~
Monday, May 31, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
60 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
The sky was mostly sunny at daybreak, but clouds are
slowly moving into the picture.
It is windier than predicted; fresh gusts send aspen
leaves into a frenzy of flapping and
twisting on their stems. We put out over forty tomato
plants yesterday, and most of them
still look strong and healthy. The day was perfect for
setting out seedlings, calm and not
too hot. The soil is saturated from all of the recent
rain, and we barely needed to use the
watering can. Pepper plants are still waiting in trays on
the back porch, tender and fragile
in the breeze. If it calms down, they are next to go out
in long straight rows. We seeded
some shallots in flats, and they look just like spindly
blades of grass. I reckon it will be
somewhat tedious setting each slender shoot into the
earth, done with a gentle touch for
sure. After we finish tending food crops, the flower
gardens need some serious weeding.
Several perennials are ready to divide and distribute,
and pansies sit in their nursery cells
ready for the front bed. The wildflower garden on the
bank will be extended with lush
myrtle, fresh from a friend’s forest. The long
glossy green trailing vines are a wonderful
addition to any shady spot, and the lovely purple blooms
are one of the first things local
hummingbirds scout out when they first return in the
spring. Some other things that attract
the tiny hummers are beebalm, hollyhocks, and columbine,
all gathered from Tug Hill’s
bounty and planted in the wild garden. They also really
enjoy the red geraniums that
sit in pots on the porch, and often sip their nectar
while we have an al fresco lunch.
They are bold little fellows, sometimes stopping to
hover an inch away from my
red headscarf, but (so far) not giving it a taste.
Now on with the day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, May 30, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
66 degrees, breezy, sunny
It is already lots warmer than yesterday’s high of
58 degrees.
I worked all day with a wooly winter shirt under my
sweatshirt, and
was still chilled by the wind every time I paused to rest.
We got a lot done;
squash and beans and more lettuce and spinach are now
snugly in the soil.
Today will be good for setting out the heart of our
garden, dozens of tomato
and pepper plants. Three or four months of wonderful
fresh sweet juicy tomatoes
and a year’s worth of sauce and salsa will make
today’s toil all worthwhile. We will
hold some plants back in reserve in case of natural
disaster. Last year we lost half a
dozen tomato plants to colorado potato bugs, who chewed
all the way around the stem
on their way to the uppermost leaves. Our early potatoes
have already attracted a few
of these awful pests; since it is only one row, we pick
them off every morning before
they have a chance to lay eggs. Our main crop of spuds
has gone into newly plowed
ground, which is a natural way to control the fat striped
beetles and their hungry
orange offspring. By the time they find the new field, it
will be late in the season
and the plants will already be established, better able
to resist an invasion of bugs.
Now, on to the garden !
Daisy
~
Saturday, May 29, 2004, 9:00 a.m.
54 degrees, windy, partly cloudy
The mercury fell to 34 degrees here last night; on the
other side of Tug Hill
there was frost in Highmarket. It will be too windy to
set out tomato and pepper
plants today; there is a chance of frost tonight anyway.
I don’t believe we will see
frost in our gardens until October, as they all slope to
the south and east, creating
natural frost drainage pathways. (I’m not sure if
that’s an official term.) All I know
is that when many places have a late spring or early
autumn frost, we escape it somehow.
Yesterday settled into a beauty of an afternoon, breezy
and clear. Wind kept the bugs away,
and lots of weeding got done. We checked all of our
nesting boxes; the little bluebirds are
finally growing into their beaks and getting tiny
feathers, and eggs in both swallow nests are
being faithfully incubated by both males and females. A
wren started a house of twigs in a
nearby box, but I cleaned it out. Wrens will fiercely
protect their area, even going so far as
to invade a neighboring nest and peck apart the eggs with
its long curved bill. If a wren moves
into one of our single boxes, we let her be; if she
decides to move into one of a paired set,
we evict her for the safety of the birds next door. Today
is windy and cool, with masses
of cumulus clouds sweeping the sky from west to east.
Boating and biking might be
tricky in the stiff breeze, but hiking will be awesome
and bug-free.
Take a walk,
Daisy
~
Friday, May 28, 2004, 6:15 a.m.
58 degrees, windy, overcast
I really miss seeing the sun rise every day, so this
morning I arose extra early,
made a pot of coffee, and stationed myself on the back
porch to watch the show.
The sky had already begun to brighten up at five o’clock,
and gradually details of the
treeline came into sharper focus. The majestic colors and
slowly emerging glorious rays
never happened; the sky just kept getting brighter by the
minute, until it is now full daylight
without the sun ever showing his face. Fog covers just
about everything right up to the hedgerow,
and a stiff breeze wafts bits of mist here and there in
the meadow. Ah well, at least I got to enjoy
the birds coming awake and raising their voices to the
day. A mockingbird has been keeping up
a blend of robin warbles and sparrowsong, accurate as to
phrasing but seriously lacking in timbre.
The notes are there, but they lack the rich full-throated
mellowness of the original, sort of like
hearing a Rolling Stones tune played by a generic
orchestra in an elevator. Barn swallows are
swooping all over the yard, chittering and clicking their
beaks at me, warning me away from
newly hatched birds in the rafters. Rain overnight has
once again postponed garden chores
for another day, although we managed to get quite a bit
accomplished during yesterday’s
delightful sunshine. A couple of seriously chilly nights
are coming up, so don’t rush
setting out those heat-loving tomatoes, eggplants, and
pepper plants. It probably
won’t freeze, but two or three cold nights will set
those babies back. Soon we
will have just the right combination of weather and soil
drainage, just hold your horses.
Patience,
Daisy
~
Thursday, May 27, 2004, 7:45 a.m.
64 degrees, calm, sunny
Fog covers most of the valley and obscures our view of
the Adirondack
Mountains. Bright sunshine is quickly warming the air;
the temperature fell to 39 degrees
last night on Tug Hill, perfect for sleeping but a little
too close to freezing for my liking.
The garden should dry out enough today to get the
majority of row crops planted; beans,
carrots, beans, greens, and more beans. We like beans.
Three separate plantings of corn
are already up, and we will continue to plant more at two
to three week intervals through the
middle of July. When everyone else is chopping their
cornstalks for mulch in October, we will
still be enjoying sweet fresh ears from late-planted rows.
We have been eating spinach and
lettuce for about a week, pulling up every other plant
until eventually they will be a foot
apart. Green ice lettuce will form some lovely
tight curly heads, but only if given enough
space in the row. Our other early variety is red deer
tongue, which is a cross between
red romaine and bibb buttercrunch lettuce. The young
leaves are tasty and tender, and
when properly thinned this variety will form tall dense
heads that look like romaine but have
the sweetness of buttercrunch. It has been too wet so far
to plant more lettuce, but we
usually raise eight successive crops planted every two
weeks. Today I will plant a mix of
different lettuces from Pinetree Garden Seeds; there are ten or twelve varieties in one
packet, lots of interesting kinds and colors all in one
row. The next few days will be busy
indeed, labors of love while we dream of fresh romano
beans and toothsome new potatoes.
How does your garden grow?
Daisy
~
Wednesday, May 26, 2004, 9:00 a.m.
58 degrees, breezy, overcast, light fog
Another misty moisty morning, not too cold, not too hot,
just right.
We got a little rain yesterday, and mostly it was a good
day for outdoor
work even though the garden is still too wet for tilling.
Mosquitoes are loving
all the large shallow breeding pools that have cropped
up, and their numbers
are pestilential this season. Long sleeves, long pants,
and a hat sprayed with 100%
Deet kept us safe yesterday. Light colored clothing keeps
the little buggers away as
well. A flyswatter kept next to the bed comes in handy
for those midnight marauders;
turn the light on quick, and whap! another one
bites the dust. It almost looks like the
sun could shine through the high thin clouds at some
point today. Trees are casting
timid shadows and the air is bright with promise.
Weathermen keep changing their
minds from one report to the next. I use www.wunderground.com
and their forecast
is at least honest enough to have a bunch of question
marks representing the next
three days. The calendar indicates that the time is right
for planting the majority
of crops during the upcoming week, but the weather is a
big wildcard. I guess
we will continue to test the garden soil like I test a
chocolate cake:
dip a stick into it, and if it comes out clean it is
ready.
Mmmmmmm, caaaaaake...
Daisy
~
Tuesday, May 25, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
52 degrees, slightly breezy, overcast
When I stepped outside this morning I was greeted by a
small cloud sitting smack
in the middle of our east meadow. The valley was full of
fog, but this wasn’t a bit of
stray fog that had drifted up, it was an actual cloud,
looking just like a little fluffy sheep
from the sky, but it was on the ground. It had clearly
defined edges and covered about
three acres. As I watched, it slowly thinned out and
vanished. Now the valley fog has
crept right up to our property line and is slowly
advancing toward the house, one creeping
misty inch at a time. The sun may come out today, leading
us to believe that some things
could be planted in the garden. I’ll bet it would be
like trying to hoe fresh potter’s clay;
we need a few sunny days in a row before the soil will be
dry enough to accept our offerings.
Yesterday’s weather was ferocious in the late
afternoon. I was working in Boonville when a
phone call informed us a tornado was headed up the gorge
towards town. I grew up in the
midwest and am no stranger to twisters; we had a plan for
home, school, church, anywhere
we were we knew how to shelter from the high winds of
such a storm. (Naturally, the one
time I came close to being swept away to Oz I was miles
from anywhere, picking blackberries
in an open field, but that’s a tale for another time...)
We were in a building with no cellar, so I
figured I could herd everyone into the space next to a
staircase under the main carrying beam
if necessary. We tuned the television to a local channel
and followed the funnel cloud’s path
on radar. At last it veered east and the sun came
bursting out of the blackness, followed by a
spectacular broad rainbow spanning the entire sky. About
twenty years ago a tornado ripped
a path right through the middle of town, damaging many
buildings and totally wiping out the
police station. All that was left of the cop shop was the
toilet, standing starkly bolted to the
cement floor. You can still see the spot where oldgrowth
trees were uprooted in the village
park as the twister left town. An entire pond full of
fish was sucked up and then released over
the catholic church. A lot of good analogies were made on
that stormy day... Meanwhile,
here on Tug Hill I received reports of high winds,
driving rain, and the same beautiful
rainbow at storm’s end. If I thought the ground was
waterlogged before,
I didn’t have a clue what squishy was all about
until today.
Now the fog has reached the house, and the breeze is
picking up.
What next ?
Daisy
Monday, May 24, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
61 degrees, windy, cloudy
The sky is 99% cloudy, but in that 1% of time that the
sun is permitted
to break through, what joyous and energizing light
dazzles us all ! The night
was filled with thunderstorms, and the deluge has been
almost more than the
soil can bear. Drainage ditches have nowhere to drain to,
as the creeks are fuller
than full and even the mighty force of gravity can’t
compete with the copious amount
of water that has fallen from the sky. At least we are
starting the summer with full wells;
the water table must be at maximum capacity, if not more.
Ah, there is another brief
glimpse of sunlight, reflecting off of shiny wet grasses
and leaves. A male bluebird has
just perched on the clothesline, blue feathers glowing,
almost iridescent. Purple and white
lilacs form a rich cloud of blooms even when the clouds
close back in, and their heady
perfume beckons us to step inside the copse to get lost
in scent. Male goldfinches sit side
by side on the power line, getting ready to fill the air
with bright yellow flutters as they
compete for mating privileges with the dun-colored
females waiting in the forsythia
hedge below. The morning is filled with color, hues so
rich they could never be
trapped on canvas or film. Such moments are best
imprinted directly to memory,
to be savored in the dead of winter during the worst of
whiteouts.
Savor the moment,
Daisy
~
Sunday, May 23, 2004, 10:00 a.m.
59 degrees, breezy, cloudy
It rained buckets last night and water is standing in
puddles all over the Hill.
Perennials that were transplanted in the past few days
won’t need to be watered in,
at least not this week. Spinach and lettuce is in dire
need of thinning, and the rejects
will make their way into tonight’s salad bowl. Corn
is up in long straight rows, onion
sets are showing their pointy little heads, and it is
getting hard to keep up with the
asparagus. It seems like peaplants have doubled in size
overnight, and the early red
potatoes are ready to hill up with soil. Spring took a
long time getting here, delighted
us for weeks with delicate blossoms and cheery birdsongs,
and then wham! all of a
sudden, it’s summer! Weeds are rampant and the list
of outdoor chores is long; good
thing there is plenty of daylight to get the jobs done. I
made the rounds of birdhouses
yesterday, and happily report that five tiny nearly naked
bluebirds aimed their enormous
beaks skyward when I checked the box. They are all alive
and kicking, and small bits
of blue shell still littered the nest; I must have just
missed the grand opening. Male and
female bluebirds watched me from atop a nearby tree, and
as I walked away momma
swooped back into the box and came out immediately with a
shell fragment in her beak,
then carried it off into the woods while dad kept watch
over the box. Tree swallows have
each added one more egg to their clutches. One year there
were seven swallows fledged
from one single brood; was that nest ever crowded towards
the end! It’s a pretty nice
morning today but the mosquitoes are loving the wet
weather as much as the plants,
so cover up if you are heading out.
Enjoy the day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, May 22, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
54 degrees, breezy, light rain
Rain started to fall just after
sunrise and has kept up its gentle patter.
The house was chilly so I lit a small fire in the kitchen
range. Two cats and a dog
are all curled up together on a rag rug next to the
firebox, dozing the morning away.
I just might move my chair next to them to enjoy my
coffee, getting warm inside and
out. Yesterday afternoon was beautiful, just the right
combination of blue sky, big poofy
clouds, and enough breeze to keep the bugs at bay. I was
at work, and everyone who
came in commented on the extraordinary beauty of the day.
When I returned to Gomer Hill
at about seven o’clock, we took a long walk and
ended by checking birdhouses in the dim
purple light of dusk. Bluebirds will hatch any day now;
incubation time is between twelve
and fourteen days, and today is day twelve. Momma
bluebird has become accustomed to
my presence and has been faithful to her clutch, keeping
them warm on these chilly nights
and venturing out only as needed to feed herself. If the
male is still in the neighborhood, he
will help care for the hatchlings. Sometimes a male will
be father to two or three different
broods at the same time, and will assist all of the
females with their chicks. Two nesting
boxes contain tree swallow nests; one has two eggs, and
the other has three. Swallows
are monogamous, and the entire extended family will help
with nesting duties. It’s not
unusual for ten chattering swallows to swoop around my
head while I monitor the site for
parasites. Another box has a nest started in it, but
progress has been slow; perhaps it has
been abandoned. Barn swallows have taken up residence in
the rafters of (where else)
our barn, and starlings have hatched under the woodshed
eaves, providing endless
entertainment for the white cat, who sits on top of the
woodpile and stares at the
unseen nest for hours. It is still raining softly, and if
your plans for the day include
outdoor activities, dress in moisture-wicking layers so
you don’t get chilled. It won’t
warm up much past the mid-sixties, and if you are wet you
will be uncomfortable.
I wonder what would happen if you accidentally put your
wicking layer on inside out ?
Would you soak up rain like a sponge ?
Just goofin’,
Daisy
~
Friday, May 21, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
57 degrees, breezy, mostly cloudy
Rain showers off and on all night have left the landscape
shiny green in the
dull morning light. Most trees are fully in leaf and the
overall effect is that of being
surrounded by a great big yellow-green tapestry. All of
the recent rain has been good
for growing weeds as well. I spent lots of time yesterday
clearing witch grass out of
the asparagus bed. This is a job that must be done once
in the spring, then it’s pretty
well out of the way until the following year. The sturdy
blades of this invasive weed
(also known as quack grass, but not the same thing as
crabgrass) are all connected by
a vast underground root system, often burrowing deep into
the earth to rise up several
feet away from the mother plant. Herbicides such as
Roundup will take it out for good,
but we prefer not to use such products near our food
supply. Removing witch grass is
mindless drone work that is curiously satisfying. First
the spading fork is plunged repeatedly
into the area, loosening the roots and compacted soil.
This is followed by time spent on
your knees, or hunched over like Quasimodo, or even
seated and scooching along like
a humanoid inch-worm. Pull gently on one clump, and
several others come out with it,
all connected by thick round white rhizomes. If you break
off the grass instead of uprooting
it, two clumps will emerge where only one was before. Any
little bits of root left behind will
provide next year’s new blades, and of course, it is
impossible to find every single bit of
this pesky weed. Meanwhile, the sun is shining down on
your back, bugs are swarming
around your head (but not biting, since you took the
precaution of dabbing Tiger Balm
here and there) birds are passing to and fro and
chattering among themselves, and you
have the excellent company of earthworms, spiders, ants,
and one little dog dozing under
a tree. An occasional cat will come pay a visit, looking
for a little skritching under the ears,
and toads will come very close before the giant gloved
hand reroutes it out of harm’s way.
There is time to ponder the awesome power of witch grass:
it can bring members of the
planet’s dominant race to their knees (a classic
pose of supplication and need) and through
toughness, tortuous roots, and sheer tenacity do it year
after year. Meanwhile, what was
once a grassy mess is now a beautiful patch of tasty
asparagus, and the mass of weeds will
enrich the current compost heap as they decompose. We
will mulch the bed with sawdust
in a vain attempt to keep the grass at bay, but after a
long winter the sawdust disappears
and the cycle will start once again. We need such things
to bring rhythm and consistency
to our lives, and to make us be still for little bits of
our busy days.
Time out for weeds,
Daisy
~
Thursday, May 20, 2004, 6:30 a.m.
54 degrees, windy, mostly sunny
It is a fine summery morning, following a beautiful
starry night.
The sky was black velvet hung with countless diamonds,
breezy enough
to keep mosquitoes away as I enjoyed some late night
porch-sitting. The
stillness was broken by a neighbor toiling into the wee
hours to get his corn
crop planted, and I could sometimes catch a glimpse of
the big noisy tractor as
it turned a corner beyond the east hedgerow. One of our
cats was out all night,
and I heard her howling before dawn, so I went out for a
little stroll to invite her
back into the house at about 5:00. The sky was already
bright enough to see robins
strolling about the meadow, pulling worms out of the
ground with robotic precision.
Pink wisps of cloud signaled the sun’s approach, and
sunrise was absolutely gorgeous.
Several geese were silhouetted against the rosy sky,
honking nasally as they glided by.
Daylight hours are continuing to grow longer as we make
our way towards summer
solstice, more than a month away. Make the most of these
beautiful long summer days;
I’m glad the cat woke me up early today.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, May 19, 2004, 6:00 a.m.
56 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
Sunrise was ushered in this morning by lovely pink and
purple clouds;
the actual sun was yellow-gold and the sky quickly took
on those quieter tones.
There is very little afterglow, and the rays are
currently slightly hazy. A gobble of
turkeys is walking single file through the east meadow,
two toms out in front with
their tails fanned wide in an alluring way. There are
five hens, considerably fewer
than usual. I wonder if some of the flock is already
brooding eggs somewhere in
the woods. They are real good at picking secluded spots.
In all of my years of
hiking on Tug Hill, I have only ever found two turkey
nests, beautifully constructed
mandalas of twigs and leaves filled with a dozen golden
speckled eggs. It is believed
that the hens conceal their clutch not only from
predators like foxes and raccoons,
but also from the toms, who will destroy the eggs if they
have a chance. Not very
good fathers, are they? Today is supposed to be the best
day of the week, weatherwise,
and naturally I have an assignment that keeps me indoors
most of the day. I am looking
forward to a long walk after work. The soil in our
gardens will be too wet for planting
after yesterday’s frequent downpours. The rain was
so fierce at one point during the
drive to work that I had to pull off the road until the
cloudburst passed; my wipers
weren’t keeping up, and I was beginning to
hydroplane even at fairly low speeds.
Make some time in your busy day to enjoy being outdoors
for a while.
Make a plan,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, May 18, 2004, 7:00 a.m.
60 degrees, windy, raining
Distant rumblings of thunder lend a deep basso
profundo undertone
to the morning birdsongs, and rain at times is loud
enough to drown out the
twitters, trills and chirps altogether. Wind is whistling
strongly from the west,
driving the rain into windows with enough force to rinse
them clean (I hope).
Sunrise was beautiful with streaks of color parting the
clouds an hour before the
rain moved in; the eastern sky was delightful but to the
west black clouds were
rolling in. If there are rain-free periods today we can
finish putting the perennial
beds in order. Several clumps of daisies need to be
divided and moved, and weeds
are beginning to invade the banks. Yesterday we planted a
lot of potatoes, backbreaking
work but worth the effort. We are trying a new variety
this year, a long yellow spud called
Carola. We have grown Yukon Gold in the
past, and have trouble getting them started.
If it is too hot, too cold, too wet or too dry, they rot
in the row before ever sprouting.
The Carola is supposed to be hardier and more
reliable. We had scads of potato beetles
last year so we plowed new ground for this year’s
crop. The potatoes we put in the ground
April 12th are up and running nicely, and we
should be eating little ones on the 4th of
July.
Yum! Nothing compares to a baby spud, steamed whole and
touched with butter.
Ah, potato-dreaming on a rainy May morning...
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Monday, May 17, 2004, 7:00 a.m.
58 degrees, gentle breeze, mostly sunny
The valley is misty and thick fog follows the Black River
but all is smothered
in bright sunshine here on Tug Hill. Yellow-green aspen
leaves are trembling slightly
in the gentle breeze, and although the temperature
dropped into the thirties last night
things are warming up quickly in the sun. Yesterday we
rode bikes around the Hill
and had an excellent adventure. Some stretches of mud
were so long and deep that
we chickened out and went around them. The stuff we rode
through was enough of
a challenge, greasy and fighting our forward movement
with every pedal stroke. We
rode through the woods to a large beaver pond that is
home to several great blue herons.
Tall dead marsh trees looked top-heavy with the large
birds perched at the tippy-top in
their snaggly stick nests. The herons flew off in alarm
at our approach, vast wings flapping
in deep beats as they fretted from tree to tree. They
finally returned to their nests when they
figured out we meant no harm. There was no sign of
beavers, but the lodge has been repaired
and fresh chew marks are abundant on the surrounding
saplings. The pond is full of water,
and the brilliant blue sky was reflected back on the calm
surface, big white clouds and all.
The forest floor is full of wildflowers, from the
delicate pale pink spring beauties to the
masses of violets in all colors of the rainbow. We found
a green trillium, petals of very
pale olive instead of the usual maroon, white, or pink
and white striped. Shad trees are
abloom, the frothy white blossoms heralding a good crop
of shadberries for our feathered
friends later this summer. Marsh marigolds are all over
the place, as abundant in swamps
as dandelions are in meadows. We came out
of the woods and rode up the Plummer
Road to another beaver pond, and watched schools of
little fish darting under the bright
surface. Small salamanders crawled along the bottom,
facing upstream and letting
their meal float right into their mouths. We returned to
the Gomer Hill Road with
its vast valley view and sailed down the final slope,
covered with mud and
happy to be out on such a perfect day. After a weekend of
self-indulgent
recreation it is now time to get some serious planting
done. Potatoes will
go underground today, as well as sweet corn and more
lettuce and spinach.
Let’s get busy,
Daisy
~
Sunday, May 16, 2004, 8:30 a.m.
52 degrees, calm, mostly cloudy
I was out of town all day yesterday; judging by the
puddles in the yard,
it appears to have rained quite a bit while I was gone.
Along with the rain
came a big drop in temperature, and it felt good to
snuggle down into flannel
sheets and quilts for the night. Clouds are moving to and
fro this morning in
various shapes, sizes, and shades of grey. The sun is
supposed to emerge a
little later, but the air will remain on the cool side.
It is a perfect day for a bike
ride, as long as you don’t mind a little mud. (Okay,
a lot of mud...) Dirt roads
of Tug Hill are fun to ride, and abandoned logging roads
offer the added
excitement of skidder ruts, deadfalls, and soupy puddles
with slippery
shale bottoms. The heat will return tomorrow;
today will be a great day to be outdoors playing hard.
Have fun,
Daisy
~
Saturday, May 15, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
65 degrees, windy, cloudy
Haze fills the valley and little pieces of blue sky have
appeared now and then,
but overall it is a dim and damp morning. The lackluster
weather does not deter
the birds from joyous song. A snipe spreads its crazy
laughter as it circles the
meadow, and bobolinks utter their atonal arias with gusto.
A pair of bluebirds is
hanging around the yard, and their feathers are at their
brightest now, during courtship.
Our early nesters have five eggs, and the mother pokes
her curious head out of the box
as we walk by. Three other abodes have nests in them, but
I am pretty sure they all
belong to tree swallows; time will tell. Only one of the
pair of geese that passes overhead
every day has been around lately, and I assume that means
the other goose is sitting on a
nest somewhere. We drove around the Hill yesterday before
dinner and saw lots of ducks
floating serenely on small ponds. We found a patch of
late fiddleheads and gathered them
for supper. The leeks that we dug to sauté with the
ferns were three times the size of the
ones we got two weeks ago, and three times as pungent.
Huge patches of big red trilliums
(also known as wake-robins) surrounded acres of cowslips,
the deep maroon and brilliant
sunny-gold framed by their emerald green leaves. Even
with gas at over two bucks a gallon,
I would hate to have to give up our occasional lazy
rambles around Tug Hill at the end of a
hard day’s work. Today is the Ides of May; in
ancient Rome, vestal virgins performed rituals
that were intended to regulate the water supply for the
coming growing season. In light of all
the recent rainy weather, I’d say we could use a
vestal virgin or two in modern times as well.
In Southern Germany, this day is known as Cold Sophie’s
Day; the weather will grow cold
and fires must be lit to appeal to the goddess of warmth.
Hmmm, isn’t it suppose to get
quite chilly tonight? Sometimes the old tales still ring
true. Raise your glass to Vesta tonight,
and light a little fire to warm up poor Sophie.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Friday, May 14, 2004, 9:30 a.m.
80 degrees, breezy, hazy sunshine
The morning heat and wet earth combine to form an
oppressive amount of humidity
that permeates every aspect of the day. The last hard
shower was just after dawn,
following a chain of thunderstorms that circled the area
for a really long time. Distant
thunder started at noon yesterday and stiff breezes
wafted the odors of ozone and mud
past us, but the real rain didn’t show up for six
hours. We were walking along the canal
towpath in Boonville when the heavens opened up,
lightning bolts striking all around
while deafening thunder drummed right into my trembling
solar plexus. The first fat drops
splatting into the canal quickly morphed into a
torrential downpour and water stood inches
deep on the trail. We had been hot and sticky all day
long, but quickly became chilled to
the bone in the wind-driven rain. Naturally, the rain let
up after we slogged our way to the
shelter of the main pavilion. I cranked up the heat for
the ride home, and watched the storm
circle back to the north. The sky was amazing... a blood-red
sun played hide-and-seek with
dark storm clouds until a great whirling hole opened up,
framing the sun with an awesome
luminescent vortex. I pulled over and stared slack-jawed
with amazement, feeling the power
of the storm and hoping that the swirling shroud didn’t
develop into a funnel aimed at the earth.
I grew up in the midwest and have seen more than my share
of tornadoes, and did not like
the looks of that sickly-yellow sky below the maelstrom
of black clouds. The hole slowly
closed around the sun and rain started once again,
falling faster than my wipers could handle.
I followed the storm home, and watched its fury from the
comfort of our sunporch, loud
thunder and bright lightning far less threatening than
when we were exposed to the
elements on the canal path. Finally just rain was left,
buckets and buckets of rain,
soaking into freshly tilled garden soil and filling the
water tables. Today will be hot
and steamy and then rain returns tomorrow to top off the
wells. No gardening today,
but it will be pleasant to walk the dirt roads and admire
forget-me-nots gleaming
blue, pink and white surrounded by shiny green wild
strawberry leaves.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, May 13, 2004, 8:00 a.m.
75 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
The valley is mist-filled but not exactly foggy this
morning.
Everything is soft around the edges, and the Adirondack
Mountains are just
a suggestion through the haze. It is already quite warm
outside, and aspen leaves
have doubled in size in just twenty-four hours. It is
amazing what the right combination
of heat and rain can accomplish during this lush season.
Asparagus that just breaches
the soil at dawn is ready for the supper table at dusk; I
swear I can hear the fat spears
growing as I work in the flower bed next to them. The
potatoes we buried in one long
row a month ago are emerging from dormancy, making big
fissures in the dirt before
their sturdy deep green leaf clusters poke up towards the
light. The first planting of
lettuce and spinach is ready to be thinned, and a second
crop will be sown today.
These warm days will no doubt tempt us to plant out a few
tomato plants as well,
taking the risk of losing them to frost but winning some
early juicy ripe tomatoes if the
nights stay warm. We moved some strawberry plants
yesterday, dreaming of sweet
summery snacks and fresh berry pie covered with whipped
cream. About half of the
berries we grow never make it into the house; they are
best eaten warm from the sun,
staining our fingers with cotton-candy whiff. Bobolinks
are back in the meadows; their
erratic flights and discombobulated riffs fill the
morning air with confusion. The first
hummingbird of the season kept trying to sip nectar from
a geranium on the wrong side
of the window, so we moved the houseplants out to the
back porch. Soon columbine
will bloom, luring more little hummers near the house.
There is plenty to do outdoors
today, and plenty to look at, smell, and listen to,
a real feast for the senses.
Take it all in,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, May 12, 2004, 6:30 a.m.
64 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
The sun rose unobstructed by clouds this morning,
a huge bright red-orange orb that was too intense to
watch head-on.
Long shadows of butternut, elm, and maple trees paint
deep green accents
on emerald fields. Last year's mown meadow paths are
several inches shorter
than the surrounding grass, even though they haven’t
been shorn since September.
One triangular patch of grass in the west meadow has
purple tinted blades, very
obvious from a distance but less noticeable as we stand
in its midst. It is time to
mow the lawn and the paths, a task we put off as long as
possible in the spring
so we can fully enjoy beautiful golden dandelions and
delicate purple violets.
Maybe it can wait just one more day.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, May 11, 2004, 7:30 a.m.
56 degrees, breezy, mostly cloudy
A few very hard rain showers raced through the
neighborhood last
evening, soaking soil that had barely begun to dry out in
hot afternoon
sunshine. Right now it is not raining, but the air is
saturated with moisture
that is struggling to evaporate into a cloud-filled sky.
The lawns are full of
mud-rimmed holes where nightcrawlers came up for air
during the night. We
haven’t had time to go fishing yet this spring, but
it looks like we won’t lack for
bait. As I moved lilies yesterday I found hundreds of
worms living among the roots
and corms; I wonder if they are enjoying their new
location? I moved a few rose
bushes to an area that had been bedded with sawdust last
fall, and there were more
red wigglers than soil underneath the damp layer of mulch.
Last year’s compost heap
is alive with little crimson squirmers, a different
species than is found in regular garden
soil. We are thrilled every morning by the abundance of
birds that grace the trees,
meadows, and hedges, but there is also a world teeming
with life underground, quietly
enriching our soil and providing meals for the birds as
well. Take some time today to
show appreciation to the unsung heroes in your everyday
life... the cleaners and
bagboys and road crews... all-night mail sorters, long-haul
truckers, busboys,
stockboys, paperboys, spouses, siblings, offspring and
best friends...
who quietly, without flashy feathers or showy songs,
go about the business of improving the quality of our
days.
Thanks everyone,
Daisy
~
Monday, May 10, 2004, 7:00 a.m.
54 degrees, breezy. foggy, raining
The sun came out for a little while at the end of the day
but then black flies
were swarming around us with great appetite, so our long-awaited
walk changed
into a mad dash for the protection of the house. It is
usually too windy on Gomer Hill
for bugs to be much of a problem, but the combination of
moisture, sun, and breezeless
calm really exaggerated the pestilence yesterday.
Mosquitoes haven’t made an appearance
yet. At least when a mosquito bites it causes a small
stinging sensation so you can brush
it off your skin; black flies inject both anesthetic and
anti-coagulant into the victim as it feeds.
The bites often aren’t discovered until dried
rivulets of blood are glimpsed in a mirror.
We had time to check all of our nesting boxes before
heading indoors. The bluebird has
completed laying her clutch of eggs and has started to
incubate them, so in about two
weeks we can expect some naked little babies to wriggle
out of those pretty blue shells.
The other boxes are still unoccupied, although two of
them contain single blades of dried
grass that indicates the interest of either bluebirds or
swallows. Now that tree swallows
are back on the Hill, many nests will soon be under
construction. Temperatures are
going to be mild today, and showers will be tapering off.
It is perfect weather to
divide perennials and spread them out or share extras
with friends. Weeds will
also slide right out of soggy soil, so gardening will be
in the picture for sure.
Time to go play in the mud !
Have fun today,
Daisy
~
Sunday, May 9, 2004, 7:45 a.m.
44 degrees, breezy, overcast, raining
We are optimistic that the weather will improve and the
sun will come out at
some point in the day. Rain moved in late in the
afternoon yesterday as we were
splitting a huge pile of wood with a hydraulic wedge. If
it had been warmer out,
we could have continued to work, but the rain was cold
and the chunks of wood
too small to warm us up much as we manhandled them into
position. I had ridden
my bike to the woodpile, and even the short trip home was
miserable in wind-driven
cold rain. There is still plenty to do outside,
especially in the perennial plant department.
It is time to move the strawberry bed, teasing year-old
plants away from their mothers,
still connected by tough fibrous runners. An entire
daylily bed is going to be relocated
to a sunnier spot, and the english daisies have outgrown
their space in the rockgarden.
It is time for onion sets to go out in long garden rows,
and several boxes of pansies
await their summer home along the edge of a small flower
bed. Today is Mother’s Day,
a bittersweet pseudoholiday to women of a certain age
whose mothers have passed on
and whose children have grown up and moved away.
Commercials dwell on the gift-giving
aspects of this day... diamonds, teleflora bouquets or
other pricey items. Hey kids, hows
about a new car (Daddy will gladly pay) or a gold tennis
bracelet encrusted with your
birthstones? Good grief. No matter what your age or
gender, take time today to examine
the many gifts you have received from the big Kahuna,
your very own Mother Earth.
Every aspect of daily life is supported and enriched by
the air, water, and soil that our
common Mother struggles to keep pure enough for our use.
If you are not in a position
to receive the gifts that Madison Avenue presumes
Everywoman craves, take pleasure
instead in the rich gifts that are laid at your feet
every time you step off the beaten path;
don’t forget to send a thank-you note.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, May 8, 2004, 7:45 a.m.
44 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
The sun is doing little to melt away ice in the birdbath,
and a
stiff breeze helps drive chilly damp air right to the
bone this morning.
Garden soil is pretty soggy, but I think I will put out a
few short rows of
beets and carrots today. The spinach, lettuce and peas
that we planted
four weeks ago are doing very well, and little dense
clusters of potato
leaves are beginning to poke through the mounded dirt. We
put in a few
beans as a gamble last week; even if only a half dozen
plants make it
through May’s unpredictable weather we will have
enough early beans for
a few good meals. Asparagus spears are slowly emerging
from the ground,
purple-tinged and tightly budded. A few warm days should
bring the main
crop on nicely. Marsh marigolds (also known as cowslips)
started to bloom
yesterday and a double handful in our old Bennington jug
looks beautiful on
the kitchen counter. Violets that I planted when we first
moved to Gomer Hill
have taken over the front yard and are loaded with small
royal purple blossoms.
Wild violets in the area of our springbox have not yet
shown their faces; they
will be a very pale blue when they come along in a couple
of weeks. There
are many native species of violet that run rampant
through Tug Hill woodlands
in beautiful shades of purple, yellow, while, blue, and
yes, even violet.
I wonder if the color was named after the flower, or visa
versa?
There is a chance of rain later today, so leave
your indoor work for later,
bundle up, and get out to enjoy the morning.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Friday, May 7, 2004, 6:15 a.m.
53 degrees, windy, mostly sunny
Everything is shiny and sparkling clean in the sunshine
after some pretty hard rain last night.
Our lawn is almost in need of mowing and is lush and
green from all of the recent showers.
Tree swallows are back in the area, and so are some
hyperactive barn swallows. Both
kinds are swooping around the yard right now, dive-bombing
the cats. Yesterday was
a gorgeous day and we started it off by walking to a
nearby pond to see if we could find
out where the geese are nesting. There was no sign of
geese, but we came upon a huge
tom turkey in proud display, so full of himself that he
never saw us coming. He was
strutting and calling and when he at last became aware of
our presence, he quickly folded
his tail back up and ran like the wind into the woods.
The pond was quiet, but we saw
some muskrat tracks in the mud. Long ropy strands of
amphibian eggs lay in the shallow
water, looking like discarded telephone cords. We didn’t
see any frogs but in a little
while that pond will be teeming with tadpoles. Near the
pond there were golden drifts of
double daffodils around an old house foundation, the old
fashioned kind that are tinged
slightly green and fabulously fragrant. A handful
brightens my windowsill this morning,
a sweet reminder of a long walk on a beautiful spring
morning.
Go take a hike,
Daisy
~
Thursday, May 6, 2004, 6:30 a.m.
41 degrees, calm, sunny, valley fog
We sit atop a sea of clouds; the valley is
entirely obscured from view.
As I lingered on the back step earlier enjoying beautiful
birdsong, I became
aware of the absence of starlings from the choir. Our
resident blackbirds have
greeted us nearly every day since last autumn, and now
they are gone. My guess
is that all of the frantic nest-building of the past week
has culminated in some pretty
serious nest-sitting as eggs are incubated on these
chilly nights. Now that the mating
process is over, perhaps the need to advertise one’s
availability has been put aside
until after this brood hatches. One of our bluebird boxes
contains a tidy nest with two
pale blue eggs snugly held inside. The tenants watched me
as I carefully examined
the contents of the nest, moving from branch to branch
with a flash of impossible blue,
a hue so perfect that it rivals the bluest spring skies.
A pair of canada geese has been
hanging around for six weeks and I am sure they must have
a nest by the small pond up
the road. A white-throated sparrow is singing its heart
out from a post by thegrapevines,
still on the lookout for a partner. We have yet to see
any tree swallows or bobolinks on
the Hill. When they return, summer is truly here. A whole
passel of crows is moseying
past the window, silent for now. Earlier they had set up
quite a hue and cry in the
hedgerow, agitated about something that came under their
all-seeing scrutiny.
A brown thrasher just perched momentarily on a forsythia
bush, the exact color
of good milk chocolate. It is a fine morning here on
Gomer Hill,
and will surely be a fine day for just about anything.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, May 5, 2004, 6:15 a.m.
40 degrees, breezy, raining
The sky is a uniform pearly grey, one big soggy cloud
leaking moisture
slowly over Tug Hill. The meadows are a lovely shade of
spring green,
peppered here and there with the first bright dandelion
blooms. Colors
are very intense this morning under the flat sunless sky,
and every surface
glistens with a subtle reflective sheen of water. Rain
started late last night,
after a spectacular full moonrise. It is said that the
enlightenment of
Siddhartha Gautama that transformed him into the Buddha
occurred during
the full moon of May, and this is an important festival
day to those who follow
the Buddhist faith. Siddhartha was also born on the day
of May’s full moon.
He realized complete Awakening and insight into the
nature and cause of
human suffering and found specific ways to eliminate it.
He stressed the
importance of right thought, right actions and right
attitude. Can’t argue with
that... Twenty-five hundred years later 350,000,000
people worldwide follow
the teachings of this one man. The Buddha's final words
were, "All conditioned
things are subject to impermanence. Strive on with
diligence". He died under
the full moon of May. As you gaze at the waning full moon
tonight, think about
how the actions of one man as he had abig A-HAH !
moment under the same
moon long ago have changed the world and the lives of
countless people.
Strive on,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, May 4, 2004, 6:15 a.m.
32 degrees, a little breezy, flurries
A dusting of snow greeted me when I let the dog out this
morning,
solidly covering the cars but spotty on the lawn.
Yesterday’s temperature
barely made it into the forties, so this white stuff isn’t
surprising in the least.
Frogs were quiet last night but the birds continue their
optimistic spring concerts,
morning noon and night. Daffodils and tulips are slightly
bent under their gentle
burden of snowflakes, but they will bounce back as the
weather returns to spring
later today. The warmth of the weekend really brought out
leaves and many trees
have a beautiful yellow-green aura hovering around the
tops. Maple buds are
strikingly red, and all of these beautiful hues are muted
by the snow, which is
falling faster now. All of our peas are above ground at
least an inch; good thing
they are hardy little plants. Dress in layers today, it
just might warm up later.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Monday, May 3, 2004, 6:15 a.m.
31 degrees, windy overcast
Hard rain and loud gusty wind made for a restless night,
and although the rain has stopped for a while, the wind
has
settled into a steady howl. The temperature is below the
freezing
point but water in the birdbath is too riled up to freeze.
Surf’s up!
Forsythia and daffodils will probably be the only sunny
things we see
around here today, but we have good memories from
yesterday’s
sun-drenched hike to carry us through this dull day. The
dirt road was
filled with nightcrawlers telescoping from one side of
the moist road to
the other with red efts using them as low hurdles.
Meadowlarks bounced
their two-note calls back and forth and I sang with them
for a while, matching
them pitch for pitch. Fiddleheads are just beginning to
poke up through the
forest duff, and we collected a double handful for dinner.
These little morsels
are tricky to clean but worth the effort. The downy
covering must be rubbed
off of each one before steaming them gently. All
fiddleheads are edible,
but these were choice. I mixed them with chopped wild
leeks, sliced
portabella mushrooms, eggs, sour cream, and cheddar
cheese and baked
it all in a biscuit crust. What a tasty pie! While we
polish off the leftovers for
lunch today we can recollect our beautiful Sunday walk
under the warm
spring sunshine. Perhaps there will be a hot dry day in
August when we are
parched and sweating over some task, “Do you
remember that refreshing
chilly morning in early May?” Store things in your
memory bank;
you never know when you will need to make a withdrawal.
Bundle up,
Daisy
~
Sunday, May 2, 2004, 8:15 a.m.
58 degrees. breezy, raining
Some hard rainfall began late yesterday afternoon and our
drainage pails
are filled to overflowing. Legions of nightcrawlers oozed
up out of the saturated
lawn last night, but we left them alone for now... no
time to go fishing for a few days.
We put out two more bluebird houses yesterday, one on
either side of a rockpile
in the east meadow. Both sites face south and have nearby
shrubs for fledglings
to aim for on their first trip away from home. One box in
the west meadow has a
neat little nest inside, and we believe it belongs to a
pair of bluebirds that have
been watching us from the power lines nearby. Tree
swallows are not back on the
Hill from winter vacation yet. The nests look very
similar; both are made of
dried weed straw and are tightly formed, filling about
one-third of a nesting box.
Swallows will often line the nest with feathers, but not
always. The only surefire
way to tell what species has moved in is to look at the
eggs. Bluebirds’ eggs
are pale blue, and swallows’ are chalky white. If
they are speckled brown, then
an english sparrow has taken over the nest. A sparrow’s
nest is made from
whatever is at hand, from weed-straw and pieces of
styrofoam to old gum
wrappers, but these cheeky birds are not adverse to
moving into somebody
else’s prefab home. Songbirds have no sense of
smell, and will not notice if
a human has handled their eggs. In fact, nesting boxes
should be opened on
a regular basis to observe the health and development of
hatchlings. In our area,
blowfly larvae can move into a nest and feed on living
young birds, slowly bleeding
them to death. Careful observation of the nests will
allow the landlord to replace
the fouled nest with a new one made from hay, straw, or
dried lawn clippings.
Feel free to e-mail me for more details of this
procedure; put bluebirds in the
subject line. On a lighter note, the frogs were loud last
night, singing from
several vernal ponds that have cropped up in the last
week. Old-timers say this
means there will not be another hard freeze until autumn.
Things are greening
up nicely and spring is definitely here in full throttle,
accelerating into early summer before we know it.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, May 1, 2004, 6:30 a.m.
57 degrees, gentle breeze, partly cloudy
A mass of clouds in the eastern sky is allowing a few
glimpses of sun
to poke through now and then. Gentle rain showers
peppered the tin roof during
the night and may punctuate the day as well. Today is the
Celtic festival of Beltane,
which traditionally marks the true beginning of
summer, the return of light to the land
after six months of winter. In this country, we celebrate
May Day by gathering small
baskets of blooms and giving them to loved ones. It is
perfectly acceptable to spend
some time today just goofing off, picking wildflowers,
and celebrating in any way you
see fit. The countryside will offer a full palette of
colors today, made more brilliant
by the possibility of rain, which always intensifies
nature’s rich hues. The sun has
just made its first real appearance of the day, flooding
the land with a golden
glow that fills my spirit with joy. If you bathe your
face in Beltane’s morning dew,
it is said you will be blessed with beauty for the coming
year.
I wonder if rainwater will work?
Tra-la! It’s May!
Daisy
~
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