~
Monday, July 31, 2006 8:30 a.m.
62 degrees. breezy, partly sunny
The air is refreshingly cool this morning, and a sweater
that has been gathering dust on the
back of a chair adds just the right amount of comfy
warmth. We need to enjoy this respite from
the stifling heat that will descend later in the day,
with tonight’s low temperature staying in the 70s.
The chance of thunderstorms will persist as long as the
air remains so hot and humid, so fill your house
with this wonderful fresh chilly air before the outdoor
oven gets lit and the windows must slam shut against
the rain. We are headed out to pick the first big crop of
beans; all sizes are dangling in droves, a tasty green
fringe of plump beans on every plant. Yesterday we rode
over the back roads of Tug Hill to take a look at
the windmills at the Maple Ridge Wind Farm. It was late
in the day and the vanes cast long moving shadows
across the meadows and even in the trees along the edges
of the fields. The lowering sun also reflected bright
flashes of light when it hit the props at a certain angle.
The whole effect was a dizzying combination of awe-
some light show and nauseating motion sickness. We were
able to drive away from it all; I simply couldn’t
abide having that chaos right outside my back porch.
Imagine the scene in wintertime, with the black
shadows traveling monotonously over a sparkling expanse
of white snow, giant repetitive mandalas
of light and dark. Guess I will have to join the NIMBY
club with regard to wind power.
Yes to green energy, but Not In My Back Yard.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, July 30, 2006 6:30 a.m.
60 degrees, calm, partly sunny
Dark grey bands of dense cloud hover over the eastern
horizon while soft white
puffs drift in from the west. Although sunrise was forty-five
minutes ago, the first rays
of light are just now clearing the cloudbank, creating
long shadows across a puddle-riddled
meadow. Rain fell throughout the day yesterday and well
into the night, with a stiff west wind
adding interest and comfort from the steamy humidity. We
managed to pick several gallons of
red raspberries in between showers, and the first batch
of summer wine is steeping in a dark corner
of the kitchen. Snap beans are ready but we must wait for
the leaves to dry out lest we spread foliar
disease that could wipe out the whole crop. Last night
the coyotes were back in the neighborhood;
after months of silence it was good to hear them racing
across the hill once again. I was afraid they
had been wiped out by gangs of pistol-totin’ quad
riders, who have a definite advantage over any
prey with their enhanced speed and high-tech firepower.
Perhaps the local coyotes have learned to
still their voices in areas where they are hunted. Their
yips, cries, and high-pitched yodels have been
part of the Tug Hill sound track for centuries if not
millennia. They keep the rodent population in check
and help cull weak and sick deer from increasingly
prodigious herds. It was a true thrill to hear their
ebullient songs in the middle of the night, wild and free.
What’s on your natural playlist for today ?
Listen up,
Daisy
~
Saturday, July 29, 2006 9:00 a.m.
75 degrees, windy, partly sunny
About an hour ago, brief steady rain shower appeared out
of nowhere, or so it seemed.
We sat on the east side of the house where the sun was
becoming uncomfortably warm in a
hurry. I remarked that the towels I had hung on the line
were ready to gather and fold already,
when it started to rain, making me an instant liar. (Funny
how that happens; we can speak the
absolute truth and in the blink of an eye our claims can
become false.) We walked around the
house and a wall of black clouds was advancing rapidly
from the west, as ominous as anything
I’ve seen in a Wes Craven film. Rain fell for about
ten minutes, then disappeared as quickly as it
arrived. The sky has been sunny and cloudy by turns, so
it is a little hard to make any real plans
for the day. I have a feeling that any rain showers that
appear will feel deliciously cool no matter
what activity occurs. As long as the breeze keeps up, it
should be fairly comfortable outdoors.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Friday, July 28, 2006 8:45 a.m.
67 degrees, calm, raining, fog
Just what we need, more hard rain. Guess I will have to
call everyone that was headed up to pick
raspberries today to reschedule... again. The berries
that don’t get knocked off by driving rain must
be harvested soon or they will ferment where they hang,
drawing the attention of wasps who will gather
to suck in the intoxicating sweetness and then fall
senseless to the ground. I have only seen this happen
once before; not fun for the wasps I would imagine, they
don’t even dance before they pass out. Far
better that the raspberries find their way into our
winemaking crock, where the resulting sparkling clear
ruby ambrosia will be savored by people who know how to
sip without gluttony during crisp autumn
evenings or a frigid Sunday afternoon midwinter.
Yesterday was extremely hot and humid, especially
in the Mohawk Valley where instead of rising, the heat
became heavy and sank down to the streets of
Little Falls where it hung like a down comforter that we
couldn’t escape. A bottle of water that sat in
the car for two hours was tea-hot by the time I opened
it, thirsty enough to drain it in one long draught.
A few short rain showers in the evening were a welcome
relief from the oppressiveheat of the day.
The hardest rain didn’t arrive until early this
morning, and it looks like it will hang around for a
while.
Just as well, there is plenty to do indoors.
Don’t forget your umbrella,
Daisy
~
Thursday, July 27, 2006 8:30 a.m.
74 degrees, breezy, overcast
The air is thick with moisture; ambient humidity must be
close to maximum saturation.
The breeze stirs things around, but it is still like
walking into the path of a giant vaporizer
to venture outside. Last night we had a little air
conditioner unit running in the bedroom, and
when I opened the door to the hallway this morning my
glasses fogged over in an instant. We
finally bought an AC last summer during the prolonged
heat wave, and even though we have only
used it less than a dozen times, it has been worth every
penny. Yesterday we visited a black rasp-
berry patch that had caught my eye a few days ago.
Unfortunately, birds and beasts had their way
with most of the crop before we arrived, but there were
still some succulent juicy berries hanging
concealed by the leaves. I didn’t realize how thorny
the stems are, and I soon became thoroughly
entangled in the patch, coming away with darned few
berries and lots of holes and scratches in my
hands and arms. No wonder the berries on the inside of
the tangle were still there. As disappointing
as the blackcap harvest was, the red raspberries in our
garden have been very prolific. Late in the
day the kitchen was filled with the fragrant steam of
raspberry jelly bubbling away in our largest
pot. Two gallons of fresh sweet berries soon became
twenty jars of ruby red clear seedless jelly,
to brighten our toast, biscuits, and peanut butter
sandwiches in the coming months. The recipe
I use says to never double the batch. Ha! I tripled
it, with great results. You can do pretty
much anything you want if your kettle is big enough. Plan
big, and forge ahead.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, July 26, 2006 8:00 a.m.
70 degrees, calm, overcast
Low thin clouds are almost but not quite fog. We can see
the Adirondack Mountains, but
they are mere grey shadows against an even paler grey sky.
An occasional puff of humid air
twirls an aspen leaf here and there, but for the most
part all is very still on Gomer Hill this morning.
A deer and two sturdy fawns just crossed the road below
our garden, no doubt with broccoli on their
breath. At least they only munch the plants on the ends
of the rows; they have tasted a few beans as well.
As long as they leave enough for us, I don’t mind
sharing. I drove through some powerful thunderstorms
last night with black skies and marble-sized hail. As
quickly as I entered them I drove out the other side
into dazzling sunlight. I arrived home to dry ground and
lightning flashing all around, so I picked stuff for
supper in record speed. A string of storms passed through
during the evening that turned the sky so dark
we needed to switch on lights while we sliced and
diced. We certainly have been getting enough rain this
summer. Combined with hot temperatures, things are
growing like crazy. The tough part is finding a dry
spell to harvest all of the good things. We pulled up
some garlic and each bulb had a softball sized blob
of mud stuck to it, very difficult to clean for storage.
We can’t pick beans when the plants are wet either;
guess we will hang around and see if enough breeze kicks
up later to dry them off. There is nothing
better than the first green beans of the season, lightly
steamed with fresh basil and a little dab of butter.
Have a delicious day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, July 25, 2006 8:00 a.m.
67 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
It is very cloudy to the north but occasionally the sun
does break through to cheer us on.
Crows have been very vocal this morning, starting their
ruckus well before sunrise from points
near and far. My guess is that they are still herding
their young around, trying to keep track as
they become more independent and adventurous. A bird I
have never heard before was hollering
the same note repetitively, a nasal squawk uttered alone
or in pairs, once in a while three notes. It
went on for about twenty minutes and then stopped as
quickly as it started. I never caught sight of
the bird, but it sounded large. Robins are done with
their singing lessons and have fallen silent for a
while. I have seen a couple of young speckled robins
foraging for insects, followed by several adults
keeping an eye out for danger. Three hen turkeys just
scrambled across the lower meadow, the tops
of their chicks’ heads barely visible above the hay
stubble. There is much to see and hear on this
fine midsummer morn; best I get out and enjoy it from the
depths of the raspberry patch.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Monday, July 24, 2006 8:00 a.m.
62 degrees, windy, mostly sunny
The sun is hot and the breeze is cool, a perfect
combination for comfort on this summer morn.
A few fair-weather clouds move slowly across a deep blue
sky, the kind of clouds that look like
sheep, fluffy and white. Tree branches are in motion,
shaking up the dapple, light and shadow dancing
a crazy tarantella to a chorus of crows. Red raspberries
are finally ready for serious picking, too many
to keep up with by simply grazing our way down the rows.
I noticed some blackcaps nearby as well,
something I haven’t seen on this side of the river
for a long time. Seedier than red raspberries, these
cousins have a distinct wild taste like that of no other
fruit, slightly musky along with the sweetness. I
will mix some together with the red for a batch of wine
and see what happens. Today’s weather will
be perfect for just about any activity; I’ll be
scurrying to get in a full day’s tasks in before I
have to
leave for work at noon. There are snap peas to pick and
basil to thin as well as berries to tend to,
the pleasant side of gardening when the sun is warm and
the breeze shoos away the bugs.
Have a fine day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, July 23, 2006 9:30 a.m.
65 degrees, breezy, partly cloudy
Yesterday’s steady rain brought a change in
temperature along for the ride that has
lingered long into the morning. A cool breeze has brought
our sweaters out of retirement,
but if the sun continues to shine they will soon be
dropped by the garden path. We took advantage
of the rain to walk the rim trail at Whetstone Gulf State
Park in mosquito-free comfort. We saw a dozen
or more different kinds of mushrooms growing along the
trail, including the polka-dotted Alice-in-Wonderland
hookah-smoking caterpillar’s favorite Amanita
muscaria in red, yellow and orange hues. Many of the
large
fungi were covered with forest slugs, all happily
munching away on the colorful shiny caps. There were
several
large white flat-topped mushrooms, harmless looking
destroying angels (amanita virosa), little brown
puffballs,
and one clump of tiny bright red ones that looked like
little lollipops. Corals are just beginning to show up,
in all
shades of lavender, yellow, cream and white. The forest
floor was filled with the stark white blossoms and stems
of indian pipes (Monotropa uniflora) rendered more
visible than usual by the rain-darkened pine needles that
formed a perfect background. This is a plant that
contains no chlorophyll and receives nourishment by
feeding
from underground fungi that in turn are sustained by
roots of trees. For a complete description of this
process,
along with an easy to understand diagram, check out this link. Although the depths of the
gorge were often
concealed by fog, there were several beautiful rain-fed
waterfalls sheeting down the opposite side that
were breathtaking. All of the scents of the forest were
intensified by the saturated air, and the hike
was wonderful. Don’t let the weather keep you from
enjoying all of the beautiful scenes that
unfold daily, rain or shine. I find that it is almost
always nicer outdoors than it appears
to be from behind a closed door. Open that door, and step
on out !
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, July 22, 2006 9:00 a.m.
62 degrees, calm, overcast, sprinkles
Gentle rain is falling across our region, refreshing and
cool. There is no wind so far,
and the drops fall straight down; not one window is
spattered with wetness. Our garlic
has been ready to dig for a few days, and we intended to
wait until the ground dried out
so the bulbs won’t be covered with mud. Fat chance
of that happening this summer, we might
as well pull them up and see what we get. If left in the
ground too long, they will start to send out
new growth for next summer and become green in the center
and bitter. They are ready early this
season by at least a week; good thing we have been
keeping an eye on them. There is nothing like
fresh garlic. It is hard to peel and definitely spicier
than after it is cured. We like whole fresh cloves
tossed in olive oil with new potato wedges and herbs,
then roasted in a hot oven. The garlic becomes
crisply chewy on the outside with a creamy sweet
interior, leaving a fiery afterglow on the inside of
the mouth. If you have never tasted garlic straight from
the earth, seek some out. Supermarket
varieties pale by comparison, and garlic powder doesn’t
even come close to the real thing.
Ain’t nuthin’ like the real thing, bay-bee...
Spice up your day,
Daisy
~
Friday, July 21, 2006 8:15 a.m.
66 degrees, calm, overcast, fog
Thin fog softens the edges of the landscape; everything
is wet and heavy from last
night’s brief thunderstorms. Colors are muted in the
mist, and the only bright spot is just
in front of the sun, which is trying to break through but
so far looks like a light bulb under
a layer of silk scarves; Mother Nature does mood lighting.
Even the male bluebird appears
less blue this morning, almost slate grey through our fog’s-eye
view. Hollyhocks and gloriosa
daisies are bent over at an extreme angle, nearly
crushing the marigolds and zinnias in the border.
It is time to put a few ski poles in the flower bed to
anchor the green twine that will hold the bigger
plants upright until they are done blooming. Hollyhocks
have been on this property ever since we can
remember, and they spring up in the oddest places. We
never know what color they will be, or where
they will show up next. There seem to be a lot of pure
white blossoms this season, glowing nearly fluore-
scent in the dark of night. Several very pretty purple
and white double flowers showed up near the barn,
the first I have ever seen of this color anywhere.
Hollyhocks are self-seeding biennials; the plants that
grow from seed dropped this year won’t bloom until
next summer. They are pollinated by insects,
leading to an infinite variety of colors and forms as the
varieties cross, which explains the seemingly
random nature of growth patterns. Some dark red ones
showed up in our wildflower garden a few
years ago, no doubt planted by some bird perched in the
aspen tree who had fed on the seeds of
a plant in town. I have saved the seeds from specific
plants, but they seldom resemble the parent
when planted. We are better off to let the birds and wind
plant scatter the seeds and enjoy them,
whatever the results of natural selection turn out to be.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, July 20, 2006 8:30 a.m.
77 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
It is a fine morning to be out and about; mosquitoes and
black flies are still sleeping
and a fresh breeze flutters the fine hairs that escaped
my braid and tickle my face. There
are peas, lettuce and broccoli to harvest, strawberries
to transplant and till, and weeds, weeds,
weeds galore to yank. The last five tomato plants are
awaiting a major pruning before they are
secured to the trellis; at least by now it is easy to see
which branches to whack and which to leave.
Every plant is loaded with little green orbs; it won’t
be long before the cherry and grape varieties are
ready for the salad bowl. Our mixed greens that have
relied on fresh herbs, onion and garlic for spice
will soon have the sweet juicy pop of little tomatoes and
thin-sliced baby zucchini, putting lettuce in the
background as a stage for true summer crops. Cucumbers
are tiny on the vine, but it won’t be long before
they also grace our table, standing alone with fresh
ground pepper and a little rice vinegar, or mixed in with
tomatoes, basil, and a sprinkle of raw sugar. We pulled
the first of the carrots yesterday, hauling every other
one out of the ground to make room for those left behind
to grow big. We often harvest fall carrots with a
diameter of three or four inches at the top. Anyone can
do this; you need to make sure that there is at least
four inches between each carrot; otherwise, they will not
reach their full potential. Same with onions, lettuce,
beets, all require plenty of room to reach maximum mature
size. I’m pretty sure this is true with people as
well.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, July 19, 2006 8:00 a.m.
73 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
This is about as perfect as a summer morning can be, with
gentle breezes wafting
across wildflowers and presenting a sweet balm to all who
pause in appreciation.
Bluebirds are very busy feeding their four chicks that
are nearly big enough to flee
the nest in the box at the corner of the asparagus patch.
They have been on the wing
in a constant crazy circle since sunrise, snagging
tidbits from the lawn and disappearing
into the condo just long enough to deliver the goods,
then back to the lawn, trying to keep
the family fed. Robins have finally stopped their nonstop
singing lessons. The past few days
we have heard the fledglings repeating their parents’
phrases, at first squeaky and erratic,
and finally nearly perfect, except higher pitched. I
reckon that as they increase in body
size their range will grow as well. Next spring we won’t
be able to tell who is who, all
robins will sound alike by then. Listen carefully to the
birds these next few weeks;
see if there is an avian choir practice being held in
your neck of the woods.
Listen up,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, July 18, 2006 9:00 a.m.
76 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
Thank goodness for the breeze these past few days. It is
a little cooler this morning since
strong gusty winds blew the steam away during the wee
hours. Last night was a muggy one
for sleeping, but tonight will see lows in the fifties
which will be a relief. The heat and rain have
bred legions of mosquitoes during the past week, and
black flies have hung around far too long.
All kinds of flies have been biting in droves. We’re
gonna need an ocean of Calamine lotion...
at least poison ivy doesn’t grow well at this
altitude. Our four-legged friends are hosting an early
batch of fleas; we usually don’t see signs of those
shiny little pests until late August. It seems as if
the summer timetable is all messed up. Corn is stagnating
at six inches tall and refusing to grow,
beans are unpredictable in germinating, birds are still
singing spring songs, and coyotes have
been oddly silent. We have lettuce that is two feet tall
and still sweet and crunchy, and little
hard white raspberries that should be bursting into ruby
ripeness in the heat but have
become stuck in immature limbo. I am beginning to realize
that the only things we
can count on this summer are instability and heretofore
unforeseen phenomenon.
What the heck ?
Daisy
~
Monday, July 17, 2006 8:00 a.m.
79 degrees, windy, sunny
Summer heat ! Nothing like it ! Fortunately the wind is
blowing at a pretty good clip, offering sweet
relief as it whisks sweat away. If it weren’t for
yesterday’s breeze my systems would have shut right
down and nothing would have gotten accomplished. It was
an excellent day to hang out wet laundry,
it dried almost before the clothespins were set. Several
short walks replaced our customary long hike,
in consideration for the dogs with their fur coats. The
air was hot but not humid, and the sultry doldrums
alleviated only by a lengthy midday siesta never really
happened. We sat a spell under a big maple tree
on the soft cool lawn, searching for four-leaf clovers.
There used to be quite a few of them in one spot,
a mutant strain that kept us supplied with good luck
charms for many years. I wonder what happened
to them? Perhaps the leprechauns got to them already. I
have never seen one, but that doesn’t mean
they don’t exist. Same goes for elves, fairies,
nymphs and sprites, goblins and trolls, even unicorns,
all may be really good at hiding themselves from human
eyes. Clap for Tinkerbell...
Have a fantastic day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, July 16, 2006 8:30 a.m.
74 degrees, breezy, sunny
As dark and gloomy as yesterday morning was, today is the
sunny antithesis, full of breeze-filled
golden beams and birdsong. That storm had more style than
substance, announcing its presence
with a loud voice and then proving to be little more than
the man behind the curtain. We had some
good hard rain but very little in the way of thunderbolts
or strong wind. The gardens have exploded
with greenery, weeds as well as domestic produce. Peas
are out of control, and we are sure to fill a
pail or two before this day is over. There are plump
round sugarsnap peas, eaten pod and all raw as
we stroll the paths, or tossed into salad for a sweet
crunch. There are also giant Oregon flat pod peas,
four inches long and tender with tiny peas bumping out
the hulls, perfect sautéed with garlic, basil, and
olive oil or mixed in with other fresh veggies for
topping off our rice. Broccoli and baby zucchinis will
also grace our supper table for the rest of the summer,
if we can keep the deer away. A doe and her
twin fawns were spotted strolling away from the garden
after feasting on the leaves from broccoli plants,
a treat they usually save for summer’s end. It is
time to grate fragrant bars of soap between the rows as
repellant. It wouldn’t hurt to hang a few shiny old
compact discs on poles here and there as well. Clippings
from our dog’s last haircut will also serve to
inform the deer that there may be a dangerous predator
lurking
nearby. Beware the nine-pound rattdog! It is going
to be very hot today; Hope the breeze keeps a-blowin’.
Keep your cool,
Daisy
~
Saturday, July 15, 2006 8:00 a.m.
65 degrees, calm, overcast
The sky is a sick shade of yellow to the east and dark as
twilight to the west. Distant
rumbles of thunder are heard above the steady high whine
of the neighbor chopping hay.
Birds are going crackers singing and dashing about for
food, and there is clearly something
in the air besides pollen. There isn’t a breath of
breeze; leaves are suspended in the wan light
as if painted on a backdrop. The cats have all come
indoors and I think they know foul weather
is a-brewing. If I were still living in the midwest I
would make sure that the space under the cellar
stairs had a flashlight, deck of cards, and jug of water
in case we needed to hang out there for a while.
It is nine years ago exactly that a microburst swept
through our area flattening whole forests and damaging
random properties, even claiming a few lives. Since we
have lived in the north country we have seen many
spectacular storms in every season, and every single one
is different. The eerie stillness and odd atmospheric
hue this morning lead me to believe that something
special is headed our way.
Stay tuned,
Daisy
~
Friday, July 14, 2006 8:00 a.m.
73 degrees, breezy, sunny
The sun is very warm this morning, and even with a fresh
breeze it is too hot to sit
for long on the back porch. Several robins are repeating
a lovely warbled melody over
and over, as if it were springtime and they are courting.
They started before dawn and are
still singing. Perhaps it is a lesson for their young’uns,
teaching them the skills they will need
next year to attract a mate and carry on the species.
Research shows that if birds do not learn
their signature songs when they are young, they will only
utter a few short repeated notes as adults.
They learn their melodies much the same way that human
children learn to speak, through repetition
and practice. The air is clear here on Gomer Hill, but
the valley is misty; I’ll bet they don’t have
this
lovely comfortable zephyr, one benefit of living here at
the top of the world. Of course, the same
wind that cools the sweat of our brows and chases insects
away in sultry summer can be kind of
pesky in the winter months, creating massive snowdrifts
and obscuring the view in a frenzied swirl
of white. Those days seem but a distant memory, but in
reality they are as close as 100 days
in the future. Think about that today as you glug down
gallons of water and struggle to keep
cool. I am sure that there will be a sub-zero day in
December when memories of today’s
tropical heat will spring to mind, and warm the spirit if
not the body.
Have a cool day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, July 13, 2006 9:00 a.m.
61 degrees, windy, fog
A strong north wind shakes the rain from trees and is
chasing off much of the water
that accumulated from yesterdays heavy steady downpour.
The wind roared and moaned
during the night, sounding at times like an old tractor
pulling a heavy load of logs. We left some
storm windows lifted on the sunporch; fog has drifted in
through the screens and coated every
chair with a slick film of cold vapor. I am tempted to
light a small fire in the kitchen range to chase
away the chilly dampness that has crept indoors through
every open window, but I know that as
soon as the sun appears the day will turn into a giant
steam bath. Better to don a sweater than
heat up the kitchen. We are in for a spell of hot sultry
days, perfect for watching the corn grow.
Make a pitcher of cold tea or lemonade and get ready for
some serious summertime.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, July 12, 2006 8:30 a.m.
65 degrees, calm, overcast
I believe this may be the calm before the storm.
Everything is still except for scads of birds,
which are all over the place singing and hunting for food.
A male bluebird just chased a downy
woodpecker away from the tree it was mining, and a robin
kicked a kingbird out of the neighborhood
where her nest is. I guess baby birds are leaving their
cribs in droves, and their parents are protecting
their territories from all who come too close. Barn
swallows swoop down on the cats if they even think
about drawing near the big double doors, and the crows
have been diving on just about everything with
great hue and cry. Last night saw another deep orange
moon, partially obscured by clouds at times. We
walked over to our potato field in the dark, the path
highlighted by pale moonlight. The plants are bare of
bugs at night, and the white flowers shone with reflected
moonbeams, offset by dewy dark vines. Deeper
purple blossoms were less visible, but the golden pollen
in their centers fairly sparkled. Fireflies and glow
worms were abundant and added a festive air to the night.
The sweet fragrance of tall white clover and
milkweed permeated the air, ambrosial and pure. I believe
gentle moonlight coaxes the perfume from
certain flowers more than the harsher rays of summer sun.
If you seldom walk in the country at night,
seek an opportunity to do so and breathe deeply of the
balms released in the cool air.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, July 11, 2006 8:30 a.m.
61 degrees, windy, partly sunny
It is an odd morning for mid-July. Hard rain late
yesterday as well as during the night has
saturated the air with moisture, but the temperature is
still low enough that the overall effect
is one of clammy dampness. Add a stiff west wind and a
heavy sweater is in order. High clouds
are starting to thin out, and I know when the sun shines
there will be a swift reversal in comfort,
with the chilly dank morn becoming oppressively muggy at
the drop of a hat. We really needed
some rain; I’ll bet that the corn will double in
size today. Potatoes will fairly explode from their
hills with this combination of water and heat.
Unfortunately, weeds will also be growing like, well,
like weeds. The sky was full of birds doing battle
yesterday. A pair of ravens was being chased
about by both crows and starlings. Their frantic guttural
croaks were higher in pitch than usual,
constant and very loud. At times a starling would ride
the back of the larger bird, pecking it
about the head and neck like a crazed bullrider. They
ranged over both of our largest meadows
and finally disappeared into the forest. This is the
first I have seen both ravens together in a long
time. The most likely scenario is that all of the birds
involved have youngsters in the area, and they
are protecting their respective families. All feed on the
same stuff, so it is natural their paths would
cross many times during the year. We followed the fracas
into the woods with our binoculars,
but as soon as the ravens caught sight of us they shut
right up, not one more word.
Smart birds; man is their ultimate enemy. Ah, here comes
the sun !
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Monday, July 10, 2006 9:00 a.m.
73 degrees, breezy, hazy sunshine
Valley mist diffuses our view into a soft hint of farms
and forests everywhere from
the neighbors’ treeline on down. On top of Gomer
Hill the sun is hot but filtered through
high thin clouds. Even the breeze is warm, coming from
the southwest, with essence of cactus,
mesquite, and sagebrush imagined if not actually inhaled.
Last night was cool and windy, and a
late walk required a jacket, which I didn’t wear. I
will treasure the memory of last night’s shivery
chill as I work under the hot sun today. The moon was
almost full and deep red-orange, even after
it had been up for a few hours. In summer at our latitude
the moon travels a low arc across the night
sky, nearer the horizon than in winter. There is more
atmospheric debris and the color of the moon is
affected by this. Dust and smoke from fires in the
western part of the country probably have formed
a suspension of particles in the sky that caused last
night stunning colorful lunar aspect. Tonight’s full
moon will rise just a few minutes after sunset; if you
can, follow it’s path across the sky and notice
that it never really gets directly overhead as in mid-winter.
I wonder what color it will be ?
This is the Honey Moon; perhaps it will be a rich amber
gold.
Have a sweet day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, July 9, 2006 10:00 a.m.
75 degrees, breezy, partly cloudy
Here is a poem for you:
"Summer Kitchen" by Donald Hall from The
Painted Bed.
In June's high light she stood at the sink
With a glass of wine,
And listened for the bobolink,
And crushed garlic in late sunshine.
I watched her cooking, from my chair.
She pressed her lips
Together, reached for kitchenware,
And tasted sauce from her fingertips.
"It's ready now. Come on," she said.
"You light the candle."
We ate, and talked, and went to bed,
And slept. It was a miracle.
Celebrate the miracles of your ordinary, normal day.
Daisy
~
Saturday, July 8, 2006 8:30 a.m.
73 degrees, breezy, sunny
Intermittent breezes are most welcome on this hot morning.
When the gentle puffs of
air are absent, blowflies and mosquitoes move in and are
loudly annoying. I have never
been bitten by a blowfly, but I think these aggressive
metallic bugs are probably capable
of anything, although their main food source is carrion
and other decaying matter, including
manure. Given that, I don’t want them crawling over
any part of my skin anyway. Ugh. Somehow
a whole lot of skeeters got in the house last night; good
thing it was chilly enough to sleep with the
covers pulled up over our heads. I believe they gather on
the screen door, and every time we let a
cat or dog in or out the bugs sneak in one or two at a
time until there are enough of them for a party.
Burning spears of Satya Super Hit incense or smudges of
white sage seem to help repel them somewhat,
especially right before bedtime. The problem with that
is, who wants to go to sleep with something burning
on a windowsill; not too safe. No doubt there is an
excess of mosquitoes because all of the rain in June left
standing water in places that are usually dry in the
summer, creating perfect breeding grounds for the hungry
little pests. I know that they are an important part of
the circle of life, with both larvae and adults consumed
by birds and fish. It seems odd that we are below
mosquitoes on the food chain; what a blow to our
fragile human egos ! Meanwhile, put a little natural
repellant on and enjoy your day;
don’t let the little suckers get ya.
Daisy
~
Friday, July 7, 2006 8:30 a.m.
70 degrees, calm, sunny
Thick fog lay across the entire valley earlier this
morning, but now the view
is clear if still a little hazy. Heavy dew fell all
across the land, giving our fallen hay
yet another thorough dampening. The quality of sunlight
here on Gomer Hill is pristine
and sharp, and everything that blocks its warm light
casts dark shadows on the ground.
In fact, each and every leaf has a sunny side as well as
an inky aspect. Light and dark
play a key role in this morning’s composition; if
one were to capture this scene on
canvas, one would do well to squint the whole thing into
a blur to see exactly
where the brightest highlights would be. In the absence
of breeze, everything
is stock still and all glammed up; I’m ready
for my close-up, Mr. DeMille...
Have an excellent day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, July 6, 2006 8:30 a.m.
60 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
What a wonderful night for sleeping ! Even the skeeters
were chilling out, and a late
night walk under bright stars and glowing bulge of a
waxing moon was very refreshing
after a day of working under the hot sun. Fireflies
seemed a little put off by the chill, and
the few flashes we saw were muted by windrows of hay.
Luminescent bugs were strewn
throughout long grassy fibers like lights on a christmas
garland. Although the moon won’t be
full until Monday, it shed enough light across our path
that we didn’t need to use flashlights unless
a car approached. No one expects to see pedestrians in
the middle of the night. The morning view
is crystal clear all the way to the Adirondack Mountains,
picture perfect under a blue summer sky
dotted here and there with big clouds. The sun is hot but
the breeze is cool, which means any activity
done outdoors will be done in comfort. It is time to
plant some more lettuce and spinach and
clean up what’s left of the first crop, a mixture of
red and green leaf lettuce, romaine, and
tender buttercrunch heads. Hmmm, wonder if there is such
a thing as a breakfast salad ?
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, July 5, 2006 9:00 a.m.
69 degrees, breezy, partly cloudy
A beautiful summer day is unfolding, with big billowy
clouds drifting slowly across
a bluebird sky. Several short downpours yesterday
moistened the hay that lies in neat
horizontal rows, but today’s strong sunshine and
stiff breeze will help to dry it out. It appears
to be an excellent day to hang out washing; as long as
the west wind doesn’t send it flying out
over the hedgerows and into Lyons Falls it should dry
quickly. Last night was the final night of
fireworks in the area for a while. We have been watching
shows all around from our high vantage
point since Friday. The Old Forge display last night was
beautiful, even from fifty miles away. Clear
night air allowed every spark and twinkle to reach our
eyes. We couldn’t hear the percussion from
that show, but north of us was another big event, out of
sight but quite loud. There is a big show
coming up this Saturday at the Turin fire hall, 10:00.
Old-timers used to say that fireworks called in
thunderstorms. That was certainly the case this weekend,
eh? Let’s see what happens later today.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, July 4, 2006 9:00 a.m.
75 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
A brief thundershower rolled through the area just before
sunrise this morning, and now
the air is saturated with an aura of new-mown hay and wet
garden soil. The richness of this
combination almost, but not quite, overpowers the sweet
fragrance of privet, valerian, and roses
that is so pungent it is almost visible. A symphony of
smells, a fugue of fumes, an oratorio of odor,
a sonata of scents, a madrigal of merry musk, a ballad of
balm, all kinds of aromatic arias form a perfect
background to the songs of birds as they seek to mate for
a second or third time this season. Once again
the robins’ lilting melodies resound at dawn’s
first light, and the cheery call of redwing blackbirds
bounces
back and forth between the hedgerows. Goldfinches swarm
the skies in bright swooping waves, preparing for
their first brood, late bloomers in the avian world.
Three kinds of sparrow (song, white-throated and english)
have reared their first batch and search for their
hatchlings in the underbrush with incessant chip-chip-chippy
chirps, a far cry from their lovely mating songs. As
if the intoxicating combination of whiffs and warbles was
inadequate, the visual aspects of the morning are also
exquisite. The view contains an infinite number green
hues, leaves and blades of grass all washed clean of
dulling dust and pollen, shining in the sun, retaining
the sparkle even after the clouds move in. Brilliant
flowers in all colors of the rainbow stand at the
roadsides and grace the flower gardens, standing out in
sharp contrast to the greenery that such
a wet summer has provided. And just when it seems that
things could not be any more perfect,
a cool zephyr washes across exposed skin like a mother’s
soothing kiss.
Have a perfect day,
Daisy
~
Monday, July 3, 2006 8:00 a.m.
72 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
A fine morning breeze has leaves twirling and trees
swaying gently. Long meadow grasses
ripple like waves on a huge green sea. We will walk our
broad mown paths one more time this
morning before our friend comes with his huge tractor and
mows it all for hay. Alfalfa is just beginning
to bloom, all shades of purple, even some pale yellow and
white flowers here and there. Sweet red and
white clover will mingle their summery fragrance with
timothy, junegrass, and crushed wild strawberries,
hanging like incense in the warm night air. Scores of
small rodents, snakes, and birds that weren’t quick
enough to avoid the giant rotary blade will slowly
release a sweetish stench of a different ilk in the
coming
week, and provide endless opportunities for the dogs to
roll around in their decaying mortal remains. Yuck.
For several days we will see gulls, crows, coyotes, and
vultures working overtime to clean up the carcasses,
a circle of life that will not likely be the topic of any
cute animated Disney film.
And so it goes,
Daisy
~
Sunday, July 2, 2006 9:00 a.m.
68 degrees, breezy, overcast
After a couple of thundery showers during the wee hours
lasting only a couple-three minutes each,
it seems like clouds are slowly thinning out and wisps of
sunshine are trying to leak through. I no longer
bother to look at Nexrad radar or the online weather
report; every forecast for the past few weeks has
been wrong on many levels. When you look at the week’s
summary and there is a question mark next to
every date, it doesn’t take long to get the point,
nobody has a clue what will happen next. Several of the
last few days that have been declared stormy rainy
washouts by the weather pundits have been some of the
most beautiful days of the summer so far. Yesterday’s
high temperature was supposed to climb into the 80s,
but in reality a harsh north wind proved to lots of folks
at outdoor parties all over the area that shorts and
halter tops were a poor choice of garb. Many a hostess
was pressed into hauling out her spare sweaters
and afghans for the comfort of her guests. Paper plates
went frisbeeing across the lawns even before they
were emptied of food. At least there weren’t many
insects that could brave such a gale. At any rate, it
seems that the only thing we can truly count on is that
weather can be unpredictable, and to expect
just about anything. Be prepared to alter your plans at
the drop of a hat. And remember,
even in July, that hat could very well be a fleecy warm
one.
Take care,
Daisy
~
Saturday, July 1, 2006 8:00 a.m.
60 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
Last night was wonderfully cool, perfect for sleeping and
dreaming happy summery dreams.
Yesterday’s windy sunshine inspired a flurry of
outdoor activity and now the lawns and paths
are mowed into lush velvet, weeds are pulled,
strawberries plucked and potato bugs picked.
Colorado potato beetles have been somewhat slow to emerge
this season, and until yesterday
we have been able to keep them in check with diligent
search-and-destroy missions. All spud
varieties are in full bloom, purple, pink, and blinding
white, pretty enough for the flower bed. I
checked under a few plants to see if there were any
little new potatoes for our dinner, and found
a lot of pea-sized offerings but nothing with any real
size. We still have about a bushel of last year’s
potatoes stored in a small refrigerator. They are
certainly not as good as fresh new spuds, but still
beat the socks off of the ones found at the supermarket.
I reckon in about ten days we will be able
to find some tender little orbs for steaming, just about
the same time our first beans are ready.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
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