Sunday, November 30, 2003, 8:30
a.m.
27 degrees, windy, brightly
overcast
Fierce wind is whipping the
snow around, great ghostly sheets of it
flying across the meadows. Yesterday’s storm was
almost non-productive when
it comes to measuring total accumulation. As fast as snow
fell from the sky,
the wind carried it off with great force to someone else’s
yard. There is a
mammoth drift outside the window, but parts of the lawn
are showing grassy
blades. Cross country skiing was difficult, as there is
still a layer of water close
to the ground. The wind was biting cold; any little spot
of skin left uncloaked
was soon rosy and chapped. Late in the day the snowfall
stopped; clouds scudded
across the blue sky and framed a spectacular sunset.
Later, countless stars were
clear against the black curtain of night, but the wind
let us know
exactly what season is finally upon us.
Enjoy your wintry day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, November 29, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
23 degrees, windy, snowing
It is snowing sideways and
building up into drifts. Visibility is poor.
The cats begged to go outdoors, got as far as the back
step, and dashed
back inside without a second thought. The snowplow just
went by and it
looks like it is pretty icy underneath the snow. The
driver opened up the
truck’s sand chutes on his way back down the Hill.
Winter driving can be
tricky, both coming up and going down. There is one
ninety degree corner
that has to be approached with caution, or your vehicle
may end up on
someone’s front porch. There is not a single sign of
life in the yard this
morning except for the dog’s tracks, which filled in
quickly after he came
back inside from his morning toilette.
It is a good day to make turkey soup,
cornbread, and cookies. "Get out in that kitchen and
rattle them pots ‘n’ pans..."
Soup’s on !
Daisy
~
Friday, November 28, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
35 degrees, breezy,
overcast, valley fog
It isn’t raining yet,
but showers certainly appear to be imminent.
Most of the snow melted in yesterday’s sun, although
there are still
many small patches of white dotting the meadows and good
coverage in
the shadowy woodlots. A flock of eighteen crows just flew
by, a tight
little group of sixteen followed by two guards. No doubt
one or two sentinel
birds had flown on ahead to scope out the destination.
They didn’t fly very
far, and are still visible in the western hedgerow. It is
unusual for such a
large flock to be hanging around the Hill so late in the
season.
Is this a portent of a mild winter ? Especially if they
are feasting on
wide-striped wooly bear caterpillars from spruce trees
bare of cones...
I can’t wait to see what surprises Old Man Winter
has up his sleeve this year.
I just hope the serious snow holds off until everybody’s
friends and families
are safely back home from the Thanksgiving weekend.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, November 27, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
30 degrees, gentle breeze,
mostly sunny
There is a smattering of
clouds over the horizon in every direction,
but all is clear directly overhead. Sunrise this morning
was very colorful as
it reflected off of the clouds as well as the snow that
remains on the ground.
You know, each and every sunrise is different here on Tug
Hill, but there are
only so many words to describe the gorgeous hues and
uplifting radiance of them
all. I imagine if I read over all the journal entries
from the past year I will find
some repetition in the descriptive language, but the
memories of each sunrise will
be different in my own mind’s eye, at least.
Sometimes lovely events must just be
absorbed into the spirit, and attempts to describe them
fall short of the full
experience. "Sunrise was very colorful" doesn’t
even begin to address the flow of
happy energy that passed directly from the vast universe
through my entire being
as I watched that good old reliable orb slowly filling
the southeastern sky with light
and colors. Even on fog-filled mornings, the peace and
joy I feel as I gaze across
the yard can never quite be fully expressed in words.
Every day that we awaken to
a world full of Mother Nature’s offerings is a real
gift, one that we often take for
granted. Step outside this morning, even if you live
surrounded by buildings and the
bustle of humanity. Look up at the piece of sky that you
can see from your doorstep,
and thank the Great Spirit for the gift of another day,
no matter what it may hold for you.
Have an awesome day,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, November 26, 2003, 8:15 a.m.
25 degrees, calm, mostly
overcast
Most of the sky is covered
by a layer of steely grey clouds.
At the southeastern horizon there is a thin sliver of
pink sky gleaming
through the dullness, lending the snowy fields a faint
warm glow. Yesterday
was a beautiful day, perfect for cross country skiing (one
would think).
However, just as the glide got going, vast puddles of
groundwater underneath
the surface of the snow grabbed at the skis and brought
all to a crashing halt
as it slushed over the laminate. There clearly needs to
be more wintry base
for the nordic sports that we love so much. One of our
favorite places to ski
is around the nearby abandoned farmstead where we went
walking Tuesday.
This square mile of classic Tug Hill terrain has it all:
fields, orchards, swamps,
and both deciduous and coniferous forests. Just before
the edge of old-growth
forest is a line of five grandmother trees, gnarled and
misshapen by fierce winds
and hard winters. These maples would have grown to be
perfectly symmetrical
specimen trees if they had grown in a sheltered field at
lower altitude. They
certainly have had plenty of sun and lots of room to
grow, as each stands alone in
a slightly swampy meadow. These seedlings, however, long
ago gripped MotherEarth
and put down their sturdy roots in one of the harshest
environments imaginable.
At the northeastern edge of the field, they bore the full
force of the prevailing
west wind as it gathered speed across the empty space,
which can gust eighty or
even ninety miles an hour during a storm. Lake effect
snows and driving shards of
sleet and freezing rain have bent and twisted the trunks
of these trees, and each
has a hollow side full of colorful moss and fungal
growths. The thin soil in which
the roots sought nourishment yielded only clay over
impenetrable ledge. When one
gazes at the trees, the overall impression is one of
grace and timeless rhythm;
the lazy summer days of birdsong and gentle breezes are
woven into every fiber
of the massive ancient trees, along with the more intense
severe tests they had
to withstand. Who knows, at one time there may have been
a whole row of maple
trees, dozens of them standing guard along the fenceline,
giving up their sap to
the farmer’s family and sheltering entire flocks of
robins and orioles. The few
that have survived for more than a hundred years have
been able to adapt to the
pressures of life on Tug Hill, and learned to sway and
bend with adversity.
To resist would be to break and die. Soon, the weight of
their many years will
topple even the hardiest of survivors, leaving a pile of
rich organic mulch in
which the next generation of grandmother trees can be
germinated and nourished.
So it goes,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, November 25, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
22 degrees, breezy,
overcast, snowing
Rain turned into snow at our
southernmost property line at about
eight o’clock last night. It often happens that way;
there is just enough
change in altitude so that winter shows up on Tug Hill
before anywhere else.
It is snowing lightly now, and there is only about an
inch on the ground. Wet
sticky snow clings to every small twig and lower branch
of shrubbery, but it
has blown off of the taller trees. A handful of small
lively juncos has joined
the blackbirds in the yard this morning. All six
blackbirds are huddled together
in one tree, and they are chattering loudly among
themselves. Yesterday we
walked to a nearby abandoned farmstead and saw what may
have been three
ravens lurking about the old hayfield. It is hard to tell
if they were ravens or
crows, as they were silent in their flight. We have
frequently heard ravens up
here; their harsh gravelly cries much more discordant
than the clear caw-caw-caw
of the smaller crows. At any rate, these birds were
large, and moved with the
ponderous deep wingbeats characteristic of ravens. We
were looking for tracks,
and saw two single large canine prints in a muddy stretch
of road near a trailer.
Later we found two piles of scat a foot apart containing
rabbit or squirrel fur,
not too fresh but not too old either. The droppings had
the size, twisted shape,
and tapered ends that indicate waste from a medium to
large sized dog.
It would be easy to jump to conclusions after seeing
those signs, but more
evidence is needed to absolutely confirm the presence of
wolves on the Hill.
Keep your eyes and ears open if you visit Tug Hill this
winter.
What wonder-full things will you encounter ?
Have a nifty day,
Daisy
~
Monday, November 24, 2003, 7:15 a.m.
38 degrees, breezy, some sun
The sun announced itself a
half hour before it actually showed up.
Clouds are scattered all over the sky this morning, and
they glowed
salmon-pink all the way to the northeast horizon. The sun
rose due east
all summer, and now it has commandeered the southeastern
part of the sky
for its autumn appearances. A short while ago it was a
huge flaming ball as
it eased up through the stratus clouds, painting their
edges fluorescent pink.
There are five blackbirds huddled together in one of our
big maple trees. In
the ash tree across the yard sits one single blackbird,
singing his heart out.
It is amazing what a range of notes, clicks, chortles,
and whistles this bird
has. It even warbled a few short melodies, similar to
those of a spring robin.
I got the binoculars, certain that a mockingbird was
making these beautiful
sounds, but it is in fact a plain old blackbird. Maybe it
was auditioning for
the group in the other tree. I guess this is our little
hard-core group of
feathered friends, steadfast through all kinds of
weather, sheltering in
the barn eaves only during the teeth of a storm. I look
forward to their
greeting every day as I take the dog out and scan the
yard for action.
They are such plain ordinary birds, but their simple
songs are music to
my ears during the stark bare days of a Tug Hill winter.
I feel lucky that they chose our place to hang out.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Sunday, November 23, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
43 degrees, breezy, mostly
sunny
There is a scattering of
high clouds west of Gomer Hill,
but for the most part the sky is clear. The sun feels
good. A chorus
of crows in the distant forest at first light has been
the only wildlife
I’ve heard so far today. All was quiet as we walked
after dinner last night,
and the stars were breathtakingly beautiful. We missed
the annual Leonid
meteor shower, which occurred November 19th,
one of the foggiest nights
of the year. It was best viewed in the orient this year
anyway, with shooting
stars occurring once a minute over parts of China at the
peak of activity.
Yesterday we walked around the meadows, which are still
partly under water
and sporting small piles of snow. Deer and turkeys have
left lots of tracks,
but those were not the ones we were looking for. Out of
the meadows and
up a dirt road we saw several raccoon prints and the
rambling trail of a small
dog or coyote. Large pawprints of the neighbor’s
labrador retrievers were
about the size of the tracks we sought, but the webbing
between the toes
proclaimed them to be water dogs, not their wilder
cousins. Perhaps the wolves
that entertained us the past two nights were just
wandering through.
We will certainly keep a lookout for signs of their
presence as the season wears on.
I will keep you posted,
Daisy
~
Saturday, November 22, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
33 degrees, calm, mostly
sunny
It is very sunny on Gomer
Hill, doubly so as the rays bounce off
a thick layer of frost. Just beyond our property line a
dense trough of
fog has settled in the valley between here and the
Adirondack Mountains.
A squad of blue jays is picking apart the big rose hips
from the hedge,
bickering noisily over the juicy seed pods. However, last
night at sunset
there was not one bird to be found in the area. The
western sky was vivid
with pink clouds against the blue sky, and three vibrant
jet contrails swam
in the vista like extraterrestrial neon eels. It was
utterly quiet at dusk; not
even a vehicle passed by as I watched the day run out.
After dinner we walked
a bit, and the only sounds we heard were our boots
crunching on the gravel and
the dog snuffling every damp footprint we came to. Was
the vulpine chorus of
the previous night just a dream? Not at all; just before
sleep stole over me,
melodious canine wailing and deep full-bodied howls
drifted in through the
open window, as loud (maybe even louder) than the night
before. This was
definitely not the high pitched yip-yip-yip of coyotes on
the hunt.
What an amazing place to live !
I hope you find something amazing in your world today,
Daisy
~
Friday, November 21, 2003, 8:45 a.m.
43 degrees, windy, sunny
Bright sunshine abounds over
Tug Hill this morning.
It appears that parts of the Black River Valley are
having a little fog,
and the Adirondack Mountains are somewhat obscured by
some lowslung haze.
The wind has a sharp bite to it, but the sun is nice and
warm when in a
protected nook or cranny. Last night we took a little
walk under the stars.
Agitated howling came from the forest to the west, and it
didn’t sound like
the typical high-pitched coyote cries that we are
accustomed to hearing.
This was full-throated and deep-toned, and sounded
exactly like recordings
of wolf calls that I have heard. Last winter we were
startled one late
afternoon by the same sound from a single animal; last
night there were several.
There are rumors that timber wolves have been re-introduced
into our area.
It is also possible that some of these exquisite wild
canines have migrated south
from the Canadian wilderness. All I know is this: what I
heard last night wasn’t
coyotes, and wasn’t someone’s little pack of
coonhounds baying into the night air.
The choir was wild, and it was on the move. It was
thrilling and chilling at the
same time, much like hearing the cry of a wildcat when
hiking alone in the deep
woods. Scientific research shows we have little to fear
from our local wild animals.
However, tales told to children and time-honored fables
have embedded mistrust
and fear of wolves into our very genes. I was happy we
weren’t too far from
home last night when the howling commenced. Hereafter I
will carry a flashlight.
Take a little stroll tonight; what will you hear ?
Have a beautiful day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, November 20, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
32 degrees, windy, cloudy
It is very cold outside this
morning with a brisk north wind making the dry,
chilly air feel extra wintry. Visibility is very good, no
fog in sight for a change.
A single canada goose honked low as it passed overhead
just after first light,
separated from one of the flocks that flew south weeks
ago. We haven’t seen
or heard any geese since the first week of November. I
wonder what events have
delayed the migration of this lone bird? It will be a
hard journey for a solitary
goose, with no lead birds to take turns parting air
currents. There are still some
patches of snow here and there, but for the most part it
has disappeared into
the fog of the past few days. I hope the hard winter
storms hold off until after
the Thanksgiving holiday, so that friends and families
can easily join together for
feasting and fun. Dress in layers for outdoor activities
today; if the sun comes out,
it may heat things up nicely.
Have a great day,
Daisy
Wednesday, November 19, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
48 degrees, breezy, foggy,
raining
Another foggy morning, but
it is warmer than it looks.
Yesterday the fog finally burned off just before noon,
and I hung some
towels out to dry. They are now in a pile on top of the
washer, still damp
but with a wonderful miasma of November about them. When
I put them on
the indoor drying rack later this morning, that fresh
fragrance will permeate
the whole house. I walked down to the east meadow
hedgerow to gather some
grapevines for a shopkeeper’s window display, which
I imagined would be a simple
task. There is an abundance of wild grapes all over Tug
Hill, and there are several
clumps on our property. Unfortunately, they all seem to
share their space with
hawthorn bushes. The long supple vines were totally
entwined in the thorny shrubs,
and it was quite a task to liberate a dozen lengths of
grapevine from the tangle.
Long thorns easily parted the fibers of my fleece anorak,
and I will bear the
scars of that venture for days. I could have poked an eye
out! Finally, the sun
appeared through layers of clouds as I drove off the hill
to work late in the day,
and I can only imagine the beautiful sunset that must
have flooded the land with
color. I will just have to rely on the memory of gorgeous
sunsets past to sustain
me through days when four windowless walls block out the
view. Put on your
raingear and see if you can figure out where the birds
hide out on a day like this.
Have a wonderful day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, November 18, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
32 degrees, breezy, foggy
It has been very foggy for
more than twenty-four hours with no holes
for sunlight or starshine. Last night it took me almost a
half hour to drive
thirteen miles. Taillights of a car ahead of me would
suddenly appear out of
nowhere, and everyone I encountered on the road was
driving at a snail’s pace.
This morning I can barely see the garden that is twenty
paces from the window.
Shadowy forms come and go from the mist and I believe
they are birds, but
they also may be undines traveling the watersoaked
channels that have sprung up
between puddles, ponds, streams and creeks on Tug Hill.
This is a magical kind of morning, where anything can
greet you
from the half-seen edges of peripheral vision.
Take care,
Daisy
~
Monday, November 17, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
32 degrees, breezy,
overcast, foggy, raining
Rain started to fall about
an hour ago, big fat juicy drops that are as cold
as possible without being actually frozen. Water is
dripping from branches,
clotheslines, and eaves; if it were a fraction of a
degree colder, icy layers
would slowly build up and bend supple boughs to the
breaking point. The
temperature is supposed to go up into the forties today,
and our snow cover
could disappear entirely if that’s the case.
Yesterday we walked for quite a
while on back roads, where four wheel drive trucks had
compacted the snowy
surface into an even depth. There were lots of tracks
along the roadside, both
human and deer, and in two places we saw the bloody
evidence that some lucky
hunters had dragged their quarry from the forest to the
road. I hope that
everyone has such good fortune this season, as the deer
herd population on
Tug Hill has grown too numerous for the habitat lately.
We ventured into the
west meadow on the way back, and found several places
where I sank into drifts
well over my knees. We returned home just as the sun
broke through the lowering
clouds for a beautiful pink and blue exit through the
trees along the western horizon.
If you attempt a trek outdoors today, better take a
snorkel.
Stay warm and dry,
Daisy
~
Sunday, November 16, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
26 degrees, calm, overcast
It is a nice bright morning
in spite of a high layer of clouds.
Visibility is excellent, and plumes of steam/smoke hang
in the air above
the Lyonsdale Mill. Blackbirds are outside of this window
for a change,
possibly wondering why I haven’t been out to greet
them yet today. Fact is,
this morning’s fortified coffee and the cheery
warmth of the kitchen range
have enticed me to linger indoors a bit longer than usual.
It is a quiet morning
inside and out, and it is good to sit and savor the
stillness. Not much snow
melted yesterday, even though the sun was pleasantly warm.
Walking on the
back roads was treacherous due to ice and windpacked
boilerplate.
If you drive by the Snow Ridge Ski Area, take a look at
the tracks left by
two intrepid downhillers that hiked to the top for a
couple of runs. A few
more storms, and we can hope for a Thanksgiving weekend
opening date.
We are sitting at Old Man Winter’s doorstep,
waiting for the frosty festivities to commence.
It’s November; do you know where your mittens are ?
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, November 15, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
16 degrees, gentle breeze,
sunny
The sun came up this morning
while the waning moon was still high in the sky,
giving us two heavenly bodies to enjoy early in the day.
There is still plenty
of snow on the ground and the sun’s reflection is
welcome and warm, but
hard on the eyes. The blackbirds are in full throttle and
greeted us loudly
when we stepped into the yard. This is the first the cats
have ventured out
since the storm, and they all made a beeline for the barn
as soon as I opened
the door. Temperatures are supposed to nose above the
freezing mark today,
and just maybe we will be able to do a little cross
country skiing before this
snow dissolves in the sunbeams’ warmth. Don’t
forget to wear some orange gear
when you venture out today; hunter’s will take
advantage of the snowcover to
do some tracking, and if they are lucky bring home some
meat.
Put a little orange ribbon on your doggie friends’
collars, too...
Let’s be careful out there,
Daisy
~
Friday, November 14, 2003, 9:00 a.m.
16 degrees, very windy,
mostly sunny
Yesterday’s winter
storm left us without power from suppertime until
just a few minutes ago. We finished eating our homemade
pizza by lamplight,
and banked both wood stoves against the frigid night air.
The wind and driving
snow that dominated the day left piles of wintry evidence
all over the place.
There is no way to measure the depth; one drift outside
the window is four
feet deep, yet the yard has just a dusting on the frozen
shale. It is hard to
tell when the snow finally stopped falling. We were in a
constant whiteout all
night long from the frenzied blowing and drifting masses
of face-numbing
precipitation. Between gusts we could catch a glimpse of
the waning moon, high
and ringed with silver dust. The wind is still fierce,
and any exposed skin today
will get battered and chapped pretty darned fast. Take
care of your pets;
remember that even fur-coated cats have tender ears and
noses.
Bundle up,
Daisy
~
Thursday, November 13, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
28 degrees, very windy,
snowing
Last night the wind came in
rumbling gusts that shook the house.
Every cat found someone to snuggle down with and our
little dog was buried
so far under the covers that I don’t see how he
could breathe. I slept with
the window shut tight for the first time since last
spring. The weatherman
in Lowville reported gusts of 52 mph, and I am sure they
were much higher
than that here on Tug Hill. When we went to bed, it was
raining hard, and
there were flashes of lightning here and there. It
changed to snow early this
morning, not long enough to have accumulated more than a
dusting so far.
At the rate it is falling now, I expect to see some piles
before long.
(Although, really, it is flying by sideways so fast I don’t
see how it will find
the time to make contact with the ground.) This is our
first real taste of winter,
whetting our appetites for the frigid feast that follows.
Take care on the roads today,
Daisy
~
Wednesday, November 12, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
42 degrees, calm, foggy,
raining
We have had a bit of
everything in the last twenty-four hours.
Fine snow flurries fell mid-morning yesterday, enough to
grace the frozen
ground with a lacy coverlet. The little flakes fell
faster and turned into
face-stinging graupple by lunchtime. Rain replaced that,
and later combined
with heavy fog to make for a bleak and drippy afternoon.
Ground-level mist
was patchy and thin last night on the drive home from
work at 7:00 and
thickened proportionately as I gained altitude on the
Gomer Hill Road.
Visibility is poor this morning, but the conversation of
our winter tribe of
blackbirds is carried clearly through the soup. I wonder
if these are the
same half-dozen birds that spent last winter brightening
each morning
with their whistled, chuckled, and sometimes melodious
observations.
We leave the colorful songbirds for the protected porches
of townsfolk;
only the hardiest feathered friends will survive a Tug
Hill winter.
Have a great day,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, November 11, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
28 degrees, windy, overcast
The sky is a matte sheet of
grey except at the eastern horizon
where the Adirondack Mountains are silhouettes against
tangerine skies
lingering from sunrise. The wind comes and goes in gusts
strong enough to
be felt through the sleeves of my fleece pullover. Clouds
rolled in late last night,
after we had ample time to enjoy the waning moon and all
of the stars that shone
in the crisp November air. Yesterday was a perfect day
and the last of the spring
bulbs went into the ground. We have good luck with
daffodils and crocuses here
on Gomer Hill, but tulips seem to peter out after a few
years. This time of year
it is easy to find very cheap bulbs at supermarkets and
farm/garden stores. You
might not have a huge choice of varieties, but for a
couple of bucks you could
brighten a little piece of yard next spring. They can be
planted any time in the
fall before the ground freezes solid. A few years ago I
bought tulip bulbs for a
nickel apiece from a bin of unidentified colors at Price
Chopper; the following
spring we were delighted with the orange and yellow
striped blooms that sprung
up underneath the rose hedge. If you don’t have a
yard, you can put the bulbs
in a paper bag in the refrigerator until mid-February,
then plant them in a pot
for a display of indoor color to welcome the spring
equinox. I always save a
few bulbs for indoor use; sometimes they bloom, sometimes
they don’t...
but usually the gamble pays off.
Enjoy your day,
Daisy
~
Monday, November 10, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
30 degrees, calm, mostly
sunny
Thick frost covers
everything, even the flower garden next to the house.
Time to say farewell to the pansies and johnny jump-ups
until next spring.
Sometimes the pansies make it, and sometimes they don’t;
the multicolored
smaller violas always surprise us with how prolific they
become in May,
after seeming to die entirely away over the winter. All
of the flower beds
have been trimmed up and mulched against the cold. There
is still a half-pail
of daffodil bulbs waiting to go into the ground. If the
sun stays warm all day,
perhaps we will be able to break through the hard top
layer of dirt and do
this one last garden task. Yesterday we harvested the
last of the brussels
sprouts. Deer have been all through the garden and
ravaged every bit of green
leaf and stem, except they have left these little stinky
green spheres alone.
It is true what they say; brussels sprouts are immensely
improved by allowing
them to freeze on the stem a few times. As a side dish,
they are acceptable;
as a vehicle for butter or cheese sauce, they are divine
!
It is a beautiful frosty November morning; go out and
enjoy it.
Peace,
Daisy
~
Sunday, November 9, 2003, 7:45 a.m.
22 degrees, calm, totally
sunny
It is ten degrees warmer
than it was at dawn.
As the full moon disappeared behind skeletal trees of the
meadow to the west,
the sky brightened in a pink line above the eastern
horizon. Within minutes
after the moon set, the sun chased it from half a world
away. It is cold
enough to make a person gasp at the first intake of icy
air. As surprised
lungs adjust, just pull that watch cap down a little
lower and drink in the
clean beauty of the morning. Mud from the autumn rains
has frozen solid;
every step crunches on brittle grassy blades and weedy
stems. Small buttery
dandelion blossoms are scattered about, frosty and
perfectly preserved.
The large flock of blackbirds that has greeted me daily
for months isn’t
there this morning. Have they flown the coop for gentler
habitat ? I will
keep my eyes peeled and ears pricked for the few that
will inevitably stay
behind. Last night’s lunar eclipse was interesting,
but not especially visually
stunning. Perfect atmospheric conditions gave it textbook
progression, the
bright circle disappearing little by slow, with none of
the gorgeous colors
that can appear when there are clouds aloft. Moonrise was
the main event
last night; the friendly face slowly crept into a velvety
purple sky, huge
and pale orange. I imagine that people in the Mountain
Time Zone
(two hours earlier than EST) would have had a spectacular
eclipse experience,
if their moonrise was as eye-catching as ours. During the
twenty-five minutes
of totality last night, glittering stars were in full
display as the pale ghost
of a moon hung silent and still. Our feathery plumes of
breath were the
only things in motion, until a thin bright slice of moon
reappeared from
behind earth’s shadow. By then, we were ready to
enjoy the cozy home
fires and the moonlight as it streamed in the windows.
Have a beautiful day,
Daisy
~
Saturday, November 8, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
17 degrees, breezy, bright
sun
The sky is very blue with a
few tentative clouds far away over
the Adirondack Mountains. The sun came up just after the
moon went down,
both looming large on opposite horizons. There is a
smattering of snowflakes
here and there on the ground; last night’s near-full
moon magnified their
whiteness a billionfold, and the whole landscape gleamed
like a bowl of cold
milk left out for the barn cats. The night was ruled by
the moon; it coaxed
the coyotes into full howl, and oversaw a fight between
some feral cats that
have been hanging around. Tonight, if the weather
cooperates, there will be
a total eclipse of the moon. Check out the details at www.jackstargazer.com
and get your thermos ready... some hot cider with a wee
drappie o’it perhaps ?
For now, we must go outside and investigate a very large
flock of blackbirds
that is performing some spectacular aerobatics as they
undulate in unison
from tree to tree. I’ll bet they sound just as good
as they look.
Bundle up, and have an interesting day,
Daisy
~
Friday, November 7, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
33 degrees, breezy, partly
sunny
Sunrise was particularly
enjoyable this morning, after a week of grey days.
The predawn sky was rosy, and the sun emerged above the
horizon fiery
red and triumphant. The first light bathed the weathered
barn wood in a
warm golden glow that faded after the sun vanished behind
low clouds.
There are lots of breaks in the fast-moving banks that
allow the sun to
throw its silvery beams our way. The valley is being
showered with radiance
right now; the rays hitting the mist as it rises from the
river create a
beautiful visual poem. Heavy cumulus clouds are dark grey
throughout except
for the edges near blue sky, which are blindingly white
with reflected sunlight.
It is very chilly, and not expected to get much warmer.
Bundle up and go out for a walk; you will be happy you
did.
Have a beautiful day,
Daisy
~
Thursday, November 6, 2003, 8:30 a.m.
37 degrees, calm, high
bright clouds
This is the nicest morning
we have had in nearly a week.
High thin clouds allow the sun’s brilliance through
without any actual shadows
being cast. Visibility is excellent all the way to the
Adirondack Mountains.
It is cold, but the lack of any wind makes it quite
inviting outdoors. Flocks
of blackbirds, crows, and juncos are very active in the
trees and fields.
Yesterday a few snow buntings passed through the area,
flashing their
clorox-white bodies and black wings as they flew by.
Several flocks ofgeese
circled low as twilight fell, probably spending the night
in one of the giant
puddles the recent rains left behind. The moon was
gorgeous through big
cumulous clouds just before midnight, nearly full and
looking very far away.
Saturday night there will be a lunar eclipse. We won’t
even have to set the
alarm clocks for this one; totality will be just after 8:00
p.m. The forecast
for Saturday is partly cloudy with the possibility of
snow. If conditions are
just right, we may get to see tones of red and orange as
the moon slowly
creeps behind the earth’s shadow. The word is out
that the aurora borealis
might return to dazzle us for a few
more nights as well.
Keep looking up !
Daisy
~
Wednesday, November 5, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
46 degrees, breezy, foggy,
raining
Golly, do you think the
drought is over yet ?
It looks like the water table is not only back to normal,
but is starting to seep up into the atmosphere, no longer
entirely
contained underground. The appearance of these shallow
ponds has the
blackbirds all confused; I heard more than one redwing
singing his spring
mating song this morning. The yard is full of blackbirds:
warbling, clicking
and clacking, chuckling and snorting, and a few calling
"stay and plaaaaaay"
like they do in April. Yesterday’s crow is back as
well, and brought two buddies
with him this morning. The crows are strutting around the
yard like they own
the place, calling loudly at random intervals. The rain
steadily drips on all,
rolling off of oil-protected feathers. How convenient (especially
this year)
to have a built-in raincoat ! Stay warm and dry,
Daisy
~
Tuesday, November 4, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
31 degrees, foggy, sprinkles
A crow called me from bed
just before dawn.
It was flying around the yard uttering brassy staccato
notes for a long time.
I saw no other birds around, just this one big guy going
a little nuts.
After a while, he flew off into the fog, still singing
his one-note ballad.
The fog is pretty thick, and thickly pretty this morning.
Everything is in soft
focus black-and-white, like an art film from the 30s.
Yesterday’s fog played
tag with the hilltop, coming and going dozens of times.
Last night’s drive home
from work was hazardous; headlights couldn’t
penetrate the dense cover, and
cars loomed out of nowhere. Thank goodness no one was
driving like a knucklehead.
The mist cleared at our property line, and the top of Tug
Hill was left to the
wind and rain for the night. It seems that the fog has
lifted slightly;
the valley is faintly visible now.
Have a great day, foggy or not,
Daisy
~
Monday, November 3, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
50 degrees, calm, overcast,
foggy
We are perched above a dense
lake of fog here on Gomer Hill.
The sky is solid grey, but not gloomy. Fog is slowly
creeping up the hill;
a few minutes ago, the neighbors’ house was clearly
visible. Now I can barely
make out the trees in the hedgerow. A few showers passed
through last night
and everything outdoors is thoroughly saturated with
water. The forecast is
for rain every day before turning to snow at the end of
the week. Much as
we might not want to admit it, snow tires should come out
of storage and the
garage needs to be emptied of lawn mowers and rotary
cultivators to make
room for vehicles. A large flock of juncos hung around
the yard all weekend.
These small gray and white birds are also called snowbirds,
as their summer
home is far to the north of here in the coniferous
forests of northern Canada.
Believe it or not, when these handsome little guys fly
south for the winter,
we are their final destination. When they show up, winter
is not far behind.
Now the fog has obscured everything except the forsythia
hedge and aspen
tree right next to the house, and it is still advancing
slowly,
like the plot of a Roger Corman B-movie. The view is
still good north of the house,
but The Fog is clearly winning, hungrily devouring all in
its path...
Eeeeeek !
Daisy
~
Sunday, November 2, 2003, 8:00 a.m.
36 degrees, breezy,
overcast, raining
The sky is uniformly light
grey except for a mass of darker clouds to the south.
The front line is perfectly straight, as if it was laid
out with a huge yardstick.
Beyond the front, a few wispy dark clouds drift parallel
to the horizon. In the
time it took to type the last sentence, rainfall has
increased and a mist has
moved in over all, obscuring the interesting cloud
formations. You will just have
to take my word for it, the sky was pretty nifty earlier
this morning. The rain
looks like it could change to snow at any moment, the
drops have that slightly
opaque look to them when viewed from indoors. Closer
inspection reveals them
to be ordinary gigantic raindrops. There are plenty of
indoor jobs to be done
today. We even moved an outdoor chore into the barn
yesterday. There is a
load of softwood slabs just waiting to be split into
kindling for the winter.
It always baffles me to hear a teenager mumble, "I’m
sooooo bored !"
Hey, come on up to my house !
Never a dull moment,
Daisy
~
Saturday, November 1, 2003, 7:30 a.m.
58 degrees, a little breeze,
overcast
The sky is cloudy but
visibility is very good all the way to the mountains.
Hard rain fell briefly last night for just a little
while, enough to leave
standing pools all over the meadows. Yesterday was a
beautiful day before the
sprinkles moved in, reaching a high temperature of
seventy degrees here on
Gomer Hill. It was a good day to hang out freshly
laundered sheets and towels
to dry. As moisture evaporated, fragrant October air
permeated every fiber,
filling the house with a scent never duplicated by canned
air fresheners. The
sunny sky quickly changed to black late in the day as the
south wind blew in a
change of weather. We were walking when the clouds
thickened and got home
just before the first raindrops. The clouds were the
darkest I have seen, very
ominous looking; the air was heavy with moisture, and the
few sprinkles of rain
that finally fell were almost comical after such dramatic
celestial foreshadowing.
It looks like it will clear up today, some sun and maybe
a little rain,
but not a washout.
Do something fun today to welcome in the new month !
Daisy
~
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