Tuesday, September 30, 2003,
7:30 a.m.
40 degrees, breezy, partly
sunny
The sky is pale blue and the
sun a lemony yellow as it rises this morning.
There are layers of clouds to the east, and big dark
banks to the northwest,
but all is clear directly above us. We just spent four
days staying with friends
in a lovely suburban New England home, but no view of the
horizon, no glorious
sunrises or sunsets. We were happy to read Amanda’s
excellent descriptions
these past few days; it was almost as good as being here.
The changes in foliage
color on Tug Hill are becoming more noticeable. Forsythia
leaves are ruby red,
the color of merlot. The maples in the yard have begun
their transformation into
trees of flame, and the leaves will start to fall soon.
Many leaves came down
green over the weekend; friends report a mighty wind blew
through on Saturday
night. Our tomatoes are looking pretty raggedy, and today
could very well be the
final picking for them. Deer wandered through the garden
in our absence and ate
the tops right off the beets. They sampled some broccoli,
but left most of it for
our freezer. Last night we picked some huge beans for a
late supper; we put them
through a bean-frenching contraption, making tough old
beans into tasty tender
julienne strips. This proves, I suppose, that even old
and tough can be appealing,
with a little extra effort...
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Monday, September 29, 2003 ~ 7:20 am
The sky is lit up with
colors of orange, yellow and blue as the sun
is managing to rise about the cloud cover this morning.
Looks like it is
going to be another wet week, rain and snow are in the
forecast. As I
look across the field I see a lot of new color today,
scarlet red is most
prominent at the moment. Yellow and orange just
started peeking their face
though as the race begins for the most breathtaking tree. Everything
came
in abundance this year, garden crops kept giving and
giving as well as wild crops
such as clover and wild berries. Wild life is in
abundance as well. It was a
wonderful year for the Monarch butterfly, every
time I walked outside
there would be one or more flying about showing off
their brilliant color.
The air is clean and crisp today, you might need some
light sleeves in order
not to catch a chill. The sun is warm but it will behind
the clouds alot of the time.
This is Autumn in her glory, enjoy and reflect upon her
today,
she will be gone before we know it.
Have a wonderful day.
Amanda ~ Karma-Queen
Sunday, September 28,2003
The sun is out there though I cant see it, there is
a blanket of gray
covering the sky. Everything is wet this morning after
another good rain
storm through the night. Buildings and trees all
give their musical dance as
they shake the excess water from their tops. The
sound is so tranquil. Rain
is something that came in abundance this year which was
needed. The swamps
are all full and there was a frost two mornings ago on
the higher hills. A cold
front is pushing its way though, the winds have died
down and you can smell new
autumn air. The ground is strewn with fresh
leaves blown down, there is more
green than colored leaves on the ground at the
moment due to the amount of
wind we have been getting. It is going to be a wet
day today,
perfect for a relaxing Sunday.
Have a Peaceful day,
Amanda ~ Karma-Queen
~
Saturday, September 27, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
~An Opportunity~
Today you have another opportunity to enrich your life.
You can choose to just get through the day, or you can
choose to make
today count. Start by counting your blessings. Appreciate
the people in your life.
Be thankful for the experience you've had, and the things
you have learned.
And if there's someone you've neglected to say "thank
you" to, today would
be a great day to do it. Then, look for ways to make a
difference. In your
work, in your family, in your community, with your
friends, and with perfect
strangers. Resolve to do something today that will make
the world a better place.
Finally, do something for yourself. Take the first step
toward something you've
always wanted to do. If you keep putting it off, it will
never happen.
But if you take the first step today, and then another
one tomorrow,
and the next day, and the next, you'll reach your dream.
It all starts today.
Stand up, step forward and make it a great one.
Maggie ~ Global Spiritual
Network
~
Friday, September 26, 2003, 5:45 a.m.
41 degrees, breezy, clear
The sun has not yet made its
entrance into the eastern sky.
The color that hovers above the horizon would be
described by Uncle Wiggly
as sky-blue pink.
When I read that book as a little girl, I thought it was
a
make-believe color, but I can see now that it is a real
hue. There is a soft
mist over the valley, and it is pretty chilly on the Hill
this morning. Now the
sun is inching slowly up into view, a beautiful radiant
orange that takes away
the subtle pastel glow and paints the sky the same color
as a neon pink flamingo.
The richness fills our kitchen with a warm glow; when we
remodeled the room it
was a deliberate choice of pale yellow wall color to act
as a palette for the
beautiful sunrises and –sets of the north country.
Now the first rays are slanting
over the meadow. A flock of turkeys has just taken flight
from the deep
shadows of the hedgerow. It looks like it will be a
lovely day !
Take care,
Daisy
We will be off the Hill
until Tuesday.
Have a wonderful weekend; catch you all later.
~
Thursday, September 25, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
55 degrees, gentle breeze,
partly sunny
It was surprising to awake
to bright skies and a beautiful scarlet sunrise
after the hard rain that fell throughout the night. There
is a chance of more
showers this morning, then another brief spell of
sunshine later in the afternoon.
This leaves a very narrow window in which to pick the
tomatoes and peppers which
continue to ripen in spite of the lack of heat. The
bounty of this year’s garden
seems to be neverending, and there is no frost in the
immediate forecast. The
beans that were planted in mid-July are producing more
than all of the earlier
sowings combined. After a brief respite, the almost-dead
zucchini and cucumber
plants are sporting masses of tiny vegs. I suspect the
masses of honeybees that
swarmed around the sunflowers have been at work, a day
late and a dollar short.
It looks like the weeks before frost will feature gourmet
baby zucchini and
gherkins at the dinner table. It was a splendid summer;
now on with the fall !
Have a great day,
Daisy
Wednesday, September 24, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
50 degrees, breezy, mostly
sunny
There are a few lingering
clouds masking the sun’s brilliance this morning,
a big flat grey blob right in the way. The mass doesn’t
appear to be moving,
it is utterly stalled in the eastern sky. We will just
have to wait for the sun
to rise above it. There is a line of dark, heavy-looking
clouds to the northeast
as well. The sky directly above us is as clear as a bell.
The fields are saturated
with moisture, and as the sun slowly appears above the
shroud, all is gleaming
in the bright rays. The sunset last night was awesome,
big clouds and vibrant
colors. Today is the first full day of autumn, and every
sense proclaims that
fact emphatically if you step outside for a few moments.
The smells of the
season are particularly rich, especially on a moist
morning such as this. Take
a walk and breathe deep; try to sort out the different
aromas, both pungent
and subtle. Listen for the birdcalls, enjoy the sparkling
colors, feel the breeze
on your face. Taste the different kinds of apples you
chance to find; some are
sweet, some so stringent you can barely manufacture
enough saliva to spit out
the bitter bite. Wake up your senses today, and celebrate
autumn.
Have a vivid day,
Daisy
Tuesday, September 23, 2003, 8;45 a.m.
55 degrees, gentle breeze,
overcast
Rain beat a steady tattoo on
the tin all night long and an occasional
gust of wind howled through the almost-closed windows.
Just before dark
I saw several lines of lightning dash towards Earth, but
heard no thunder.
One of our cats stayed out all night and returned home at
first light,
soggy and sleepy. A froth of mist is rising from the
valley, and the sky over
Tug Hill is slowly brightening above the high strata of
clouds. A scan of the
hedgerows and nearby woodlots reveals hints of red, rust,
orange and gold
accenting the deep green leaves of late summer. Today is
the first day of
autumn, the official turnaround for daylight hours. The
sun rises so late
now that it is hard to get up early. The clock sings
"Arise! Greet the day !"
and the utter darkness whispers, "Embrace the
dreamland just a bit longer,
rest, rest..." Alas, the body is willing to slip
into autumnal torpor,
but the harvest tasks of the season dictate early rising
nonetheless.
There will be plenty of time to sleep in when I am dead.
Greet the day !
Daisy
Monday, September 22, 2003, 6:15 a.m.
48 degrees, windy, mostly
clear
There is a purple haze on
the eastern horizon above the earth’s rim
and below a thin band of slate grey clouds. It is windy
and raw outside,
and today’s brief morning walk would have been
enhanced by a warm hat and
a pair of mittens. One lone crow sat on the top of an ash
tree, his keen eyes
following our every move as we passed beneath. Last night’s
sunset was rich in
both color and sound. We heard our first small flock of
geese as they circled
the meadow high up, then landed to graze. The sky was
streaked with pink,
orange, and dusky rose as the sun settled down behind a
layer of western clouds.
The breeze never really got going, and a few rogue
clusters of wispy cloud hung
still and steady, adding depth to the show. This is a
colorful time of year, not
just the foliage as it changes, but the vivid skies and
the late summer
flowers run the full gamut of hues as well.
Look up, look down,
look all around...
Daisy
Sunday, September 21, 2003, 8:30 p.m.
63 degrees, mostly calm,
sunny
It is a beautiful morning on
the coattails of summer.
The autumnal equinox is just two days away, and this most
interesting of summers is drawing to a gentle close. The
leaves
that remain on the aspen tree outside the window are as
still as mulch,
but every now and then a half dozen of them spin around
wildly, then
return to rest. Is it the wings of a passing tiny insect
that disturb
the foliage? Or could it be one last burst of life-energy
shuddering
from the tree to the tip of that particular branch, a
farewell
to the dying leaves and a promise of rebirth at the
vernal equinox.
All is well,
Daisy
Saturday, September 20, 2003, 7:30 p.m.
55 degrees, windy, mostly
cloudy
There is a layer of fast-moving
dark grey clouds passing overhead,
occasionally slipping aside to reveal brighter patches of
pale blue sky. The
wind has settled into normal
for Tug Hill, probably fifteen to twenty mph.
Yesterday we had business in Lowville in the afternoon;
the wind was breathtaking.
The scream of the fire siren was nearly constant,
signaling downed trees and power
lines. Just before we passed underneath it, the glass
globe blew off of a light
outside the bank and shattered into countless sharp
shards. The power was off
for several short periods, making it hard for shopkeepers
to ring up sales. We saw
several large tree limbs down in the village; one landed
on a truck. A huge tree
in between two houses had toppled, and Fate laid it
neatly parallel to both,
stretched out along the driveway. When we returned home
later in the day the
rain started, a few tentative drops for a while, then
torrents driven sideways
by hearty winds. We corralled the cats and were all safe
and cozy inside while
the storm raged on. We lost power up here for a few
moments, but never had
to light the oil lamps or use our reserves of water. At
bedtime the rain was
still peppering the tin roof, but the wind seemed to be
losing steam. Now
it is considerably brighter outside than fifteen minutes
ago, and it looks
like it is shaping up into a fine morning !
Have a great day,
Daisy
Friday, September 19, 2003, 12:30 p.m.
69 degrees, very windy,
mostly cloudy
I drove down Gomer Hill Road
this morning in the dark on my way
to the extra early shift. There was a breeze, but not
anything too unusual
for Tug Hill. I watched the sun rise over the buildings
across the street and
it was spectacular! The sky was bright pink with low dark
clouds scudding quickly
from east to west. The buildings stood out in stark
contrast, backlit from behind
as the sun crept slowly into view. The wind picked up
suddenly, funneling sand and
debris into a dust devil that was taller than anything
around it. Street signs and
lights started to sway, and large landscaping trees
whirled about like dervishes.
I just arrived home, and the yard is littered with small
branches and leaves.
The sun pokes through the clouds at odd moments, and the
quality of light
is intense when it shines through the turmoil. I pulled
my car down into
the meadow, away from any of the large branches that
might snap loose.
It is wild and wooly on the Hill today, and absolutely
beautiful !
Take care,
Daisy
Thursday, September 18, 2003, 8:15 a.m.
61 degrees, gentle breeze,
partly sunny
The sky is milky-blue with
large areas of high cloud. A thin strip of fog
follows the river and we have a clear view of the
Adirondack Mountains.
A southeast breeze carries the sound of traffic from
Route Twelve, and
also the high shrill tone of the school’s passing
bell. There are three crows
calling back and forth across the meadow, planning their
day. A pair of
bluejays busily explore the sunflowers and emit pure
metallic tones as they perch.
There is heavy dew reflecting the sun’s slanting
rays and magnifying the intense
dark green of the lawn and meadows. The storm that is
coming our way may not
be as bad as first predicted, possibly passing to the
west of us and drenching
Buffalo with heavy rain. We will still feel the sharp
edge of the hurricane’s force,
so tonight we will draw off some water and make sure the
oil lamps are filled
and the wicks trimmed, just in case.
Be prepared,
Daisy
Wednesday, September 17, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
65 degrees, gentle breeze,
sunny
Light fog covers the valley
but it is a lovely sunny morning on Gomer Hill.
The air is gradually warming up; it was downright chilly
at first light.
Yesterday some friends helped me in the garden, hauling
bags and buckets
of corn and beans home to stock their freezers. We
overestimated the amount
of beans we would need, and the rows sown in mid-July are
filled with an
abundance of perfect beans dripping from each sturdy
branch. The main crop
of corn is still going strong, and we made a wonderful
discovery. At the base
of many cornstalks is a tiny ear buried under a broad
leaf, similar to those
found in many oriental stir-fried dishes. I will look for
a dozen or so of these
tasty morsels as I pick corn today, and toss them in with
some snow peas and
garlic for a unique side dish at dinner. All the years we
have been growing corn,
and we never noticed this before. There is always
something new under the sun !
Open your eyes,
Daisy
Tuesday, September 16, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
64 degrees, windy, mostly
sunny
The valley is clearing up
now, but earlier it was buried in fog.
It seemed like our house was the only place around that
was bathed
in dazzling sunlight. Fog crept right up to the edge of
the garden and
I drank my coffee in an oasis of breathtaking brilliance.
It rained really
hard last night for a brief time, so the landscape is
extra shiny this morning.
The air is as pure as it ever gets on Tug Hill, which is
absolutely intoxicating !
Raw weather is forecast for the end of the week, with
driving rain and damaging
winds from hurricane Isabel as she moseys inland.
Fortunately we have a few
perfect days lined up to gather in the rest of the garden
goodies and get them
safely stored away for winter. I have a feeling we can
kiss the giant stalks of
sunflowers goodbye after Friday, so we will cut
bucketsfull to decorate the
porches and kitchen in a last blaze of glory. Perhaps the
storm will take a
right turn at some point, but for now it looks bad for
much of the east coast.
Until then, enjoy the pristine beauty of the next few
late summer days.
Have a great day,
Daisy
Monday, September 15, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
65 degrees, slightly breezy,
overcast
The sun is shining up there
somewhere, but a low uniform layer of clouds
obscures all but the minimum of light. Visibility is
poor; the valley is merely
a suggestion of homes and highways this dimly lit morning.
A flock of blackbirds
is roosting in both big maple trees near the barn, and
they are chattering and
whistling to beat the band. The noise is constant; no one
bird is heard above
the others, like a well-trained choir holding a painfully
long sustained chord in
a John Cage composition. It is hard to believe that this
cacophony emits from
the same birds whose spring song is so varied and sweet.
More birds are headed
this way now, coming from the south. Ah, more blackbirds!
They are lighting in
a maple tree just outside my computer window. I can’t
hear them, but I will
venture a guess that they have joined the ongoing chorus.
Time for us to sneak out the back door to enjoy the
sounds of change.
Listen up,
Daisy
Sunday, September 14, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
64 degrees, windy, overcast,
wet
It isn’t exactly fog,
but it isn’t rain either.
No plops of water appear in the birdbath, but you will
definitely
get wet on a morning walk today. The wind stirs up the
air pretty good,
otherwise I think there would be fog hanging about. There
is a slight chance
of official showers today with perhaps some sunny
intervals. Last night there
was neither sunset nor moonrise, just flat grey mist. We
took a walk on the
meadow paths at dusk, and saw a small white animal making
its way towards us.
I thought it was our newest cat, and feared that she had
been injured, as the
animal was lumbering and trudging, not scampering and
leaping as a healthy cat
would. Visibility was really poor, and as we got closer I
realized that it was an
albino skunk that was drawing near. Thank goodness my dog
was on a leash ! We
beat a hasty retreat back up the path; the skunk took
little notice of us. We
watched as it slowly waddled over to the compost pile and
munched on discarded
corncobs. Extra caution will be taken on future trips to
spill the garbage,
approaching with eyes wide open and singing loudly will
be the drill from now on.
Watch out for little stinkers,
Daisy
Saturday, September 13, 2003, 7:00 a.m.
54 degrees, breezy, partly
sunny
The moments just before
sunrise were gorgeous this morning.
The eastern sky near the horizon was streaked with neon
pink ribbons
of intensity and nearly half of the celestial dome was
tinted tangerine,
fading into gleaming silvery-blue towards the west. As
the fiery orange
sun dazzled into view, the surrounding clouds became even
more vivid,
and for an instant it looked as if the entire eastern sky
was on fire.
Last night’s sky presented some very unusual clouds.
There seemed to
be a textbook example of every single type of cloud
except thunderheads.
Big fluffy pillows drifted to the east, and in the west
every kind of stratus
cloud formed a circle around the setting sun, with an
expanded contrail passing
directly through the center of the circle, looking like a
horizontal tornado.
Around the edges of the mandella were wispy horsetails
gathered into groups,
and one small patch of a mackerel sky was off by itself.
There was a noticeable
lack of color to the whole show, only a little purple
just before the sun went down.
The Master Painter must have been working in monochrome
last night;
this morning’s colorful display certainly balanced
out the portfolio !
Have a colorful day,
Daisy
Friday, September 12, 2003, 7:15 a.m.
56 degrees, almost calm,
partly sunny
The sun rose a half hour
ago, but it has yet to appear above the
layers of cloud cover that erratically paint the sky many
shades of grey.
Things are a bit brighter in the east, with hints of
yellow and peach playing
about the edges of pewter clouds. Two jet contrails
bisect the strata, one
pencil-thin and one fluffed up like mohair yarn. The
aspen leaves are perfectly
still, but now and then a brief zephyr shimmies through
just a few of them.
Several goldfinches are perched in a row on the
clothesline, sitting quietly in the
calm morning air. It has been a lovely week, and now we
are getting ready for
the possibility of some rain. The first frost can’t
be far away, so the more tender
crops must be gathered in, sorted, and canned/ frozen/
dried/ eaten/ gifted/ sold,
nothing wasted. Onions will go on their drying racks, and
carrots are left in the
ground to be sweetened once by frost. The finches have
left the line in a burst
of sunny yellow flight, off to begin the day after their
moments of stillness.
Good advice.
Be still, then rise to the day,
Daisy
Thursday, September 11, 2003, 7:15 a.m.
57 degrees, calm, hazy
sunshine
There are no visible clouds
in the sky this morning, but the atmosphere
close to earth is not crystal clear as it has been in
recent days. The sun
was huge and melon-colored as it crept above the horizon,
the rays diffused
through invisible celestial haze. The cloudless sky is
tinged with pink in the
east, and is the palest grey-blue everywhere else. If it
were midsummer,
I would say it will be a hot humid day. I haven’t
seen the forecast, so I
will just wait and see what develops. We took a walk
yesterday evening and
noticed the signs of impending autumn everywhere. Several
mountain ash trees
are full of bright red berries held high on the branches,
while closer to earth
highbush cranberries are fully ripe. At ground level,
wild strawberry leaves are
touched with crimson here and there. A few geese took
flight from the middle
of a field where they had stopped to rest. It won’t
be long before the skies
are full of migrating fowl on their way to their winter
stomping grounds of
Chesapeake Bay and beyond. Blackbirds have started to
flock together,
performing wonderful aerial acrobatics, all turning and
soaring in unison
as they follow Mother Nature’s flight plan. Our days
are busy as we
prepare for the long winter to come, but we make time to
walk the
back roads and surround ourselves with the richness of
the season’s
sights, sounds, and smells.
Take a walk today,
Daisy
Wednesday, September 10, 2003, 8:15 a.m.
66 degrees, calm, sunny
It looks like another
perfect late summer morning. The sun is warming
things up quickly and thick dew is evaporating into the
clear air.
A large flock of crows is noisily debating some point or
other, perhaps
discussing whether to hang around for the winter months.
I love crows;
I like the way they look out for each other and their
ability to exist on
just about any kind of food source, from nuts and berries
to roadkill.
Although they have a bad rep for eating corn, I have
never seen a crow
in our corn patch, except in the dead of winter. Perhaps
in Kansas,
where there is nothing for hundreds of miles except corn
and wheat,
the crows might find that the primary source of nutrition.
I never felt the
need to put up a scarecrow in the garden; I do have
several scaredeer and
scarecoon devices in place. Crows and ravens play a big
role in certain old
religions, bringing news from the spirit world. Maybe if
I listen closely
I will be able to hear the voice of my Mother... "Clean
your room !" Yikes !
Nope, I am sure these crows are just making winter
vacation plans...
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, September 9, 2003, 7:15 a.m.
56 degrees, slight breeze,
mostly sunny
There are pools of fog
lingering over the river and above the Adirondack lakes.
The mountains stand out in clear relief this morning; the
view doesn’t get any
better than this ! The sky is clear except for a few high
thin bands of pale
clouds. There was a flock of goldfinches playing noisily
at the birdbath, and one
crow strutted around the garden like he owned it. Blue
jays are calling back and
forth from the big maple trees in the yard. Because the
breeze is from the east,
the beautiful natural sounds of the morning are nearly
drowned out by the noisy
traffic of Route 12. We seldom hear such highway din;
thank goodness the
prevailing wind usually blows from the west, and carries
only the sweet sounds of
Tug Hill birds and beasts. Today it seems that there is a
steady stream of
eighteen-wheelers and cars with dicey exhaust systems,
all going lickety-split.
There is no shortage of traffic along Gomer Hill as well,
since school is back
in session and there are several staff members and kids
of driving age living
beyond us. Now there are several crows wandering through
the garden, pecking
at something in the strawberry bed. It is a beautiful
morning;
I believe I will wear my Walkman as I pick beans,
and let Mozart drown out the invasive rhythms of the road.
Sounds like a plan,
Daisy
Monday, September 8, 2003, 8:15 a.m.
63 degrees, breezy, sunny,
valley fog
There is a thick blanket of
bright white fog hovering above the Black River Valley,
with big banks of cumulus clouds on the horizon south of
the Adirondacks.
The sky on top of Gomer hill is perfectly clear and
stunningly blue, a gorgeous
morning for just about anything ! The dark green maple
leaves are starting to
show just a hint of color around the edges, with a few
rogue leaves standing
out in crimson or orange contrast to the rest. Some
woodbine vines blaze scarlet
from the hedgerows, and everything is ripe with the
expectancy of autumn.
Goldenrod, queen ann’s lace, and asters make
beautiful roadside bouquets, and
the meadows are tinted pink with the second wave of red
clover. Pumpkins have
already turned orange, and we wonder if they will keep
until the end of October.
In spite of the shorter spells of daylight, tomatoes and
peppers are continuing to
provide sauce and salsa for winter meals, and the latest
planting of sunflowers is
covered with multicolored blossoms. This summer has been
excellent for all living
things, and it is good to pause in our busy day to feel
grateful for such abundance.
Turn your face to the sun, spread wide your arms,
and sing a heartfelt song of joy to your spirit(s) of
choice.
Have a beautiful day,
Daisy
Sunday, September 7, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
56 degrees, gentle breeze,
sun through fog
There is fog clinging to the
window screens in fat drops,
but the sun is filtering through the mist down to earth.
Trees and
buildings cast soft shadows on the land, and everything
is slightly blurred.
Three full-grown deer just bounded across the meadow as
if something was
chasing them, but no pursuer is visible. A pack of
coyotes was spotted just
above our barn crossing the road in broad daylight. I
haven’t heard their high-
pitched howling for several weeks, but there have been
many tracks crisscrossing
the newly plowed ground in the back field. Some of our
friends hunt for coyotes.
I think that these wild canines should be left alone, to
help thin the deer population
back to normal. Statistics from the past few years have
shown a record number of
deer-vehicle collisions, and everyone’s gardens have
suffered extensive deer damage.
The loss of natural predators such as coyotes has allowed
the number of whitetail
deer to increase faster than natural resources can
support. Natural selection
("survival of the fittest") would ensure that
only the swiftest and strongest
deer could outrun predators, thus increasing the positive
genetic traits of
strength and speed in future generations of deer. In a
perfect world,
the numbers of predator and prey would be in perfect
balance for every habitat.
Of course, man is the often biggest predator of all...
‘Til we meat again,
Daisy
Saturday, September 6, 2003, 7:00 a.m.
52 degrees, breezy, mostly
sunny
This morning’s sunrise
was absolutely spectacular !
The predawn glow was all shades of pink and purple, and
the sun rose
above the valley cloudbank with a majestic shout of fiery
orange. Higher
clouds were scuttling quickly from east to west, and all
the land was alive
with color. Yesterday we picked wild apples on Tug Hill,
driving the back
roads until we saw a likely tree. Apple production is
spotty this year, probably
due to the cold wet weather during pollination last
spring. An occasional tree
held a wealth of apples. We found a tree full of deep red
little snow apples,
perfect for making jelly. The pure white flesh is often
streaked or stained
with red, and it is a beautiful variety, both visually
appealing and tasty.
We hiked through the puckerbrush to a tree that has
always been productive,
and there was a nice crop of yellow-green apples hanging
heavy on the branches.
We have used apples from this tree for pies and apple
crisp for twenty years or
more. We were also lucky to find a roadside tree with
four perfect yellow
transparent apples on it, the most flavorful and tender
of the wild apples
on the Hill. Yum! We ended the expedition after finding a
wealth of
duchess apples, wonderful all-purpose fruit that keeps
well in the cold cellar.
Our domestic apple trees are barren this year,
and it is kind of Mother Nature to provide such bounty to
all who seek it.
Now I believe some apple pancakes are the order of the
day.
Have a fruitful day,
Daisy
Friday, September 5, 2003, 8:15 a.m.
56 degrees, breezy, mostly
sunny with amazing clouds
It is a spectacular morning
!
A pre-dawn rain shower has hung rainbow jewels on every
leaf,
reflecting the full spectrum of light from the sun’s
early rays.
The sky is divided both horizontally and vertically by
clouds of all types.
To the southeast, a heavy trough of dense deep grey sits
over the Black
River Valley like the fog banks that linger off the coast
of Newfoundland.
Above that layer, the sun commands a strip of bright blue
sky, with big
cumulus clouds looming over all. To the north there are
multiple layers of
stratus clouds, some high and silvery, some low and
tinged with mauve.
The high clouds are drifting to the south, and the lower
layer is
moving swiftly to the west. Directly overhead all is blue
and
brilliant in the crisp air. What a magical morning !
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
Thursday, September 4, 2003, 6:45 a.m.
60 degrees, calm, overcast
It is utterly quiet this
morning.
No birds are singing, no deer are cavorting in the
meadow, not one car has
gone by the house in the past half hour.There is no
breeze to rustle the cornstalks,
no hummingbird buzzing and leering at the red design on
my shirt, no dogs yapping
in the distance. It is eerily calm, Hitchcock-still. The
drizzle that permeated the air
all day yesterday hangs like tiny holiday lights on the
asparagus fronds and droplets
cover the lawn like a beaded carpet. A few of the
forsythia leaves have changed to
purple, and one entire branch of a maple tree across the
road is burnt orange.
Now one crow calls, shattering the silence, but none
replies. A small hole has
opened up in the lowest cloud layer, revealing a gleaming
pink-tinged patch of
morning sky. Here and there an aspen leaf trembles in the
faint breath of
morning, as this day makes up its mind.
Have an interesting day,
Daisy
Wednesday, September 3, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
54 degrees, windy, drizzling
It isn’t exactly
raining, and it is too wet to be a mist.
The choice came down to sprinkling or
drizzling as a
descriptor for this
morning’s precipitation. The difference in terms is
the degree of wetness involved.
A sprinkle is visible to the naked eye, and palpable on
the skin. When it drizzles,
you are walking about the yard, and you notice your hair
is stringy and the
shoulders of your sweatshirt are wet, but you are not
aware of any actual rainfall.
No plops in the birdbath, no puddle ripples, but the
eyeglasses are definitely covered
with a film of water. Drips are slowly released from the
edge of the roof, and the
laundry that wasn’t quite dry enough to bring in
yesterday is hanging heavy on the lines.
The air is so saturated with moisture that visibility is
limited; trees fade into blurry
shapes as they recede from view. It is a good day to make
vegetable soup and catch
up on the indoor chores that have taken a back seat to
gardening these past weeks.
Have a cozy day,
Daisy
Tuesday, September 2, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
56 degrees, calm, half
cloudy
It is a still morning and
the air is slightly damp.
The sky directly overhead is layered with clouds that
stretch from here to
the Black River Valley. A half-turn to the North, and the
sky is a lovely shade
of pale blue, with only a passing cloud. A steady gaze on
the edge of the clouds
reveals that they are moving slowly southeast, and today’s
I-witness weather
("I look outside. I witness the weather": Les
Nessman, WKRP In Cincinnati)
predicts some sunshine moving in later this morning. I am
so confident in this matter
that I have hung laundry out to dry. Last night we had
the first brussels sprouts of
the season. In fact, they were the first I had ever eaten.
I can see why people
don’t care for them; they have a unique intensely
cabbage-y flavor and an odd texture, sort of like eating
hairballs. However, as a vehicle for butter they can’t
be beat ! They were a nice change from beans (which we
also had for dinner) and we will harvest the rest after
the first frost and put them in the cold cellar. I’ll
bet they would be tasty cooked with ham, carrots, and
black-eyed peas. The brassica
family of vegetables has so many different forms, from
the delicate mustard flowers that stain the meadows
yellow in spring to the massive heads of savoy cabbage
that make that part of the garden look as if alien brain-creatures
had landed in a neat row. Broccoli, cauliflower, stately
bok choy, brussels sprouts, even purple cauliflower, all
variants of the same basic plant.
Ah, now the sun has appeared !
Have a great day,
Daisy
Monday, September 1, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
53 degrees, breezy, cloudy
The air is damp and chilly
this morning. A revised forecast mentions a chance
of rain showers later this morning, and the gunmetal grey
cloud formations confirm
that probability. The chores that were pushed aside to
make room on the schedule
for the weekend music festival will be done today with a
weather eye.
I suppose piling firewood in neat rows along the edge of
the woodlot can be done in
the rain as easily as not, but digging potatoes would
soon turn into a mucky mess, and picking beans while wet
is out of the question. There are few birds out and about
this morning, but yesterday several large flocks of
blackbirds made their way from tree to tree, chattering
loudly as they gathered. A doe and small fawn are grazing
their way along the eastern edge of the field. It seems
that the fawn has not put on much size since it first
appeared in midsummer. The other evening I saw four small
fawns frolicking in a field by Potter’s Corners, all
still displaying the spots of infancy. I think this is
unusual for late August. Everything has seemed slightly
out of kilter this summer, from the length of time it has
taken for beans to mature to the late nesting of certain
birds. Some things seem to be developing in slow motion.
By now we should be up to our eyeballs in broccoli, but
the heads are barely beginning to form. Maybe the copious
amounts of rain have shifted the natural world into low
gear. Puzzling evidence.
Have a great day,
Daisy
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