Saturday, May 31, 2003, 7:30
a.m.
55 degrees, calm,
filtered sunlight, some clouds
The brightness of the
morning is an unexpected surprise.
The weather pundits led us to believe that today would be
a total washout,
yet it is a lovely morning. The leaves are just starting
to take shape on the
ash trees, a delicate feathery green against the mottled
grey sky. Lilacs on
the Hill are beginning to bloom, the old fashioned purple
and white ones that
settlers planted before the fancy french cultivars
appeared on the landscaping
scene. There are enormous stands of lilacs in the middle
of nowhere, where
farmhouses used to stand in another century. Old
demolished homesteads that
the Earth has reclaimed can be discovered this time of
year by looking for
remnants of a domestic garden such as lilacs, roses,
columbine, or lilies.
Before the undergrowth gets too thick, it is interesting
to poke around the old
foundations and dump sites for artifacts. We once
thoroughly inspected a remote
back-road cellar hole and discovered only one single
china fragment; it appeared
to be part of a spout from a Delft blue teapot. One can
only imagine what led to
the disappearance of every other relic from that site.
Most places have tobacco cans,
bottles, shoes, and square nails littering the area. This
site was spectacularly bare,
save for that one little shard of beauty. In your free
time today,
make up a little tale to tell about that fragment from
bygone days.
Stay curious,
Daisy
Friday, May 30, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
49
degrees, calm, overcast
Every year there is a day in
late spring that we call "the yellow-green day".
This is it. The maples are fully decked out in their
vibrant supple leaves,
and the other trees on Tug Hill are in varying stages of
lush foliage development.
Most conifers have chartreuse bursts of new growth at the
branch tips, and they
smell as good as they look. It seems that golden mustard,
cowslips, and dandelions
dominate the landscape below eye level, and above it all
is a glorious canopy of
brilliant green in all hues and values. The best yellow-green
days occur during or
after a wet spell; there is no denying we are stuck in
the middle of a wet spell,
is there? The moisture puts a surreal edge on all the
colors, and a walk in the
woods this time of year will leave an emerald afterimage
on your very soul.
How many shades of green can you find today?
Drink it in,
Daisy
Thursday, May 29, 2003, 7:00 a.m.
50 degrees, overcast, valley fog
There were more rain showers
overnight, but not as intense as the night before.
There is fog this morning right up to the tree line at
the far edge of our east meadow. It appears as if we are
on the edge of some vast sea; nothing is visible beyond
the hedgerow except for the dense fog, which is nearly
the same shade of grey as the sky. The ringing of a buoy’s
bell and moan of a distant foghorn would not be out of
place on Tug Hill this morning. It is not raining now;
there is time to take a walk before the next shower.
Wear your rain gear, just in case.
Stay dry,
Daisy
Wednesday, May 28, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
52 degrees, overcast,
intermittent showers
It seemed to rain all night
long. The ground that could hold no more water
continues to soak it up like a sponge, with little ponds
appearing here and there
all over the Hill. Nightcrawlers have no place to go, and
the yard is littered with
dead and dying giant worms. When we planted potatoes ten
days ago, we hoped that
there would be enough rain to give them a good start. Now
we worry that they are
getting moldy and rotten in their furrows. The wet
weather hasn’t slowed down the
birds in their mating dance; there are pairs of many
species swooping, soaring, singing, and flirting
everywhere we turn. Two nesting boxes have tree swallows
in residence, with a clutch of five eggs in each. There
are bluebirds around, but they haven’t yet selected
one of our manmade dwellings. Robins have built a fine
nest in the middle of a spruce tree, and the cats spend
plenty of time gazing up into the tangle of needles. The
Honeywell blue spruce, a dwarf variety, has been a safe
haven for birds since we planted it twenty seven years
ago. The dense branches provide shelter from the elements
as well as predators. The cats have brought countless
rodents to the back step, but no birds so far this season.
It is the natural order of things, but I’m rooting
for the birds in that situation.
Have a pleasant day,
Daisy
Tuesday, May 27, 2003, 6:00 a.m.
49 degrees, calm, overcast,
valley fog
There are two brand new
fawns wobbling their way along the meadow path.
The doe is nowhere in sight, but she must be nearby
somewhere. The binoculars
reveal that these little ones are only days old; imagine
coming into the world
during one of the weekend storms. There are bright
patches in the morning sky,
and some sunny breaks are expected later in the day. The
ground is 100%
saturated with rainwater; it will be several days before
we can work the
garden soil. Weeds should pull easily from the perennial
beds, and all the
bygone daffodils can be deadheaded to encourage stronger
bulb development.
A bike ride on the back roads later in the day could be
satisfyingly muddy.
Have a productive day,
Daisy
Monday, May 26, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
51 degrees, gentle breeze,
foggy, raining
The hay in the meadows is
becoming very long as a result of
the recent rain showers. It has grown at least two inches
in three days.
It is off to a good start, anyway. All grass just loves
cool wet weather,
and the lawn is totally out of control. We like it like
that; the violets that
I transplanted from my childhood home have taken over the
front lawn, and
are in glorious bloom. We enjoy the buttery dandelions
that open with the sun,
and the white clover blossoms smell so sweet. They will
all be shorn with the first
lawn-mowing. It is a trade-off, for we also love the
smell of new-mown grass,
and the soft velvety feel of the trimmed lawn under our
bare feet.
Yesterday certainly had
something for everyone. The sunny breaks and west wind
provided the perfect conditions for drying laundry, and
also for a bug-free hike.
As we enjoyed the scenery along the roadside, distant
thunder rumbled in closer
at an alarming pace. By the time we turned around and
dashed through the yard
into the woodshed, the laundry was already a wet tangled
mass, and lightning was
striking all around. There were several bouts of hail
bouncing and leaping,
and some of the hardest rain we have seen this season.
The ditch across the road
was full to overflowing, and the road turned into a
silvery river. I enjoy a good storm, but for this one I
was happy to be on the inside looking out.
Today may have some sun peeking through later on; we will
just have to wait and see.
It is a good day to plan to make no plans.
Hang loose,
Daisy
Sunday, May 25, 2003, 9:00 a.m.
50 degrees, calm, overcast,
light fog
It is very still outside
this morning; not even the aspen leaves are quaking.
Yesterday’s relentless downpour has left its mark in
the freshly tilled garden
soil. There are little mini-canyons and gullies on the
slopes where the soil hasn’t
been tamped down. Now all we need is a little warm
weather for the seeds we
planted last week to spring into action. The four tomato
plants we set out look
surprisingly healthy; maybe that gamble will pay off with
early fruit. The asparagus
has really taken off, and is a wonderful fresh addition
to our dinner. Apple blossoms
have finally bloomed in the hedgerows. Their delicate
pink beauty is upstaged only by
the spicy sweet fragrance that permeates the air around
them. This is a critical time
for the upcoming apple crop; if the bees don’t get
around to pollinate the blooms,
there will be a sparse harvest come fall. Last year we
had a cold, wet, windy spell
during apple blossom time, and I could barely find enough
wild apples to fill a pie crust. The dearth of apples was
merely inconvenient for us humans, but tragic for the
creatures who depend on apples as part of their winter
food source.
Lets give a little thought today to the bees, birds,
moths, and butterflies who spread
pollen around. Give them a grateful smile when you see
them, and acknowledge that
even the smallest creature has a place in Mother Earth’s
plan.
Have a great day,
Daisy
Saturday, May 24, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
47 degrees, breezy, raining
The good news ? This rain is
very necessary to get those garden
seeds sprouting and to raise the water table in our area,
still low from
several years of drought. The bad news... well, if you
are the type to be
disgruntled by rain and wind, then the parades, outdoor
concerts, and picnics
planned for this weekend will just have to get along
without you. Remember,
rainy weather always appears more unpleasant from the
inside looking out.
I say its time to get the long johns out of storage (didn’t
we just put them away?),
dress in layers, and go about whatever plans we had
before the rain arrived.
Today will be the wettest day of the weekend, with a good
possibility of only
brief showers tomorrow. Life is short.
Take a chance and dance in the rain.
Have a merry day,
Daisy
Friday, May 23, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
49 degrees, calm, overcast
It is a soft grey morning
redolent with the fragrance of wet soil,
new mown grass, and earthworm castings. The air is damp
with the promise
of a wet weekend. If you are planning to participate in
any outdoor events
(like the Scottypaluza music festival just down the road
at Snow Ridge) it is best
you dress in layers and waterproof your dancin’
shoes. Rainy weather didn’t
dampen the spirits of those at the original Woodstock
festival,
and it shouldn’t slow anyone down this weekend
either.
Yesterday was as perfect as
a day could be. We hopped on the mountain bikes
and took a ride on the seasonal roads near Gomer Hill.
The bugs couldn’t keep up with
us and Wednesday’s rain dampened the dust, making
the road surface very user-friendly. The wildflowers are
all blooming at the same time instead of in their usual
orderly progression. The spring beauties that are usually
finished by the end of April are still spreading their
pale pink beauty all around the red trilliums and big
yellow trout lilies. Ferns are in all stages of
unfurling, from the tightly curled fiddleheads to the
full blown kelly green plumes of the mature plant. There
are brilliant golden patches of cowslips shining from the
edges of marshy areas, and the soldier moss is wearing
its vivid red spring mantle. Our forward momentum was
frequently stalled as we took in the beauty of the
surrounding forest. It was a wonderful ride.
Take a little time this morning to enjoy your
surroundings, wherever you are.
Rock and roll,
Daisy
Thursday, May 22, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
55 degrees, breezy, mostly
sunny
It is a beautiful morning
full of sunshine and birdsong.
The baltimore orioles have returned to the big maple tree
in the yard,
enriching the early morning air with their rich melodious
notes. While
I was looking up, trying to view a glimpse of the male’s
brilliant orange
plumage, I stepped on something gross and squishy. I was
standing at the
edge of a large cluster of morel mushrooms, one of the
tastiest wild
mushrooms found in the North Country. There are some very
poisonous
false morel mushrooms up here as well, and we found
several of those in
the woods yesterday. Only an experienced mycophagist
should even consider
gathering wild mushrooms for food purposes. One of the
deadliest mushrooms
known to man (Destroying Angel or amanita)
looks exactly like the tasty
domestic meadow mushrooms found in the supermarket. The
white-spotted
red mushroom that the hookah-smoking caterpillar is
perched on in the film
"Alice in Wonderland" is also an amanita
(fly agaric). Because of this movie,
it is a popular misconception that this particular
species will cause hallucinations
similar to LSD, and many foolhardy people have become
comatose or died from
liver failure after experimenting with it. There are many
species of wild mushroom
that emerge after rainy spells, and it is a pleasant
hobby to gather them and
identify them through field guides and spore prints. We
will pick the morels from
the yard and dry them to kill any tiny insects that hide
in the folds, and they will
be a pleasant addition to hearty soups this winter. The
only other mushroom that we
will eat with confidence is the giant puffball which
appears in late autumn.
Take a little stroll through the woods today and see if
you can find
the fungus among us.
Have a great day,
Daisy
Wednesday, May 21, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
40 degrees, windy, overcast,
drizzle
There is a fine line between
a drizzle and sprinkles.
What we are experiencing on the Hill this morning is a
mist of
superfine water droplets; the overall effect is that of a
giant vaporizer
or humidifier. Drizzle is wetter than fog, but just
barely. When it sprinkles,
each drop can be seen as a separate entity, and can be
felt on the face or
seen on the shirtsleeve. When accompanied by low
temperatures and strong
winds, both drizzle and sprinkles can put even the most
intrepid outdoors
enthusiasts inside by the wood range for a spell. The day
is supposed to
eventually "fair up". Although not as warm as
yesterday, the rain will have
left everything freshly laundered and sparkling yellow-green.
The wind should
keep the bugs at bay, and it will be a perfect afternoon
for a ramble in the
woods or a trip to the trout stream. Get out for a late
day adventure,
you will be glad you did.
Let’s get ready to ramble,
Daisy
Tuesday, May 20, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
62 degrees, partly sunny,
gentle breeze
The past few days have felt
more like summer than spring.
The heat has been comforting, not yet oppressive. The
aroma of sunscreen,
citronella spray, and hot dirt followed us around as we
worked in the garden.
The fresh green smell of mown grass appeared later in the
day, as we took the
opportunity to work in an upright position for a while.
We mowed just part of
the lawn; the rest is full of dandelions in bloom, and we
want to admire them for
just a few more days. We haven’t started to mow the
hayfield paths yet, something
we have been doing for several years. We have a 12
horsepower 36 inch walk-behind
golf course mower that makes short work of mowing paths
around and through our
forty acres of meadowland. This task provides a great
workout as well as opening up
the fields for early summer strolls. The wildflowers,
grasses, and little critters we
encounter along the path are much different than those
alongside the dirt roads of Tug Hill. The roadside growth
has a harsh, dry, stony environment; the flowers of the
field are nourished by the nitrogen-fixing properties of
clover, trefoil, and alfalfa. Daisies are huge, black-eyed
susans grow in lush clusters, and the purple cow vetch
twines throughout the whole bouquet. Red clover is a deep
shade of red, not the washed-out pink of the ditch
variety. By the end of June the hay is very tall, with
canary grass leading the pack at six to seven feet. June
grass has a beautiful feathery head, and the timothy
sends up long fat fuzzy spikes. We see snakes galore on
the path by the spring, and one fine June morning six
brand new ducklings came strolling up the path, still
covered in down and alone in the world. Deer and turkeys
use the paths; unfortunately they all end up at the
garden and all those yummy home-grown snacks. When the
hay comes off in early July we lose those perfect green
tunnels for another year, but for two months we have the
most beautiful walkway in the world.
Go for a stroll,
Daisy
Monday, May 19, 2003, 7:00 a.m.
64 degrees, sunny, calm
There is not one breath of
air moving on the Hill this morning.
This calm spell is unusual up here, and we count on the
constant
breeze to blow all of the black flies down to the valley
this time of year.
This morning’s sound effects are predominantly
manmade: cars, trucks and
four-wheelers with lousy mufflers, the beep-beep-beep of
heavy equipment
backing up, tractors, tillers, and mowers all growling as
they do their tasks.
Above it all rises the happy gurgle of the bobolinks as
they swoop around the
meadows. I grew up in the city, and although we colored
pictures (stay in the lines!)
and learned poems about this handsome bird, I never
actually saw or heard one until
we moved onto Tug Hill. Their song is a disorganized riff
of chuckles and clinking,
grating notes, each one on a different pitch. It sounds a
lot like a handfull of change being dropped into a copper
bowl. Our hayfields are home to dozens of bobolinks, and
because their nests are right on the ground in the tall
grass, it is the bird most likely to be a victim of the
huge mowing machines in June. This morning the noisy
birds are pairing up and giving chase to each other, a
blur of black and white as they pass by the garden. The
return of the bobolinks to the fields signals the
beginning of summertime; there is seldom a frost up here
after they mate and settle in. Today is a fine day to
plant a few early beans and put out a tomato plant or
two; it is a gamble that might pay off in extra-early
veggies.
Have a lovely day,
Daisy
Sunday, May 18, 2003, 6:30 a.m.
48 degrees, mostly sunny, a
breath of breeze
The day dawned clear and a
bit chilly, but the sun is warming things up quickly.
The daffodils in the yard are starting to fade but the
tulips are blooming with
wild abandon. Mustard and dandelions are starting to
paint the meadows gold,
and the shad bushes blooming in the hedgerows look like
little clouds have come
to earth for a rest. Today will be another fine spring
day, so if there are some
outdoor tasks left over from yesterday, we can play catch
up today.
Have a great day,
Daisy
Saturday, May 17, 2003, 6:30 a.m.
44 degrees, sunny, breezy
There is a scattering of
high clouds to the south, and a river of fog
following the valley from north to south. The air up on
the Hill is crystal clear
and fresh, and the dew is evaporating quickly in the dry
breeze. Today is likely
to be a busy one for gardeners in this part of the
country. All of the cold
tolerant crops can go in the ground today, and we will
see the benefits in early
crops of fresh garden veggies. Hardy annuals can safely
go into the flower beds,
and the tomato and pepper plants can take little day
trips outdoors to a sheltered
spot to harden off. Many of us are already harvesting the
first tender shoots of
asparagus, an amazing plant that just keeps coming back
year after year.
Fresh asparagus is a far cry from the slimy stringy mess
that comes in cans.
I grew up eating canned veggies, and I recall the peas,
beans, and asparagus
all tasted exactly the same; they had different shapes,
but all were the same shade
of olive drab. Now that I am grown, just one taste of
canned peas can take me back
in time to Sunday dinner at Grandma’s house, the
potroast, gluey air-whipped potatoes, and mushy salty
peas. This simple fare was always seasoned with plenty of
laughter, tall tales ("remember when the elephant
stepped on Grandpa’s toe?") and lessons about
life. I would like to think my own offspring will have
similar memories,
but with better vegetables...
Food for thought,
Daisy
Friday, May 16, 2003, 7:00 a.m.
49 degrees, overcast, windy
There was a brilliant
sunrise this morning but the sky has been quickly
invaded by high thin clouds. There was a veil of clouds
last night as well,
making the lunar eclipse somewhat less spectacular than
usual.
The moon hung hazy in the sky and the earth’s shadow
slowly passed across
the face, until finally the moon was a dark grey smudge
in a darker grey sky.
We had to look at it sideways to see it at all. The
reemergence of the moon
was lost entirely to clouds. The few moments of that
darkened moon was enough
to raise the hairs on my neck, imagining what our
prehistoric ancestors must
have thought of such a supernatural event. Tonight the
moon will be full,
hopefully the last of the frosty full moons until October.
Have a great day,
Daisy
Thursday, May 15, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
55 degrees, soft breeze,
partly sunny
There was a very heavy dew
last night, and each long blade of grass
is strung with drops sparkling like individual glass
beads.
The lawn has yet to be cut this spring; we are waiting
for it to dry out some.
Perhaps later today the endless summer chore of weekly
mowing will commence,
if we are lucky. Last summer’s drought left the
mowers idle for much of the
summer as we watched the yard progress through various
shades of yellow and
brown. It is hard to remember those arid days when the
earth is 100% saturated
with moisture right now. If the garden dries out just a
bit, those onion sets can
be poked into orderly rows, and more lettuce, spinach,
beets, and carrots can be
sown. Pulling weeds from the perennials will be easy from
the loose, moist soil,
and it is not too late to transplant herbs and
ornamentals. This will be a beauty
of a day, partly sunny and not too hot;
time to get the mountain bikes rolling. Don’t forget
your helmet.
Play safe,
Daisy
Wednesday, May 14, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
44 degrees, breezy, bright
clouds
The layers of cloud are
backlit by the sun this morning,
several layers of condensation varying in value from
pearly grey
to bright platinum, with palest crystalline white
feathers floating
across the eastern sky. The gloomy gunmetal grey of
yesterday’s sky is
gone, and we optimistically will look for some little
peeks of sunshine today.
A hummingbird was just perched on the clothesline, and is
now working the
forsythia. So much for the popular fiction that these
tiny birds are only
attracted to red flowers. I have seen them in years past
gathering nectar
from myrtle and hollyhocks of all colors, but they
definitely have a preference
for the brilliant red monarda didyma ,
or bee balm. The blooms of this flower
have such a deep passageway to the pollen sacs that they
can only be pollinated
by hummingbirds and bumblebees. The hummingbirds will
also occasionally try to
sip nectar from the red-blooming geraniums that are,
unfortunately for the birds,
on the wrong side of the window glass. We have many
hummingbirds in our yard
every year, and soon they will perform their peculiar
mating dance. The female
will sit patiently on a low twig while the male makes a
series of lightening-speed
dive bombing passes at her, accompanied by a loud buzzing
sound. At some point
they must connect in an intimate manner, for after about
ten minutes of this
behavior they each fly off in separate directions. Talk
about your
wham, bam, thank you ma’am...
If you wish to attract hummingbirds to your yard,
there are many species of flower and shrub that will lure
them close. Any of the
monarda genus,
including bee balm, bergamot, and oswego tea, are easy to
grow
and winter-hardy. They also make a wonderful fragrant
tea; in fact, bergamot is
the herb used to flavor Earl Grey tea. It was renamed
oswego tea after the
Boston Tea Party led to the boycott of English tea, and
was used as a popular
hot beverage in colonial times. A spot of Earl Grey
sounds good right now...
Cheerio,
Daisy
Tuesday, May 13, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
36 degrees, windy, overcast,
intermittent showers
The wood stove is blazing
away and it feels good on this chilly morning.
The wind is relentless, driving the damp cold right
through all of the layers of
fleece and goretex, the usual defenses against the bone-chilling
cold seeming
to fail. It is not a morning for a gentle stroll or easy
amble. If you plan an
outdoor activity today, it should be one that generates
the necessary body
warmth to keep comfy underneath your layers: trail
running, power walking,
jogging, or bike riding in a wetsuit. If you are planning
to sit in a treestand
dressed in camouflage while waiting for that big old tom
turkey to strut past
your sites, you are going to be durned cold. It is a good
day to catch up on
indoor tasks, make some soup, clean your closet, work on
those unfinished projects.
Our lovely spring weather will return in a day or two;
this morning we are reminded that the natural world can
be a fickle friend.
Patience,
Daisy
Monday, May 12, 2003, 6:45 a.m.
45 degrees, cloudy, breezy,
soggy
It is not currently raining,
but yesterday afternoon and last night
saw some doozeys of downpour. The rain was pummeling the
ground
so hard at one point we couldn’t even see the
driveway; there was
just one big unbroken sheet of water washing over the
road and
through the yard. There are gullies through the freshly
tilled garden
soil. Good thing we didn’t plant the onion sets
yesterday; if we had,
the little onions would all be in a heap at the ends of
the rows. On
the brighter side, the torrential cloudbursts washed the
last of the
winter sand from the road so it won’t be as dusty
when the sun dries
things out. The fog that rolled in overnight has rolled
back out,
and the morning is rich with the spring aromas that have
been coaxed out
by the rain. There are a few more days of much-needed
rain in the forecast.
The water tables are still low from several years of sub-average
rainfall.
Get out between the showers and inhale the rich
fragrances of the season.
Follow your nose,
Daisy
Sunday, May 11, 2003, 8:15 a.m.
63 degrees, very breezy,
partly sunny,
The miniature leaves on the
aspen tree are quaking and shimmying in
the wind, doing a little pre-storm jig. The morning light
is bright but soft,
filtering to earth through high thin clouds. A big fat
woodchuck just dashed
from the chicken shed to the space under the barn, and
all of our cats are
lined up staring intently at the entrance point. Why
would a woodchuck want
to hang out around human buildings, when there are miles
of wonderful stone
walls and hedgerows right in the immediate area? Why
would they rather eat
the tender pea and lettuce shoots from the garden, when
there are acres of
alfalfa, timothy, and clover right handy? This woodchuck
needs correction;
after breakfast I will put my little radio out near his
hiding spot, tuned to
the AM station that has six straight hours of Rush
Limbaugh...
I guarantee that will be the last we see of him...
Have a special day,
Daisy
Saturday, May 10, 2003, 6:15 a.m.
45 degrees, partly sunny,
dead calm
The early dawn sky was
unusually beautiful this morning.
Every shade of red, orange, and violet was represented in
massive
horizontal striations that followed the contour of the
earth, filling
the entire eastern sky with fire. The east was so
brilliant that even
the western sky was aglow with reflected grandeur. When
the sun finally
made its appearance, it was somewhat anti-climactic, and
the glorious
colors faded quickly. It is a wonderfully calm morning,
and the back porch
will make an excellent venue for breakfast al
fresco. Yesterday we rambled
over the back meadow picking sorrel, the tender arrow-shaped
first leaves
tasting strongly of lemon. We then added a cluster of
wild leeks
(also called ramps)
to the basket, and some young dandelion leaves as well.
Leeks are tedious to clean and peel, but we were rewarded
with a fine dinner
of basamati and wild rice mixed with our foraged
ingredients. Leeks are also
very good raw, but be warned; they may be the original
source of dragon-breath.
Even your sweat will reek of leeks for a day or two after
you eat them raw.
When sautéed and added to soup or other hot dish, the
effect is much more subtle,
containing the best qualities of both onion and garlic.
Leeks are easy to identify
and grow abundantly on Tug hill. A hike through the woods
at this time of year
should always include a gathering basket and trowel;
you never know what you will find.
Take a leek today,
Daisy
Friday, May 9, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
43 degrees, slight breeze,
foggy, sunny breaks
The early morning hours were
filled with brilliant sunshine. Then the fog
came rolling up from the valley like high tide, a few
inches at a time. The
sun is shining brightly above the fog, giving it a
polished pearlescent gleam,
blurring the borders of objects in an oddly satisfying
manner. The birdbath
has had a lot of traffic this morning. The usual cast of
songbirds has perched,
splashed, and sipped, and a band of roving goldfinches
stopped by briefly.
Two of our cats also use the birdbath, standing on their
hind legs to lap up
a good drink. All of our cats are good hunters, but they
aren’t quick enough
to grab a bird as it slakes its thirst or performs its
morning toilette.
Their prowess at bringing down other prey, however, has
increased exponentially
with the greening of the meadows. The back step has
become a morgue for the
limp and lifeless bodies of star-nosed moles (apparently
inedible) and assorted
rodent bellies (must be the rest of the critter is tasty).
One of our cats even brings an occasional snake to the
smorgasbord;
the circle of life, right in our own backyards.
What is your niche in the food chain ?
Have a great day,
Daisy
Thursday, May 8, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
50 degrees, overcast, calm,
fog rising
We heard rain in the tin
roof last night, but there wasn’t enough of it to
raise the water level in the birdbath. There are
countless holes in the ground
where the nightcrawlers came up for air during the dark
hours. In town, there
are doubtless many of these wriggly critters who got
stranded on the pavement...
"We are the worms along the sidewalk, we are the
ones who make a squishy
sound wherever you walk..." I haven’t yet had
the pleasure of harvesting
the wily bait this spring, finding all I need as I dig
through the perennial beds.
My family always made fun of me because I use garden
gloves for the task of
picking nightcrawlers. They thought it was because I was
being all girl-y, not
wanting to touch the worms. In reality, a pair of gloves
with rubberized grips
helps keep the slippery prey from squirting out of my
grasp and disappearing
back into the earth. Sometimes a worm is particularly
strong and feisty, holding
on for dear life (literally); those I release to go back
and breed more like itself,
survival of the fittest. Sure I feel like I am playing
god, but that kind of choice
is made by humans every day. Each time we eat meat, we
have contributed to the
demise of an animal. Every mosquito we slap, every mouse
we catch, every nesting
box we build... we are having a direct effect on the
lives of other living beings,
sometimes negative and sometimes positive. Swerve to miss
a deer? Playing god.
Buy leather shoes? Playing god. Take supplements and
vitamins? Playing god.
I wonder, does God ever feel like s/he is "playing
god"?
Choose wisely,
Daisy
Wednesday, May 7, 2003, 10:30 a.m.
51 degrees, foggy, calm,
drizzle
It is a misty, moisty
morning without much in the way of wind.
The air is so densely saturated and still it makes us
feel like we are
walking underwater. The tree pollens have been brought to
ground and
drowned, and even the allergic among us can breathe
deeply on such a
fine soggy morning. The forsythia has achieved its full
golden bloom,
and the yellow-green leaves are beginning to unfold to
enhance the total
effect of this beautiful hedge. There are blossoms all
the way to the end
of each branch, indicating good protection from the
strong winter winds
by a deep layer of snow. This particular strain of
forsythia has been bred
for zone four hardiness, and has been a steadfast
performer most years.
The different varieties of daffodils are blooming in a
succession of pale yellow,
deep orange, coral, and stark white. The tulips are
sitting tight, waiting for
the sun to come out; all of our attempts to aesthetically
improve the area
around the house seem to be paying off with interest. It
is a good day
to divide certain perennials such as lilies, poppies, all
herbs, and iris.
Make your existing beds larger, dig some new ones, or
share the plants with friends.
Give your plants, and yourself, plenty of room to grow.
Have a great day,
Daisy
Tuesday, May 6, 2003, 8:45 a.m.
40 degrees, windy, overcast,
intermittent sprinkles
The leaves are starting to
unfurl on the trees in the yard.
The aspens are at the head of the class, with each leaf a
miniature
heart-shaped version of the mature foliage. The maple
leaves have burst
from their plump buds and show just a hint of deep green.
The paper
birch trees (not native to this part of the hill; these
are nursery imports)
wear a beautiful halo of lacy green leaves with a
multitude of blossom heads
gracefully nodding towards the earth. The lone ash tree
stands stark and bald,
not even a hint of a leaf unless looked at very closely
to observe the buds’
slight swelling. Mother Nature has a timetable for this
sort of thing;
the spring miracles are dealt out in a slow progression
of awakenings so as not
to overwhelm us mere mortals with too much awe. We
planted some corn seed
yesterday, hoping that the sunny days to come will give
us a good early crop
this year. Home gardeners enter into a shaky contract
with Mom Nature.
Sometimes planting early crops will pay off; other times
it almost seems that
we may incur her wrath by presuming to exert human
control over Her growing
season. In the case of early sweet corn, if the gamble
pays off, we will be
sinking our teeth into tasty buttered ears by the middle
of July.
If the seed rots in the ground, we are only out a few
bucks for the cost of the
seed and the time it took to plant it. As this rainy
weather passes through today,
it brings several sunny days in its wake. It should be a
safe bet to plant lettuce,
spinach, carrots, onions, beets, greens, and other frost-hardy
crops.
Have an x-seed-ingly good day,
Daisy
Monday, May 5, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
52 degrees, gentle breeze,
filtered sunlight
There was a heavy dew last
night, and the lush meadow
grasses shimmer emerald green. The soft spring sunlight
sifting
through the high thin clouds has gentled the shadows’
edges and
slightly blurred the intensity of color. The birds are
frantic with
mating activity this morning; couples are swooping,
diving, spiraling,
and soaring in an intricate age-old pattern of hits and
misses.
In a few weeks time, this graceful mating display will be
replaced by
ferocious dives and loud warning screeches as the new
parents try to drive
the cats away. The insect world is starting to awaken as
well; last night
the first of the black flies kept me company on a stroll
around the garden.
We drove around our side of
the Hill last night, and the roads are mostly
snow-free. There are still a few stubborn patches in
shady areas, but for
the most part the roads are navigable. The water level in
the streams is low
for this time of year. There is a lot of water standing
in shallow vernal ponds,
which will disappear when summer arrives. The mating
activity of Tug Hill
amphibians is evident in the large masses of jelled eggs
that fill the pools,
undulating gently in the breeze. We saw several pairs of
ducks, mostly mallards
except for one stunningly marked wood duck. All the
mysteries of nature are slowly
revealing little glimpses in this most wonder-full of
seasons.
Be there for them.
Enjoy this day,
Daisy
Sunday, May 4, 2003, 6:45 a.m.
44 degrees, mostly sunny,
calm
It already feels warmer
outside than it did at noon yesterday,
but that is probably just because there is no windchill
today.
The sunny back porch will be an excellent breakfast venue
this morning.
There is much to see this time of year from a single
vantage point such
as a porch chair. On a clear day such as this, we can see
the beautiful
outline of the Adirondacks far to the east. Plumes of
smoke rise skyward
from the paper mill and co-generation plant in Lyonsdale.
There is a thin
grey line of fog that follows the Black River. The far
hedgerow on the lip
of the Hill has a large group of crows restlessly
mingling, and the proximal
treeline spreads its long shadows towards the house, a
solitary woodpecker
(visible through binoculars) the only resident for now.
There are five deer
browsing the legumes in the lower meadow, and a single
tom turkey
half-heartedly strutting his stuff. Several pairs of tree
swallows performing
the energetic and graceful mating dances of spring remind
us to check the
nesting boxes for signs of habitation. There have been
two pairs of bluebirds
in the back yard, but neither has signed a lease yet. The
lesser winged
creatures have not yet hatched on Gomer Hill and today
could very well be
our last bug-free day as the temps creep upward.
Buggin’ out for now,
Daisy
Saturday, May 3, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
37 degrees, windy, sunny/foggy/sunny/foggy
The fog can’t seem to
make up its mind whether it wants
to come or go. Carl Sandburg wrote, "The fog comes
in on little cat feet".
This particular variety of fog is scampering about like
lions at play,
being whisked in and out by the brisk and frivolous wind.
As a result,
there have been some interesting effects of light for the
past hour.
When I first stepped out this morning, the sky was
intensely blue and
each blade of grass held its full capacity of water
droplets. The landscape
displayed a stunning surrealistic glow, almost as if it
had been run
through a huge carwash and had the full wax treatment. I
reveled in
the otherworldly beauty and thought, "It can’t
possibly get any better
than this!" As if on cue, a dense curtain of fog
dropped almost all the way
to the ground, leaving just enough room for the sun to
slant underneath it
and take everything up a notch into realms of hue, tone,
and intensity that
took my breath away. The fog and the sun played tag in
this fashion for
several minutes, creating a memory of a fine spring
morning that will be
hard to top. At this moment, the fog is hovering around
the eastern
edges of the meadow, possibly defeated... for now.
Have a brilliant day,
Daisy
Friday, May 2, 2003, 7:15 a.m.
46 degrees, overcast,
breezy, misty
There were a few leftover
distant rumbles of thunder early this morning,
no big deal compared to yesterday’s storm. That was
an awesome display
of celestial power, complete with driving rain, strong
winds, and Thor’s
own brand of light and magic show. We arrived back on Tug
Hill at noon,
and the first order of the day was to gather blossoms and
greens for the
annual May basket. The storm’s advance made this
endeavor a bit more
dramatic than in years past, with the black clouds
advancing from the west
at a slow but steady pace. The tongues of lightning that
ping-ponged between
heaven and earth were visible from quite a distance. The
wind blew stronger
by the minute, and soon the first fat drops of rain
pelted the land.
The May gathering was completed in the nick of time, a
collection of many
different blooms and vining plants representing the new
growth of the season.
My first May basket was the result of a first-grade
project; we made little
woven paper baskets and filled them with violets and
myrtle gathered from
the edges of the school’s playground. I have made a
May basket every year
since then, once even resorting to wild mustard blooms
plucked from a gutter
when I found myself deep in the city on May first. The
roots of May Day go
back to pagan times, when Maia Majestas, Greek goddess of
spring, bestowed
her blessings on the land, but only if her subjects
showed their appreciation
of her gifts by offering flowers to her. Every ancient
culture had its own
rituals for this day, and all agreed that it was the
official first day of the
summer season. Yesterday’s storm was certainly a
sign of the season, as was
the wonderful variety of blooms that we found in just a
small area of our property.
Enjoy today’s slick and shiny greenery;
dash out between the showers and gather a few tokens for
the goddess;
it is still May first somewhere...
Have a great day,
Daisy
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