~
Sunday, April 30, 2006 9:30 a.m.
61 degrees, breezy, sunny
Now this is what I call a beautiful spring morning! It is
warm, sunny, and what breeze there
occasionally is has shifted to the east, much less bone-chilling
than the icy northern bluster of
the past week. Last night was dark and unbelievably
starry with no moon in sight, and we were
comfortable strolling in light jackets. No hat, no
mittens, no problem. Windows were wide open
all night long, allowing for occasional coyote songs,
turkey gobbles, and pre-dawn robin trills to seep
into our semi-conscious minds. Yesterday afternoon we
walked along an abandoned farm lane back to
an old homestead site to pick fragrant double daffodils
that have overrun the property. It is amazing how
thoroughly these buttery yellow blooms have naturalized,
thrusting up through mats of uncut hay year
after year. There used to be a plum tree by the house
foundation, but a storm took that years ago.
Four drake mallards lifted off from a small pond in a
flurry of wings and quacks. It is possible
that there is a nest or two on the far side of the pond,
but as we had the dog with us we
didn’t poke around. Ropy chains of frog eggs hang
suspended in the clear shallow
water; we heard a few frogs chuckling as we passed. I
love this green season of
new growth and promise; there aren’t enough hours in
the day to drink it all in.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, April 29, 2006 8:00 a.m.
48 degrees, breezy, sunny
A thermal inversion is causing the smoke from our kitchen
range to blow down towards the garden
instead of rising in graceful swirls. Likewise, a flat
blue ribbon of smoke from the co-gen plant in Lyons-
dale flows above the Black River Valley, pushed slowly
along by a lazy east wind. The morning sky isn’t
quite as blue as yesterday, but the colors of the day are
crisp yellow daffodils and forsythia and green grass,
with accents of small blue and violet flowers here and
there. The gardens have all been freshly tilled and add
the whiff of damp earth and rich winter-composted
fertilizer to the overall setting on this fine spring
morning.
Yesterday we planted a few potatoes so we can have some
early spuds to go with our Independence Day
peas. As soon as the weather settles down we will get
serious with spring crops... more peas, salad greens,
carrots, beets and turnips. It is just about time to put
out a few broccoli plants as well, although we like to
set
out the main crop so it will mature during the cooler
months of autumn. We pulled a mess of weeds from the
strawberry bed, deep-rooted dandelions and a new
nuisance, clover. I’m not sure what kind of clover
it is;
several long tendrils spread from a single taproot and
each one sets new roots. It is very hard to get rid of.
Lemon balm seems to have reappeared from an old bed that
was tilled under three years ago and replanted
to lilies and valerian. If I don’t remove it now, it
will surely choke out the new plantings. Some things that
seem like a good idea at the time can often go awry.
Years ago I planted a little bit of spearmint and ore-
gano along one edge of the garden, and now it must be
beaten back regularly or it will take over every inch
of tilled earth. We don’t mind that it has crept
into much of our lawn, releasing pungent oils every time
we
mow. A handful of violets that I brought from my
childhood home will soon spread a fine purple haze
over most of the front yard, a most welcome invasion.
What happy accidents grow in your yard ?
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Friday, April 28, 2006 8:00 a.m.
42 degrees, breezy, sunny
The morning sky is a lovely shade of blue, not quite as
dark as a bluebird’s wing, but darn near close.
I can say this for a fact because a pair of bluebirds is
sitting on the old clothesline outside my office window.
When they turn just so, their true colors are revealed;
seen from a different angle, they appear almost slate
grey instead of blue. The bright orange of their upper
breast remains a constant hue, but the blue seems to
come and go. The female is nearly as bright as the male
this early in the season; by the time she has produced
two or three broods of young’uns, her plumage will
be but a shadow of its former glorious pigmentation. Tree
swallows returned to Gomer Hill yesterday and have been busy,
performing the mating act in midair, hundreds
of times in one afternoon, a regular orgy of shimmering
midnight blue and white bodies slamming together indis-
criminately. One pair has claimed the single nesting box
next to the garden, one unsuitable for bluebirds because
of its proximity to three talented cats. Bluebirds feed
on the ground, and to encourage them to nest close to the
house would be tantamount to a death sentence. Swallows
feed on the wing and travel in groups. When a cat
comes into their territory they dive-bomb it until it
retreats; the swallows always win. Even other birds feel
their
wrath. Earlier this morning a robin perched on the
birdhouse pole and several swallows flew at it beak and
claw
until it flew off. I always wonder what runs through
their little birdbrains during such a conflict. I would
love to
be able to read their minds for just five minutes, not
just birds but all creatures, great and small. I can imagine
all sorts of things, but the real story belongs solely to
them. Same with humans, come to think of it.
Have an interesting day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 27, 2006 8:30 a.m.
43 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
Massive cloudbanks frame bright patches of blue sky, the
beautiful cerulean hue indicating
the day will eventually be mostly sunny. This morning’s
sunrise was a constantly changing display
of multicolored beams of light bouncing around among
swirling shapeshifting clouds. The breeze is
dying down as well, quite a difference from yesterdays
blustery gales. I hung laundry out to dry before
we left for a day in the city, and when we returned most
of it was rolled into a windrow braced against
tall meadow grasses. Fortunately there wasn’t any
mud between the clothesline and the edge of the hay
field; I took the precaution of giving each garment a
good shake to dislodge any little creepy-crawlies
before bringing them inside. We walked around all of the
fields late in the day and checked the bluebird
nesting boxes; none have been claimed so far. I think the
nights have been too cold for the mating process
to begin for many species of birds, although I have seen
a robin carrying bits of hay and twigs into one of
our blue spruce trees. Earlier this month tree swallows
were in the neighborhood for a few days but when
the wind swept down from the north last week they
retreated into more protected areas. We struggled with
the decision to provide boxes for birds during this
summer of avian flu threats, but decided to exercise
extra
caution by wearing masks and vinyl gloves when monitoring
the nests this season. (The birds are going to
think we are surgeons, not landlords.) We must view the
future with hope rather than fear, and take each
day as it comes. If a pandemic does in fact happen, we
will deal with it then. I spent too much of my
childhood worrying about the bomb to waste any
more time as an adult considering all of the nasty
little what-ifs that could occur. You can’t
smell the roses if you constantly fear the bees.
Have a fearless day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 26, 2006 6:30 a.m.
30 degrees, windy, sunny
It got pretty chilly last night, down to eighteen degrees.
Water is frozen into a domed peak in
the birdbath, and the cars are coated with a thick layer
of rime. The sun came up just a little after
six and cast an orange hue over all the land; the frosty
meadows glowed like cold fire. When I took
the dog out at first light my ears told me it was spring,
but I shivered like it was winter. One of the local
starlings has been imitating a barking dog lately, which
sounds almost exactly like our little guy who lets
out a couple of woofs when someone comes into the yard.
The blackbird chorus has become very interesting
lately, with not only the usual bird-like whistles,
chuckles and chirps, but also the huge repertoire of
mimicked
sounds like cats, dogs, truck horns and human voices. The
wild turkey flock has thinned out to just a dozen
or so; I think that many of the hens have started to sit
on their eggs. Two toms are very vocal this morning,
strutting around puffed out to twice their normal size
and calling out to any hen that will listen. It is time
to
plant a few more peas now that the first row is an inch
high. Everything that went into the ground at the end
of March is doing very well, growing slowly but looking
healthy. In another couple of weeks we should be
able to thin the lettuce and spinach for the first fresh
salads of the season. If you have the room and the time,
plant salad greens every three weeks all through the
summer, right into August. If you enjoy salad every day,
this will give you a non-stop harvest of tender thinnings
as well as mature heads. The next few days will be
perfect for tilling the earth and planting your early
spring vegetables like beets, carrots, spinach. lettuce,
onions and radishes. Even if you just have a little patch
of dirt, pop in a few seeds and watch them grow.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, April 25, 2006 7:30 a.m.
47 degrees, windy, overcast, rain
Even though light fog prevents me from enjoying the
entire view, what I can see is absolutely beautiful.
Our forsythia hedge is in full bloom, a blast of bright
yellow right outside my window. It was the first thing
I noticed when driving up Gomer Hill Road at dusk last
night, along with a 75 foot row of daffodils right
next to it swaying in the breeze. Meadow grasses are
several inches long and lush emerald green from
recent rain. Myrtle vines are loaded with starry purple
flowers and delft-blue siberian squill is scattered
all over the place. Maple trees’ buds are exploding
almost as we watch, and the long fuzzy catkins
on willow and aspen trees are slowly becoming little
velvety green leaves. I enjoyed the change
of scenery that my little jaunt to the midwest provided,
but there’s no place like home.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Monday, April 24, 2006
While Daisy is away, We'll have the
'Daily Om'
~ Listening to the Void ~
All sounds, from a
whisper to a classical symphony, arise out of silence and
disappear into silence.
But silence is always there beneath sound and is the
space where sound can exist. We tend to think of
silence as the absence of sound, but silence has its own
weight and quality. When you listen to silence,
you can perceive its intense depth and power. Taking the
time to experience silence calms the mind and
rejuvenates the body. Silence is the void where we can
hear the many sounds that we often ignore - the
voice of our intuition telling us the truth, the sound of
the breeze blowing, the hum of the radiator, and the
noises we make just because we are alive. One way to
experience silence is to wake up before the rest of
the world has come alive. Try not to move into activity,
and leave off the lights, radio, and television. Sit
still
and simply listen. You may hear your heartbeat or your
breath, but keep your attention tuned to the silence
that surrounds you. Stay this way for as long as you can,
and allow the sound of silence to penetrate your
body until it moves into your core. Feel the gentle,
pulsing waves of silence and allow it to cleanse you.
Five minutes of communing with silence can leave you
feeling vibrant and connected to the universe.
~
Sunday, April 23, 2006
While Daisy is away, We'll have the
'Daily Om'
~ The
Practice Of Serenity ~
In our noisy world,
we often find ourselves longing for peace and searching
to find it somewhere
else. While it's true that there are places we can visit
where we can experience peace, such as sacred
sites or buildings, we do not need to wait until we get
to one of these places to feel at peace. Instead,
we can learn to locate the seed of peace inside ourselves
and cultivate it so that it grows into a reliable
source of serenity that we can always access, no matter
where we are. We experience
peace when
we are in a state of mental calm and serenity. It might
surprise you to notice how infrequently you
allow your self to be free from anxiety. Realizing this
is the first step to inner peace. If you wait until
all the details of your life are taken care of to allow
yourself to experience peace, you will never feel
peaceful because there is always something that your mind
can grab onto to create anxiety.
It is important to consciously set aside your worries and
make time to cultivate inner peace.
~
Saturday, April 22, 2006 6:30 a.m.
While Daisy is away, We'll have the
'Daily Om'
~ Grateful Living ~
Just as we take
care of our friends and families, our homes and Mother
Earth take care of us.
Our homes give us a place of refuge-a sanctuary that
stands between us and the elements of
nature and the rest of the world. The earth is an
unselfish giver of life and the steward of our
physical and spiritual needs. The earth's bountiful plant
life nourishes us, gives us air, and offers
us cooling shade. Her waters quench our thirst, and her
beauty stirs our souls. Yet it is easy to
take both of these wonderful sources of our blessings for
granted. Expressing the gratitude you
feel toward your home and the earth for the blessings
each provides you can help you stay
conscious of where many of the gifts in your life come
from. Each time you give thanks,
you'll be reminded of the importance of caring for your
home and for Mother Earth.
~
Friday, April 21, 2006 6:30 a.m.
46 degrees, breezy, sunny
The air is crystal clear this morning and the slanted
rays of the sun give every object a
crisp edge, long shadows dark against emerald green grass.
Warm temperatures of the
past week have accelerated the lushness of spring, with a
profusion of tiny wildflowers and
domestic blossoms. Even our forsythia hedge is in full
bloom, with sunny yellow flowers out
to the very tips of each branch. It is only a matter of
days before foliage starts to develop on
our many deciduous trees; there is already a yellow-green
haze surrounding the willow trees,
an aura of new growth. We are in for a few rainy days all
across the area, so get out and
enjoy this gorgeous day in any way possible. I will be in
a car for much of it, driving to
the midwest to visit family for a few days. I’ll be
back on this page Tuesday morning.
Have a great weekend,
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 20, 2006 9:00 a.m.
60 degrees, breezy, sunny
Another gorgeous sunrise pried my eyes wide open at the
crack of dawn.
Robins singing from a branch of the tree right outside
the window alerted me to
the coming dawn, and there was no sleeping past the sun’s
brilliance. The back porch
was also bathed in sunshine, almost too warm even at
first light. We had our coffee and
reflected back on yesterday’s hike, agreeing that
perhaps we have had enough adventure
for a little while. We drove five miles or so to the
logging road that leads in to a large beaver
pond. We figured that we would walk to the other side of
the pond and see if we recognized
the place where we turned around when we were (just a
little bit) lost on Sunday. We had a
compass and map, a pack full of supplies, and I had
traded in my shorts for sturdy canvas pants.
We found the main beaver pond to be full of water and a
brand new lodge had been erected in
the middle of the water; the old digs by the dam did not
appear to be in current use. We had cut
firewood in this area twenty-five years ago, and the
beavers had taken advantage of a makeshift
corduroy bridge we had built across a stream to start
their dam. Our logging road emerged from
the water on the other side of the pond, and was easily
accessed by walking across the dam.
Keeping the pond always to our right, we passed through a
beautiful fragrant red pine forest
which changed eventually into swamp and mixed hardwoods.
The sound of frogsong was
everywhere, impossible to count all of the varieties.
What a concert ! The buzzing drone
of carpenter bees provided countermelodies to the
thrumming and whistling of frogs,
a real treat for our ears. We soon became surrounded by
swarms of tiny black gnats,
thank goodness not a species that was interested in
biting us. We had to cross a few
smaller dams; it is incredible what good engineers
beavers are. Just the sheer volume
of branches and mud that went into even the smallest
structure boggles the mind. We
came into an area of cut hardwoods marked with NYS yellow
paint, and in another
five minutes we were at the exact place in the logging
road where we had given up
Sunday’s hike and turned around. It was a beautiful
day; the air was rich with spring
sights, aromas, and wonderful songs, enough so that all
of the stumbling around through
impossible terrain and mucky seeps took a back seat to
the pleasures of the day. Today
we have nothing nearly that thrilling in the works: plant
some onions, edge the perennial beds,
and enjoy the wonders of spring close to home.
Have a wonderful day no matter what you do,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 19, 2006 8:00 a.m.
49 degrees, breezy, sunny
Bright yellow daffodils echo the beautiful sunny glow
that spreads across the view on this
perfect spring morning. Hundreds of crocuses in all
colors are teeming with honeybees, and
several other little flowers that came in a bag of mixed
bulbs have popped up here and there,
deep purple, lavender, and snowy white. Heavenly blue
siberian squill is all over the place, planted
by birds no doubt. The east meadow has both deer and
turkeys strewn across it, grazing and strutting
respectively. Tree swallows are circling the nesting
boxes, selecting a good site to raise a brood or two.
Many of my acquaintances complain that bluebirds are
chased away by swallows; this is true only if there
is a single birdhouse on the property. By putting boxes
up in pairs, one will contain swallows and the other
will then be taken over by bluebirds. Two pairs of
swallows would never nest close to each other, but blue-
birds and swallows make a good team. So if you are
building or buying a nesting box, do the bluebirds a
favor and get two... or four, or six or eight, whatever
your acreage will allow. As long as the pairs are sep-
arated by 75 to 100 yards, you will be pleased with the
resulting increase in your local bluebird population.
I like swallows too; they eat an awful lot of mosquitoes.
Heck, I even let the occasional house wren move
in, I’m not picky. It looks like we have two
beautiful sunny days in a row coming up, with some rain
moving in for the weekend. Plan your days accordingly;
the indoor chores can wait, in my opinion.
Have a beautiful day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, April 18, 2006 8:00 a.m.
46 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
What a beautiful morning ! There was a thin band of
clouds reflecting the sun’s first rays and
turning the entire eastern sky into a fiery scape. A few
grey floaters remain suspended over the
Adirondack Mountains, but the rest of the sky is bluebird
blue. A stiff north wind yesterday blew
the laundry into a twisted wreck on the clothesline, and
sent a few garments sailing into the driveway.
A forked stick that hung on an old line outside my office
window was pushed up against the tree by
last autumn’s gales; yesterday it was pushed back
out into the middle of the line, where it rocks crazily
back and forth this morning. Yesterday we walked down to
the hedgerow to see if the leeks are ready
to dig; they have just emerged, and will be perfect in a
week or so. We walked the perimeter of all of
our meadows and were distressed to see that a large wild
mountain ash tree has been winterkilled. There
are several of these beautiful trees in the neighborhood,
but this one was the biggest we had ever seen on
Tug Hill. We had watched it grow for thirty years,
enjoying the bright clusters of red berries every autumn
and feeling lucky to have such a perfect specimen on our
property; it is an expensive item to buy from a
nursery even as a sapling, and we had ourselves a freebie.
We have similar appreciation for all of the red-
twig dogwood that grows along the edge of our meadow. The
first time I saw this little shrub for sale in
a catalog I was amazed; it would have cost us hundreds of
dollars to buy such beauty, and it is almost
considered a weed up here there is so much of it. Living
on Tug Hill this time of year: priceless !
Have a beautiful day,
Daisy
~
Monday, April 17, 2006 8:00 a.m.
42 degrees, windy, mostly sunny
Sunrise this morning was perfect in a cloudless sky, a
gigantic orange ball slowly revealing
itself above the Adirondack mountains which were tinted
purple. Since then a few clouds have
formed over the valley but the sun shines brightly on Tug
Hill. Although the days have not been very
warm the spinach and lettuce seeds we sowed two weeks ago
have sprouted nicely. Beets and peas
are still under the soil, perhaps taking longer because
they were planted a little deeper. We had a very
exciting walk in the woods yesterday, memorable for the
amount of time we spent totally lost. We started
out to walk along a seasonal dirt road just for a little
bit, so I didn’t bother to take my pack which is
always
packed with water, granola bars, matches, flashlight, and
space blanket. I was wearing shorts and sneakers,
perfectly dressed for a Sunday afternoon stroll. We came
to the trail we had found on skis a couple of months
ago, the one that was clearly marked by pink paint
slashes on trees. How could we go wrong? We followed
the logging road, picking our way around blowdowns and
through blackberry canes that had been covered
by snow the last time we were there. Many times we had to
carry our little dog because of brambles. A couple
of swamp crossings and blowdown piles later, we realized
that there must be more than one pink-marked trail,
because we had descended a big hill and were now at the
edge of a beaver pond filled with nesting blue herons.
Hmmm, I don’t remember that from our ski trip... More
importantly, it was 6:15 and less than two hours
until sunset We had been walking since 4:00; clearly it
was time to turn around and follow our trail back out
to the road. We hustled along at a good pace, and soon
realized that we had turned onto yet another pink-
marked trail, one that lacked our incoming footprints.
The sun was behind clouds and we had no sense of
direction, but this trail was broad and recently logged
so we stayed on it. Soon we came to a treestand
that I remembered from our ski trip; somehow we had
accidentally made it to the intended destination,
the one we thought we had been headed toward until we
came to the pond. Yippee! A huge deer
leapt across the road in one bound as if to share our
elation. We left the woods and gladly walked
the remainder of our hike on the seasonal road where we
had started, arriving home just as
the sun went down. My legs are a little scratched up but
apart from that, all’s well that
ends well. Next time I will take my pack, even if it’s
just a trip around the meadow,
because you never know where your feet will lead you on
such a fine spring day.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, April 16, 2006 7:00 a.m.
37 degrees, windy, mostly cloudy
It’s a chilly windy morning with no sun to take the
edge off. There are a few bright spots in
the cloud cover that show promise of sun a little later
in the day. Birdsong is limited this morning,
whether by the low temperature or the wind it is hard to
tell. I was surprised by a starling that mimicked
exactly my two-toned whistle that called our dog back
from the barn, which not only delighted me with its
precision but had the added entertainment value of
totally confusing the dog. Tomorrow I’ll see how the
bird
does with the opening four notes of Beethoven’s Fifth.
Yesterday we walked with friends on their property
five miles to the south, a little lower in altitude than
our place here. There was no snow at all remaining on
that
area, and what mud we found was easily trekked around.
The signs of spring were everywhere; crocuses,
snowdrops and daffodils were abloom on an abandoned
homestead site, and myrtle and spring beauties
were beginning to open their blossoms to the sun.
Trilliums are up but not yet in flower, and the dappled
leaves of trout lilies have thrust their way through the
duff. We frightened a large hawk from her nest 60
feet off the ground, and found evidence beneath that she
had been feasting on pheasant. We also found
some big owl pellets underneath a horizontal tree-limb
perch, big regurgitated hairballs containing tiny
bones and an intact bird’s beak. Although we bundled
up against a stiff afternoon breeze, it was
heartwarming to see that spring has indeed found its way
back into the neighborhood.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, April 15, 2006 7:00 a.m.
50 degrees, windy, mostly cloudy
The sky is full of big grey clouds and the air is damp
from last night’s steady drizzle, but
it is not currently raining and there are a few small
breaks of sunlight. There may be a rumble
of thunder or two before the day clears up, with tomorrow
looking to be an excellent day all
around. Yesterday we walked along the snowmobile trail
and there are still stretches of snow
packed down along one side, but no longer enough to hope
for one last spring ski trip. We were
cheered by the sight of hundreds of little coltsfoot
blooms along the roadside, wonderfully yellow
against the mud and old weed thatch. Our dogs were going
a little bit crazy with the smells of the
morning. We saw a large dark critter streak away through
the woods, swift and sure-footed; it
was probably either a feral cat or a fisher, out enjoying
the warm morning air along with us. We
heard a raven but didn’t see it, which has become my
standard experience lately with those large
interesting birds. We also heard a mess of crows, so it
is likely that the two species were battling
over boundaries once again. I wish they would come to
terms with the fact that the forest is
big enough for all of them. Speaking of crows, several
are hanging around the maple trees
by the road, swaying along with the windswept limbs,
keeping a lookout over the meadow
for the possibility of a snack. I will finish
transplanting tomato seedlings this morning,
and poke some squash and cucumber seeds into cellpacks
full of peat, anticipating
the wonderful transformation of seed into food, a little
snack for a gardener’s soul.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Friday, April 14, 2006 8:00 a.m.
58 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
The morning is just about perfect ! Just when I thought
my head would explode from
hundreds of birdsongs bouncing around my brain, a pair of
canada geese passed ten feet
overhead honking like a runaway eighteen-wheeler.
Predominant in the morning mix were
turkeys, dozens of them clucking like, well, hens, and
several big toms gobbling to beat the
band. I’m doing a little mental math here, figure
thirty hens, each laying up to 15 eggs, that’s
potentially 450 more turkeys that will be eating my
lettuce this summer. Egads, I might as well
just feed the seeds to the hens and get it over with,
save myself all the work of planting and
weeding. Of course, that many offspring won’t
survive the ravages of egg-sucking raccoons
and skunks, or chick-eating coyotes, bobcats, and hawks
but the sheer possibility of that
many wild turkeys staggers the imagination. Song sparrows
were in fine form as well,
drab little guys with big voices, oversinging even the
loudest of robins. The sky is
brilliant blue with just a whisper of clouds beginning to
form to the west.
Whatever weather shows up later, this morning is a real
winner !
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 13, 2006 7:30 a.m.
45 degrees, windy, foggy
The spring peepers are back! I caught their high-pitched
whistling as I tended some grilled
meat for a late supper. Nothing says spring to me like
the merry trill of these little tree frogs
as they advertise for a mate. They must have been
gathered in the shallow vernal pond at the
end of our east meadow; they were quite loud. Late-day
drizzle turned into hard rain after the
sun went down last night. The wind picked up and it was,
all in all, a very noisy night, and a good
one for snuggling down in the comfort of a warm dry bed.
On such a night it is good to remember
that some things that we take or granted are not to be
found that easily for many people. One need
not travel very far, either, to find homeless people who
were gathered under the cover of a bridge
during the downpour, or curled up in a car. Make sure you
take a moment to thank your personal
higher power for the blessings of adequate food and
shelter; not all are as fortunate. Meanwhile, I
have lodging all ready to go for seven pairs of homeless
bluebirds or tree swallows, and although
they have been investigating the nesting boxes daily,
none have started to haul in the dried grasses
and weeds that will make up their crib for a few weeks.
One box was full of pumpkin seed hulls,
gathered sometime in the weeks since I last checked
the sites. There are many bluebirds around
our property this season, and tree swallows are finally
back in the area as well. Last of the birds
to come back to the Hill are bobolinks, and I expect them
any day now that the weather has
become somewhat warm. It is a misty morning with some
thunderstorms in the outlook,
so I won’t mind working indoors for a change.
Have a fine day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 12, 2006 8:00 a.m.
48 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
Wild turkeys woke me up before the sun appeared; one of
the benefits of sleeping with a
window open in springtime is the surprising array of
natural alarm clock choices. The turkeys
were followed by dozens of robins, crows and redwing
blackbirds, all in fine voice. During the
night I also was treated to a brief coyote concert, eerie
and energetic under a nearly full moon. I
didn’t get home in time to walk by the frog pond
last night, but we heard several turkeys gobbling
as the sun dove behind the trees for the day. This time
of year is so rich in sound that I hate to miss
a minute of it. Today will be warm enough to have windows
open into the kitchen as I work so
I can continue to enjoy Mother Nature’s playlist as
I go about the necessary indoor chores.
Rain will be moving in later, so plan your day
accordingly.
Listen up,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, April 11, 2006 8:00 a.m.
44 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
A brilliant red-orange sun rose, shone down upon the
earth briefly, and was quickly
engulfed in a heavy horizontal layer of clouds, which now
seem to be dispersing to allow
sneak peeks of pale blue sky now and then. Birds of all
species have been singing their hearts
out since before dawn, so many different songs it is hard
to sort them all out. Last night we walked
on an abandoned farm lane, only recently cleared of snow.
The path was soft with mud, and burdock
burrs had been dispersed by wintry winds over much of the
entire length. Several trees had blown down
as well, making for a tricky hike. We had to keep our
eyes peeled for burrs; if our dog gets one stuck to
his leg, he tries to bite it out and then gets his lip-hairs
all tangled up; it is hard to disengage the hooks from
that painful area. The lane opens up into a large rolling
meadow which showed lush green blades of grass
just starting to thrust up from the matted thatch. As we
turned away from the remainder of the trail which
was obscured by a large flat vernal pond we heard some
chirps and clucks from the forest. Turkeys I
thought, but soon realized from the way the sound grew to
number hundreds of voices that it was
frogs, not fowl. The tiny spring peepers aren’t
around yet, but other frogs were singing the sun
to sleep with great vigor. The sounds of spring are every
bit as special as the tableaux.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Monday, April 10, 2006 9:00 a.m.
46 degrees, breezy, sunny
Wowza! What a great morning! Although it was chilly when
we arose (necessitating a rekindle
in the wood stove) it is lovely and warm on our little
back porch. They really knew what they were
doing when they added that feature to this old house. I
can imagine generations of folks greeting the
day from the same vantage point, warming their hands on a
thick mug of strong coffee while admiring
the unending array of wildlife moseying on and out of the
view. Of course, in the days when this was a
working dairy farm, the coffee would just be a short
pause in the morning, after rising well before dawn
to milk the cows and then the rush to finish all of the
chores, an endless cycle that had to be done every
single day no matter what. I like to think that even in
the face of such constant hard work that folks
took a few moments to enjoy the scenery. Take a little
break yourself to gaze upon this beautiful
day, not just once, but every single day, even the ones
that aren’t as perfect as this.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, April 9, 2006 8:00 a.m.
39 degrees, calm, sunny
It is so beautiful on the back porch this morning that I
am writing today’s entry
with a pencil on the back of an envelope rather than
coming indoors early. I am almost
overdressed in my winter fleece; the sun on the tops of
my bare feet is deliciously warm.
Water in the birdbath was a solid chunk of ice when I
first came out; I have been watching
the slow process of melting along the edges, and there is
now about an inch of chilly water
encircling the ice. One of my first tasks this morning
will be to pour a little tepid water on top
of the ice so the chickadees won’t be disappointed
when they come around for a drink. Crocuses
are rolled up tight against last night’s frost, but
it won’t be long before they are spread wide open
and alive with honeybees. I can’t get over how
widespread the snowdrop colonies have become in
the past few years. I planted the original clump thirty
years ago, but it is only in the last four years or
so that the birds have been eating the seeds and
subsequently accidentally planting them, each one sur-
rounded by a nitrogen-rich blob of poo. The drift of
snowdrops underneath the rugosa roses is four
times
the size of the original patch by the house. While not
traditionally used as cut flowers, one of my favorite
spring arrangements contains snowdrops, crocuses, little
pussy willow twigs, and myrtle vine in a small
handmade pitcher. Now deer are appearing one at a time in
the lower meadow, stepping carefully across
the stone wall and scenting the air before coming out
into the open. There are now seven deer in our field,
and I can see the lithe bodies of at least ten more
partially obscured by the trees in the hedgerow. Things
are beginning to green up very nicely, especially along
the previously mown paths. Before you know
it we will be pushing the lawn mowers once again, one of
the most satisfying chores of the summer.
I like jobs that have a beginning and an end with clearly
seen results when finished.
The grass is tall, you walk around for a couple of hours,
the grass is short, the end.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, April 8, 2006 9:00 a.m.
22 degrees, breezy, mostly cloudy
Light snow was falling when we hit the hay last night,
but it amounted to only a mere dusting,
barely enough for tracking. It is still pretty cold
outside, but when the sun finally breaks through
things should melt away into mud once again. The next few
days look like they will be suitable for
hanging laundry out on the lines, breezy and sunny, just
right for infusing everything with that April-fresh
scent. There are few birds around this morning,
blackbirds mostly, but yesterday the meadows were teem-
ing with life. Hundreds of robins worked the moist earth,
occasionally dodging the huge flock of turkeys that
boinked their way back and forth across the east meadow
all day long. Their salacious behavior continued
from sunup to sundown, when they finally disappeared into
the treeline to roost for the night. They must have
worn themselves out; not one turkey has shown up this
morning. According to many field guides, turkeys will
use the same areas as strutting grounds year after year;
although this is the first time I have seen them in our
back field, it is possible they have been doing it there
for years and we weren’t around to see it. If a tree
falls in the woods and there is no one there to hear it,
does it still make a sound? If turkeys pla-bonga
in the meadow and there is no one there to see it, does
it still make an egg? Hmmm...
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Friday, April 7, 2006 8:30 a.m.
44 degrees, calm, mostly cloudy
It was an unremarkable middle-of-the-road ordinary cloudy
spring morning until
the turkeys showed up. Shortly after sunrise they started
to appear from the boundary
hedgerow, first just one or two, then appearing in groups
of three and four. Finally there
was a whole unruly mob of turkeys, running about and
flying at each other feet first. At one
point seven toms had their tails all fanned out at the
same time and were belly-butting each
other like belligerent drunks in a Saturday night
roadhouse. Not one sound was uttered, no
gobbles or clucks, just an all-out orgy of football-shaped
bodies colliding and bouncing
around in the lower meadow. The flock carried on in this
unseemly manner from one
end of the field to the other, finally crossing the
treeline to continue their group grope
in the neighbor’s hayfield. I have never seen such a
lascivious wingding in this
neck of the woods, such utter lack of decorum. It looked
like fun.
Have a little fun yourself,
Daisy
~
Thursday, April 6, 2006 8:00 a.m.
32 degrees, calm, overcast, flurries
Extraordinarily tiny motes of snow are falling from the
sky. We have had a little snow
every day since Monday, but it hasn’t amounted to
much, at least in our neck of the woods.
The Adirondacks recently had quite a storm, resulting in
many cancellations and poor driving
conditions for much of the area. Up here on Tug Hill the
snow has been a mild intrusion, and hasn’t
disrupted our lives in the least little bit. Snow tires
have come off of the vehicles, the plow has been
removed from the truck, and if any more firewood needs to
be moved from the barn to the woodshed
we will do it with a wheelbarrow, not a trailer. Winter
has wound down and as the sun grows warmer
and days lengthen we can put the cold-weather pastimes of
the last five months on hold until late next
autumn. The tasks of a gentler season await; seedlings
must be transplanted and storage potatoes sorted
through for survivors. We walk the meadows daily looking
for the first dock leaves and dandelion shoots
to enhance our green salads. Our ears strain every
evening for the first frogsong to erupt from nearby
vernal ponds. Mornings start earlier so that we can get
the full benefit of every little bird that
warbles a merry optimistic tune, and the wonders of this
season never fail to delight us.
Snowfall or sunny skies, there is no denying that spring
is here for good.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, April 5, 2006 7:30 a.m.
24 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
The snow that fell last night is already starting to
disappear in the warmth of strong
spring sunshine. The ambient air temperature is below
freezing, but the morning sunbeams
on the back porch cancel out the chill. In the wind it’s
a different story, a rude awakening indeed.
A yellow shafted flicker made a brief visit to the birch
tree behind the house, sitting quite still for a
few minutes before flying behind the barn with slow deep
wingbeats. Except for him, it has been bird
business as usual, lots of singing, scratching, and
flitting about from tree to tree. Song sparrows are here,
more than usual; the white throated sparrows haven’t
yet made an appearance. Tree swallows are not
back on the Hill yet either. Turkeys are in full strut
and gobble, leaving many tracks in the snow as proof
of their increased ranks in the neighborhood. Bluebirds
have begun their soft melodic mating songs, not
as showy or loud as those of the robins and blackbirds,
but understated and lovely when voiced from a
nearby beanpole. Skunk and raccoon tracks are everywhere,
and care must be taken when dumping
garbage in the compost pile. There has already been one
reported case of rabies in a raccoon that
bit a local woman. Steer clear of all furry critters
unless they are yours, and make sure your pets
have current rabies vaccinations. Because we had such a
mild winter, there is sure to be an
increased number of wild things encroaching in populated
areas this spring.
Enjoy wildlife from a safe distance.
Play safe,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, April 4, 2006 7:30 a.m.
28 degrees, breezy, overcast, snowing
Everything is coated with a thin layer of snow, and
robins are scratching through it in
search of breakfast. They are all over the freshly tilled
garden soil which seems to have
a little less wintry coverage than the meadows. Yellow
and lavender crocuses are as white
as the snowdrops and no longer sway gently under their
frosty burden. The forecast indicates
snow will fall off and on through Saturday. Although it
is not unusual for April showers to be
snow rather than rain, it is always surprising. It looks
like the woolly bear caterpillars and
snowbirds that have been around this past week were,
indeed, trying to tell us something.
Bundle up,
Daisy
~
Monday, April 3, 2006 8:00 a.m.
45 degrees, breezy, mostly cloudy
Clouds have moved in quickly, but the hour before dawn
filled the sky with many colors,
glowing brightly and ranging from blood-red through
palest peach. Things are a bit on the gray
side right now, but the birds don‘t seem to mind. We
filled the birdbath and there has been a
steady stream of feathered friends taking advantage of
it, drinking frequent draughts of icy cold
water. Yesterday was a stunner of a day, sunny and
chilly, perfect for cleaning up the perennial
beds. Tulips and daffodils are several inches out of the
ground, pushing their way through old
leaves and dead grass thatch with determination. Lilies
and iris are all showing tiny green spear-
heads, and drifts of snowdrops and crocuses abound; those
areas of tender bloom will wait to
be raked later. As the steel tines of a spring rake
pulled aside leaf litter dead plant detritus, the
pungent aromas of bee balm, spearmint and oregano
permeated the air. A huge amount of wood-
bine (also known as virginia creeper) has invaded our
privet hedge, and it took all of my strength
to pull it up by the roots and untangle the long vines
from the bushes. A couple of places where
the roots went too deep to pull will get the old boiling
saltwater treatment this morning. It looks
like some rain might be headed our way via the wispy grey
clouds that are rapidly closing in.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, April 2, 2006 8:30 a.m.
38 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
As spring makes definite inroads here on Gomer Hill, we
continue to receive a few
mixed signals from Mother Nature. For example, not only
have dozens of broad-striped
woolly bear caterpillars appeared seemingly out of
nowhere, yesterday a flock of a hundred
or more slate-sided juncos lit on the lawn to frolic and
feed. This little gray and white bird is
also known as snowbird and is usually found in
this neck of the woods immediately before a
big dump of snow. If one were to believe in natural signs
and portends, then don’t put those skis
away just yet. On a beautiful sunny morning like this,
filled with birdsong and crocuses swaying
in the breeze, it is a little hard to accept that there
may still be a wintry surprise or two in the
offing. But we do live in a region filled with surprises,
and that is part of its charm.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, April 1, 2006 9:00 a.m.
46 degrees, windy, overcast, sprinkles
It was a gorgeous sunny morning earlier, then a strong
rainy front moved swiftly
across the area and it rained very hard for about twenty
minutes. Gusty west winds
remain but the rain has been reduced to a few drops now
and then. Yesterday we saw
some woolly bear caterpillars, and they all had a broad
brown stripe sandwiched between
two small black ends. If I saw them in autumn, I would
say that it meant the winter would be
mild with few bad snowstorms. But it is spring; maybe
their appearance is less significant in this
season than in the fall of the year. I don’t recall
ever seeing them in any season except autumn
before. We took advantage of yesterday’s mild
weather to till all of our garden plots, and even
went so far as to plant some peas, lettuce, spinach and
beets. It is a gamble to plant anything this
early, but one that will pay off with early salads, and a
loss of only about a dollar’s worth of seeds
if we jumped the gun. We spent some time yesterday at the
southern edge of Tug Hill walking the
shore of a chain of beaver ponds, which were alive with
birds of all kinds. There were several pairs of
geese and mallard ducks and one small diving bird that we
hadn’t seen before. The Audubon Water
Bird Guide information leads me to believe it was a
pied-billed grebe, also known as a helldiver from
its propensity to stay under water for extended periods
of time, and then surface with just the eyes
above water if it feels threatened in any way. We also
saw the first tree swallows of the season;
they haven’t yet returned here to Gomer Hill.
Redwing blackbirds were everywhere, and their
joyful noise followed us wherever we went. A fat muskrat
cruised through one of the ponds,
its flattened tail snaking back and forth as it silently
paddled about. Ice was mostly out of
the ponds, and I will have to go back soon with my
fishing pole and try my luck.
Don’t forget to turn your clocks ahead one hour
before you retire tonight.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
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