~
Saturday, September 30, 2006 9:30 a.m.
56 degrees, windy, sunny
Some areas on Tug Hill had frost last night, but we were
spared, this time at least.
We managed to pick two perfect ears of sweet corn
yesterday, but the bulk of the
crop needs another week to develop fully ripe ears.
Everything else in the gardens has
provided an abundance of fresh vegetables this season,
but the corn seems to be stuck.
After the first three plantings rotted away during the
wet month of June, that sown in early
July finally took hold and escaped uprooting by
crows. It is a variety that ripens in 72 days,
but I think that discounts the very chilly nights we had
off and on over the summer. Tomatoes
and peppers finally caught up with themselves, but the
corn is just not happening. Even the rac-
coons sampled only two ears, then left it alone. The corn
we had last night was exquisite, sweet
and crunchy, all the better for being so rare. It is a
beautiful day but chilly, with rain moving our way
towards evening. Get out and enjoy the day in any way you
can, at work or play it’s all good !
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Friday, September 29, 2006 9:00 a.m.
46 degrees, breezy, mostly cloudy
When I took the dog out earlier I heard some terrible
shrieking from our big
maple tree by the barn. It sounded like something was
being ripped limb from limb.
I got out the binoculars but could see nothing except for
a hundred starlings or so. As
I drew near, the flock took off and lit on the power line
across the road. The awful scream
happened again, and this time I could clearly see the
critter making it. It was a starling, mimicking
something that sounded like it belonged on a Wes Craven
sound track. The other birds kept up a
merry whistle and chirp, with lots of beak-clicking and
chattering thrown in for good measure. The
screamer finally quit after a minute or two, than the
entire flock lifted off and floated into the next
meadow. There is much to do today; we have a frost
warning for tonight and there are a few things
we would like to protect from Jack’s icy breath.
Bring in your patio plants, and harvest your tender
herbs even if they aren’t quite ready; by tomorrow
they may be just a mass of limp leaves. Put a few
basil plants in pots, trim them back, and find a sunny
window sill to enjoy that sweet taste well into
winter. Pick all tomatoes that are even thinking of
getting ripe, and check them every couple of
days to discard the stinky ones. Pick your beans, build a
tent over your late lettuce, and relish
the fact that carrots and parsnips can finally be
harvested after being kissed by frost. Set aside
some time next week to pull off the brussels sprouts,
those sweet little green balls whose
only function seems to be to hold cheese sauce or butter.
And now, to the garden !
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, September 28, 2006 8:00 a.m.
55 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
We have a gift of sunlight for the first part of the day,
unexpected and much appreciated
during this busy time of year. The valley is hazy but the
light is clear on top of Tug Hill, and
all kinds of birds are taking advantage of the nice
weather to start their journey south for the
winter. It seems like there have been more geese than
usual; perhaps the flocks have been smaller
but there have been more of them. About twenty bluebirds
perched on the power line by the barn
yesterday afternoon, and then took off all at once and
disappeared over the valley. They have been
milling around for weeks, playing in the bird bath and
posing prettily on the grape arbor; this time I
think they are gone for good. Although we only had two of
our nesting boxes in use by bluebirds this
year, each pair raised two broods with low mortality from
predators or disease. A whole lot of robins
stopped by the garden, stuffing themselves with grubs,
worms, and slugs, fuel for their long journey.
It seems like there are robins all over the place in
springtime and early summer, then after their young
are grown they disappear for a couple of months until
they form flocks in autumn onceagain. I wonder
where they go ? There are still enough mysteries on this
earth to keep me intrigued for many more years.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, September 27, 2006 8:30 a.m.
52 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
What a beautiful morning is unfolding here on top of Tug
Hill !
Warm sunshine and chilly breezes confuse exposed bare
skin, and
dew-soaked feet are begging for socks and shoes instead
of flip-flops.
It was a chilly night, dipping into the high thirties,
but rain-free so that the
windows could be thrown wide open; piles of flannel
comforters kept us
toasty warm. A small fire has been kindled to take the
chill from the house,
but it will burn out soon, as the sun will surely bring
its heat indoors as well as
out as it appears to make its slow arc across the sky.
The terms sunrise and sunset
are misnomers, as in fact the sun stays put and the
Earth moves. The moon, of course,
does a fair bit of traveling around, slowly pirouetting
around our planet in an eternal
dance through time and space. Last night it set after the
sun did, its slim crescent
seeming to chase the sun down into the silhouettes of
tall balsam trees to the
west. Check it out tonight if it isn’t too cloudy;
start to look at about 8:30,
just after the purple hour fades into total darkness.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, September 26, 2006 8:45 a.m.
56 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
The sun rises later and later each day, and most
days it is a beautiful sight.
There have been just enough clouds to make it
interesting, spreading the bright
colors around and reflecting pink and orange over dewy
meadows, where the prismatic
effect of zillions of water droplets causes spectacular
visual fx. The Hudson River Artists
had it right, the way they played the light in their
paintings (known as luminism), sunrise
and sunset being favored settings. For a taste of their
style, visit this link . It is one thing to
view such lovely paintings on a computer monitor, and
quite another to see them larger than
life at a museum. It is worth a visit to the Munson
Williams Procter Museum in Utica to see
Thomas Cole’s The Voyage of Life. One can
only imagine the landscape that Cole actually
drew his sketches from, it must have been breathtaking.
We will be surrounded by that beauty
for the next couple of days, with the quality of light on
a brisk autumn day ineffably luminous.
Look closely at the clouds; perhaps you, too, may catch a
glimpse of angels, as did Cole.
Have a heavenly day,
Daisy
~
Monday, September 25, 2006 8:30 a.m.
51 degrees, calm, mostly cloudy
Clouds are slowly closing in over what little blue sky
there is, forming a slate grey backdrop
for the scores of geese that have already passed overhead
this morning. Crows are also very
active, and three ravens put in an early appearance as
well. Yesterday was a field day for black
birds of all description; vultures, starlings, crows,
ravens, and grackles all were busy along roadsides
and at the meadow’s edge. What an awesome day it
was, all swift clouds, brief showers, and dazzling
sunlight. I attended a gathering at a friend’s tipi;
although we could hear fierce gusts raging in the forest
and flapping the streamers at the ends of the lodgepoles,
the canvas stayed tight and we felt very secure
inside. We spent much of the afternoon outdoors as well,
with the view of the valley ever-changing as
the play of light and shadow continually shifted the
shape of the landscape. We were hot, we were
chilly, we were visited by bees, butterflies, biting
houseflies, and one mumbling raven. All in all, it
was a very interesting day on the southern boundary of
Tug Hill. We will no doubt see some sun
off and on today, but the chill that is in the air may
hang around for a while. Enjoy all the changes;
constantly sunny days would be a little bit boring. Give
me a skyfull of beautiful clouds any day !
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, September 24, 2006 8:00 a.m.
65 degrees, windy, mostly cloudy
It is a wonderfully warm morning, with occasional bursts
of bright sunlight flashing across
the meadows and treetops. A few big patches of blue sky
are shrinking, filled in by fat grey
clouds that are moving swiftly in from the west. It is
windy, and bound to become even more so
as a strong storm front passes through this morning.
Things will cool down after that, so make sure
your kit includes a fleecy layer even if you don’t
need it when you set out on today’s adventures.
Leaves
are detaching from all kinds of trees in the wind, and
are borne for quite a distance, often rising higher with
a whirl and twirl as they ride the thermals skyward. I
watched one yellow ash leaf sail away across the east
meadow until it was too far away to observe what
eventually happened to it. I haven’t seen any birds
this
morning; perhaps they are hunkered down against the
coming storm. Yesterday we walked along a dirt
road for a while, enjoying the break between showers, the
sky bright with the promise of another lovely
sunset. There were birds all over the place, often heard
before they were seen. A loud flapping of wings
preceded a pileated woodpecker as he exited the forest, a
whoosh whoosh whoosh that came and went
with the large colorful bird. Smaller birds flew from
shrub to shrub with a similar flurry of wingbeats, faster
but nearly as loud. A large flock of yellow-shafted
flickers was scattered all over the road, drinking from
puddles; as they flew to the safety of trees there was
almost a locomotive chuff of subtle rhythmic sound
that accompanied them. It was an otherwise still
afternoon, no birdsong or leaf rustle as forest critters
passed through forest litter. There was no human traffic
at all except for us, no trucks or quads splat-
tering us with mud as they passed, no far-off sounds of
chain-saw or fieldwork, too wet for combines
and choppers. It was easy to pretend such things did not
exist, if only for an hour or two. And now,
rain is streaming from the sky, fat heavy drops pounding
on the tin roof, the wind pushing them to a
hard forty-five degree angle. Leaves are falling with the
rain, a multimedia event here on Tug Hill.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, September 23, 2006 8:30 a.m.
56 degrees, breezy, fog, rain
A few orange maple trees glow through the fog like flames
in a smoke-filled campfire.
A huge flock of geese just passed overhead, honking for a
minute or more, vaguely seen
as a disorganized mess of birds making a slow turn
towards the Black River. Geese have
been moving pretty steadily since yesterday, some silent
in long straight lines, and some very
loud as they discuss the route among themselves. Most of
them are headed roughly south, with
a few smaller groups moving in ever lowering circles as
they look for a place to stop for a rest.
Sunset was wonderful last night, with much of the sky
dominated by clouds of every size, shape,
and degree of pinkness. There was a fall nip in the air,
geese overhead, and an armful of sunflowers
complete with a monarch butterfly hitching a ride on one
golden blossom to enjoy the show. Autumn
has arrived overnight with a soggy whisper; summer made a
grand exit in a true blaze of glory.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Friday, September 22, 2006 8:30 a.m.
56 degrees, calm, partly sunny
This is the last day of summer, and the chilly air adds
validity to that statement.
There was scattered frost in the lowlands last night, but
so far we have stayed above
freezing here on Gomer Hill. Four spackle buckets of
under-ripe tomatoes are lined up
under the kitchen table, and three boxes of nearly-ripe
ones await my knife and kettle. We
have been eating tomatoes at every meal, cool and sweet
piled on a cheese omelet, dripping
up our arms from a chicken sandwich, overpowering the
salad greens with color and flavor, or
just picked from the vine and gobbled whole, messy and
delicious. That is the true taste of summer
for many folks, home-grown tomatoes. Yet, I wouldn’t
trade the magical mysteries of four distinct
seasons for the joy of year-round tomatoes. I wonder if
we would take summer fruits for granted
if available all year long ? Coming soon: another
seasonal treat, the apples of autumn.
Stay tuned,
Daisy
~
Thursday, September 21, 2006 8:30 a.m.
48 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
It was a chilly night and it is taking a long time for
the air to warm up this morning.
The sun shines bright on the land, but a northwest wind
is bringing chilly air over from
Lake Ontario. Yesterday we had several bands of lake
effect rain wash over us, with brilliant
skies and beautiful rainbows between the downpours. The
quality of light went from one extreme
to another, sometimes black as dusk and other times
bedazzling. Our temperature dipped into the
high thirties overnight, and frost was reported in
Ava this morning. We have a lovely two days ahead
of us, and maybe some rain for the weekend. My advice is
to boldly proceed with whatever your
plan is, and pack an umbrella and a change of socks. In
my experience, bad weather is hardly
ever as bad as we are told it is supposed to be. If rainy
days dictate the agenda, then much
time will be wasted waiting for the rain to stop, instead
of enjoying it’s soft kiss on the
face and wonderful colors and aromas the wet magic wand
unleashes.
Enjoy the day, no matter what,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, September 20, 2006 8:30 a.m.
48 degrees, breezy, sprinkles
Rain clouds are breaking up a little and the sky is
brightening.
There were a few hard showers overnight, and now the air
is filled
with misty moisture, not rain but definitely beyond fog.
Visibility is fairly
good; we can see the Adirondack Mountains but they are
merely faint smudges
against the pale grey sky. With tonight’s low
temperature forecast in the thirties, I
wouldn’t be surprised to see a few snow flurries in
the wee hours. During the sunny
breaks today we had better scurry around the garden to
pick any tomatoes that show
the faintest blush of pink, and strip off all of the
small peppers that we missed the first
time around. Our cherry and grape tomatoes split wide
open during Monday’s heat, but
there are still plenty of medium and large fruits hanging
pendulous on the trellis. All varieties
of tomatoes were late ripening, but they are making up
for that by giving it their all during
summer’s last gasp. I love this time of year, the
cusp of autumn, with the wonderful smell
of dead leaves, woodsmoke, mushrooms, and sweet apples in
our olfactory periphery.
Even the newly mown lawn smells richer, more full-bodied,
riper than usual. The rain
certainly has brought a lot of wonderful aromas out this
morning; breathe deep.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, September 19, 2006 8:00 a.m.
61 degrees, calm, foggy, sprinkles
Rain has been falling off and on since dawn, no thunder
and lightning as predicted,
just gentle showers that slip in unannounced. A spell of
cooler weather is riding the coattails
of this front, and we can expect that the upcoming
equinox may deliver autumn’s chill more than
summer’s heat. This year the autumnal equinox will
fall on different dates depending on which part
of the country you call home. It arrives at 12:03 a.m.
September 23rd EST, but for the rest of the
United States it will happen before midnight on September
22nd. Of course, that is Daylight Saving
Time so if you want to get really technical shift it all
back an hour to real time, and then we all get
there on the same date. Now my brain hurts. At any rate,
expect some confusion when folks refer
to the actual date of this year’s fall equinox, and
just remember, it doesn’t really matter when it
shows up, just that it eventually does. Today’s rain
is expected to let up a bit by afternoon,
so we can look forward to a splendid show of sunlight
busting through the clouds like
spears, illuminating all with achingly vibrant beams and
perhaps a rainbow or two.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Monday, September 18, 2006 8:30 a.m.
65 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
A few high thin clouds soften the edges of shadows cast
by the sun as it shines over
the top of Tug Hill. The Black River Valley is invisible,
covered by silvery fog that is almost
too bright to look at. Foliage has begun to change very
quickly, with deep reds and oranges
of maple trees contrasting nicely with the deeper greens
of ash, basswood, and conifers. Aspens
have started to turn gold just at the edges, a subtle
blend of hues that is different on each leaf. Tomatoes
are in all stages of development, and ripening nicely
since we stripped off all yellow blossoms and small
green fruits. A big kettle of pasta sauce simmered slowly
all day and the house still carries traces of fragrant
tomato, onion, pepper, garlic, basil, and oregano steamed
into the nooks and crannies. Yesterday was a true
gem of a day, full of projects both indoors and out. All
of the winter squash has been cut and the ground tilled
in preparation for planting garlic in a few weeks. We
have been pulling carrots as needed, and wait only for
a good frost to sweeten up the bulk of the crop before we
haul them into the cellar. We grew some red carrots
this year, beautiful to look at and full of lycopene as
well as beta carotene, but they just aren’t as sweet
as the
orange ones. It is hoped a frost will take care of their
blandness in time. They are fine cooked, but disappoint-
ing raw. We haven’t even peeked at the parsnips yet;
the tops are two feet tall, so we guess the roots have
developed in size as well. We usually dig half of them
just before the first snowfall is predicted, and the
rest in the spring. One year we missed a few, and they
sent up flower spikes that were six feet tall and
full of heavy white blooms that resembles queen anne’s
lace. They produced a plethora of seeds,
and the following year parsnip was the most invasive weed
in that part of the garden. This year,
for some reason, many of our carrots of all varieties
sent up a flower spike mid-summer;
this is very odd, as carrots are biennials and not meant
to produce seed the first year.
Just another abnormality in this off-kilter growing year.
Enjoy this beautiful day,
as a cold front will sweep summer away overnight.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, September 17, 2006 8:30 a.m.
65 degrees, calm, sunny
Yippee for the sun ! I have just been watching our corn
grow fat, each kernel visibly swelling
underneath the supple green husks. Okay, could be my
imagination, or my yearning for some
sweet tender corn to grace tonight’s dinner table,
but if the next couple of warm (nay, hot!) days
don’t help it along then I’m a blue-nosed
gopher. There is still a good amount of dew scattered
across the meadows, creating a surrealistic emerald
shimmer that hovers a few inches above the
green, an indication of Mother Earth’s own lovely
aura; green indicates (among other things) being
at home in the natural world. Thus we can imagine that
the personified Earth is feeling content on a
sunny late summer day such as this. Green is also the
color of healing, as well as the hue associated
with the heart. It is a good day to spend some time
outdoors, soaking up good vibrations and allowing
the week’s problems to melt away. Sometime today,
give yourself permission to simply sit for a while,
or stretch out on a soft patch of grass to rest a bit and
rejuvenate, merging your own aura with that
of the benevolent planet which sustains us all. Just for
today, release all fears and worries that have
accumulated over the past weeks; let anger fall away as
well. Be kind to one another, and grateful
for all we have. Go joyfully about your tasks renewed and
eager for whatever happens, every
day a new adventure. Accentuate the positive,
eliminate the negative, latch on to the
affirmative, and don’t mess with Mister In-Between (Johnny
Mercer).
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, September 16, 2006 8:30 a.m.
56 degrees, breezy, fog
Thick fog obscures most of our morning view, watering all
of our crops whether
they want it or not. Much of our autumn harvest has been
spoiled by mold that has
formed from all of the recent rain and fog. Snap beans
dissolve into slimy moosh when
touched, and culling them has become a challenge. Oregano
and basil have developed areas
of black furry mold all along the stems, and I will have
to resort to using dried herbs from last
year in my next few batches of marinara sauce. We might
as well chop down all of our hollyhocks,
as the blossoms have petered out and all that is left is
stalks full of yellowing mildewed leaves. Marigolds,
zinnias, and calendulas seem to thrive in the dampness,
bearing flowers that are large and vibrant, blooming
steadfastly with great vigor in spite of the weather. Our
meadows are full of red clover blossoms and bright
orange monarch butterflies, pumping their newborn wings
slowly as they sit sipping sweet nectar from the
plump flowers. It seems that there are more butterflies
this year than ever before; walking the paths has
become an exercise in avoidance, lest we crush their
tender bodies beneath our shoes. Late in the day
they all take wing at once, a cloud of heavenly bodies
fluttering and pointing the way south. When the
fog lifts it should be a great day for just about
anything. For us, the harvest continues, a dawn-till-dusk
party of picking, sorting, processing and packing away
for winter. We are thankful for every step
of the way, loving the hard work that leads to a year’s
worth of naturally good food and drink. My
wish is that the whole world could be similarly blessed
with such bounty during these difficult times.
Amen,
Daisy
~
Friday, September 15, 2006 8:30 a.m.
60 degrees, breezy, partly sunny
It is partly sunny here on Gomer Hill; we are perched
atop a huge sea of clouds that stretches
as far as the eye can see. There are busy clouds moving
swiftly across a clean blue sky and the
air has a hint of springtime to it, not all that unusual
for September in the north country. There are
several large flocks of blackbirds streaming past the
window, swooping down to the meadow and
back up to the trees, a continual wave of fluttering
wings and bobbing bodies. They move as a single
organism and yet each bird seems to follow its own
timetable, with the fastest reaching the destination
as much as a full minute ahead of the last. Is it a race,
or merely avian choreography? No other birds
move in this manner, at least not in our neck of the
woods. It reminds me of some foot races I have
seen, with the participants strung out for miles, each
going at his/her own pace, moving sideways at
water stations or to greet well-wishers and family along
the course, a continual flow of humanity
with a single purpose. Winning is nice, but running the
race is the important thing, the journey is all.
Have a nice trip,
Daisy
~
Thursday, September 14, 2006 8:00 a.m.
56 degrees, windy, foggy, raining
It is another dark and misty morning, with heavy fog
obscuring all but the hedges
and trees closest to the house. Several bluebirds are
perched on the old clothesline
outside my window, and even their bright plumage appears
muted and dull. It rained
for much of yesterday, but late in the afternoon there
was a spell of gentle mist instead
of a deluge, so I went out to pick some things for supper.
Lettuce and spinach are thriving
in the cold snap; all varieties of lettuce are crisp and
sweet to the core. I was very surprised
to find a dozen small tender zucchinis growing at the
ends of some otherwise dead-looking plants.
It must be a last-ditch effort at producing seeds. We
have kept the bigger zukes picked off all summer
to encourage new fruits, and our payoff is in tasty
little torpedoes split lengthwise and crisped up on the
grille. The final planting of snap beans will be ready to
pick this weekend; just what we need, more beans.
Yikes. Meanwhile, winter squash is showing signs of
ripeness, and we steamed some delicatas last night.
This small squash mashes up into a heavenly sweet and
creamy side dish, pale gold and ready for nothing
more than a small dollop of butter and a fork. Other
winter squash varieties may get some brown sugar,
cranberries, maple syrup, or marshmallows to gussy it up,
but the delicata holds its own on any dinner table.
Sometimes we add roasted garlic when we mash it, and that
is unbelievably good too. If you haven’t
yet tried delicata squash, pick some up at your local
farm stand or supermarket and give it a try.
Have a delicious day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, September 13, 2006 7:30 a.m.
50 degrees, windy, overcast, raining
It is still pretty dark outside, even though the sun came
up (I think) an hour ago we still
need to have several lights turned on to see what we are
doing. Hot black coffee is extra
tasty on a morning such as this, the fresh-ground aroma
filling the kitchen and adding home
comfort from the inside out. Rain started to fall in the
wee hours, so feathery light that it made
no noise on the tin roof at all; I was awakened by it
dripping from the eaves onto several over-
turned empty spackle buckets, an odd drumming that I
couldn’t figure out until I looked out the
window. A couple of days from now we will be seeing a
little more summer, with warm sunny days
and relatively balmy nights. This might be the push our
corn needs to finally ripen up. Then it will be
a race with the raccoons to pick and process the tender
sweet ears. Our neighbor has had dozens
of the little bandits plundering his corn, and has
scarcely had enough left for a meal. If it comes to
that, we can always sleep in a tent by the garden for a
few nights, armed with a few noisemaking
devices and our mighty watchdog. Today is a good day to
gather up the loose ends of a busy
summer, little chores like defrosting the freezers and
sweeping cobwebs from nooks and
crannies of the cellar. I suppose I could finally unpack
the suitcase from last month’s
vacation, putting away the summer shorts and sorting
through ski clothes to see
what needs to be mended or replaced. There is still much
to do outdoors when
the weather is fine; on days like this, thoughts turn to
the coming change of
seasons and how the great wheel keeps on turning, rain or
shine.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
Tuesday, September 12, 2006 7:30 a.m.
50 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
A few wispy clouds add interest to the morning sky, and
certainly showed some
beautiful predawn colors. As the days grow shorter, it is
easier to catch the sunrise.
There comes a time at the end of September when it is
hard to roll out of bed in the dark,
and a kind of human hibernation response kicks in. There
are some autumn mornings that I
envy the woodchucks their long winter nap, when the
flannel comforters and soft down pillows
are just too comfy for my own good. I see that time of
torpor approaching, and will probably give
in to it a couple of mornings. When the harvest is all
done and there is no pressing job awaiting my
presence, how lovely to pull the covers up and catch a
few more winks. We have begun to acknow-
ledge the impending return of winter, moving firewood
into the woodshed and barn, cleaning and repairing
chimneys and stovepipes, and organizing the cellar to
store all of the carrots, parsnips, onions, beets, and
squash that are in various stages of curing. Potatoes are
already down there, grainbags full of them spread
out on palettes as they get accustomed to the cold damp
air of their manmade cavern. The shelves along
the wall are slowly filling full of jams, jellies and
pickles, and if tomatoes continue their slow ripening we
can tuck away a few dozen quarts of those as well. I love
to stand at the foot of the cellar stairs and
admire the colorful jars lined up like soldiers, the
sacks and bins of root vegetables waiting for the
stewpot, and the freezers with their cargo of fresh
frozen veggies, homemade bread and soup,
and all-natural chicken, pork, and venison. It makes the
frenzy of harvest time all worthwhile,
the products of all of our hard summer work the proof of
the puddings yet to come. I treasure
the years of gardening that we have left to us; as our
timeline moves farther to the right, there
will surely come a day when we must scale our plots down
to a single short row of beans
and a few tomato plants. Until then, our rows are long
and straight and the rewards
are many; thanksgiving happens every time we sit down to
a homegrown meal.
Hooray for the harvest !
Daisy
~
Monday, September 11, 2006 8:00 a.m.
51 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
Technical difficulties in cyberspace today:
here is a selection from Daily Om for you
all.
Alive In Joy:
Dispelling Drama
There are scores of people in the world who seem
to be magnets for calamity. They
live their lives jumping from one difficult situation to
the next, surrounded by unstable individuals.
Some believe themselves victims of fate and decry a
universe they regard as malevolent. Others
view their chaotic circumstances as just punishments for
some failing within. Yet, in truth, neither
group has been fated or consigned to suffer. They are
likely unconsciously drawing drama into
their lives, attracting catastrophe through their
choices, attitudes, and patterns of thought. Drama,
however disastrous, can be exciting and stimulating. But
the thrill of pandemonium eventually
begins to frustrate the soul and drain the energy of all
who embrace it. To halt this process,
we must understand the root of our drama addiction, be
aware of our reactions,
and be willing to accept that a serene, joyful life need
not be a boring one.
Many people, so used to living in the dramatic world they
create, feel uncomfortable when confronted
with the prospect of a lifetime of peace and contentment.
The drama in their lives serves multiple purposes.
Upset causes excitement, prompting the body to
manufacture adrenaline, which produces a pleasurable
surge of energy. For those seeking affection in the form
of sympathy, drama forms the basis of their
identity as a victim. And when drama is familial, many
people believe they can avoid abandonment
by continuing to play a key role in the established
family dynamic. The addiction to drama is fed by
the intensity of the feelings evoked during bouts of
conflict, periods of uncertainty, and upheaval.
Understanding where the subconscious need for
drama stems from is the key to addressing it effectively.
Journaling can help you transfer this need from your mind
onto a benign piece of paper. After repeated
writing sessions, your feelings regarding the mayhem,
hurt feelings, and confusion often associated with
drama become clear. When you confront your emotional
response to drama and the purpose it serves
in your life, you can reject it. Each time you
consciously choose not to take part in dramatic
situations
or associate with dramatic people, you create space in
your inner being that is filled with a calm
and tranquil stillness and becomes an asset in your quest
to lead a more centered life.
~
Sunday, September 10, 2006 9:15 a.m.
47 degrees, calm, foggy
We watched this fog engulf Tug Hill yesterday afternoon
as we drove north from
Boonville on the upper road. A few hard rain showers had
come and gone, a little thunder,
a little wind, and in between cloudbursts the sky was
abundant with big white, grey, and slate
clouds scuddering evrywhichaway against a deep blue sky.
The quality of light was that of an
impressionist’s palette, everything overly vivid and
vibrating with color. Just as we reached the
Turin town limit the fog became a visible entity, one big
ball of mist that sat as if placed there to
mark a certain spot. There was sunshine strewn everywhere
except for our home town, very odd
indeed. We drove into it and it thickened as we climbed
Gomer Hill; it was difficult to find our drive-
way, fog was that dense. It had crept into the one-inch
openings of our screened windows and lay
heavy in the house as well, so we lit a fire in the
kitchen range to help dispel the dampness. It is chilly
this morning, and the fire has been rekindled, much to
the delight of our cats, who are artfully arranged
under the firebox on the warm tile floor. Even if the sun
eventually makes an appearance later, temps
will remain cool, with widely scattered frost in the
forecast for tonight. We usually escape the first frost
of autumn, with temps in the lowlands often as much as
twenty degrees colder than here on Tug Hill.
Nevertheless, we will pick all of our tomatoes that are
showing even a blush of pink, and bringing in
most of our peppers both hot and sweet. If anything, the
strange weather of the past year has shown
us that we can no longer count on past experience as far
as forecasting what may happen. We just
have to wait and see what actually befalls, and hope we
guessed correctly. As my grandpa used
to say, Whether it’s cold, or whether it’s
hot, we’ve got to have weather, whether or not.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, September 9, 2006 8:15 a.m.
56 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
It looks like another foggy morning in the valley; here
on the hilltop all is sunny and bright.
There was heavy dew last night that even crept in through
open windows and left the leaves
of houseplants filmed with light mist. The beauty of a
late summer morning glistening with dew
and filled with birdsong is indescribable, nearly Disney-esque
in its sharp-edged cinerama tech-
nicolor and stereophonic sound. The faintest hint of
orange is beginning to appear in the maple
trees outside my office window, and forsythia leaves
display ruby edges here and there. There
are flocks of birds everywhere I look, starlings,
finches, sparrows, crows, and phoebes. Last
night a group of warblers stopped at the birdbath, but
were so efficient at their ablutions that
by the time I grabbed my field guide to see what kind
they were, they were gone. It won’t
be long before the nightly coyote and cricket chorus is
joined by the high honking of
southbound geese. I love the changes that this time of
year engenders, don’t you?
Enjoy this fine day,
Daisy
~
Friday, September 8, 2006 8:30 a.m.
61 degrees, breezy, sunny
Heavy fog sits over our entire view right up to the edge
of the east meadow. The trees in
the hedgerow are starkly dark , backlit by intense
silvery mist, more intensely black-and-white
than an Ansel Adams photo. Closer to the house the scene
takes on more color, deep greens of
pre-autumnal foliage and brilliant golds of flowers both
wild and domestic. The vivid cerulean of
bluebird wings flashes now and then across my field of
vision as the flock slows down to splash in
the birdbath. Last night’s full moon was so perfect
just after it rose that we all stood in awe in a
busy parking lot after a late meeting to stare up at it.
“Look, the Harvest Moon!” I exclaimed.
“Not this year...” a friend replied. The
official Harvest Moon is always the full moon closest to
the autumnal equinox, which occurs this year on September
23rd EST. In one year out of three,
this means the harvest moon will be in October; This year
Harvest Moon will be October 6th.
So what then becomes of the Hunter’s Moon,
traditional to October? Naturally, it will be in
November. Last night’s full moon was the Corn Moon,
according to the farmers almanac.
Of course, this is the Native American tradition; other
cultures have different names for every
full moon. In my neck of the woods, last night’s
moon should be the Moon of the Corn that
had to be re-planted five times and may eventually get
ripe before frost hits. I prefer the
Celtic name for last night’s moon, the Singing Moon.
Crickets and coyotes alike were
certainly in fine voice all the long night under
beautiful bright moonlight. Looks
like tonight will be a good night to do a little moonlit
singing as well.
Ah-oooooooooo !
Daisy
~
Thursday, September 7, 2006 8:30 a.m.
57 degrees, calm, foggy
Fog has rolled right up the hill, obscuring the sun which
shone so brightly first thing
in the morning. Faint shadows are being cast north of the
house, but everything to the
south is misty and muted. There are lots of birds in the
air, on the wires, and at the birdbath
this morning, sparrows, finches and bluebirds for the
most part. A pileated woodpecker sits
in silhouette at the top of one of our big maple trees,
his large size and pointed crest a dead
giveaway to his identity. Yesterday was a gorgeous day,
well suited for picking beans and
digging carrots. As I worked my way down the rows, I came
upon a scattering of monarch
butterfly wings. Very few critters will eat this species
of butterfly because the larvae feed on
milkweed, which contains toxins that are harmless to the
monarch but give them a bitter taste
and may poison the predator. Adult butterflies eat
nectar, and I saw many of them feeding
on red clover blossoms yesterday. There are several birds
and rodents that will eat an
adult monarch, but not as their sole source of food. This link is the source I used for
this information. It does seem odd that all of the
discarded wings were in the same
location. Now the sun is burning off the fog, time to get
on with the day.
Don’t eat anything toxic,
Daisy
Wednesday, September 6, 2006 8:30 a.m.
60 degrees, calm, mostly sunny
The sun is shining all over Tug Hill, while the valley is
under a cloud. Blue sky is a most welcome
sight after so many overcast days in a row. Yesterday was
cloudy but pleasant nonetheless, and we
took a leisurely stroll along a very muddy old farm road.
We were checking to see if any ducks or
geese had stopped by a small pond nestled between the
vast meadows. Instead of waterfowl we
found dozens of little frogs who laughed at us from the
tall grass before leaping far into the water.
I had never heard such a merry sound from a frog before,
just like a child’s giggle of delight. I had
taken a pack to gather wild apples, but we found none. I
think it will be a poor year for apples from
what I have seen so far. Elderberries are ripening
quickly, heavy heads hanging under their burden of
deep maroon nubbins. Grapes are still hard and pale
green, with a few showing a little blush of pink
that will require a few more frost-free weeks to develop
their signature purple concord grapey hue.
We haven’t been up to the blackberry flats yet, and
I hope we aren’t too late to enjoy their tangy
sweetness. It is easy to become overwhelmed by the sheer
amount of good things waiting to be
harvested from the wild, never mind the crops we have
planted in our garden. It begins in the
spring with the first fiddleheads and leeks poking
through winter-matted forest litter, and will
continue right through munching frost-kissed apples
during the first snowfall of late autumn.
Such abundance is a gift we cannot ignore; it works well
to combine our hikes and bike
rides with gathering chores, multitasking recreation and
harvesting in one fun-filled activity.
Have a fine day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, September 5, 2006 8:30 a.m.
56 degrees, breezy, overcast
The sky is more than 95% covered by clouds, which is the
Webster’s Dictionary definition of
overcast. I had thought until now that the term
indicated the quality of cloud cover, not the amount.
I figured if the sky was flat with clouds, it was overcast,
but if you could make out individual clouds
the correct term was cloudy. In fact, the terms
seem to be interchangeable but overcast is given a
specific percentage as a guideline for use. Thus endeth
the vocabulary lesson for today. At any rate,
there isn’t a speck of sunshine on this breezy late
summer morning. We may see some rain later today,
so if you have outdoor work that needs to be done, get
right on it. Today is the first day of school in
many areas of our state, so it is a good thing (in my
opinion) that the weather is a little dull, a fine
day to gather indoors with old friends and new teachers.
Mind your manners, pay attention,
and don’t pick on those that may march to a
different drum.
(This advice goes out to students as well...)
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Monday, September 4, 2006 9:00 a.m.
55 degrees, breezy, cloudy
Rain that continued off and on throughout the day
yesterday pretty much flew the coop by
late afternoon. Temperatures were milder than had been
forecast and showers were brief and
light, no more hard downpours as on Saturday. We spent
another damp day at a local music festival
in relative comfort, thanks to modern technology, warm
wool socks, and water-friendly fibers. When
the sun finally burst through the clouds and patches of
bright blue sky appeared, a cheer went up from
the crowd gathered on the hillside that was louder than
for any of the entertainers all weekend. Hip, hip
hooray for the sun! A couple more passing mists floated
by, but most of the night was rain-free. A few
stars came out and a fat three-quarter moon led the way
to the grand finale, a splendid fireworks show
accompanied by the last band of the night. This morning’s
view is cloud-filled but fresh, and it is time to
wallow through muddy garden rows in search of peppers,
onions and tomatoes for a big batch of pepper
jam, a condiment that is sweet and piquant in the same
mouthful. We haven’t put the canning kettles to use
yet this season; it is high time to fill the house with
the fragrant steamy exhalations of marinara sauce, apple
butter, piccalilli, and relish. While the range is fired
up it seems like a good idea to put the last of the dried
plump scarlet runner beans into the oven to bake, savory
with onion and brown sugar and chunked-up
bacon ends. Soon enough we will be shelling out this year’s
crop of dried beans as we squirrel away
vittles for the long winter to come. This is a busy time
of year for those of us that live close to the
Earth, but ineffable rewards are reaped that make the
effort more than worthwhile.
Enjoy your labors of love on this Labor Day !
Daisy
~
Sunday, September 3, 2006 10:30 a.m.
56 degrees, breezy, showers
There are breaks in the cloud cover to the southeast, and
since that is the direction from
whence cometh the wind, I believe the worst of the rain
will soon be behind us. I spent much
of yesterday outdoors at a music festival, and it speaks
well of today’s young folks that I never
heard one discouraging word all day. Everyone was
prepared for the hard rain that fell off and on,
with an abundance of yellow slickers and knee-high rubber
boots giving the brief impression of being
surrounded by Maine lobstermen during a nor'easter. Rain-flies
on a sea of tents were extended with
tarps, and several folks even had easy-up shelters staked
out on the hillside so they could listen to the
music in relative comfort. Things might have been
difficult if the wind had kicked in, but all was well in
spite of mud and chilly temps. I am happy we live so
close to the gathering; our warm cozy kitchen
and dry comfy bed were appreciated in the wee hours a
hundred times over. Perhaps today will
bring a bit of better weather as a reward for the
thousands of folks who have ridden out the storm
so far. Right now it is raining pretty hard, but the sky
is nonetheless brighter than before.
Time to put on our woolies and head down the hill.
Have a festive day, no matter what,
Daisy
~
Saturday, September 2, 2006 8:30 a.m.
55 degrees, calm, overcast
This is either the calm before the storm, or the calm
before the hype about the storm.
The remnants of Ernesto, which was only briefly
considered to be a hurricane before
regaining tropical depression status, may bring some rain
and wind our way, or it may
not. The storm itself has disappeared from our Nexrad
radar map, and it appears as if
the worst of the rain will track to the west of us this
afternoon and blow itself out overnight.
Winds will be from the east, pushing the disturbance even
farther from us, one would think.
But in this summer of botched forecasts and gross
misinformation from the media (and I’m
not just talking about the weather here...) as usual it
is best to sit back and see what develops.
Last night was mild and starry, perfect for any outdoor
fun. Crickets were out in full voice, as
well as coyotes. Folks, if at all possible, keep your
cats indoors at night; recently there have
been several tragic losses in our neck of the woods from
wild critters as well as vehicles.
Barn cats are usually savvy enough to avoid predators,
but our beloved house pets
have lost their edge, especially in the dog-eat-cat world
of modern times. And
now, off to pick beans before the rain sets in, if in
fact it does.
Have a great day, no matter what,
Daisy
~
Friday, September 1, 2006 8:30 a.m.
60 degrees, breezy, mostly sunny
September has arrived in a literal blaze of glory, one of
the most stunning sunrises
I have seen in a long time. Venus hovered like a bright
diamond over the horizon while
the colors of the dawn washed the sky with warmth. The
Goddess of Love smiling down
upon our planet first thing in the morning is a beautiful
sight in these troubled times. It should
be a reminder to all of us to show love for our fellow
human beings, share our good fortune,
and count our many blessings. We have indeed been blessed
with a bounty of beans, green,
yellow, purple, and striped, ripening in waves over the
course of the summer. I nearly have
enough put by for winter, and friends have been beaned
like they used to be zucchinied.
Lock your car doors; here comes Daisy with a bucket of
beans! There is nothing better
than homegrown beans, steamed lightly and kissed with a
little butter and fresh-snipped
basil. Add new red potatoes, baked chicken, and wild
applesauce, sweeten it all with
a glass of raspberry wine, and it’s an instant
special occasion, even if it isn’t. We also
enjoy canned dilly beans; as soon as the dill is ready,
we will begin the tedious task of
packing raw perfect beans into quart jars for pickling.
Never mind the beef; got beans?
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
|