Sunday, August 31, 2003, 7:45 a.m.

58 degrees, gentle breeze, mostly sunny

The thermometer dropped to 39.9 last night, and an extra quilt felt good.
A thin slice of moon rose early in the western sky, and stars were brilliant.
Some people believe that stars are the campfires of their ancestors, and it
is a comforting sight to look up and know that all who have gone before are safe
and warm. That is a lovely thought. We took a walk on the Hill late yesterday,
just before dusk. Crickets were everywhere, and those that weren’t scurrying
out of our way were chirping a steady song, sounding like a fan belt just before
it snaps. The wind was just right last night, and we could hear the music wafting
up the gully from the festival at the ski area. It is interesting how sound carries
on the wind. Some mornings when I walk the dog I can hear a neighbor practicing
his bagpipes just as if he were in the same meadow with us. Before the mill in Lyons
Falls closed, the noon whistle carried at least five miles, if the wind was from the
east. The night after the war in Iraq started, we were shaken from our beds
with what appeared to be heavy artillery fire; it was just some fireworks a few
miles away. It sounded like bombs in the back yard. Most of the sounds that drift
up our way evoke pleasant thoughts. Those echoes of war were unsettling, to say the
least. Remember to be grateful for peace in our homeland, and send healing
energy to those in places that are ravaged by war.
Peace,
Daisy


Saturday, August 30, 2003, 7:30 a.m.

58 degrees, mostly cloudy, breezy

The morning air is a bit chilly, but fresh and sweet.
There are a few small patches of blue sky, but for the most part the sky
is dominated by clouds. A low dark grey layer is swiftly moving off to the east,
revealing large poofy white clouds higher up. There were several late afternoon
rain showers yesterday, one of them accompanied by loud thunder and nearby
lightning strikes. The ditches by the road were running nearly full during one deluge.
In spite of the storms, the bands played on last night to a hillside full of happy
folks. The power went off for about a half hour, so the intrepid women of
the band Antigone Rising played an acoustic set, encouraging the crowd to
sing along with some of the more familiar tunes. (I’ll bet that’s the first time
in Turin’s history that thousands of people all sang "Fat Bottomed Girls" at
the same time...) The wet weather is definitely on its way out, to be replaced
by cooler dryer conditions for the next few days. Tonight is supposed to be
downright cold, so break out the woolies and enjoy the stars.
Stay warm, but keep your cool,
Daisy


Friday, August 29, 2003, 7:45 a.m.

Mostly sunny, gentle breeze, 63 degrees

It is a beautiful start to a day that might see a little rain later on.
I passed the ski area last night, and everyone there is in a flurry of activity
getting ready for the moe.down, a three day festival of alternative music,
tasty food, drum circles, and dancing like dervishes on the side of the hill.
This is the fourth year for this event, and most of us have figured out how to
dress for optimum comfort when the night temps fall. The secret is to wear lots
of layers, and pack a microfiber poncho in case of rain. The winter long johns are
dragged out for this festival, followed by a fleece pullover with a down vest stuffed
in the backpack for later. Maybe the most important item is a warm hat or snuggly
headscarf, so all of the body heat doesn’t escape through the top of the head.
For the tent crowd, keeping your clothes in ziplock bags makes good sense in case
of a deluge; the drainage is not the best at the bottom of a ski slope, and at least
you will have some dry stuff to change into in case of a gully-washer. Last year
there was rain on Friday night, but that didn’t slow down the bands or the fans.
The youth of today (and some of us older kids as well) have figured out that it’s
only water, and if you get cold and wet, well, just dance a little harder.
The weather is perfect today for moe.’s golf tournament for charity.
No matter what your plans are, have a festive day,
Daisy


Thursday, August 28, 2003, 7:05 a.m.

Mostly sunny, gentle breeze, 51 degrees

There are pools of fog scattered willy-nilly about the valley,
but there is bright sunshine on Tug Hill this morning. We were greeted with
the steady whirring sound of crickets in the meadows. It is supposed to be good luck
to have a cricket in the house, but in reality they munch on carpets and upholstery,
and the cheerful chirp can become annoying after several days. It is hard to catch
a cricket, as they always see us creeping up on them and poof! they disappear. There
is a large flock of crows scattered about the hedgerows. They were making very unusual
noises at first light, a kind of low steady moaning, mournful and eerie. After a while
they started to stir, and the dirge was replaced by their more familiar raucous call.
This is a rather large flock that has gathered. Perhaps they are assembling to prepare
for a trip to warmer climes. Sometimes crows stick around for the winter, but not this
many of them. I often wonder what directs wildlife in its actions. Do they work merely
on instinct ? Or is it a concrete thought that crosses a crow’s mind, "I think I will see
what winter is like up here... hey, guys, who’s up for a little adventure?"
Many of my human friends think winter is for the birds, anyway...
Have a beautiful day,
Daisy


Wednesday, August 27, 2003, 8:15 a.m.

72 degrees, breezy, sunny

The sun’s warmth combined with the breeze’s crispness feels just right
this morning. Last night we stepped outside to check out Mars, and to tell
you the truth, it didn’t look much closer than it has for the past month.
It was big, bright red, and twinkling in the night sky brighter than any star,
a truly beautiful sight. However, since I have been looking at it ever since I
first heard about the once-in-a-lifetime chance to see it so close to Earth,
it was kind of anticlimactic to see that it looked pretty much the same as the
nights before. Instead of a "Wow!" it was more of a "Yeah, it’s still up there..."
Sometimes the miraculous becomes so familiar to us that we forget to be amazed.
Keep it fresh,
Daisy


Tuesday, August 26, 2003, 8:30 a.m.

61 degrees, gentle breeze, cloudy

There are a few small spots of blue sky winking out from the layers of cloud.
All shades of grey are represented, and many different kinds of clouds compete
for celestial space. Last night’s spectacular sunset was enhanced by big banks of
cumulus clouds. The fiery colors of our closest star were diffused through the
billowing masses, and they gradually took on hues of pink, salmon, and magenta.
The brilliant blue sky was a perfect contrast to the warm colors of the clouds.
At last, all turned mauve, plum, and aubergine as the Purple Hour fell across
the Hill. Clouds slowly filled in the blanks after sunset, and Mars was seen
in the mind’s eye only last night. At about 5:00 a.m. tomorrow morning the
red planet will be closest to earth it has been in recorded history. Check out
www.jackstargazer.com for more information about this rare sight. There is a storm
watch for later today, high winds and hail are possible. It is a good idea to pick
tender flowers that may get damaged. Fill your house with blossoms !
Gather ye rosebuds while you may,
Daisy


Monday, August 25, 2003, 7:45 a.m.

56 degrees, gentle breeze, overcast

The sun appeared above the horizon for only a brief time before
ascending into the dark layer of clouds. Skies are clear over the Adirondacks,
and there is no fog to be seen anywhere for the first time in weeks. The air
is cool and damp, and it feels like it could rain this morning. Yesterday we saw
several red efts on the forest path, sitting quite still as we passed. Most critters
will scurry out of the way, but these little salamanders freeze into statues at our
footfalls. The cute little wrigglers have an interesting life. They hatch from eggs
in water, as do all amphibians. Then, they spend two or three years as little
burnt-orange colored land-dwelling red efts. If they make it through those years
without being stepped on, eaten, or captured by children, the remainder of their
life span is spent as an eastern newt. Red efts live on land, and when they return
to the water they develop a broad tail for swimming and their beautiful skin turns
mossy green. They will spend the rest of their lives as newts. We also saw many
varieties of mushrooms emerging from the damp forest floor. Here and there,
a brilliant red maple leaf reposed in stark contrast with the dull brown duff layer.
No doubt about it, the summer is winding down. The big kids are headed off to
college, and the younger ones will try to pack a month’s worth of fun into this
final week before school re-opens.
Carpe diem,
Daisy


Sunday, August 24, 2003, 7:30 a.m.

54 degrees, windy, sunny

It was a chilly night with the temperature dropping to 48 degrees.
We left a lot of windows open to let in the wonderful fresh dry air.
Needless to say, the house is nice and cool this morning, and warmth
radiating from the kitchen range feels pretty good as its small fire burns
steadily. The wind is blowing from the northwest, but the sun is warming
the sheltered nooks and crannies. There are ribbons of milky white fog
following the Black River. There is a music festival along the river this weekend;
I hope the revelers remembered to pack their long johns ! It is an excellent day
for just about anything. After the pickles are sliced and beans are chucked into the
freezer, a long ramble in the woods will be just the ticket for a Sunday afternoon.
Have some fun today,
Daisy


Saturday, August 23, 2003, 8:30 a.m.

62 degrees, windy, sunny

Yesterday’s breeze turned into a refreshing chilly northwest wind by afternoon.
The air was crystal clear last night, and the stars have never been brighter. We
saw two shooting stars streaking across the sky, orphans leftover from last week’s
Perseid meteor shower. Mars is continuing to draw closer to Earth, and we are just
four days away from being the closest we will ever be in our lifetimes. Look up in
the sky tonight. You don’t even have to know where to look; just scan the skies
and there it will be, fiery red and brighter than any star. Today will be a perfect
day for any outdoor activity. It will be sunny, but not too hot. The wind will continue
throughout the day, driving mosquitoes and punkies right out of the neighborhood.
The temperature will dip into the forties tonight, so keep that extra quilt nearby.
Have a great day,
Daisy


Friday, August 22, 2003, 8:30 a.m.

73 degrees, breezy, hazy sunshine

The thunderstorm last night came in the nick of time to water the lawns
and gardens in the north country. The heat and humidity that weighed heavy on
us yesterday has been pushed aside by a cold front and a shift in the jet stream.
By tonight we will be looking for our fleecy pullovers and down vests to before we
venture out for a walk at sunset. The daylight hours are becoming
noticeably shorter and there is too much to do between sunrise and sunset.
It is easy to get caught up in the massive chores associated with
large-scale gardening, and neglect the quiet times that are also necessary.
A peaceful walk through the woods, a brief rest under a shady tree,
or just gathering a pet close for a snuggle, all are ways of calming the physical
body so that the mind’s eye can see the big picture. Just as our bodies thrive and
grow strong on the beautiful fresh fruits and vegetables of the garden, our inner
selves need a daily helping of quiet introspection and joyful praise. We must
remember to feed our spirits. Don’t forget to take a few moments to reflect
on the many gifts that life has bestowed, and thank the Universal Being(s) of
your choice. Share your joy with friends and family, let your inner
light shine through.
Peace,
Daisy


Thursday, August 21, 2003, 6:00 a.m.

60 degrees, breezy, sunny

The sun is rising, a big red ball emerging from the misty horizon.
There is fog in the entire valley this morning, not just along the river.
The sunrise is noticeably later every day, signaling the approach of the
autumnal equinox; this is somewhat unbelievable. The birds have been flocking
like it is autumn, and crickets chirp their evensongs when the late afternoon dew
starts to gather. Laundry must be brought in from the lines before midday, or it
grows damp again. It is, all of a sudden, late summer ! (when just a day ago it
was midsummer in all its glory...) Impossible! The corn is finally beginning to ripen,
tomatoes are not yet overrunning the house, and blackberries are still red on the
canes. But, the crickets... the birds... they can’t be mistaken, can they ? Time is
marching on, and the seasons turn in spite of us. Those of us with fifty summers
and more are stunned by the fact that our summers are statistically more than
half over. Yikes !
"Seize the day" becomes an imperative, rather than a mere recommendation.
Step lively, for time marches on...
Daisy


Wednesday, August 20, 2003, 7:30 a.m.

70 degrees, breezy, sunny

This morning is a copycat of the two before.
Haze sits over the valley like an huge bridal veil,
but here on the hill everything is dew-covered and bright in the morning sun.
A quick visit to the garden revealed that zucchini will continue to double in
size every day whether we are here to pick them or not. They very quickly
progress from tender little morsels to giant club-like monsters. Time to make
zucchini bread, or perhaps scoop out the seeds and stuff one with portabella
mushrooms, walnuts, lentils, and onions and bake for an hour, smothered with
stinky gorgonzola cheese. Fresh zucchini is something we always crave in the
dead of winter, when it is hard to remember the steamy, sultry, squash-rich
summer days of overabundance. Mother Nature has done a wonderful job of
caring for her children this summer. If you are not a gardener, make sure to
spend some time giving thanks for those who make your summer meals interesting.
If you do grow your own, remember to weave songs of joy into the fabric of
the hard daily toil that can often be overwhelming this time of year.
Sounding a sweet note on the horn of plenty,
Daisy


Tuesday, August 19, 2003, 7:30 a.m.

70 degrees, breezy, sunny

It is a perfect summer morning.
There is not a cloud in the sky and the sun rose above
the mist-shrouded valley in a blaze of orange. The tops of
the Adirondack mountains and their foothills are poking above
the valley fog like a pod of giant whales crossing a surreal celestial sea.
The air already feels quite warm, but lacks the humidity that can make
it seem oppressive. The breeze is fresh and from the west. Today we
will travel off the Hill for an elegant picnic brunch and an afternoon
of opera at Glimmerglass near Cooperstown. I am already anticipating
how wonderful it will be to sit on our back porch and watch the sunset
at the end of such a civilized day.
Ciao, Amore,
Daisy

Monday, August 18, 2003, 7:30 a.m.

68 degrees, breezy, sunny

The sun is very bright on Gomer Hill this morning.
There is a long band of thick fog that follows the river,
which is common in late summer. The cool temperature at night creates a
thermal inversion that keeps the warmer moist air trapped above the river until
things heat up a bit. It is pleasant to gaze out over the valley on a morning such
as this, soaking up the sun’s warmth as we sit above the clouds and sip fresh coffee.
The weather looks good for the entire week, which is sure to be a busy one of
picking, slicing, dicing, and processing fresh produce from the garden.
The first small crop of beans is pretty well played out, and the second
planting has taken a beating from all of the recent wet weather.
Much of that harvest had to be discarded due to mold, and the yield has
been somewhat disappointing. The beans that are developing in the
third crop are going to be wonderful; the plants are full of colorful blossoms and
small beans. Potato vines are starting to die back, a signal that the spuds are
ready to make a journey to the root cellar. Cucumbers and zucchini are
doubling in size every day; keeping them picked daily ensures an ongoing
crop until the first frost. Cantaloupe vines are setting marble-sized fruits.
If we have some good hot days, they should ripen in time for Labor Day weekend.
Time’s a-wasting, better head out now !
Have a productive day,
Daisy


Sunday, August 17, 2003, 7:45 a.m.

56 degrees, windy, overcast

There is a high thin layer of clouds that is keeping the sun from view,
and the morning air is downright chilly. Sandal-clad toes became wet and
cold as we made rounds with the dog. There was a heavy dew last night,
and the air was just right for snuggling down under the flannel comforter
for a sound sleep. We ventured off Tug Hill yesterday to visit Ferd’s Bog,
just outside the little town of Eagle Bay in the Adirondack Mountains.
A floating walkway took us into the heart of the bog. It was hot and sunny
and very still. Due to the recent heavy rains, a deep layer of water covered
much of the bog. Some of the higher ground was home to a tiny carnivorous
plant, the spatulate or broad-leaf sundew. Each hairy leaf is tipped with a
drop of sticky "dew". An unfortunate thirsty insect alights for a drink and
becomes stuck fast, soon to be digested into nutrients by enzymes secreted
from the leaves.. We watched a small fly buzz into such a fate yesterday.
The bog was also full of pitcher plants, another flesh-eater. These are large
pitcher-shaped leaves with water usually just in the bottom. The ones we saw
were filled brimful with water from the recent deluge. An insect will seek the
moisture in the bottom and be unable to climb back out, as there are downward
slanting bristles that line the inside of the cup. Several pitcher plants were blooming;
a large red and yellow tropical-appearing flower perched high above the plant on a
tough woody stalk. There were many unique other bog plants and the area was thick
with huge black dragonflies and beautiful iridescent blue damselflies.
There are reputedly bogs on Tug Hill but I have never found one.
Now that I know what to look for, I will keep my eyes open as we ride the back roads.
Have a great day,
Daisy


Saturday, August 16, 2003, 7:30 a.m.

68 degrees, calm, a little sun

The sky is pearly grey with darker clouds passing slowly by.
The sun has made a few brief appearances, shedding feeble light
without much heat. Two does and a fawn just went bounding up through
the meadow and crossed the road in a panic. Nothing was obviously chasing
them, but we saw a large coyote in the neighborhood yesterday who may have
initiated their flight. The fawn has grown well over the past two months, and
is now about half the size of its mother. These three deer come to our east
meadow nearly every day to graze and frolic, kicking up their heels in crazy
dances. As long as they keep away from our broccoli, it is pleasant watching
them cavort from the kitchen window. Several hummingbirds were busy this
morning going from bloom to bloom. They particularly enjoy nectar from the
bee balm that runs rampant in the bank. A dozen potted geraniums lure the
tiny birds to the back porch, and if we sit very still, they will also explore
a half-empty mug of dark beer. This is the time of year when hummingbirds
hatch and the parents are busy filling their crops to carry nectar back to
the nest and regurgitate it down the young’uns’ throats. If you have a
hummingbird feeder, it is important to keep it filled during August,
as the birds have come to rely on this steady source of food. Hollyhocks,
bee balm, and lilies keep our little buzzing buddies satisfied all month long.
Have a hum-dinger of a day,
Daisy


Friday, August 15, 2003, 6:45 a.m.

64 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny

There is a serious breeze coming from the northwest this morning, crisp and cool.
It would be wise to get the garden chores done before the heat of the day sets in.
Finally, we have been able to pick beans without the threat of soil-born disease
being transmitted to wet foliage by busy hands. Zucchini and beets are also ready
for the freezer, and it won’t be long before pickle jars are needed for all those
cucumbers. One of my favorite midsummer jobs is to replace the large bundles of
sunflowers that reign over the corners of the kitchen. We plant several crops of
these beauties at two week intervals, and have been blessed this summer with a
bumper crop of multicolored blooms. They are so easy to grow; every garden should
have a few. Fun ‘n’ Sun from Burpee Seeds has the perfect mix of red, orange,
and yellow flowers, with dozens of blossoms on each stem.
Yesterday’s huge blackout did not affect our part of the grid but some of the
homes on the flats were without power for quite a while. Because of the high
winds in our neck of the woods, we are always ready for power outages, with
a supply of oil lamps and candles, and a flashlight next to every bed. After the
extended loss of power following the microburst of the mid-90’s, we bought a
generator to protect the freezers full of meat and veggies, but haven’t had to
use it yet. According to the morning news, there are still millions without power
in cities all over the northeast and parts of the midwest. I will certainly count my
many blessings today, and we should all pray for the safety of those in hot crowded
cities who will be dependent on the kindness of neighbors until the power is restored.
Let your light shine,
Daisy


Thursday, August 14, 2003, 9:00 a.m.

76 degrees, breezy, partly sunny

The air is pure and dry this morning, not a whiff of rain in the breeze.
The meadow is filled with butterflies of all colors and sizes, wafting from
bloom to bloom as they feed. We were fortunate to have a great view of the
Perseid meteors last night just after sunset. Several fell straight to the horizon,
and one long bright one streamed across the sky for a couple of seconds.
The moon rose brilliantly orange with Mars blood-red at its side. The weather
was perfect with a cool breeze keeping the mosquitoes at bay. I set my alarm
for 3:00 a.m. and arose to try and catch the fabled rain of meteors. Alas,
the moon was high and bright, and the stars were very faint in the well-lit sky.
I wandered around the gardens to see if any little bandits were sampling the corn,
and saw a couple of pale streaks across the northern sky. There were two narrow
bands of clouds drifting slowly south, and Mars was still bright but not as red as
before. I stretched out on the picnic table and let my mind wander for quite a
while, not expecting anything specific. There were a few small shooting stars in
my peripheral vision, very nice, but it was more of a meteor drizzle than a shower.
Just as I was about to give up and return to my warm bed, a large flash of dusty
radiance passed from east to west and split the sky in half.! What a spectacular
conclusion to my night vigil! Other years have had more frequent meteors, but this
one will be remembered as the summer of the ghostly giant that divided the sky.
"Ahhh! Divided sky, the wind blows high..." (Phish)
On with the day,
Daisy


Wednesday, August 13, 2003, 7:45 a.m.

66 degrees, calm, foggy

I don’t know when the fog rolled in, but it has been here at least since
2:30 a.m. when I arose to try and see the Perseid meteor shower. The
moon was bright enough to shine through the haze, as was the planet Mars.
Earth and the red planet are moving very close to each other. On August 27th,
Mars will come to within 34,649,589 miles of Earth and will be the brightest
object (except for the moon) in the night sky. Such was the case last night,
when the light from zillions of stars was unable to penetrate the mist, yet Mars
and the moon gleamed through the fog beautifully. The next time Mars may come
this close is in 2287. Meanwhile, we will have another shot at seeing meteors tonight.
The best hours for viewing are just after dark for some occasional activity near
the horizon; the main show will be between 2:00 and 4:00 a.m., with shooting
stars all over the celestial dome. Even if it is fogged in again tonight, the next
three or four nights will have a few stragglers streaking across the night sky.
Don’t forget to admire Mars while you’re at it !
Keep looking up,
Daisy


Tuesday, August 12, 2003, 7:15 a.m.

66 degrees, calm, mostly cloudy, fog along the river

This morning the sun rose through the clouds one ray at a time,
not the usual burst of warm colors, but silvery beams slanting towards earth.
The air is warm and moist; visibility is better than it has been for several days.
We can see the farms along the upper roads, but everything along Route 12 is
shrouded in heavy fog. Each blade and leaf in the yard and gardens is shiny
with water droplets, and the sunflowers are brilliant against the dark green leaves.
The past few weeks of stormy weather have offered a wonderful variety of light
conditions. Some of the best visual effects are the moments just before a
thunderstorm, with the sun shining brightly on everything nearby and the
background gloomy with menacing shadows. The sharp contrasts of light
and dark make everyday objects appear fantastic and surreal, a fairy
tale quality that has me keeping a wary eye out for an occasional ogre
or troll. The clouds are dispersing now, and the sun is becoming more
of a presence. One or two more days of rain, then a reprieve is promised.
It’s all good,
Daisy


Monday, August 11, 2003, 8:00 a.m.

73 degrees, calm, mostly sunny, valley fog

The sun is hot and bright this morning on Gomer Hill.
It is already uncomfortably humid, with the surface water evaporating
into the air where it hangs heavy and still. Last night there was no rain
so we could sleep with the windows open for the first time in several days.
After the hard downpours of yesterday there was a wonderful breeze that
continued through the night, clearing the stuffy air from the house. There
is a chance of more rain today, so if you have laundry to hang or other outdoor
activities to pursue, get started now (or sooner, if possible...) Weeds have been
pulling easily from the soaked soil; don’t work around the beans, though, until
things dry out a bit. The weather pundits are promising an end to the monsoon
by the middle of the week. We are hoping for clear nights Tuesday and
Wednesday so the Perseid meteor shower will be visible. Last night’s
nearly full moon was a beautiful sight after so many rainy and foggy
skies. I saw one long and brilliant shooting star just before I retired,
a preview of the show to come.
Have an excellent day,
Daisy

Sunday, August 10, 2003, 8:30 a.m.

67 degrees, calm, overcast, valley fog

This morning is almost an exact repeat of yesterday except the sun
has not yet made an appearance. It rained hard up here on Tug Hill last night.
The after-dinner walk with the dog was cut short by the downpour, yet after
a hard day’s work the rain felt cool and refreshing on my bare arms and legs.
Whatever else is said about the wet weather we have had lately, it certainly
has been great for all growing things. The constant supply of moisture and the
mild temperatures both day and night have helped produce a bounty of garden
goodies like no summer in several years. Last spring as we poked tiny seeds into
the ground and nurtured along little green seedlings on the sunporch we hoped
for this kind of overabundance in mid-summer. Bouquets of sunflowers and lilies
fill the house, and fresh fragrant veggies and herbs fill our plates. Every meal
features two or three gently cooked vegetables, and the salad bowl is overflowing
with crisp greens, cukes, baby beans, and pungent herbs; we even throw in some
common garden weeds like purslane and wood sorrel. Our days will be busier than
ever as we try to keep up with the mountains of beans and spackle buckets full of
corn that will end up in the freezer. Lazy hazy days of summer my eye !
The hazy part is certainly correct lately, but lazy just isn’t on the schedule until
well after the first frost. The work is done with love, and as we eat our naturally
delicious meals on cold wintry nights, we will remember the steamy hot days of
summer and the simple joy of honest toil.
Thank you, Mother Earth !
Daisy

Saturday, August 9, 2003, 7:30 a.m.

67 degrees, calm, hazy sunshine, valley fog

It is a very still morning, not one little tremble of an aspen leaf.
Now and then the quiet explodes with the sound of several crows calling
repeatedly back and forth. The birds are shrouded by the fog on the other
side of the treeline, so it is impossible to tell what activity accompanies their
frantic hollering. Last night the waxing moon hung bright in the sky, and several
stars emerged from the clouds to wink at us. The moon will be full on Tuesday;
this is also the date when the Perseid meteor shower will be at it peak of activity.
Fortunately for stargazers, the moon will set before the optimal viewing time
between two and four in the morning. It is definitely worth a little planning
ahead to see this celestial fireworks show. The meteors will also be visible
on Wednesday night. Make a date with yourself to sit out in your lounge
chair with a fleecy blanket and a thermos of cocoa; invite friends and
family and finish the night with an omlette at sunrise. Life is short;
who knows how many more Perseids we will have a chance
to see during our earthly visit ?
Starry eyed,
Daisy


Friday, August 8, 2003, 7:00 a.m.

64 degrees, calm, hazy sunshine, valley fog

It did not rain last night but there was a very heavy dew.
The lawn is covered with a thick layer of fat water droplets, and I left
a clear trail of footprints as I walked the dog. The sunrise was very colorful
this morning, and a welcome change from the dull foggy greetings of recent days.
Our lawn is full of fairy ring mushrooms, a variety of marasmius that grows in a
circular pattern. The grass is darker green around the fungi, as this species emits
nitrogen as it develops and gives the surrounding area a little boost of fertilizer.
Legend has it that these mushrooms will only emerge from the soil after the surface
has been disturbed by the feet of fairies as they dance to honor Mother Earth under
the night sky of midsummer. Now that would be something to see !
(Of course I believe in fairies, don’t you?) The mushrooms are edible,
but it is easy for a novice mycophagist to mistake two other poisonous
varieties for these tasty little beige morsels. There is a bounty of native
wild edibles on Tug Hill, from the first leeks and greens of spring through
autumn’s tart and juicy apples. Stick with what you know to be wholesome
and leave the unfamiliar alone.
Have a great day,
Daisy


Thursday, August 7, 2003, 8:30 a.m.

66 degrees, windy, very foggy

The fog is so dense that water has collected on the interior sills of the windows
that were open all night. The aspen tree just outside of the computer window is
barely visible through the thick air. This is the tree that I use as an indicator
of wind speed since the anemometer broke. Today the leaves are shaking and
moving the whole branch, so it is windy. A breeze occurs when just the leaves
are shaking. If the leaves are not moving at all, it is calm. Guess we’d better get
the anemometer repaired before the leaves fall from the tree in November.
Of course, I could always determine wind conditions by how horizontally the snow
is blowing. One of the best things about living on top of Gomer Hill is the view
from this window. As I look at this morning’s fog and recall the driving snows of
winter, I realize that the passage of time is often marked by our views of familiar
things on a daily basis. My view of the Black River Valley as seen through this south
window has been an indicator of the linear nature of time for only three years,
just since we put the computer in front of it. A more constant vista has been that
of the Adirondack Mountains and the valley as seen through the eastern kitchen-sink
window and the back porch. Today I could barely see the birdhouse at the corner of
the garden as I washed dishes. Over the years I have seen a vast array of animals
(both wild and domestic), scads of trees and flowers, spectacular storms, rainbows,
and our beautiful children as they passed through all of the miraculous and sometimes
frightening stages of life. The connection that we feel to a certain place is tied in to
the affection we feel for familiar objects and the changes that naturally occur;
the trees grow and we grow as well, both in years and in experience.
Look around you today. What things help define your place in the physical world ?
What do you see day after day, and how have things changed ?
Look and see,
Daisy


Wednesday, August 6, 2003, 10:30 a.m.

65 degrees, breezy, overcast

I just got home from the extra early shift and the sky is heavy with
the possibility of more rain. At 4:30 this morning the wet roadway was
full of small suicidal frogs, determined to see what was on the other side.
They were all crossing from left to right; I never saw one frog coming from
right to left. Just before Talcottville there was a huge snapping turtle just
moseying off of the road and onto the shoulder. One time a few years ago I
saw a turtle in nearly the same place and he was on his back. I flipped him
over with my foot and then, thinking to get him off the road, I attempted to
pick him up by the shell. Wow! That huge set of jaws is attached to the end
of a very flexible snake-like neck, and he nearly got my arm. Another good
samaritan stopped and scooped the critter up in a shovel and took him to the
road bank. There is a small pond by the road, but it doesn’t seem possible that
such a little body of water could support such enormous snapping turtles.
It makes me think twice about swimming in local waters.
If the rain holds off, it is a good day for some of the harder outdoor jobs,
like splitting and piling firewood.
Timberrrrr...
Daisy


Tuesday, August 5, 2003, 7:30 a.m.

66 degrees, breezy, foggy

It is unbelievably damp out this morning. My hair hangs in limp strings,
the dog has little soggy dredlocks, and the biscotti has the consistency of
spongecake. We didn’t have much rain overnight, but the area is still so
saturated from Sunday’s storm that the fantastic plot of the film Waterworld
seems more plausible every day. Our gardens suffered quite a bit of damage
from the high winds and hard-driving rain. The early corn is mostly smacked flat,
and the larger cornfield has an area right in the middle that has been knocked
straight to the ground. Most of the first crop of sunflowers has been uprooted and
their bright faces are buried in mud. Hollyhocks all over the yard are horizontal,
and their leaves will mildew quickly in this weather; might as well whack those up
into compost. Lettuce and spinach are covered with dirt that splashed up on the
plants during the worst of the downpour, and the heads are cosmetically unfit for
sale. I wonder how much lettuce we can eat in the next few days? Fortunately,
we picked most of the ripe raspberries; the unripe ones managed to hold on for
dear life and some should be ready later today. Everything else is in good shape;
thank goodness for stout stems and sturdy plants. The blustery cold spring weather
on Tug Hill hardens seedlings and makes stronger mature plants. I reckon that is
true of the people up here, too. While others are grumbling under their umbrellas
at outdoor events in the summer rain, Hillheads are the people you see smiling and
remarking, "At least it keeps the bugs down..."
Singin’ in the rain,
Daisy

Monday, August 4, 2003, 7:30 a.m.

66 degrees, calm, overcast, valley fog

The rain tapered off late last night with just a few more distant rumbles
of thunder lulling us to sleep. We were picking raspberries when the first
storm blew through; one minute it was hot and buggy, the next we were
running for cover. That hard rain came out of nowhere. Usually we can see
and hear a thunderstorm approaching, but yesterday there was a loud boom,
a flash, and driving rain all at once. It rained so hard that a little pond
appeared in our neighbor’s yard. The forecast for the week is for more of
the same, hot steamy days relieved by a daily storm or two.
The garden crops will be growing like weeds. (Unfortunately, so will the weeds.)
The first sowing of beans is just about at its peak of production, and we will
just have to risk infecting the plants with soil-borne disease from picking them
wet, or the beans will get moldy in this weather. What the heck, there are three
successive plantings after this one, plenty to go around. It is wonderful to have such
a green and lush summer, after the past few years of dry brown August landscapes.
Have a great day,
Daisy


Sunday, August 3, 2003, 8:30 a.m.

71 degrees, calm, overcast, valley fog

It is a still morning full of birdsong.
A pair of hummingbirds kept scoping out the red geraniums on the porch
while we sipped our coffee. The sweet warble of robins seems to be everywhere,
and a pair of mourning doves is cooing from the apple tree. The valley fog comes
right up to our treeline, and even the nearest neighbor’s house is obscured by mist.
The air is clear as a bell up here, with the sun occasionally poking through the high
thin clouds. Last night’s thunderstorms never really made an appearance on our part
of the Hill. We heard distant thunder and saw far-off fireworks, and even had a
few brief showers, but no real action. If the sun comes out for good it will be
another hot and steamy day, good for vegetables and fruits but hard on humankind.
Seek the shade,
Daisy


Saturday, August 2, 2003, 8:45 a.m.

64 degrees, calm, foggy

Yesterday’s rain followed by the night fog has left a fantasy world imprinted on
the landscape. Every leaf and blossom hangs heavy with droplets just waiting
for the slightest breeze to release their load. The fog has surrounded moist
grassy blades so that the tiniest spider webs look like cotton candy suspended
above the meadow. Asparagus fronds are shrouded with clinging vapors;
the whole bed looks like an illustration from The Faerie Queen. In just a dozen
steps our sneakers were filled with water as we squished our way around the paths,
enjoying the stillness of the morning. The gigantic woodchuck that lives under the
barn made a brief appearance, then waddled back home. As close as that critter
lives to our gardens, she is content to graze on wild greens. Lucky woodchuck,
so far she is not a candidate for relocation. Since we have hung old compact discs
from ski poles here and there, deer have not been a problem lately either.
The bright disc’s reflection deters them during daylight, and at night the hard plastic
make a soft sound as the breeze knocks it against the metal pole. All is well between
us and the marauding browsers for now. Soon the corn will be ripe, and that is a whole
other story as we try to outwit the raccoons. What will work this year:
Hot pepper spray ? Cat droppings ? Dog hair ?
One year our kids camped out by the cornfield with bottle rockets and firecrackers.

Ah, the sun is breaking through !
It looks like a beautiful, hot, steamy summer day is on the way.
Keep cool,
Daisy


Friday, August 1, 2003, 7:30 a.m.

57 degrees, breezy, raining

It has been raining steadily since the middle of the night.
There has been enough volume to create fairly deep puddles in the yard.
The cats show no interest in venturing outdoors; all are dozing on the throw
rugs in the kitchen, arranged like folk art around the kitchen range. I started
a small fire just to get the dampness out of the house and it feels good.
The rain has brought out all kinds of summery aromas this morning. Ripe
raspberries’ fruity sweet whiff combines with the rich earthy smell of wet
clay soil in a heady scent that could never be bottled for sale.
The unforgettable odor of worm castings atop the tilled gardens stirs a primal
memory for all who have ever walked to school on a rainy morning and exclaimed,
"It smells like worms." The sharp smell of softwood smoke is drifting downward
from the chimney and adds to the mix a hint of autumn to come.
Have a fragrant day,
Daisy

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