Friday, October 31, 2003, 7:15
a.m.
48 degrees, breezy, mostly
sunny
What a beautiful morning !
The rain is gone for a while and the sun is warming up
the air nicely.
Dozens of crows flap from tree to tree, and the western
meadow is full
of blackbirds picking breakfast out of the stubble. Two
bluejays are
meticulously looking over the harrowed gardens, gleaning
a few forgotten
sunflower seeds and corn kernels from the detritus. Last
night we were
finally able to see some spectacular northern lights. As
I traveled home
from work at 7:00, I noticed a red glow to the sky and
thought,
"Oh no, another barn fire !" I finally realized
that the eerie illumination
was from a celestial source, and pulled over to enjoy the
show. A huge
red parabola draped the entire sky and undulated gently.
Rays of silver
and pale green flickered and floated about the arch,
lighting the whole sky
from horizon to horizon. I got chilly, so I drove the
rest of the way home.
We bundled up in blankets, turned off the yard light, and
wandered around
slack-jawed and gaping at the beautiful aurora.
By this time, the red hues
had become localized into a small northern portion of
sky; the rest of space
was covered with shimmering curtains of silver and pale
green. By the time
we finished dinner, the sky was speckled with zillions of
stars and only
an echo of aurora borealis remained.
What a rare treat !
Watch out for tricks as well as treats today,
Daisy
~
Thursday, October 30, 2003, 6:30 a.m.
36 degrees, calm, cloudy
The sun is still below the
horizon and there is not yet any
indication that it is on its way. Intermittent showers
and overcast
skies made it impossible to view northern lights from our
location last night.
Massive storms on the sun yesterday set the stage for a
colorful display of
aurora borealis
which was predicted for much of the country, not just the
northern states. Yesterday we had enough of indoor chores
and decided to take
a walk in the rain. The mist was rising from the valley
in great big white billows,
and looked so picturesque from the kitchen window. Cold
rain pelted us in the face
as we walked, and my glasses were useless against all
that water, so I put them in
my pocket. We continued in spite of the weather, and
everything was a blur.
I thought I might have seen a bird or two, or it could
have been a batch of leaves
blowing aloft. When we turned around, the wind was at our
backs and I could put
my glasses on again. I was walking fast to try to keep
warm, but the west wind
drove the dampness right through my high-tech gear and
into my bones.
It was one of the best bad walks I have ever been on,
simply because
it ended in a nice warm kitchen that smelled like chicken
soup.
The weather is supposed to do a one-eighty today in time
for a pleasant weekend.
Have a happy day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, October 29, 2003, 8:15 a.m.
42 degrees, light breeze,
raining
Fog starts at our property
line; we can barely see
the neighbors house 400 yards away. Rain started sometime
after midnight and has been falling gently ever since.
There are
few birds out this morning. I think most of them have
headed south
for the winter months. It has been at least a week since
we saw
bluebirds. I cleaned out most of the nesting boxes
yesterday;
three were full of twigs, a sign that wrens have been
using the sites
in an uncharacteristic third seasonal hatch. Two boxes
were stuffed with
seedhead fluff and dry moss, but there were no little
deermice in residence.
I left the mouse constructions, as they didn’t look
used at all and I would hate
to leave some woodland family homeless on a snowy day.
Many times I have skied
up to a nesting box in January, peeked inside, and seen
half a dozen pairs of
shiny black eyes looking back at me from their comfy nest
of cattail cotton.
We are happy that our bluebird houses seem to be suitable
for a variety of creatures in every season.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, October 28, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
34 degrees, windy, partly
sunny
A wash of light is flooding
our back meadow as it escapes from behind a
low-slung black cloud. It isn’t exactly foggy,
because fog isn’t that dark.
Visibility is poor, but when there are breaks in the veil
we can see all the way
to the Adirondacks. I think that we are just plain stuck
in a cloud for a little
while. Things are moving quickly, and every now and then
fantastic sunbeams
highlight the neighbors silo, or land on the one maple
tree that hasn’t yet lost
its golden leaves. Blackbirds are still hanging around,
and a while ago they
swooped in unison through a narrow sun shower, their coal-black
wings shining
like ebony diamonds for just an instant. There is no rain
in the forecast until tonight.
The turmoil in the skies, however, indicates that
anything might happen today.
Ah, well, there is laundry to hang out no matter what.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Monday, October 27, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
40 degrees, gentle breeze,
foggy, raining
It rained throughout the
night, a steady soft patter on the tin roof.
The house was very warm and I wanted to open the bedroom
windows wide,
but rain and fog entered when I tried that. It was a
restless night, full of
half-dreams and wild imaginings. Sometimes we need to
shake up our comfort
zones a little; it gives us empathy for those who don’t
have a too-warm house
and a comfy queen-sized bed with plaid flannel sheets.
Those of us who awaken
in a safe place full of creature comforts are in the
minority when viewed on a
global scale. We have been inoculated against disease,
eaten nourishing meals,
received education, and have a roof over our heads and a
vast choice of garments.
Our lives are filled with good fortune; this fact
sometimes gets lost in the shuffle
of deciding what to wear or what to have for breakfast.
Meanwhile, a whole mess
of crows are soaring from tree to tree in the yard,
calling noisily as they pass.
They don’t seem to be going anywhere in particular.
Yesterday’s blackbirds hung
around for most of the day, moving in unison as they
ranged over the meadows.
The flock moved like a grandstand wave,
one bird rising and then the others all
following in sequence; they would fly just a few yards,
then settle to earth with
the same fluid motion. There must have been a couple of
hundred blackbirds,
and it was a lovely dance. Last winter, a dozen
blackbirds and a small flock
of crows hung around for the whole season.
I hope they choose to stick around again.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, October 26, 2003, 8:45 a.m.
52 degrees, small breeze, a
touch of sunshine
It is a very soft Sunday
morning.
Masses of large grey clouds blend together into an almost
solid ceiling,
but now and then the sun shines through like a single
light bulb in the hallway
of a shotgun shack. Clouds are on the move, but it is
unclear whether they are
ushering in more rain or just passing through in front of
clear skies. It is a
pleasant morning, a little bit warm after the hard
freezes of the past few days.
The snow is finally gone from perennial beds which still
need a bit of cleaning up
before the snow flies. On a walk yesterday we noticed a
few fearless flowers
abloom in spite of the harsh temperatures. Small
goldenrod spikes, only a few
inches tall, nestled underneath taller mustard and
charlock blossoms; the yellow
was a nice surprise after seeing tons of brown aster and
queen-ann’s lace husks
along the roadside. Pansies and johnny jump-ups near the
house are still putting
out the occasional little bloom, enough to pick for a
little vase on the windowsill
over the kitchen sink. As we raked leaves, I noticed one
little dandelion, its stem
so short it appeared to be growing right on the ground.
Right now a very large
flock of blackbirds is streaming past the window, passing
from east to west.
There sure are a lot of them... I must run out to see
what these birds are up to !
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, October 25, 2003, 8:15 a.m.
32 degrees, calm, mostly
cloudy
There were just a few clouds
in the sky for this morning’s glorious sunrise.
They framed the rising fireball and reflected bright
magenta with overtones
of red-orange throughout the sky. There is a faint
afterglow along the eastern
horizon, with silver sunbeams highlighting the edges of
horizontal cloud banks.
It is a cold morning but the wood-burning kitchen range
has filled the kitchen
with warmth. Fire is such a tricky element. Today there
are horrible wildfires
rushing across parts of California, destroying old-growth
trees and threatening
to level entire communities. A week ago, a barn fire
wiped out the lives of 140
cows right here in Turin. And yet, many depend on flames
for winter heat,
whether it is from a wood-burning stove or a gas or oil
furnace. Consider a
single candle: When lit, it provides gentle light for
conversation or meditation,
a focus for our thoughts, dreams, and prayers. A small
draft of air or a
spattering of rain can easily extinguish that small glow.
However, a flame
will not burn without any air at all, and small amounts
of water are given off
as the candle grows shorter. Shovelsfull of dirt can be
used to extinguish a
campfire, yet ordinary dust is highly explosive when
ignited. Fire, air, water, earth..
each element is vital to life on earth, and all can work
together in harmony or
they can compete and destroy each other. Humans may
imagine they control
the elements, when in reality it is up to Mother Nature
whether mankind is
helped or harmed. Consider the elements as you go about
your day’s work;
remember that they are not our servants, they are
blessings.
Show respect and gratitude for the planet’s many
gifts.
Keep the home fires burning,
Daisy
~
Friday, October 24, 2003, 9:00 a.m.
30 degrees, breezy, mostly
sunny
It is a crisp, clear, and
cold morning.
There is a hard edge to the shadows that spread over the
ground,
like they were drawn with india ink. Nearly all of the
leaves have fallen,
and those that haven’t blown into the meadows are
nestled against
outbuildings waiting for the rakes to come out.
Most of the snow is gone but it is still mitten-cold.
Raking should warm us up nicely.
Have a beautiful day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, October 23, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
27 degrees, breezy, mostly
cloudy, flurries
A trace of snow fell last
night, not really enough to warrant boots.
On the other hand, maybe it is time to put the flip-flops
away for the season.
Snow is floating crazily through the air; some coming
down to earth, some
hanging motionless, and occasional flakes near the house
are hurtling upwards
towards the clouds. I have never seen such a random array
of flurries.
There are a few breaks in the clouds, but the sky above
is silver, not blue.
If it were not for an occasional patch of gold from aspen
leaves or the red
forsythia hedge, this could pass for a steely-grey
November morning. The
wood-burning Kalamazoo kitchen range is no longer enough
to take the chill
off the house, so a small fire burns in the living room
stove as well.
Now the sun is shining and all of the snowflakes sparkle
as they twirl and hover,
confetti of the gods/goddesses of yore.
Bundle up,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, October 22, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
30 degrees, windy, foggy,
snowing
A half inch of snow reflects
light back and forth from the fog,
brightening this otherwise gloomy morning. It is cold,
windy, and damp;
the cats did a fast one-eighty and dashed back into the
warmth of the
kitchen after begging to be let out. A cluster of
blackbirds in the biggest
maple tree is making a lot of noise for so few birds.
Trees on Tug Hill have
lost most of their leaves, except for one sturdy maple
that has barely turned
orange. This is one of three trees that we transplanted
from the woodlot to
our yard twenty-five years ago. It has grown larger than
the other two and
is always the last to drop its leaves in the fall. All
three trees get the same
amount of sun and are in the same kind of soil; it’s
a mystery why one should
be so different. It is closest to the house. Perhaps
twenty-five years of
love, laughter, and scuffles radiating through the
windows have helped to
nourish its growth. As houseplants respond to the human
voice,
so may trees thrive on living energy generated within a
busy home.
Food for thought...
Daisy
~
Tuesday, October 21, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
50 degrees, windy, raining
Very early this morning a
thunderstorm blew across the hill.
Gigantic raindrops pelted the roof and combined with the
thunder and
lightning to make me dream I was in a war zone. I awoke
to brilliant
flashes of light outside my window, with a little dog
trembling under
the covers next to me. It stormed off and on for a couple
of hours,
and the sunrise was obscured by thunderheads. Right now
there are
fast-moving clouds heading east, revealing a tiny patch
of pale blue sky.
Rain is intermittent, and the fireworks have stopped for
now. It looks like
it may clear up for a while, although the forecast is for
rain most of the day.
Looks like a good day to make bread and can applesauce,
and sneak a walk in whenever we can.
Make the most of every day,
Daisy
~
Monday, October 20, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
29 degrees, wispy breeze,
mostly cloudy
The clouds parted just
enough to give us a look at the sun coming up
this morning. It was huge and bright red. When viewed at
a sideways angle
through double pane glass, it appears to be two giant
suns, a very cool optical
illusion. The clouds are in a billowy grey layer that
stretches from the north
almost to the eastern horizon. It appears to be clear
above the Adirondack
Mountains. Thick frost covers everything around us, and
the water in the
birdbath is frozen solid. Yesterday’s snow is nearly
gone; occasional patches
still linger in protected spots. A friend brought us a
truckload of macintosh
apples and we spent the morning making cider. We bought a
used press last
year but so far had only pressed grapes with it. What a
slick little machine !
Dump in the apples, grind them up, and squish them down.
In no time at all
we had 25 gallons of sweet cider. Some will go into the
freezer, and some
will be left out to get fizzy for festive occasions. It
is hard not to guzzle
down a large quantity of the cold sweet beverage, which
is not only a tasty
drink, but an effective laxative... reminding us that
"too much of a good thing"
is more than just a phrase learned at Grandma’s knee.
Have a regular day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, October 19, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
32 degrees, gentle breeze,
snowing!
About an inch of snow
obscures the mown lawn, while the meadows
still have stems and seedheads poking through the white
carpet. Visibility
is poor due to low clouds and swirling flakes. A friend
has been sitting in
a treestand across the road since before dawn and will be
stopping by for
pancakes and coffee when he’s had enough outdoor fun.
I love winter sports
but I don’t think I would enjoy sitting absolutely
still on a wintry morning
like this. It would be interesting to see the critters
pass under my concealed
tree perch, and on a nice morning it must be a thrill to
watch the sun rise
through the trees. But on a cold, snowy morning such as
this...
nope, give me the view from my window next to a blazing
fire, mug of coffee
in my hands and little domestic critters passing by my
unconcealed comfy chair.
There’s a knock at the door; time to make pancakes.
Have a good breakfast and a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, October 18, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
33 degrees, calm, partly
sunny
It is a jewel of a frosty
fall morning.
As ice crystals thaw, they are released from the ends of
twig tips,
and drip slowly to earth, one gem at a time. There are
large cloud banks,
but the sun is shining between them. Sunrise was
spectacular ! I don’t think
I will ever grow weary of watching the sun rise and set.
As the valley warms
up, carpets of mist are forming, illuminated by the sun,
silvery paths in the
nooks and crannies of the foothills. A funnel shaped
plume of smoke is rising
from somewhere along Route 12D, too big to be from a
chimney; I hope it is
merely someone burning a leaf pile. Two nights ago we saw
flames from a tragic
barn fire leaping skyward; it looked like the whole town
was on fire. If you
burn wood for heat or for cooking, remember to start the
season with clean
stoves and chimneys. Don’t let fires smolder, and
clean those flues on a regular
basis. If you will be burning garden waste or leaves
outdoors, check with your
local fire department to see what safety rules you should
follow.
Fire is a powerful element, and must be treated with
respect.
All of Mother Nature’s gifts should be respected and
appreciated,
lest they be taken away.
Give thanks for this day,
Daisy
~
Friday, October 17, 2003, 8:15 a.m.
33 degrees, slightly breezy,
partly sunny
A heavy frost still covers
the ground; our picnic table is white with it, and
the plywood ramp at the back door is treacherous this
morning. There are
several geraniums snugged up against the house; this
unexpected frost will
be a test to see how hardy they are. It is time to bring
them in and try to
find enough window space for the outdoor pots. The plants
are still covered
with blooms and buds; it would be a shame to put them in
the cellar while
they look so beautiful. It is a beautiful morning with a
mix of sun and clouds.
A haze obscures the Adirondack Mountains, but everything
is crisp and clear
on Tug Hill. It is cold, and the little breeze drives
chilly air right through
a fleece jacket. If you venture out for a walk, dress in
layers and wear a hat.
When the sun ducks behind a cloud, it gets really cold.
Have a fine day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, October 16, 2003, 8:15 a.m.
38 degrees, windy, partly
sunny, showers
Sunrise this morning was
heralded by a vast array of colors
across the entire sky. There were different kinds of
clouds bouncing
the predawn glow back and forth and even the western sky
was tinted pink.
This rosy glow combined with patches of blue sky and dark
purple or bright
silver clouds to cast an otherworldly spell on the land.
Even now, an hour after
sunrise, the sky is very busy. Bright blue is directly
overhead, and a line of
churned up grey clouds is moving above the river,
trailing both sheets of rain
and sunbeams simultaneously. Several puffs of fast-moving
diaphanous snow-white
vapor scud across the blue spaces from time to time. To
the north, a heavy black
wall is pushing smaller clouds this way. The sun’s
light is piercing while it is shining,
illuminating the wet leaves on the ground with amazing
clarity. Shadows play across
the land as wind sways the nearly skeletal branches of
autumn’s gale-stripped trees.
There is change in the air today; almost certainly the
warm spell is over.
While the sun will shine again, I’m guessing it will
be a long time before
we bask and doze in those lazy moments after sandwiches
at the picnic table.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, October 15, 2003, 9:00 a.m.
46 degrees, very windy,
raining
Last night’s rain never
seemed to vary in intensity;
it drummed a steady beat on the tin, and for some reason
it didn’t
have its usual soporific effect. It was a restless night
for all in the house.
Cats prowled and tussled, the dog couldn’t decide
where to curl up, and books
left the nightstands more than once. Cloud cover is so
thick this morning that
the sun rose colorless, the warm beams gathering together
to eventually explode
into brilliance later over some western town. A short
while ago the wind picked
up and the gusts are quickly denuding trees. Leaves are
flying sideways, their
waterlogged tissue picking up speed before landing in the
meadows.
This is the end of a beautiful fall.
As we move toward the silvery month of November and bid
farewell to autumn’s bounty,
take a few moments to count your many blessings.
Have a grateful day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, October 14, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
49 degrees, breezy, mostly
sunny
Not one cloud was in the
predawn sky this morning.
The glow on the eastern horizon ran the gamut of warm
colors
against a deep purple sky. The very first point of
sunlight to rise
above the mountains was too dazzling to look at for long,
a blinding
point of light that held my attention an instant too long.
When I turned
away and looked at the white porch wall, a green
afterimage burned there;
my mind’s eye had transformed the sun’s first
rays into its perfect
complimentary-hued twin. As a bored teenager in church, I
would often stare
at the minister as he droned on, and then look away to a
blank sanctuary wall.
There he was, his purple raiment magically transformed
into bright yellow !
Could it be the Holy Spirit? I dared not tell anyone of
my visions, lest they
put me in the same classification as those who reported
the occasional flying
saucer or garden fairy. It wasn’t until I studied
Art at University that I
learned about the optical phenomena of afterimage, which
always presents
as the opposite color from the object being viewed.
There are dozens of illusions and tricks of this nature,
and it serves to remind us that things are not always as
they first appear.
See for yourself,
Daisy
~
Monday, October 13, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
50 degrees, breezy, sunny
The sky is a deep blue this
morning, a perfect background for the
fiery foliage that still clings to the maple trees in the
yard. Fog blankets
the valley, and the view to the east is nearly totally
obscured by low clouds.
A cold front passed through late yesterday, bringing bone-chilling
rain and
gusty winds that released millions of leaves. They
arranged themselves into
piles according to the obstacles they encountered; by
removing vehicles from
the yard we created a perfect wind tunnel, and many
leaves blew down into
the meadow. The air that preceded the front was decidedly
colder than the
balmy afternoon temperature that embraced us as we worked
outdoors. Today’s
bright sunshine is deceptive. The breeze is chilly, and
the trend for the week is
for the thermometer to plunge enough for snow to develop
Thursday night. Take
a long walk today and immerse yourself in the inevitable
timeless cycle of seasons.
Use all of your senses, and find joy in this day !
Have a perfect day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, October 12, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
56 degrees, breezy, sunny
The morning air is clear and
a bit chilly. Fog follows the river,
and the rest of the valley is monochromatic in the mist.
Just the tops
of the Adirondack Mountains poke through the haze,
appearing as islands
on a vast sea. The cats started to howl at dawn, anxious
to go outdoors.
The two younger ones are bounding through the tall grass,
chasing leaves,
butterflies, and each other. Our old gal is dozing in the
sun by the barn door.
Last night I sat on the porch and waited for the waning
moon to rise. In the
purple hour just after the sun went down, dozens of large
flocks of geese passed
over the house. There must have been thousands of birds!
Some flocks were in a
perfectly straight line, with four or five birds up front
forming more of a
checkmark than a vee. One enormous group was in a
discombobulated cluster
of fowl akimbo, a disorganized mess of wildlife, headed
west instead of south.
I stopped counting individual flocks after a while and
just enjoyed the wonderful
wild autumn symphony composed by Mother Nature. Just
before darkness covered
the land, the moon edged slowly above the horizon, nearly
full and blood-red.
As it ascended, the color moved through deep orange,
squash-gold, lemon yellow,
and finally a creamy silver. Her beautiful face smiled
upon the land, and crickets
sang a special moonrise tune as they danced in the glow
of moonbeams.
Check it out tonight,
Daisy
~
Saturday, October 11, 2003, 8:15 a.m.
62 degrees, gentle breeze,
mostly sunny
It is another spectacular
autumn morning on Tug Hill.
The sun is already quite warm and the breeze stirs the
leaves;
the hedgerow is vibrating with color. The foliage changed
into warm
tones almost overnight. Wednesday all was green, with
occasional accents
of red, gold, and orange; today the leaves have achieved
their peak of vivid
color for this season. A swarm of monarch butterflies
fluttered through the
yard yesterday, complementing the maple leaves that are
beginning to float gently
to earth. This morning a large flock of blackbirds is
browsing through the orange
carpet, picking up tasty morsels that had sheltered under
the leaves last night.
All kinds of birds have stopped by the yard lately. A
dozen bluebirds hung
around the birdbath for several days, joyfully splashing
each other as they
drank their fill. Two great blue herons lifted off from
the springbox overflow
pool early this morning, their great wings keeping a slow
but steady beat.
Turkeys have taken to the woods, but we can hear their
fall chatter,
sounding somewhat like a flock of domestic chickens with
their clucks.
purrs, and whistles. Geese have been flying high overhead
in huge flocks,
their brassy calls making them sound closer than they
really are.
We are in for several more Indian Summer days.
Fill your spirit with the beauty that is all around, and
build warm memories
of these perfect days to recall when the frosty chill of
winter finally arrives.
Have fun today,
Daisy
~
Friday, October 10, 2003, 11:15 a.m.
68 degrees, gentle breeze,
partly sunny
I drove off the Hill this
morning at 4:30, leaving behind a beautiful
almost-full moon and a sky full of stars. Just outside of
Turin, heavy
fog enshrouded my intrepid little car, and I reduced my
speed considerably.
Lucky thing, that, or I would have collided head-on with
one of the biggest
bucks I have ever seen! No mere northern whitetail this,
but a stag straight
out of myth and Arthurian legend; he loomed from the mist
and strode confidently
across the highway, casting a cool gaze into my
approaching headlights. I swear,
he never got that frozen-in-fear countenance that I have
seen dozens of times
before on light-bedazzled critters. This was no ordinary
deer; he was the Great
Buck that walks the Earth to give form to all the deer
that have gone before.
He was a Spirit Deer, a magical vision that shocked my
sleepy head into
googly-eyed wakefulness. He came out of the fog, looked
at me,
and was gone in an instant. I am still amazed !
Have an amazing day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, October 9, 2003, 8:00a.m.
58 degrees, breezy, mostly
sunny
It is a beautiful morning,
warm and dry. There was very little dew
on the ground at dawn, and no frost anywhere on our
property. I guess it
must be Indian Summer,
if the PCP (Politically Correct Police) will permit
me to use the term. This is defined as a period of warmer
than usual days
following a spell of hard freezes. Today will be just
perfect for cleaning up
the perennial beds and moving flowering bulbs. Ten years
ago we planted a
half bushel of assorted daffodil bulbs, and they were
very crowded last spring,
although the original bulbs were planted eight inches
apart. I’ll bet there are
at least two bushels of bulbs by now, enough to have a
spectacular display of
yellow and white flowers next spring. The autumn garden
cleanups provide a very
real way to time-travel ahead seven months to the middle
of May, and visualize
small bulbs’ magic transformation into regal
fragrant blossoms. Every clump
of lilies that we divide, all the iris that get
rearranged, mulching the
pansies in case they decide to survive the winter, all
these tasks
provide a prescient glimpse of the beauty that will
abound come spring.
There is a timelessness to working the soil,
and joy in hitching a ride on the great wheel of seasons.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, October 8, 2003,
8:00a.m.
45 degrees, calm, sunny
No frost last night, but it
was still pretty cold. My all-natural anemometer
(the leaves that remain on an aspen tree) indicates that
not a bit of air is
moving outdoors. I have been staring at the leaves for
several minutes, and they
are utterly still this morning. Blades of grass that hold
enormous drops of dew
are not quivering; the plump jewels that have been
dancing wildly on previous
mornings are moored in their settings until the sun’s
rays release them into the air.
Yesterday was very windy. I hung out sheets to dry, and
they spent a good part
of the morning flapping horizontally and making a loud
racket. The flannel was
blown soft, and last night we crawled in between sheets
redolent of a fine
October day. October-fresh from
a clothesline has April-fresh from
a dryer
beat a million times over, in my book. We are headed
north today to do a little
leaf-peeping in the Adirondacks, maybe hike to the top of
a little mountain and take
in the view from across the valley. I have spent so many
mornings gazing over at
the mountains from our back porch; it will be cool to
gaze at Tug Hill for a change.
Change is good,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, October 7, 2003, 8:30a.m.
42 degrees, gentle breeze,
mostly sunny
It is a shiny sunny morning.
Last night’s heavy frost is dissolving into
sparkling
droplets that enhance the warm colors of fall foliage.
One single rose is blooming,
perched on the very top of our rosa
rugosa bushes. The bright magenta
blossom
stands out in beautiful contrast to the blue background
the sky provides.
We planted one rose bush twenty-seven years ago, and it
has flourished into a
solid mass of sturdy shrubbery. It is covered in large
flat blooms all summer long,
and large crimson rose hips provide pithy fruit for
wildlife throughout the winter.
This particular variety is also known as beach
rose or wrinkled
rose and is wonderfully
suited for the north country’s harsh climate. The
dense thorny branches are formidable, and support many
bird nests in early summer.
Today’s hearty blossom doesn’t surprise us; we
have photos of roses blooming through a layer of October
snow.Today’s temperature will wander towards sixty,
very user-friendly.This week might be the last chance we
have to put the gardens to bed for the winter, so let’s
get busy !
Have a rosy outlook,
Daisy
~
Monday, October 6, 2003, 8:45 a.m.
50 degrees, mostly calm,
sunny
There are pale cloud banks
to the east and a white ribbon of fog hovering
above the river on this beautiful morning. There is still
frost on the picnic
table and the water in the sprinkling can is frozen, but
the sun warmed my
bare feet as I greeted the day from the back porch. The
soft zephyrs wafting
through the shrubbery flutter the wet leaves slightly;
through unfocused eyes
it looks like a mass of sequins, a crazy chorus line of
glammed-up pageant-Moms
in line by the garden, waiting for their little girls to
twirl their batons or belt out
a showtune. Scores of geese flew low over the east meadow
on their way to protected
Atlantic bays and river estuaries. Migratory birds are
really on the move now. As the
full moon approaches, listen for them after night falls.
If you are lucky, you may
see a perfect vee of birds as they pass in front of the
rising pumpkin-colored moon.
Blue jays peck around the last of the sunflowers, most of
which are flat on the
ground. There is not one cob of corn left for the birds
to glean; raccoons have
helped themselves to the few ears left after we picked
dozens of bushels. Some
critters (probably skunks) have been pulling apart the
compost heap and gorging
on tomato peelings and squash seeds. They got a spicy
surprise last night;
we processed a large number of hot peppers yesterday.
Ay, carumba !
Spice up your day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, October 5, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
30 degrees, breezy, snowing
It is amazing how just a
dusting of snow can brighten the whole
landscape. There are big flakes plummeting to earth,
drawn down by the
soggy weight of themselves. A slushy half-inch or so
barely obscures the
lawn; trees and shrubs are bent with the burden, their
gracefully arching
branches not yet to the point of snapping. The cornstalks
that survived the
past few windstorms have finally succumbed, their golden
sheaths prone under
a blanket of white. If this flurry keeps up, damage could
be done to trees that
have not yet begun to drop their leaves. The first
accumulation of snow always
thrills me for some reason. I know this will probably be
gone in a day, it’s not the
real deal; still, I saw that white glow coming in the
window before I arose, and
sprung from the bed with a cheerful "yippee skippy!"
I slipped on my winter clogs and
slopped around the yard, tasting the flakes and relishing
their icy kisses on my face.
Now I believe an irish coffee is in order, sipped in a
comfy chair
by the blazing kitchen range as I gaze out at the
beautiful snowfall.
Have a cozy day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, October 4, 2003, 7:15 a.m.
36 degrees, windy, raining
The sun apparently came up
behind the dark curtain of clouds, but we
need several lights on in the house right now. The
birdbath not only has little
divots on the surface from raindrops, there are whitecaps
from wind as well.
I haven’t ventured outdoors yet, choosing instead
the more sensible path of hooking
the dog to the clothesline for his morning ablutions. He
finished his business in
record time, no sniffing around the barn or pausing to
check out the scents borne
on the air. The cats are all curled up on rugs around the
range; not one is begging
to go out. There were many pickup trucks headed up the
Hill before the alleged dawn.
I will send warm thoughts to all those turkey hunters who
have been crouched
motionless for the past half hour, immersing themselves
in this raw damp day.
Let’s hope they are wearing their snuggies under the
camouflage and have a thermos
full of something hot, perhaps with a little something
sweet to nibble on. Yesterday
we checked out the gardens to see how they fared after
the frost. It is no surprise
that broccoli, cabbage, and brussels sprouts are all
looking good. Our last crop of
corn has all been pulled asunder by coons. A carpet of
spinach seedlings that has
grown from spinach trees tilled under in July looks very
promising. The flowers in
the bed next to the house appear to have escaped the
freeze due to heat radiating
from the stone foundation. I found three blackeyed susans
growing by the road and
the asters and goldenrod are still vibrantly beautiful.
This is such a beautiful time
of year. Even on a dark and dank morning like this,
orange and red maple leaves
emit a glow from within and brighten up the otherwise
bleak landscape.
Shine your light today,
Daisy
~
Friday, October 3, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
34 degrees, gentle breeze,
mostly sunny
Brrrrrrrr! The long-awaited
frost settled over the entire area last night.
Sometimes, due to thermal inversion and heat rising from
the valley, we will
avoid the first fall frost on Tug Hill. This was not the
case this time. The
temperature dropped to 24 and water in the birdbath is
still frozen solid. I
will have to dig the windshield scraper out of the trunk
in order to drive off
the Hill for errands this morning. The sky is bluebird-blue,
with clouds forming
a broad ring around the clear space. Some dark grey
clouds to the southeast look
ominous, and I’m guessing that this beautiful sunny
day will not be with us for very
long. Droplets of ice sparkle like diamonds as they thaw
and drip from ends of
crimson forsythia leaves. Later today we will ramble
through the gardens and
survey the damage; it does not seem possible that any
tender plants could
have survived the first icy breath of Old Man Winter, but
one never knows...
Have a wonderful Friday,
Daisy
~
Thursday, October 2, 2003, 6:30 a.m.
34 degrees, windy, partly
cloudy
The sky is pale and dark
clouds are scurrying along at breakneck speed
from west to east. The sunrise looks like it will be
interesting this morning,
but I will be off the Hill before that happens. It is
nice that Daylight Savings
Time lasts all the way until the end of October, giving
us extra time at the end
of the day to enjoy a walk after work. The tradeoff is
the dark at the beginning
of the day, especially during this month of colder temps
and occasional snow.
When the rain stopped suddenly in the middle of the
night, we were certain that
it had turned into softly falling snow. It was, however,
just the end of the rain...
no snow so far. Temperatures will probably fall below
freezing tonight, putting an
end to the harvest frenzy of the past few weeks. The next
big job is to till
nature’s best fertilizer into the soil and get the
ground ready for spring,
looking ahead to another growing season.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, October 1, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
50 degrees, breezy, mostly
cloudy
There are big grey clouds
moving quickly across higher layers
of silvery-white sky. A few tiny spots of pale blue
appear here and there
as the heavens rearrange their raiment. Ghostly sunbeams
do little to add
warmth to the morning, a fitting start to the
unpredictable month of October.
There is cold weather headed our way for the next few
days. Yesterday we
had a small fire burning in the kitchen range all day.
Pulling carrots, picking
beans, and generally cleaning up all of the garden
remnants left our fingers numb;
the heat was welcome. I brought wood into the kitchen for
the first time since
May. I could just heap wood into a wheelbarrow and dump
it willy-nilly into a bin,
as has been suggested to me by many as labor-saving and
more efficient. I prefer
to carry it in from the woodshed an armload at a time,
big and small pieces mixed
together in the same way they will go into the stove.
Each piece is laid down to
fit snugly with the one next to it, and the ends that
show are squared up. As I
carry the wood, I reflect on the days spent cutting and
piling it for storage, friends
and family who helped, or the wonderful food that will be
prepared with the old
Kalamazoo range during the chilly months to come.
Stacking firewood holds the same
homely appeal to me as hanging clothes on the line; it is
art of the most temporal
kind. Webster’s Dictionary has two definitions for temporal:
1) limited by time;
2) of or relating to earthly life. Woodpiles, flowers in
a vase, quart jars full of
tomatoes and pickles lined up on the sideboard for a few
weeks before going
into the cold cellar, all are examples of temporal things
with the potential to be
artistically presented. Why not make such things
intentionally attractive for
their brief appearance as part of our earthly lives ?
Look at such things with an artist’s eye;
you probably already do.
Have a creative day,
Daisy
~
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