~
Friday, August 31, 2007 6:30 a.m.
51 degrees, breezy, foggy
Fog rolled up the valley like smoke before dawn, slowly
swallowing up the few remaining stars that hung around
after
a cool clear night. It was too chilly even for crickets,
and a late
night walk was punctuated only by the sound of wind
through the
corn. A gibbous moon is slightly visible through the
haze, and the
sky to the east is brightly pink with a hint of the sun’s
whereabouts
as the mist swirls and shifts. The air seems almost alive
this morning,
colorful and rich with the aromas of new-mown grass and
the last of
the roses. If you are headed to Snow Ridge for the music
festival
this weekend, be sure to pack some long johns and a warm
hat.
Have a great day and festive night,
Daisy
~
Thursday, August 30, 2007 6:30 a.m.
62 degrees, breezy, hazy sunshine
It is just a little bit foggy at ground level here on top
of Tug Hill,
with no view of the valley at all, so they must be really
socked in at
lower elevations. Sun shines on the treetops,
highlighting a beautiful
early orange patch on one of our maple trees that line
the road. A few
forsythia twigs are sporting deep crimson leaves, but
they are still under
a misty veil for the time being. I was awakened early by
a deer snorting
in the garden nearest the house, so I went out to tell
her that she had better
not even think about nibbling on my main crop of broccoli
which is just begin-
ning to form tender little heads. She was halfway down
the meadow by the
time I opened the door, hopefully freaked out enough to
stay away for a
few more weeks. We picked a whole lot of corn yesterday,
and now that
we have enough in the freezer I have left a few ripe ears
standing on the
stalks just for the raccoons and crows that have been so
patient this
summer. We finally found a variety that grows well in
just about any
condition, Seneca Horizon; most important, it
germinated at nearly
100% in our cool spring soil, something the newer hybrids
are not
able to achieve. It was the only variety we grew this
summer, and
it’s a keeper. We could see some rain this morning,
with every-
thing clearing nicely for this weekend’s music
festival at Snow
Ridge, the 8th annual moe.down. What fun !
have a great day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, August 29, 2007 7:30 a.m.
65 degrees, breezy, hazy sunshine
Humidity is high this morning, but as long as this
pleasant breeze holds
steady we are in for a comfortable summer day. A
thunderstorm may pass
through later, which would be more than welcome to help
raise the level of
the water table. We dug potatoes yesterday and it was
easy work in such dry
soil. The yield is greater than we expected; both size
and quantity of tubers is
good. Potatoes grow best during seasons with ample
rainfall, so we were sur-
prised that even with the draught we will have more than
enough spuds for us
and our friends. A large flock of wild turkeys is in the
potato field this morning,
probably picking colorado potato beetle larvae out of the
detritus of dead vines
and weeds. There are five hens and a couple dozen young
birds, all moving stead-
ily up the rows, heads down and busily munching. I don’t
know if they are eating
the culls; we will have to investigate after they leave.
We picked what may be the
last of the cucumbers, as the vines have some blight that
has turned the leaves
crispy-brown. They are still loaded with bright yellow
blossoms, so we will
see what happens. Sometimes even the gnarliest of plants
will make a last-
ditch effort to produce seed when stressed. Even though
we trimmed all
the flowers from tomato plants a few weeks ago, it seems
that they have
put out twice as many as we cut off, so intense is Mother
Nature’s dictum
to propagate the species. It is a good thing that most of
humankind has no
such overwhelming drive, lest we run out of room to stand
on the planet.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, August 28, 2007 6:30 a.m.
54 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
We arose before dawn to watch a total eclipse of the
moon, accompanied by the
frantic yelps and high-pitched wails of every coyote and
dog in the neighborhood.
We watched from the yard as the shadow of the earth
slowly slid up the surface of
the full moon, and as it reached totality the whole show
set behind the balsam trees
on the western horizon. This is the second eclipse of the
year; the previous one was
March 3rd. I don’t know if this morning’s event
got much press, as I haven’t turned
on the television in over a week, but I didn’t find
out about it until last night or I would
have put an alert in yesterday’s piece for you all.
Thank goodness for National Public
Radio or we would have missed it. After the black moon
set, the eastern sky gleamed
neon pink in anticipation of a stunning sunrise. As we
draw closer to the autumnal equin-
ox, our days lose an increasing amount of natural light,
with almost three minutes less
today than yesterday. Our long-day heat-loving crops are
nearing the end of their
run, and will need as much encouragement as we can give
them, pruning off excess
blossoms and getting ready to cover them in case of a
surprise early frost. Onion
tops are folded over double, a signal that it is time to
pull them and give them a
few weeks on racks to dry their outer layers of skin for
storage. Stiff-necked
garlic has been curing for six weeks, and we must
trim up the bulbs and move
them into their bins in the cellar, saving out the best
for planting later in October.
We are in for a mostly dry week, with just a chance of
showers Thursday;
conditions are nearly perfect to begin to gather in the
crops that are ready.
Enjoy your tasks,
Daisy
~
Monday, August 27, 2007 7:30 a.m.
60 degrees, calm, partly sunny
It is wonderful to watch the sun come up over the
Adirondacks
from the comfy warmth of my own kitchen after a week of
chilly
seaside air. Ocean breezes blew away the warmth of the
sun, and
swimming was out of the question although the weather was
perfect
for just about everything else. We explored a new trail
that winds through
a mile or so of pine forest before opening out onto the
rocks that make the
coast of Maine so unique. Previous visitors had made
fantastic sculptures
by piling up loose stones; some were huge and must have
required the use
of levers and many hands to put them into place. Wild
fruits were abundant
along the trail, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries,
lingonberries, and small
tart apples, but we just enjoyed small samples, leaving
the bulk for the birds
that dogged our tracks. We arrived back on Gomer Hill
late Saturday to
light rain and a tidy house, thanks to the friends who
cared for the farm in
our absence. Our final crop of corn is approaching full
sweetness; I reckon
the local raccoons will let us know when it is ready.
Everything grew well,
including weeds, but as it is the end of the season for
many of the crops
we won’t bother with them except in the new
broccoli, carrots, lettuce
and spinach. Gladiolas, dahlias, and sunflowers beg to be
picked and
passed out to friends. Potato vines are dead, so ready or
not, the
spuds will be dug later this week. There is much to do,
but it is
with renewed appreciation that the tasks will be tackled.
There’s no place like home,
Daisy
I hope you enjoyed the selections in this column of the
past ten days.
Many were from a site called the Daily Om and the
poems were from
The Writer’s Almanac http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/
.
~
August 26, 2007
Experiencing Nature By Night
Moon Gardens
In the height of summertime's heat, we drift outdoors
at dusk to refresh ourselves in
the temperate air of evening. Cricket song and the glow
of fireflies come together with
ever-lengthening shadows to create a natural symphony of
overlapping sensations that in-
vigorate the body and gladden the soul. As the sun sets,
the vivid colors of most flowers
and leaves fade, becoming a dull grey, but moon gardens
provide us with a space to ap-
preciate Mother Nature's bounty long after the light of
day has retreated. Designed to be
enjoyed from dusk until the coming of the darkness, these
gardens serve as a perfect
complement to silvery moonlight, mild summer nights, and
the spirit of rejuvenation.
Most plant life worships the sun, but a select few shrubs
and flowers come into
their own in luna's glow. The silvery leaves of lamb's
ears and artemisia reflect the
radiance of the moon, while the bright-white flowers
adorning yucca and evening
primrose seem to shimmer brilliantly in dusk's gloom.
Certain blossoms such as
the moonflower and four o'clocks open only at night,
releasing their sweet frag-
rances in spectacular displays of scent and beauty. While
creating a moon gar-
den, remember to take each human sense into account. We
appreciate the
ghostly beauty of nighttime nature best when we can sit
comfortably until our
eyes have adjusted to the surrounding darkness. Bamboo
and thick grasses
make a comforting sound when bandied about by gentle
nighttime breezes.
Transforming a portion of your existing yard or patio
into a moon garden is simple,
and the pleasure you will derive from your nighttime
retreat will become worth it once
you start to enjoy it. Green spaces come alive at night
when nocturnal blossoms release
their perfume into the air and ethereally lovely and
luminous foliage dances in the breeze.
In a moon garden, relaxation is a simple matter of
attuning yourself to the stillness of evening
and seeing, for the first time, the myriad shades of
beauty that can be found in the darkness.
~
August 25, 2007
Twilight: After Haying
Yes, long shadows go out
from the bales; and yes, the soul
must part from the body:
what else could it do?
The men sprawl near the baler,
too tired to leave the field.
They talk and smoke,
and the tips of their cigarettes
blaze like small roses
in the night air. (It arrived
and settled among them
before they were aware.)
The moon comes
to count the bales,
and the dispossessed—
Whip-poor-will, Whip-poor-will
—sings from the dusty stubble.
These things happen ... the soul's bliss
and suffering are bound together
like the grasses ...
The last, sweet exhalations
of timothy and vetch
go out with the song of the bird;
the ravaged field
grows wet with dew.
~
August 24, 2007
Falling Asleep in the Garden
All day the bees have come to the garden.
They hover, swivel in arcs and, whirling, light
On stamens heavy with pollen, probe and revel
Inside the yellow and red starbursts of dahlias
Or cling to lobelia's blue-white mouths
Or climb the speckled trumpets of foxgloves.
My restless eyes follow their restlessness
As they plunge bodily headfirst into treasure,
Gold-fevered among these horns of plenty.
They circle me, a flowerless patch
With nothing to offer in the way of sweetness
Or light against the first omens of evening.
Some, even now, are dying at the end
Of their few weeks, some being born in the dark,
Some simply waiting for life, but some are dancing
Deep in their hives, telling the hungry
The sun will be that way, the garden this far:
This is the way to the garden. They hum at my ear.
And I wake up, startled, seeing the early
Stars beginning to bud in constellations.
The bees have gathered somewhere like petals closing
For the coming of the cold. The silhouette
Of a sphinx moth swerves to drink at a flowerhead.
The night-blooming moon opens its pale corolla
~
August 23
Beans in Blossom
by John Clare
The south-west wind! how pleasant in the face
It breathes! while, sauntering in a musing pace,
I roam these new ploughed fields; or by the side
Of this old wood, where happy birds abide,
And the rich blackbird, through his golden bill,
Utters wild music when the rest are still.
Luscious the scent comes of the blossomed bean,
As o'er the path in rich disorder lean
Its stalks; when bees, in busy rows and toils,
Load home luxuriantly their yellow spoils.
The herd-cows toss the molehills in their play;
And often stand the stranger's steps at bay,
Mid clover blossoms red and tawny white,
Strong scented with the summer's warm delight.
~
August 22, 2007
while Daisy is on a break,
we have the Daily Om
The Time of Your Life
Learning to Slow Down
Throughout our lives, we are taught to value speed and
getting things done quickly.
We learn that doing is more valuable than merely being,
and that making the most of
life is a matter of forging ahead at a hurried pace. Yet
as we lurch forward in search
of some elusive sense of fulfillment, we find ourselves
feeling increasingly harried and
disconnected. More importantly, we fail to notice the
simple beauty of living. When
we learn to slow down, we rediscover the significance of
seemingly inconsequential
aspects of life. Mealtimes become meditative celebrations
of nourishment. A job well-
done becomes a source of profound pleasure, no matter
what the nature of our labors.
In essence, we give ourselves the gift of time—time
to indulge our curiosity, to enjoy
the moment, to appreciate worldly wonders, to sit and
think, to connect with others,
and to explore our inner landscapes more fully.
A life savored slowly need not be passive, inefficient,
or slothful. Conducting
ourselves at a slower pace enables us to be selective in
how we spend our time
and to fully appreciate each passing moment. Slowness can
even be a boon in
situations that seem to demand haste. When we pace
ourselves for even a few
moments as we address urgent matters, we can center
ourselves before moving
ahead with our plans. Embracing simplicity allows us to
gradually purge from our
lives those commitments and activities that do not
benefit us in some way. The
extra time we consequently gain can seem like vast, empty
stretches of wasted
potential. But as we learn to slow down, we soon realize
that eliminating unne-
cessary rapidity from our experiences allows us to fill
that time in a constructive,
fulfilling, and agreeable way. We can relish our morning
rituals, linger over quality
time with loved ones, immerse ourselves wholeheartedly in
our work, and take
advantage of opportunities to nurture ! ourselves every
single day.
You may find it challenging to avoid giving in to the
temptation to rush,
particularly if you have acclimated to a world of split-second
communication,
cell phones, email and overflowing agendas. Yet the sense
of continuous accomp-
lishment you lose when you slow down will quickly be
replaced by feelings of mag-
nificent contentment. Your relaxed tempo will open your
mind and heart to deeper
levels of awareness that help you discover the true
gloriousness of being alive.
~
August 21, 2007
while Daisy is on a break,
we have the Daily Om
Redefining Health
Throw Away Your Scale
Health is not a numerical concept and cannot be
defined using statistics. Human beings, feel compelled to
ascribe numbers to every aspect of wellness, from the
qualities of our food to our fitness levels to the phys-
ical space we occupy. As a consequence of social
pressures, we turn our attention away from health and
focus instead on the most contentious of these figures-weight-checking
our scales to see how we measure
up to our peers and role models. Yet each of us is
equipped to gauge our relative healthfulness without
any equipment whatsoever. When we have achieved a state
of wellness, we feel buoyant and energetic.
Some of us are naturally slim, while others will always
be curvy. No matter what our weight, we can
use the cues we receive from our physical and mental
selves to judge how healthy we really are.
When you throw away your scale, you commit to a lifestyle
that honors the innate wisdom that comes
from within your body and within your mind. It is logical
to examine how you feel while considering your
health-a strong, fit, and well-nourished individual will
seldom feel heavy, bloated, or fatigued. If you have
concerns regarding your weight, remind yourself that at
its proper weight, your body will feel buoyant and
agile. Movement becomes a source of joy. Sitting,
standing, walking, and bending are all easy to do because
your joints and organs are functioning as they were meant
to. When you are physically healthy, your mind will
also typically occupy a place of well-being. Mental
clarity and an ability to focus are two natural traits of
whole-
self health. Surprisingly, promoting this type of easy-to-discern
wellness within yourself takes no special effort
outside of satisfying your hunger with nourishing,
wholesome foods and moving your body.
The numbers you see on the scale, while nominally
informative, can prevent you from reaching
your healthful eating goals by giving you a false
indicator of health. You will know when you
have achieved true health because every fiber of your
being will send you signals of wellness.
When you choose to listen to these signals instead of
relying on the scale, your definition of
well-being will be uniquely adapted to the needs of your
body and of your mind.
~
August 20, 2007
while Daisy is on a break,
we have the Daily Om
As We Ebb And Flow Through Life
Changing Roles
As we bob and weave with the ebb and flow of life our
roles change, but our true self remains constant.
As spiritual beings having a human experience, we go
through many aspects of humanity in one lifetime.
Living in the material world of opposites, labels, and
classifications, we often identify ourselves by the roles
we play, forgetting that these aspects shift and change
throughout our lives. But when we anchor ourselves
in the truth of our being, that core of spirit within us,
we can choose to embrace the new roles as they come,
knowing that they give us fresh perspective on life and a
greater understanding of the lives of others.
As children, we anticipated role changes eagerly in our
rush to grow up. Though fairy tales led us to
believe that "happily ever after" was a final
destination, the truth is that life is a series of
destinations, mere
stops on a long journey filled with differing terrain. We
may need to move through a feeling of resistance
as we shift from spouse to parent, leader to subordinate,
caregiver to receiver, or even local to newcomer.
It can be helpful to bid a fond farewell to the role that
we are leaving before we welcome the new. This is
the purpose of ceremonies in cultures throughout the
world and across time. We can choose from any
in existence or create our own to help us celebrate our
life shifts and embrace our new adventures.
Like actors on the stage of the world, our different
roles are just costumes that we inhabit
and then shed. Each role we play gives us another
perspective through which to understand
ourselves and the nature of the universe. When we take a
moment to see that each change
can be an adventure, a celebration, and a chance to play
a new part, we may even be able
to recapture the joyful anticipation of our youth as we
transition from one role to the next.
~
August 19, 2007
while Daisy is on a break,
we have the Daily Om
Putting Power In Perspective
Always Be For Something
As human beings, we cannot help but be subject to our
preferences.
Every value we hold dear is an expression of either
support or opposition,
and it is our perspective that determines whether we are for
something or
against it. For example, We can direct our energy
and intentions into activities
that promote peace rather than using our resources to
speak out in opposition
of war. On the surface, these appear to be two
interchangeable methods of ex-
pressing one virtue, yet being for something is a
vastly more potent means of
inspiring change because it carries with it the power of
constructive intent.
When you support a cause, whether your support is active
or passive,
you contribute to the optimism that fuels all affirmative
change. Optimistic
thoughts energize people, giving them hope and inspiring
them to work dili-
gently on behalf of what they believe in. Being for
something creates a positive
shift in the universe, which means that neither you nor
those who share your vision
will have any trouble believing that transformation on a
grand scale is indeed possible.
To be against something is typically easy, as you
need only speak out in opposition
to it. Standing up for something is often more
challenging, because you may be
introducing an idea to people that may scare them on a
soul level. Your willing-
ness to stand up for what you believe in instead of
decrying what you oppose
can turn the tides of fate. The thoughts you project when
you choose to
adopt a positive perspective will provide you with a
means to actively
promote your values and, eventually, foster lasting
change.
~
August 18, 2007
Saturdays
A whiff of eggs and bacon,
my red plaid shirt with snaps, blue jeans that
zip up the side—I'm running downstairs,
my mother's laughing, still in her apron,
on her tiptoes for the picnic basket.
My father's calling from the basement stairs,
already pulling his high-tops on,
my brothers scrambling in the hall closet for theirs.
I grab my toast—strawberry jam—
We're going! We're on the running board
into the velvety back of the old blue Chrysler,
past the putting greens, the cemetery, over
the Tittabawassee on its bumpy bridge,
to the straight gravel road by fields and woods, and on
to the turn at last—the new green sign
to our farm! Split rail fences, first apple trees,
past Shad and Mary's paint-peeled shack,
up the little hill by the root cellar
here's the farm bell on its post, the yellow-brick house,
the old red barns, the silvery silo—
forty acres, pine woods beyond—
the sweet dry smell of hay, the steamy
stench of manure, and now, for us, the white-plumed
whinnies of horses.
"Saturdays" by Rosie King, from Sweetwater,
Saltwater.
© Hummingbird Press.
~
August 17,
2007
Goldfinches
Some goldfinches were having a melodious argument
at the edge of a puddle. The birds wanted to bathe, or
perhaps just to dip their heads and look at themselves,
and they were having trouble with who should be
first, and so on. So they discussed it while I stood in
the distance, listening. Perhaps in Tibet, in the old
holy places, they also have such fragile bells. Or are
these birds really just that, bells come to us—come
to
this road in America—let us bow our heads and
remember now how we used to do it, say a prayer.
Meanwhile the birds bathe and splash and have a
good time. Then they fly off, their dark wings opening
from their bright, yellow bodies; their tiny feet,
all washed, clasping the air.
"Goldfinches" by Mary Oliver from Owls and
Other Fantasies: Poems and Essays.
© Beacon Press. Reprinted with permission.
~
Thursday, August 16, 2007 8:30 a.m.
62 degrees, breezy, mostly cloudy
The morning air is rich with the promise of rain, I can
practically smell
it coming. We are at that sweet point in the summer
harvest where the corn,
zucchini, cucumbers, and beans have been frozen or
pickled to our satisfaction,
and tomatoes are not yet abundant enough for the sauce
kettle. Friends and neigh-
bors have been by to pick the extra produce, and the
raccoons help themselves to
the smaller ears that are left on the cornstalks. A final
sowing of corn will be ready
in ten days or so, and I am looking forward to several
days of simply eating our
fresh veggies without being surrounded by them in the
kitchen. Tender baby car-
rots and sweet beets will work their way onto the supper
table and we eagerly
await our fall crop of broccoli, which usually is ready
mid-September. I will be
taking a much needed short break from modern technology,
and hope you will
enjoy the poems and essays I have selected to share with
you until I come back
online. It never hurts to step away from the computer and
television for a time
to reconnect with the real show that surrounds us daily.
Take some time to
appreciate your own view; what do you see, hear, smell,
taste, and feel ?
Later gator,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, August 15, 2007 8:00 a.m.
62 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
The last few nights have been delightfully cool and
perfect for sleeping,
but it has been hard on our heat-loving crops. Tomatoes
are ripening slowly
and peppers are barely setting new fruits. The hot
peppers are maturing faster
than the sweet, but all need warmer nights for optimum
growth. We have been
enjoying fresh tomatoes for about a week, what a
satisfying crop! Today I will snip
off any yellow blossoms I find on the vines; this will
encourage the remaining green
tomatoes to ripen a little quicker. Summer is winding
down, and last night the crickets
started their nightly trilling. So many of them chirped
in unison that it sounded like one
single rich voice. A very thin sliver of moon followed
the sun to rest, disappearing be-
hind purple-edged clouds before making it past the
treeline. Clouds obscured most
of the sky and there may have been a few raindrops
passing through before dawn,
not enough to really matter. Our spring-fed water source
is as low as we have ever
seen it, indicating a drop in the water table overall. It
will take quite a bit of rain to
return to normal. We take our natural spring water for
granted, and seeing the level
drop is cause for genuine concern. Lack of water is one
of the factors that shut down
so many farms up here on Tug Hill in the mid 1900s.
Everywhere you drive on old dirt
roads you can see abandoned decrepit barns and remnants
of house foundations, and
other evidence that this area was once a thriving
agricultural area. Our own water needs
are modest when compared with the large amounts needed to
care for a dairy herd.
I guess it’s really true, you don’t miss the
water ‘til the well runs dry.
Here’s hoping that we never have to test that
adage.
Have a fine day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, August 14, 2007 7:00 a.m.
55 degrees, breezy, sunny
Crows and ravens are having a real noisy dust-up this
morning, no doubt
a territorial dispute. Although the crows outnumber the
ravens four to one, the
larger birds seem to have the upper hand, holding a line
near the easternmost
hedgerow that borders our meadow. Ravens usually keep to
the deep woods;
the area in question is next to the neighbor’s large
corn field, so it may be all
about the food. A flock of starlings is unfazed by the
commotion, and goes
about the business of eating as much as possible to fuel
up for fall migration.
Goldfinches are gathering in large numbers as well, and
are the predominant
species to visit the bird bath. It has been a challenge
to keep that shallow pool
filled this dry windy summer; between the heat of the day
and the splashing the
little guys do, it empties out nearly every afternoon.
Our cultivated flowers are
coming into their own, gladiolas and sunflowers,
marigolds and zinnias, all kinds
of colors, too many to pick. Hummingbirds are crazy for
the glads, visiting them
almost as much as their favorite bee balm. We planted
several clumps of dahlias,
and they are nodding with large magenta and true red
blossoms, more beautiful
than we expected. They must love our manure-rich soil;
for sure we will grow
them every year from now on. The Perseid meteor showers
are winding down,
but there were still many brilliant shooting stars to be
seen last night, and
I would suspect tonight as well if clouds don’t move
in. Dress warmly
if you do go out stargazing; it will dip into the fifties
again.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Monday, August 13, 2007 9:00 a.m.
63 degrees, windy, mostly cloudy, showers
Short-lived sporadic rain showers started to fall just
before sunset last
night and are still making occasional appearances.
Sometimes the sun shines
through the downpours, but if any rainbows are being
spawned they are be-
yond our view. We were disappointed to be rained out of a
second night of
meteor viewing; I arose at 4:00 but couldn’t find
any breaks in the clouds to
glimpse even one single shooting star. There will
probably be several meteors
that continue to streak through the night sky for the
next week, but the peak
viewing hours of this year’s Perseid meteor shower
are officially over. Now
we will return to more traditional activities for a
beautiful August night, such
as waiting for the crickets to gather in the fields and
raise their hue and cry
under a waxing moon. And if an occasional brilliant
streak in the night
sky catches our eye as we stroll, that is icing on the
cake.
Mmmmmmm, cake...
Daisy
~
Sunday, August 12, 2007 9:00 a.m.
71 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
We have another perfect summer day under way, breezy and
sunny
and full of promise. There are many outdoor jobs
awaiting, but there is
also time to sit on the porch for a bit and watch a
couple of deer browse
their way along the hedgerow munching tender greens. One
of the deer that
has been hanging around lately is distinctly cinnamon
colored; she clearly stands
out from the rest of the herd. Most of the deer on Tug
Hill are a rich brown, with
an occasional one so dark as to appear black. This is the
first red deer I have seen,
so it must be a fairly uncommon hue. Last night we stayed
up late and watched for
meteors. We saw several of all sizes, and one really big
one that streaked across
the sky like a rocket. I awoke at 4:00 but was too comfy
to go out and stargaze
any more. We are fortunate to have seen a few choice
shooting stars on such a
pleasant summer night; tonight there are likely to be
many more, but there is a
good chance of clouds. I grew up on the outskirts of a
big city and hardly ever
saw much of the night sky, as the ambient glow from
streetlights over-rode
the stars’ spangled glory. Every summer, however, I
spent much of August
at scout camp, and the meteors I saw there under a vast
open sky helped
foster a lifelong interest in celestial events. The sun
and moon continue
to fascinate me with their regular cycles and occasional
eclipses; star-
falls and northern lights are special events not to be
missed, un-
rehearsed extravaganzas that never fail to entertain and
delight.
Take a gander at the sky in the wee hours, it is awesome
!
Have a great day (and a wonder-full night),
Daisy
~
Saturday, August 11, 2007 9:00 a.m.
66 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
After a chilly cloudy start, the day is shaping up into a
sunny stunner.
Stars were bright until three-ish, when a line of low
clouds obscured most
of the sky. I had planned to watch for meteors, but
visibility was poor so I
went back to sleep. Peak viewing for the annual Perseid
event will be early
tomorrow morning and also Monday; if you plan to go out
and look at 3:30
or 4:00 a.m. the show should be pretty good. Of course,
we will also be able
to see several shooting stars after dark tonight if we
turn out the yard light and
look to the east. For more info, check out this site. We have a perfect
view
of the many different meteor showers that pass over Gomer
Hill every year.
The Perseid at least happens during a warm month,
although the low temps
will fall into the fifties, making long pants and fleecy
jackets a must.
Keep looking up,
Daisy
~
Friday, August 10, 2007 8:30 a.m.
61 degrees, breezy, mostly cloudy
The sun rose on a variety of weather conditions this
morning, from
fog through rain showers and finally colorful haze giving
way to brilliance.
It has disappeared behind clouds for a bit and the air is
cool and damp.
Clumps of hay that were missed by the baler exude a
pungent mustiness
that reminds me of the old canvas tents of a long-ago
girl scout camp.
Scents are magnified by the dense atmosphere, and roses
are almost
cloying in their sweetness. Red clover is profuse in its
second blooming,
adding a summery scent as well as a rosy glow to the
meadows. Corn
smells ripe and delicious, and the raccoons have sampled
a few ears; I
suppose a couple of ears now and then are acceptable
loss, but if they
get greedy we will have to take action. We will be up
before dawn for
the next few days anyway to enjoy the Perseid meteor
showers; might
as well set up our base by the cornrows, bottle rockets
at the ready.
We walked up an old farm road yesterday and saw three
separate
flocks of turkeys totaling seventy or more birds, more
that we thought
could share the same territory. All of the young’uns
are flying pretty well
and took off for a nearby orchard with the hens running
zigzag behind to
urge them on. We didn’t walk as far as the pond, but
I have seen a pair
of ducks in the area and suspect they have taken a fancy
to the little spring-
fed pool. Birds in general have started to flock together
to make plans for
the upcoming long journeys to points south. I love to
watch starlings soar
and turn as one, performing aerobatics in unison even
though they may
come back to earth only a few feet from where they
started. I’ve
never seen any mid-air collisions, although they fly only
inches
apart. We could learn a lot by watching the birds.
Have a nifty day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, August 9, 2007 7:30 a.m.
65 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
Rain continued to bless the hill with gentle offerings
for much of yesterday
before moving out for good mid-afternoon. The sun
frequently shone through the
drizzle; although it was 78 degrees and humidity must
have been 100% the breeze
pressed fine raindrops into bare skin like a cool shower
as we moved through the rows
of corn plucking plump ears from the stalks. The early
planting is dead ripe, and sweet-
ened up nicely as the ears matured. Cucumbers are
beginning to overrun the garden, in
a way that I had previously though only possible with
zucchini. Last year we had a dismal
crop, so naturally we planted five times as much this
spring, and every vine is loaded with
cukes of all sizes as well as scores of blossoms. Bees
abound on our property this summer,
in spite of reports of nationwide colony collapse
syndrome (click here). We work around
their bizzy little bodies, and I thank them often for
visiting our neighborhood. They have
been particularly enjoying some of our flowers such as
hollyhock, valerian, bee balm,
and the vast clump of rosa rugosa beach roses. As
long as they are coming around
to sip nectar from the ornamentals, they just naturally
head on over to the blossoms
on our food crops as well, pollinating all as they move
along. This morning the sky
is summer blue with a few high streaks of rippled cloud
drifting slowly east. Hum-
idity is low and the air is a clear as it gets, with good
views of the distant Adiron-
dack Mountains and the whole Black River Valley laid out
like a vast green quilt.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, August 8, 2007 7:30 a.m.
68 degrees, windy, mostly cloudy
We finally had some nice steady rainfall last night,
lasting several hours.
It only amounted to less than half an inch, but at least
it had time to trickle
down into the dry soil to give the lawns and gardens a
good drink. It is hoped
that the small showers of the past few days might be
sufficient to beat the latest
dry spell and give us a break from daily watering chores.
There is a possibility of
more rain throughout the day, although Nexrad shows most
of it is already east of
here. Yesterday we traveled to Cooperstown for an
afternoon at the opera. It is
always a beautiful drive down route 28; there is much to
appreciate that is very
different than our usual view from Tug Hill. Roadside
wildflowers are at their
peak, with natural bouquets of sky-blue chicory, pink joe-pye
weed, buttery
goldenrod, black-eyed susans, and queen anne’s lace
planted by the wind
and various birds, Mother Nature’s gardeners. There
are also vast expanses
of purple loosestrife, which is not a native wildflower
but was first imported
to this country as an ornamental, prized for its
beautiful magenta bloom spikes.
Loosestrife is now recognized as a pestilent (although
still lovely) invasive weed,
often crowding out native grasses and sedges that are
much more nutritious to our
indigenous wildlife. One plant is capable of producing
two to three million tiny seeds
annually; it also spreads through stems that travel
underground to emerge as a new
plant a foot away, thus forming dense mats of bloom that
slowly creep outward. The
Utica marsh has a dazzling display of loosestrife, and it
is beginning to over-run even
the cattails that have been around the perimeter for
years. For more information about
this weed, check out this link. So far, I haven’t found any growing on
Gomer Hill, and
for sure I won’t be planting any. I will even think
twice before cutting some from the
valley to put in a vase with lilies as I havedone in the
past, for fear of accidentally
transporting some mature seeds into this area. The wind
is picking up, and areas
of blue stand out behind big silvery clouds. The deep
greens of summer
glisten in the breaking sun, and it’s a great day
for just about anything.
Carpe Diem,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, August 7, 2007 6:30 a.m.
64 degrees, breezy, fog
The sun is a huge hazy orange circle boring a hole
through thick fog that
swirls in the breeze. The mist comes and goes; at times
we are allowed a
glimpse of clear blue above, then the scene blurs as if
seen through tears. We
sampled our sweet corn again last night, and it seems to
get a little better every
day, more tender and juicier. We were impressed with the
near-perfect germi-
nation, and it certainly is one of the earliest varieties
we have grown, but so far
it is only about a C+ on the delectability scale. We put
all our eggs in one basket
this year, growing just this one new species. Lesson
learned. I picked two almost-
ripe tomatoes yesterday, and there are many more
beginning to show the first blush
of color. If we allow them to fully ripen on the vine,
snails bore holes into them. Even
though we have the plants tied up on a trellis, the slimy
little slugs shinny their way
up the stems and lurk, waiting for the fruits to soften
so they can burrow inside.
Hardshelled little golden snails have been wreaking havoc
on our bean plants,
making chantilly lace of the leaves. So far they are just
on a few plants at
the end of the row; I told them they could have those,
but they must stay
at the edge of the garden. (Of course I talk to
critters; how else will they
know what is acceptable behavior? They can’t read my
mind...)
Have an interesting day,
Daisy
~
Monday, August 6, 2007 8:30 a.m.
62 degrees. breezy, cloudy, sprinkles
Gentle rain is falling, the kind that will soak in and
not merely roll off
of the parched earth. We had a couple of good short
showers during the
night, sweet relief for our powder-dry gardens and burned-out
lawn. Yes-
terday we caught up with beans, cucumbers, and zucchini,
and the resulting
jars of pickles and bags of frozen veggies nearly fill
the quotas we set for this
season. The remainder of the beans will be enjoyed fresh
by us and our friends
until frost hits, or left on the bushes to ripen into dry
shell beans for soups or
sweet slow-baked beans. We grow one variety that has
inedible fuzzy tough
fresh beans but superior shell beans; scarlet runner is a
pole bean with vivid
red blossoms and long pods containing fat black beans
streaked with maroon
at maturity. Each bean is itself a work of art, just one
is a mouthful; when slow-
simmered they add a hearty richness to any dish (especially
vegetarian chili)
that sticks to your ribs no matter what the day holds.
Right now the vines
are a riot of red with many little slender beans
beginning to form. At
fall frost, these little guys will be a foot long, filled
from stem to stern
with beautiful dry beans, easily stripped from their
housing with
the flick of a thumb. For now, we enjoy the profusion of
scarlet flowers, as do bees, butterflies, and
hummingbirds.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, August 5, 2007 9:00 a.m.
76 degrees, breezy, sunny
We have a lovely day stretching out before us, a repeat
of yesterday’s
warm clear sunshine tempered by a slight breeze from the
west. Last night
was surprisingly cool, and I scrambled for a flannel
comforter in the wee hours.
There are still beans to pick, and they must be gathered
in before rain falls tonight.
There is only a 40% chance of rain, but I have to have
faith that it will happen, or
else we will have to go back to the tedium of hand-watering
all of our crops. We
had our first ears of early corn yesterday, and it was
disappointingly tough in texture;
the taste was good, nice and sweet, but I think the dry
spell has been harmful to the
overall quality. I hope the main crop receives whatever
it is that the first planting lacks,
or it will barely be worth processing for the freezer.
There is a field of cow corn down-
wind of us that is just beginning to tassel, so I doubt
that our sweet corn has cross-
pollinated with that variety, but I haven’t checked
out the farm upwind of us to see
if there is field corn planted there this year.
Raspberries continue to ripen, slowing
down just a bit but still providing more than enough for
us and our friends. As the
days grow shorter, we must take advantage of every bit of
daylight to prepare for
the long winter months that seem so far-off but in
reality are merely four months
away. We gather memories along with our food and
firewood, the green of
mature summer foliage dappled in the morning light, the
heat on our faces
and bare feet as we bask briefly on the back porch with
our morning
coffee, the birdcalls and songs and rose whiff mingling
with fragrant
steam from our mugs, a total sensory immersion that sets
the tone
for the day’s activities and carries bits of it well
into winter, when
the scene from the same porch is so radically different.
How is your day shaping up?
It’s all good,
Daisy
~
Saturday, August 4, 2007 7:15 a.m.
61 degrees, calm, sunny
The view is haze-free and clear as a bell on this cool
summer morn.
A thick ribbon of fog hovers low above the Black River,
shining with
reflected sunlight like the trappings of a silver
anniversary gift. There is
virtually no wind, just the occasional flutter of an
aspen leaf or two; other-
wise we are experiencing dead calm, rare on Tug Hill. We
had a few rumbles
of thunder accompanied by an all-too-fleeting rain shower
late in the day, deliv-
ering just enough water to bring up the dry-dust aroma
that is pervasive this time
of year. Although we saw little rain, the cooler air that
followed the non-storm is
much appreciated after a week of sweltering heat. We made
good headway into
our massive pile of limbwood yesterday, finishing just
before high noon. In a phy-
sically daunting monotonous task such as that, it is best
to focus on the joys of the
task, or it would become just another miserable chore.
There was a cooling north
breeze, and we worked on a knoll with a beautiful view of
the valley, so the heat
and humidity were not as bad as they could have been.
There is a wide variety of
mixed hardwood in that pile, and I noticed a big
difference in the kinds of sawdust
the big buzz-saw blade produced. Apple is golden and
highly aromatic while poplar
is fluffy and snow-white, floating down to the ground
almost lighter-than-air. Cherry
is red and sweet, and maple is so hard it throws chunks
like shrapnel along with
the sawdust as the huge blade bites through it, (safety
glasses required.) My
favorite is yellow birch, so sweetly aromatic it reminds
me of Christmas.
There is already a hefty pile of fine sawdust under the
blade; it will be
a welcome addition to our steadily growing summer compost
pile.
We continue to pick scads of beans, and the freezer is
filling
quickly with all sorts of things, zucchini, broccoli,
raspberries,
and of course beans. We tested two ears of corn at lunch
yesterday, it is very close to being ready; a little more
rain
would certainly help. The weekend will continue warm and
dry with low humidity, perfect for anything you can dream
up.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Friday, August 3, 2007 6:30 a.m.
67 degrees, breezy, hazy sunshine
The sun didn’t so much rise this morning as
gradually illuminate the sky. It
looks like it may burn through the high haze eventually,
but for now shadows
are blurry and the glow is subtle and diffused,
a soft summer morn. There were
rumbles of thunder and lightning bolts striking to the
west after midnight, so I
closed all the windows against the storm, which never
made it to our neighbor-
hood. There was a delicious cool breeze that zipped
through the house and I
hated shutting it out. We have been lucky that these hot
and sultry days have
mellowed at nightfall and allowed for some relief as we
dream the nights away.
We are off to tackle the firewood project for a few hours
before things heat
up too much, leaving the quieter activities of gardening
for later. We may
see a little rain before this day is through; I hope so,
things are very dry.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, August 2, 2007 7:30 a.m.
76 degrees, breezy, hazy sunshine
A pleasant breeze sweeps across the Hill and tempers the
sun’s heat,
which has climbed nearly twenty degrees since dawn. We
will resume
cutting wood early tomorrow; it is already too hot and
humid this morning
for such heavy work. We cut and stacked two big loads
yesterday and by
11:30 threw in the towel. That wood isn’t going
anywhere; it will still be there
when the weather is a little more user-friendly. There is
a robin’s nest in the privet
hedge cradling three tiny new birds and one unhatched
blue egg. Mama is frantically
trying to feed them and watch for cats at the same time.
While all three of our kitties
show interest in that section of hedge, it is too dense
for them to gain access to the
young’uns. This is the first time a robin has found
this site suitable; they usually put
their nests in the middle of one of the spruce trees,
totally impenetrable to pets and
humans alike. There are young robins all over the
property, evidence of many
successful broods earlier in the season. I think it is
unusual for birds to begin
another family this late in the summer, but then nothing
has been ordinary or
usual about this summer so far, why should birds be any
different. And now,
off to gather a pail full of raspberries for another
batch of summer wine.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, August 1, 2007 7:30 a.m.
68 degrees, calm, sunny
We are headed over to the wood lot to buzz up some
limbwood
before the day becomes unbearably hot. The absence of
wind is a
boon, keeping sawdust from invading eyes, ears and noses
as we work.
If we cut for a couple of hours every morning, the task
will eventually get
done without undue stress. Our younger selves have done
it all in two days,
working from sunup to sundown. Now older and wiser, we
have reformatted
many agendas to be a little kinder to our bodies, which
are still strong and more
than willing, but a little slower to rebound from such a
long day of hard labor. Yes-
terday we picked four large buckets of green beans, and
put most of them into
the freezer. The beans are just getting going, and that
was the first of many
harvests. There are still a couple of pounds of huge
beans set aside to be
run through the frencher, a keen little hand tool that
slices them length-
wise, perfect for green bean and mushroom casserole
topped
with toasted sliced almonds. Raspberries continue to
ripen;
there are bucketsful waiting for willing hands to strip
them
off later today. Our tasks are varied on this hot day,
and so I leave the cool office space to begin;
well begun is half done.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
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