ground level. Fog finally cleared out for
good and the night was a starry wonder with a lopsided
moon rising big and bold just after
midnight. After being cooped up in a car most of the day,
Mother Nature came through
with some wonderfully rejuvenating performances,
surrounding us with beauty.
Take advantage of this wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 27, 2005 8:30 a.m.
46 degrees, windy, overcast, foggy, raining
What a moist morning has unfolded before us! For some
reason, all of this water has
apparently encouraged the birds to sing even more sweetly
than usual, dozens of species
using the stiff breeze to carry their plaints far afield,
amplified by the fog. Crows are being
particularly enthusiastic, strewn along the treeline to
the east, with one sentry in the big maple
right outside the window. Yesterday was a beautiful warm
day, surprising in light of Monday’s
snow flurries. We worked at piling firewood and cleaning
up chips and chaff around the wood-
yard, and noticed a few small insects flitting here and
there, thankfully not mosquitoes or black flies.
During a break I walked through the woods to the edge of
a big gorge to see if any snow remained
trapped in the shadowy recesses of the deep cut. Several
patches of dirty grey corn lay strewn about,
just far up enough along the bank to avoid the swift flow
of meltwater that rushes towards the Black
River with a primal roar. The remains of a winterkilled
deer lay at the point above where two streams
merge, nothing left but a few gnawed ribs and some
scattered bits of hide and hair. I recall discover-
ing the corpse as a fresh kill last winter, although it
seems like only yesterday. Trout lilies and the deep
purple shoots of meadow rue bloomed around the site, and
a few painted trilliums are heavy-budded,
nearly open. I followed a wash back to the woodlot, and
marsh marigolds will soon add their gorg-
eous yellow blossoms to wallows and low spots all over
Tug Hill. The wind picked up to a full-
blown bluster just before lunchtime, and I skedaddled out
of the forest in a hurry: too many
dead limbs waiting to break free and plummet to earth for
my liking. I can return to enjoy
the glorious unfolding of woodland blooms on a day when
it doesn’t require a hardhat.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, April 26, 2005 8:00 a.m.
48 degrees, breezy, hazy sunshine
The forsythia hedge has burst into a riot of color since
the rains fell; actually,
more of a guffaw of color... or a chuckle. Bright yellow
blooms adorn only the very
lowermost branches, with the rest of the plants being
bare and smooth, flower-free.
I think the subzero streak last January has wreaked havoc
on perennial shrubs, with no
snow cover to protect the tender blossom buds. The quince
looks like it has been similarly
affected. I hope the raspberries didn’t winterkill,
or any of the wild berries and fruits that make
such sweet jams and sauces come August. Yesterday we
walked all morning long and it was a
gorgeous setting. Sun shone through high fat clouds with
brilliant intensity, polishing every damp
surface with an unearthly glow. Pussy willow catkins are
two inches long and beginning their trans-
formation into small leaves, drooping heavy and plump
from recent rain. As we started our journey,
icy wind straight from the northwest made my eyeballs
ache and sent shivers through the dog. When
we reached the protection of the forest things calmed
down and we quickly warmed up. We strayed
from the road to explore a lily patch around a cellar
hole, and found a beautiful old crock with a heavy
blue rim, shattered by the weight of time, exposed for
all those cycles of freeze-and-thaw. While I was
poking at the rubble, movement caught the corner of my
eye; it was a partridge, strutting along a wall
with his tail fanned out and his neck feathers all
fluffed up and ready for business. We watched him
for several minutes before he saw us and flew away in a
whirr of wingbeats. not too far from there
we came upon a large vernal pond, still as glass and
perfectly reflecting the trees that encircled it.
Drowned club moss looked like seaweed, and fat tadpoles
darted for cover under it at our ap-
proach. We heard several woodland birds warbling sweet
songs, but never saw them, search as
we may. Flurries slowly began to fall, and soon were
swirling all around us, not entirely un-
expected and yet still surprising. As we left the forest
near lunchtime, a raven followed
us for half a mile, croaking softly and keeping perfect
pace, perching in a tree while I
checked out some birdhouses for occupants. We came into
the kitchen and he turn-
ed around and flew straight back into the woods. I wonder
what he wanted? Or
maybe I wanted him, and just didn’t realize it. Or,
perhaps he was just messin’
with me... who knows why anything does what it does,
anyway ?
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Monday, April 25, 2005 7:30 a.m.
39 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
Heavy dew has bejeweled every blade of grass and balsam
needle and drips off the roof to
create a small shimmering cascade onto the flower bed.
Daffodils hang their heads, heavy with
moisture from three days of rain; some are completely
laid out in the mud. The sun came up in
a clear blue eastern sky just as the moon set over the
other horizon. Clouds have moved in from
all directions, and it looks like they will soon meet
overhead. The back porch was warm and sunny
earlier, incongruous in light of the ice in the
wheelbarrow. Tree swallows have returned to Tug Hill
and are playing tag, twirling and swooping all around the
yard. A pileated woodpecker circles the
meadows, all deep wingbeats and crazy laughter. Last
night I heard coyotes for the first time this
season, pursuing a deer on the run under a full moon, or
maybe just dashing about to keep warm.
The rain has brought our first peas out of the soil,
emerald green shoots appearing seemingly over-
night. Lettuce and spinach have a good start as well, but
there is still no sign of beets. Today will
remain somewhat chilly, but as it warms up tomorrow
things will explode into wonderful shades of
green. What is now a yellowish haze surrounding the
willow shrubs will soon be full-blown spring-
green foliage, and maples will surrender their lovely red
buds to tightly curled deep green leaves.
Hooray for spring !
Daisy
~
Sunday, April 24, 2005 8:30 a.m.
36 degrees, windy, overcast, showers
A brisk northwest wind drove rain right in through the
bedroom window last night, even
though it was only open an inch. The wind howled and the
room grew quite chilly, bringing
an extra quilt into play during the wee hours. Rain
showers have been coming and going; at
this moment it is raining quite hard. Yesterday afternoon
there was a dry break that lasted for
several hours, so we set off on a walk. Hundreds of
robins were strolling in the east meadow,
feeding on fat worms that had been flooded out of the
soil. I have never heard so many robins
singing their beautiful springtime mating tunes; it was
magical. Fog rolled in and visibility became
poor. My glasses were so misty that I took them off,
blurring the landscape even more. Every-
thing was moist and incredibly green, like walking at the
bottom of a pond full of algae. After a
trip around the perimeter of all of our property, I
brought the dog indoors. His spring haircut
hasn’t left enough fluff to protect him from the
elements, and he was soaked to the skin. He sett-
led in under the wood range, which had been stoked up and
radiating welcome heat all day. I
went back out, armed with a hanky to wipe my glasses from
time to time. I went many places I
dared not take the dog, old dump sites full of broken
glass and rusty tin, and burdock-laden or-
chards. I walked for a couple of hours, poking around
under leaves and finding lots of tiny pink
striped spring beauties curled up tight against the rain.
These little flowers usually bloom a few
weeks before daffodils, but in this odd year they have
appeared at about the same time. I also
found a few fiddlehead ferns beginning to poke above the
forest litter, plump and covered with
white fuzz. It won’t be long before we pick a pound
or two of these seasonal treats to sauté in
butter or bake into a spring quiche. It was recently
drawn to my attention that some varieties of
fern contain potentially carcinogenic elements,
especially bracken fern. For more information on
this, check out http://www.chm.bris.ac.uk/motm/ptq/ptqh.htm. Ostrich ferns produce true fiddle-
heads, and are best identified by a concave line running
the length of the stem. They also look
quite tasty, succulent and green, while the brackens are
skinny and tough. When in doubt, toss it
out; this is a good rule when dealing with any food, from
wild offerings to week-old potato salad.
Today will be chilly and wet, a good one for baking bread
and making a hearty home comfort
dish such as potroast, baked chicken, or meatloaf, things
to fill the house with good Mom
smells and our bodies with fuel to keep us warm when we
venture out. There may even
be a few snowflakes in the air later today, no real
surprise to those of us who have
lived in this neck of the woods for a while.
It’s all good,
Daisy
~
Saturday, April 23, 2005 9:00 a.m.
38 degrees, breezy. overcast, raining
After weeks of waking with songbirds at dawn, this
morning I had the luxury of
sleeping past sunrise, lulled back to dreamland by the
wonderful sound of rain on a
tin roof. The window was open just enough to allow lovely
birdsong to mix in with the
steady rat-a-tat-tat overhead. Tin might not be the most
attractive roofing material, but
it certainly is topnotch acoustically. We are in for
several days of rain, perhaps even some
snow at the beginning of next week. Hopefully everything
will eventually even out, with just
enough rain to compensate for the unnatural dry spell we
just passed through. I need to bring
in all of the tender young plants from the sunporch so
they don’t damp-off, which sometimes
happens if exposed to constant cool temperatures. After
this coming week is over, I may feel
a bit damped-off myself. Yesterday we walked to an
old homestead a mile away to gather fra-
grant old-fashioned double daffodils from around the old
house foundation. Drifts of sunny yell-
ow blooms emerged from the litter of dead scotch thistle
plants, seeming to underscore the Earth
Day theme of the hike; care must be taken to harvest
beauty from often painful and prickly sources.
This applies to so many things, does it not? Do we want
what is desired enough to suffer in order
to have it? Hmmm... Later, we took a ride around the
block and heard the sweet fluty songs of
spring peepers at day’s end, the first of the season
on Gomer Hill. We saw two small patches
of snow at the edge of the road, and the deep pile at the
Smith Road intersection is finally all
gone. Low spots that are usually full of water in April
were dry as a bone; this rain is sorely
needed and timely indeed. Today will be the warmest of
the week, so I suggest you put
on your raingear and take a good walk, soak in the good
sights and smells as things
begin to green up. At the very least, get out to pick
daffodils and tulips from your
garden before they become windblown and mudspattered.
Singin’ in the rain,
Daisy
~
Friday, April 22, 2005 8:00 a.m.
48 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
The sky is pale blue with translucent pearly streaks of
cloud high in the atmosphere. When
the sun is out it feels wonderful, full of energizing
warmth. When it retreats behind the wispy veil,
faint shadows are cast and the warmth is diluted into
what feels like potential energy, stored away
for later. The meadows are a perfect shade of spring
green, brought about by Wednesday’s rain.
Early crops of spinach and lettuce are just beginning to
emerge from the damp earth, and when I
dug up a pea to see what was happening, I found it to be
plump and putting out the first tender
sprout that will eventually give us scads of peas for
suppers yet to come. Everything is filled with
potential for growth, even us. Today is Earth Day, and we
should make a point of wandering about
to look for positive signs from Mother Earth that She is
still full of good, good, good vibrations in
spite of mankind’s abuse and neglect. Her cries of
anguish and pain have been in the news for se-
veral years, and we weep along with Her. But today, let’s
focus on Her strength and ability to per-
severe through the ages. It can be something as easy as
sitting quietly and enjoying the breeze on
an upturned face, or tasting a freshly sprouted bit of
mint. Listen for birds and frogs, and smell
the way the sun teases sweetness from evergreens and
early flowers. Take a moment to
praise Mother Earth’s abundance, give thanks for Her
many gifts, and apologize
for ignorance and unkindness to Her in the name of
progress.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 21, 2005 8:00 a.m.
39 degrees, windy, mostly sunny
Overnight lows in the twenties made a little skating rink
in the birdbath,
the silvery crust impervious to vigorous pecking by a
sparrow just after sunrise.
The early sky was amazing, bright blue overhead with
heavy dark clouds over the
valley. For a while the sun shone under the clouds,
illuminating the Adirondack Moun-
tains like the far-off exotic land of Xanadu. Then the
dark band swallowed the sun whole
for about twenty minutes, and there was a second sunrise
as it emerged again above the mass.
There are still clouds to the east, but they have morphed
into ordinary large white fluffy floaters,
not nearly as dramatic as before. The change in weather
came late yesterday, following an after-
noon of fishing with two young friends. We walked for a
while along the shore of a nearby stream,
drowning several worms and catching one nice fat native
brook trout. It flashed its bright pink fins
at us before releasing itself, a double backflip and sploosh!
it was back in the water. Must be that
fish thought it was part of a catch-and-release program,
while we were all envisioning it smothered
in lemony butter. That was the only nibble all day; even
though we came upon several likely spots
those wily trout just weren’t interested. Horsetails
are starting to emerge at streamside, and burdock
shoots are all over the place, making a carpet of green
velvet under last years prickly burrs. We
found an entire cow skeleton, picked clean and scoured
white by a winter of wind and snow.
A skull full of giant molars grinned at us, looking like
the prehistoric remains of the dreaded
cowasaurus. Towards the end of the afternoon the
wind picked up and light rain started to
fall, filling the air with that good earthy smell of rain
splashing up dust, wet concrete, and a
faint whiff of worms unsuccessfully crossing the road. It
rained for several hours, a good
steady soak that will green up the lawns in a hurry.
After the weather settles we will have
to go back to the good spots. The best part of fishing
isn’t really about the fish anyway;
it’s a way to be quiet in a beautiful spot,
stillness in the midst of rushing water and birds
swooping all around. It’s wading in cold water up to
your knees and not falling over
when the current is swift. It’s not minding the rain
one bit because you are already
pretty darned wet from creekwater. And, when the fish
finally start to bite, it’s all
about keeping only the biggest and gently releasing the
smaller ones back into the
stream, playing God of the Fishes and getting a gander at
the Big Picture,
that life is precious and sometimes you don’t get a
second chance.
Enjoy today and every day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 20, 2005 7:30 a.m.
63 degrees, windy, mostly sunny
There is a stiff breeze directly from the west; good to
see the prevailing wind direction is
back in town. It was tough to know which way to hang
laundry the past few days, and it
usually ended up being wrapped around the lines a few
times. I hope everyone has really
enjoyed the heck out of the past couple of warm and sunny
weeks. It doesn’t seem poss-
ible, but there is snow in the forecast for the weekend,
anyone’s guess if it will stick. Things
have been so off-kilter this spring. Never before have I
seen daffodils and pussy willows in
all their splendor, both during the same week. The wild
double daffodils that I gathered last
week at the old farm up the road usually are some of the
last things to bloom, often not until
the first week of May. Yet, here they are, up with the
crocuses. Forsythia barely has flower
buds on it yet, but the tulips are ready to burst open
any day now. Leeks are almost ready
to pick, but I have yet to see even one fiddlehead, and
they are always ready to go into the
same pie. I wonder if the dry spell is causing all of
these oddities in the plant world. And an-
other thing: Suddenly we are on the spring flyway for
thousands of canada geese, almost as
many as we see in the autumn. For whatever reason, they
have altered their vernal route this
year, blessing us with the mournful sound that usually
signals the approach of winter, for this
neck of the woods anyway. Just yesterday I saw a big
flock flying low and heading west.
We are liable to see some much-needed rain later with a
sudden drop in the temperature
to follow. If you are planning to be outdoors today, make
sure you pack an extra fleece
to guard against the cold. No matter what the weather,
enjoy your day !
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 20, 2005 7:30 a.m.
63 degrees, windy, mostly sunny
There is a stiff breeze directly from the west; good to
see the prevailing wind direction is
back in town. It was tough to know which way to hang
laundry the past few days, and it
usually ended up being wrapped around the lines a few
times. I hope everyone has really
enjoyed the heck out of the past couple of warm and sunny
weeks. It doesn’t seem poss-
ible, but there is snow in the forecast for the weekend,
anyone’s guess if it will stick. Things
have been so off-kilter this spring. Never before have I
seen daffodils and pussy willows in
all their splendor, both during the same week. The wild
double daffodils that I gathered last
week at the old farm up the road usually are some of the
last things to bloom, often not until
the first week of May. Yet, here they are, up with the
crocuses. Forsythia barely has flower
buds on it yet, but the tulips are ready to burst open
any day now. Leeks are almost ready
to pick, but I have yet to see even one fiddlehead, and
they are always ready to go into the
same pie. I wonder if the dry spell is causing all of
these oddities in the plant world. And an-
other thing: Suddenly we are on the spring flyway for
thousands of canada geese, almost as
many as we see in the autumn. For whatever reason, they
have altered their vernal route this
year, blessing us with the mournful sound that usually
signals the approach of winter, for this
neck of the woods anyway. Just yesterday I saw a big
flock flying low and heading west.
We are liable to see some much-needed rain later with a
sudden drop in the temperature
to follow. If you are planning to be outdoors today, make
sure you pack an extra fleece
to guard against the cold. No matter what the weather,
enjoy your day !
Daisy
~
Tuesday, April 19, 2005 8:00 a.m.
67 degrees, breezy, sunny
It is already as warm outside as it was during the middle
of the day yesterday.
The air is so full of birds, flies, bees and butterflies
I am surprised there is any left
for us to breathe. There is a wonderful light breeze that
brought the scent of hyacinths
to the back porch as I sat basking with my coffee. The
wind is from the south, rare for
this neck of the woods. Rain may fall tomorrow, and we
sure could use it. Lugging water
to the garden is getting old, and there is still no sign
of the things I planted out ten days ago.
Maybe the little seeds know that snow is in the forecast
for Friday and are staying put until
after that passes. Meanwhile, today is going to be warm
and sunny, maybe even bordering
on hot, with high temps in the seventies. Don’t you
just love this time of year ? One day
it’s all about shorts and flipflops, the next thing
you know it’s wooly hat and mittens.
Enjoy each day as it unfolds,
Daisy
~
Monday, April 18, 2005 8:00 a.m.
60 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
There are faint bands of high cloud in the eastern sky,
and two arrow-straight
jet contrails, like traintracks in the sky, run along the
northern edge of the clouds.
A catbird sits on the clothesline, twitching its long
tail up and down. I thought I heard
its eclectic tunes earlier amid the usual spring mating
songs of the other resident yardbirds.
While starlings have a huge range of random sounds,
catbirds have the ability to mimic other
birds perfectly, from the soft coo of mourning doves to
the lovely warble of a wood thrush.
A mockingbird may be more well known to the layman, but a
catbird has a much larger reper-
toire, often singing a phrase only once before moving on
to the next phrase. A mockingbird will
repeat the same phrase several times before changing its
tune. What is kind of ironic is the fact
that, after baby catbirds leave the nest, the parents
utter the same boring short sharp meow a
thousand times in a row, hence their common moniker of catbird.
Yesterday we walked along
an old snowmobile trail, keeping our eyes peeled for
treasure. Last week we found a large pair
of vise-grips, valued at about twenty bucks. Yesterday I
found nothing but a small steel washer
and a bunch of beer cans. I forgot to carry a trash bag,
but today we will scoop all of those cans
into captivity and turn them into nickels. (This must be
what they mean when they keep telling us
that vacationing snowmobilers are good for the local
economy.) We heard tons of frogs croak-
ing in the swamps, and spied the buttery yellow blooms of
the first coltsfoot flowers along the
side of the road. There is still a huge pile of snow at
the Smith Road intersection, even though
we have had two days of temps in the sixties. We were
passed by several groups of all-
terrain vehicles, leaving massive clouds of dust in their
wake. I can’t help but think the
only person in such a group that can see anything of the
countryside is the first
person in line, and everyone else just eats dust. Ah
well, to each his own.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, April 17, 2005 8:00 a.m.
61 degrees. breezy, sunny
This is the kind of day I dream of in midwinter,
snuggling under the quilts on a blustery
morning when it is still dark for an hour after our feet
hit the floor. Lately our days have
started before dawn, with beautiful birdsong drifting
through open windows coaxing the
last sleep from our eyes, next lingering with coffee on
the back porch, our furry little pets
preening and purring at our feet. Wild turkeys strutted
along the lower boundaries of the
meadow, and a pileated woodpecker still ululates his
crazy laughter as he circles the barn.
This morning millions of flies added their steady drone
to the happy warbles of robins and
bluebirds. Yesterday we heard the first frogsong of the
season! It was the chuckling and
chortling variety, not a spring peeper in the bunch. When
we hear the peepers, it means
that trout will finally rise to our bait. At one point in
our late-day walk we had swamps on
both sides of us; amphibious chatter was amazingly loud !
We traveled on an abandoned
town road to an old farmstead, and old-fashioned double
daffodils are just beginning to
bloom around the sunken foundations. We gathered handfuls
of plump buds, and now
they have all opened in an old green jar, the very
essence of springtime. Their fragrance,
locked underground as mere potential for so many frosty
months, overpowers
even the hearty aroma of Sunday brunch as it sizzles in
the spider.
Time to flip the bacon,
Daisy
~
Saturday, April 16, 2005 8:30 a.m.
58 degrees, breezy, sunny
We are totally loving this sunny spring weather but are
becoming a little concerned
about what it means in the long run. Our berry crops
should be getting equal parts of
sun and rain in order to grow properly, and daffodils are
putting out barren dry buds that
will never bloom; this is known as blasting. Meadows
are extra dry, and the morning news
was full of stories about grass fires that started from
either outdoor trash burning or a care-
lessly tossed cigarette butt. Be very careful with your
outdoor fires, friends. This is not the
ideal time to torch off last year’s brush pile or
leftover baling twine. Even a small cooking fire
should have constant attention and a five-gallon pail of
water standing by, just in case. We
walked a long way yesterday afternoon, and came upon
something that puzzles us every year.
At the corner of Smith and Smith and Smith (if you travel
in this neck of the woods, you know
this is not a typo) there is still a two-foot deep mass
of frozen snow. It is not a particularly shady
spot, and snow is entirely gone from the rest of the
unplowed road. I think that the snow hangs
in there because it is so sunny; it melts during the day
and refreezes every night, and becomes
more dense as a result. There are almost always ruts
where folks have gotten stuck in the
surprisingly unforgiving snow, but it was undisturbed
yesterday. We had a pleasant stroll,
seeing the fresh green of day lilies poking up around old
homestead sites, and the beau-
tiful darker heads of false hellebore around wet spots.
Marsh marigolds and cattails
are just beginning to sprout, and wild leeks in the
hedgerow are up about an inch.
What a wonderful sight, all of this new growth !
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Friday, April 15, 2005 7:30 a.m.
39 degrees, calm, sunny
A little while ago I was poking around the yard,
listening to the birds and waiting
for the dog to finish his sniff-and-squat ballet, and I
saw a strange plane passing overhead.
What was odd is that it left no contrail at all and was
absolutely silent. It was flying fairly low
for such a big plane, and I have never seen anything
quite like it. Probably some secret gub-
mint ve-hickle coming out of Fort Drum. Now I will spend
all day wondering if the Men in
Black read this column, and waiting for them to show up
and debrief me. I like starting the
day with a little mystery, a flight of fancy either real
or imagined. Meanwhile, back here on
Earth, there was a heavy frost last night and the house
is very chilly this morning. The sun’s
strong rays will soon warm everything up nicely; today
looks like it will be a perfect blue-
sky spring day. We could use a little rain to get the hay
crop started; the meadows are slow
to grow when April is this dry. I must get out the
watering can to sprinkle the seeds I planted
last weekend. Yesterday we put a row of potatoes in the
ground, which is a gamble this
early but one that usually pays off for us. Nothing is on
my official schedule for today,
no work outside of home or appointments to keep; yippee !
I can let this
beautiful day unfold all of its own accord, and see what
happens.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 14, 2005 8:00 a.m.
46 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
It is very pleasant on the back porch out of the breeze
this morning. The constant
arctic clipper of the past few days has kept me in a
winter hat and gloves; although it
certainly looks like spring, the north wind blowing over
woodland snow has had quite
a nip to it. We walked quite a way on an unplowed road
yesterday, and I think it might
be bikeworthy by noon today. There are still a few strips
in the shade that remain covered
with corn snow, but it is always fun to try and ride
through the stuff. It’s harder than you think.
A huge flock of crows swooped overhead for much of our
journey, almost as if they were keep-
ing an eye on us. We left the road a few times, to see if
wild leeks are poking through the duff yet
(they aren’t) and once to explore an old foundation.
Stones and bricks are green with moss and a
massive barnbridge leads into thin air over a shallow
stone wall. I tried to imagine life on Tug Hill
a hundred years ago, much simpler and I would imagine
somewhat lonely during the long winters.
There is little left behind at this site to tell tales; I
have never been able to find their trash pile,
although there must be one somewhere. I like poking
through old dumps;
my Mother would be appalled.
Have a beautiful day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 13, 2005 8:00 a.m.
38 degrees, breezy, sunny
A pair of bluebirds is sitting on an aspen branch right
outside my window, preening
and ruffling their bright feathers in the wind. They are
the same hue as the sky, just a
bit more intense. Even the female’s plumage is
brilliant, as she has not yet become worn
out and faded with the effort of egg-laying. Two mourning
doves circle the house, cooing
and wondering where all of the branches went from their
apple tree. Since we pruned back
a lot of our trees and shrubs, a year or two will elapse
before the tangle of concealing branches
grows dense enough to once again provide good nesting
sites. Our century-old lilac copse may
improve in overall vigor from such a severe whacking, but
I fear there won’t be many blossoms
this year. Everything looks so neat and tidy after
several days of raking, trimming, and hauling a-
way debris. We hiked on a seasonal road yesterday and
there is still snow along long stretches
of it. The forest remains full of snow here and there,
but no longer enough to tempt me to clamp
on my skis for one last adventure. Meltwater is starting
to pond up in low spots of the forest, but
yesterday it never warmed up enough to release the
skimcoat of ice from the surface. As the mer-
cury rises these big puddles will come alive with
frogsong, signaling the end of single-digit nights.
Creeks have crested and are running at normal spring
levels, but the water is still too cold from
icy cold runoff to wake trout from their winter torpor. I
have started to dream about big fish;
it won’t be long before they begin to rise to newly
hatched insects and cleverly crafted lures.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, April 12, 2005 7:00 a.m.
28 degrees, breezy, sunny
The wind is right out of the north; we can almost taste
the snow
that is still in the woods. There is still a big pile
frozen behind the barn
where the sun don’t shine (you always wondered where
that was, didn’t you?),
and the largest of the banks leftover from plowing
finally disappeared yesterday.
The yard is all raked up and ready for greening, and
little grass shoots are beginning
to emerge in sunny spots. It was so chilly yesterday that
the crocuses never opened
up and flies stayed snug behind the barnboards. I think
today will be chilly as well,
maybe even more so with this stiff breeze. It is a fine
morning for a brisk walk,
taking care to keep the dog leashed up to avoid losing
him to the huge marsh
hawk that has been hunting our fields. I don’t know
if this awesome hunter
would snatch up a nine-pound dog while a human is in the
immediate area,
but I’m not about to take the chance.
Better safe than sorry,
Daisy
~
Monday, April 11, 2005 7:00 a.m.
32 degrees, calm, sunny
It was cold enough last night to freeze water solid in
the birdbath.
Surprisingly, there is no layer of frost on the grass,
but I think that is a function of humidity
as well as temperature. It is a sparkling clear morning,
with every Adirondack foothill bump-
ing up, solid green against the horizon. Deer and turkeys
stroll together across the meadow,
heads down and moving slowly north. A phoebe is sitting
on the clothesline, the first of these
grey and white birds I have seen this season. It is
eyeballing our chimney, a favorite spot to
build a nest. One year we had one of these little
flycatchers try to move in over our back door,
which would have been inconvenient for all of us. We kept
tearing down the beginnings of the
nest, she kept rebuilding. Finally one of the kids drew a
picture of a fierce looking cat, all claws
and bared teeth (it even scared me) and we hung it
over the door. That bird never returned.
Yesterday we got busy in the garden, sowing some lettuce,
spinach, french endive, beets,
onions, and two kinds of peas. All of these things will
withstand whatever April has to offer
in the way of frost or stray snowstorms, and we should
have some good early spring veggies
to show for our effort. We hope to get a row of potatoes
planted later today, with the main
crop going in at the end of the month. It was wonderful
to be working in the dirt, needing only
a flannel shirt for warmth and thin cotton gloves, not
heavy mittens with fleece liners. It seems
like only yesterday that I was layering on warm clothes
for a ski adventure on a sub-zero morn-
ing. It looks like the skis can go away for the season
and offroad bikes will come out into the
light of day. Our busy season is beginning, but there
will still be time to ramble around Tug
Hill, walking, biking, or even exploring back roads in
the truck. Now that the days are
growing longer, there is plenty of time for work and play.
Carpe diem (and noctem too...)
Daisy
~
Sunday, April 10, 2005 7:30 a.m.
50 degrees. breezy, mostly sunny
Wild turkey gobbles filled the morning air just after
dawn. I scanned the meadow with field
glasses but didn’t find the toms; they must be
courting in the neighbors’ old cornfield, beyond
our hedgerow. There are more turkeys than usual this
season, two big flocks in our neck of the
woods alone. Several deer browse young legume shoots just
outside my window; they are all
suddenly stock still, staring upmeadow with rapt
attention. I see nothing. Perhaps the scent of
a predator or two is borne on the north wind. The sky is
filled with birds on the move, all kinds
and all sizes flying every whichaway. The sounds of this
gorgeous morning are indescribable,
bees and flies buzzing in the crocuses, birds lusting
after mates; the cats purr and the little dog
snores, all of us in the sun on the back porch being lazy
and content. I suppose the day’s
chores will eventually get done, but for now, I must get
back to wallowing in springtime.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, April 9, 2005 7:30 a.m.
42 degrees, calm, sunny
The temperature has risen ten degrees since sunrise an
hour ago. We had a pretty heavy
frost here on Gomer Hill, but it wasn’t cold enough
to freeze water. We cleaned up the
perennial beds yesterday and brought the birdbath out of
storage; so far I have noticed
two of our cats drinking from it. There is so much water
freestanding in the meadows that
I doubt the ceramic basin will get much use until natural
ponds and puddles have been ab-
sorbed into the earth. What a wonderful gradual thaw this
has been! No really heavy rain
to take meltwater too far downhill; our water table must
be nearly full by now. No rain is
in sight for the next week; plan on putting a few early
peas in the ground, take a chance.
They will stand up to frost and snow; so will lettuce,
beets, and spinach. If you have room,
plant some potatoes too. Just bury those sprouting spuds
a few inches down, and you will
have tender new potatoes to eat with your fresh peas by
the end of June. The earliest we
have ever planted potatoes on Tug Hill was April 12th,
and we had a fine yield from a
twenty-foot row. And now, off to the porch for a second
cuppa.
The birds are calling...
Daisy
~
Friday, April 8, 2005 8:30 a.m.
47 degrees, breezy, partly cloudy
Fog has just lifted, a beautiful mist that was sheer
enough to allow sunlight to filter
through and cause it to shimmer and shapeshift above the
meadows. The spirit of
winter is leaving the land at last, swirling all about,
showing faces and lissome forms
in Mother Earth’s luminous aura. These are the undines
of old, water spirits rising to
the clouds so that they may visit earth again and again
as rain, sometimes to rest briefly
in rivers and lakes before returning to their roles in
the neverending water cycle. Earlier
we watched a fleet of turkeys slithering through the
mist, a tom at either end flaring its
tail in a display of masculine prowess. Twenty hens were
stretched out single file be-
tween them, obediently on parade with a sinuous glide
that is absent during the rest
of the year. Later we will see them herding their chicks
or exploding out of cover
in a flurry of wingbeats as they lift their heavy bodies
to the nearest low branch,
but for now they are acting as a single unit, gracefully
meandering
through the watersoaked fields, waiting for wild turkey
lovin’.
Ah! Spring!
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 7, 2005 8:00 a.m.
53 degrees, breezy, cloudy
A baker’s dozen of deer are slowly nibbling their
way across the east meadow.
I have never seen so many gathered on our property before.
This explains the plethora
of deer beds I found scattered through the hawthorn copse
that borders the meadow.
They all look to be in good shape, so intent on their
breakfast that they never even looked
up when I came out to the back porch. A mourning dove has
been circling the house for
several days, looking for a perfect nesting site. The
mate is nowhere in sight; perhaps this
bird is also seeking a partner. Robins began to sing well
before dawn, and the sound of
their cheerful warble through an open window is better
than any alarm clock ever designed.
Redwing blackbirds joined in soon after sunrise, and the
dove’s gentle cooing completes
the soundtrack. There are several crows in the near
meadow, but they are strangely silent
this morning. Yesterday I spied a large marsh hawk
soaring low over the neighbor’s field
before it disappeared into the woods. As I walk along
back roads this time of year, I keep
my eyes peeled for things dropped by snowmobilers during
the winter. I usually find a few
wrenches and other tools, small personal items,
occasionally even articles of clothing. Yes-
terday I found a small smooth white pebble, whiter than
limestone and slightly shiny. I put
it into my pocket for close inspection later. Viewed
under a magnifying glass I could see
it was slightly porous, and thinking it might be a piece
of chalk I scraped my fingernail along
the surface. A familiar odor reminiscent of my grandma’s
closet told me that I had found
a mothball, worn down by weather and time. How in the
world did it get into the
middle of a Tug Hill road? There’s always something
new to discover, but I’ll
bet darned few people ever find a mothball in the middle
of the road.
Explore your world,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 6, 2005 8:30 a.m.
54 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
I offer a piece of a classic poem, one that appears at
the outset to be optimistic and sweet,
but goes on to describe maggots and other less pleasant
subjects. I thought of these verses
as I savored my coffee on the back porch, gazing at
spring bulbs poking through a layer of
well-rotted compost. From the old and dead springs the
new and vibrant. I like the visual
presence of glossy green crocus sprouts overcoming the
stench of fermented garbage and
old rooster poop to slowly reveal sunny yellow faces to
the sun, as they have for twenty
years or more. I also like the life and death allegory
that all sprouting things represent.
Edna St. Vincent Millay - Spring
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
To view the entire poem, visit
http://www.americanpoems.com/poets/ednamillay/7353
Have a beautiful spring day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, April 5, 2005 6:30 a.m.
33 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
I will call it mostly sunny, even though the sun has yet
to make an appearance.
It is due, I believe, in about five minutes, so by the
time I have finished this it will
truly be mostly sunny. It’s actually a little bit
moony as well, with just a thin slice of
moon curving pale in the eastern sky like a single
parenthesis, bracketing the left side
of an expanse of blue sky. The sky is beige-pink with the
smallest bit of brilliant orange
just beginning to breach the misty horizon. We are
gaining nearly three minutes of daylight
every day, and the advent of Daylight Savings Time last
weekend makes it seem as if we
gained a whole hour, all at once. What is more obvious is
that we no longer have to arise
at a really early hour to witness the crack of dawn.
Sunrise has brought on a huge flock
of starlings, chattering and whistling away in the trees
by the road. A pair of blue-
birds has been hanging around for a few days, checking
out all of the nesting
boxes and perching prettily on the grape arbor posts. It
looks like it will
be a fine day for just about anything. Even a root canal.
Don’t forget to floss,
Daisy
~
Monday, April 4, 2005 9:00 a.m.
33 degrees, calm, overcast, flurries
Tiny little snowflakes are hanging around forever in the
still air before gravity finally
does its thing. There is a slight dusting of new snow,
but not enough to cover all of the
mud and grimy film that turned up over the weekend. I
wonder what melting snowbanks
looked like before the advent of road-sand and internal
combustion engines. Would they
have been white all the way to their core? Or would
household woodsmoke and factory
stack fumes in the air of bygone days have tinted the
snow with grey and altered the spring-
time view, even then? Not to mention all of that
horsepoop... At any rate, there is plenty to
look at that is lovely on this dull grey morning. A
bluebird sits on the clothesline outside my
window as if posing for a calendar portrait, turning this
way and that to show off his brilliant
feathers to their best advantage. A pair of mourning
doves is scouting out a nesting location,
their soft grey plumage blending into the still grey air
and the branches of a nearby aspen tree.
Robins flash their bright orange bellies as they pause in
their relentless search for worms, their
Hallowe’en colors incongruous in early April. Our
cats are lined up in the open barn doorway,
watching a fleet of snowbirds make their way across the
yard, too comfy and full of kitty
kibble to stalk prey on this snowy morning. We may be in
for some more snow, or rain;
anything is possible in April.
It’s all good,
Daisy
~
Sunday, April 3, 2005 8:30 a.m.
42 degrees, windy, partly sunny
After twenty-four hours of hard rain, it was a delightful
surprise to awaken to bright
sunbeams slanting through the clouds. Sunrise wasn’t
thick with color this morning, but
the intensity of the rays as they streamed from behind
big clouds was uplifting and delightful.
Hundreds of robins and redwing blackbirds fill the air
with lusty mating arias; birds are every-
where on this fine spring morning, perching atop trees
and wires, or stalking worms and bugs
in the mudlicious meadows. The sky is amazing, big
ponderous clouds framing bits of blue sky
with arrow-straight beacons of pure gold making a beeline
down to earth to reflect off of all of
the new puddles and ponds, as well as reverberating
within each droplet clinging to old stubble
and new shoots. Such beauty is almost too intense for
human eyes and ears to behold. Yester-
day had its own peculiar charm, one that needed to be
checked out first-hand. From indoors,
it seemed to be a washout of a day, rain and blustery
wind prevailed. When dressed for it, and
laced into insulated combat boots with thick woolen
socks, a little ramble through the fields was
awesome in the completeness of sensory overload. Wind
blew the rain every which way, and I
soon had to remove my glasses as they became too spotted
with water to be of much use. Im
mediately the landscape softened into a misty blur, and
it was hard to avoid puddles and rivulets
that were everywhere. The first time water came up over
the tops of my boots it was an icy shock,
but soon the entrapped water warmed to body temperature
and the delicious squishiness of each
step only added another dimension to the hike. My
windproof jacket soon became soaked, as
well as the underlying layers of synthetic fleece, and
while I was wet to the skin, I remained warm
through the miracle of modern fiber technology. The hike
took on an aspect of being underwater,
yet still able to breathe. Rain pounded the top of my
canvas cap and ran off the bill in a stream an
inch wide. I stuck out my tongue and caught some, sweet
and cold, a human gargoyle cavorting
among the wild creatures that were everywhere. Scores of
robins scattered at my approach, and
as I crossed a stone boundary wall I startled a half
dozen deer into a stampede, legs akimbo and
tails flashing white. When I returned to the warmth of
the kitchen I had to mop up a lot of water
that streamed off of me as I peeled off saturated layers
of clothing. I poured water out of both
boots, and stuffed them with newspapers to dry slowly,
away from the stove. It was good to
crawl into soft dry clothing, and watch as dusk settled
over Gomer Hill. How wonderful it is
to be able to enjoy the wildest of weather and still end
up at the end of the day snug and cozy.
My gratitude and appreciation for such opportunities is
immense. When opportunity knocks,
don’t just open the door to let it in; go on out and
play with it.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, April 2, 2005 8:00 a.m.
36 degrees, windy, overcast, raining
I hope everyone had the chance to enjoy yesterday’s
warmth and beauty;
the next few days will be wet and windy, with lake effect
mud in the forecast.
We took a long walk on an unplowed road late in the day,
corn snow under our
feet quickly producing little shimmering puddles within
each dent left by the vibram
soles of sturdy boots. The streams that have shaped the
gorges in our neighborhood
are running swift with meltwater, undercutting huge
snowbanks that are avalanching
one at a time into the abyss below. Late last night I
walked under a breeze-filled sky
scattered with stars and heard the steady roar of distant
creeks, overlain by occasional
honks of geese as they passed high above, invisible in
the darkness but headed toward
the St. Lawrence Seaway and points north. The drainage
ditch along one side of our
road is brimful; hard rain today could easily wash out
the road, as it has done is
springtimes past. Today will be all about the water,
oodles of puddles and tin-
roof drum recitals. Put on your wellies and go splash
around a bit;
you won’t melt.
Daisy
~
Friday, April 1, 2005 8:00 a.m.
40 degrees, windy, mostly cloudy
Dark clouds are moving quickly across the heavens,
occasionally teasing us
with a little patch of sunny blue sky before closing in
again. The wind is from
the southwest, and is pushing scads of northbound geese
our direction. We
usually don’t see many geese in the springtime; we
are part of the autumn flight
plan. But this spring, for whatever reason, they pass
right over our barn, all hours
of the day and night. Yesterday’s warm windy
rainfall took away about a third
of the meadow snowpack. It also uncovered a small patch
of snowdrops bloom-
ing by the house. I picked a dozen of the delicate little
blossoms and they nod a
greeting to me from the windowsill over the sink, actual
proof that spring has in-
deed arrived here in the North Country. It won’t be
too long before we can put
the skis away for the warm months, and haul out the bikes
and garden tools.
Have a fine spring day,
Daisy
~
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