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I still don't know why I've been feeling vaguely uncomfortable in my own skin this week, but today is bright, and sunny, and warm -- and I have tomorrow off for mucking around in the backyard and for playing with seeds. Plus right now I'm sitting here with a tub of gummi bears. Mmm... gummi bears!
Sorry I haven't been posting much, y'all. I've just been feeling tired and not very lively, and just a wee bit disgruntled about having to come to work during "break" when there's very little for me to do. Plus, my favorite coffee shop with wireless is closed, so I have to choose between blogging and food.
On the more positive side, it's getting even more springlike, and I have plans to drive out to the enormous garden store this week.
Today the yard resembles the banner at the top, with snow melting off the top of the grass. The snow came in as part of a storm front earlier in the week, dumping about three to four inches and causing chaos in various parts of the state and county. My version of snow-caused inconvenience consisted of a few fishtail-ly wobbles on the drive in, having to cancel an event and call all the participants, and feeling sorry for the robins.
The snowfall clearly drew a line between the birds that don't mind snow, the birds that can cope, and the birds that hate it. The chickadees, woodpeckers, cardinals, sparrows, juncoes and wrens that had stayed through the winter didn't seem bothered at all; if anything, they seemed pleased that their springtime competitors for the feeder were feeling discomfitted.
The starlings didn't particularly like the snow -- they showed a strong reluctance to step in it -- but they managed okay. Humorously, while the other birds tended to flitter and flap to keep a certain space between themselves and their fellows while sitting on rail, branch or feeder, the starlings clumped into a moving pecking huddle, clearly happy to be jostling and touching each other. The dove didn't much like the snow either, as it tried to land on the snow-laden railing several times and each time flew up wittering when its feet touched these miniature drifts. The grackles largely made themselves scarce, though once or twice one would fly down, devour a beakful of seeds, then disappear.
The robins were clearly miserable. They didn't want any part of the snow, so much so that several of them spent some moments huddled on the porch itself, trying to avoid drifts and falling snow alike. When the snowfall stopped, they immediately made their way to the melted areas on the road, where they desultorily walked back and forth and occasionally flew at each other. This morning I found about four of them sitting huddled up on the front stoop, eyeing the melting snow. In the backyard, there were at least ten of them mobbing the crabapple, the one source of food not covered with snow.
Today the squirrel found the ear of corn I'd wired to the porch pillar, and sat there for a long time eating one kernel off of it at a time. When it wasn't doing that, it was scratching itself, though whether from fleas or because it was shedding its winter coat, I'm not sure.
In the garage I have a bin of sprouting lettuce, little baby plants that are just beginning their first true leaves, and which I need to thin this week. Some peas are in a pot trying to germinate. The frost-blasted rosemary is finally starting to show some healthy life. Next on the sprouting agenda are sweet alyssum, sweet peas, and indigo seeds. Should be interesting!
I finished my taxes today! My multi-state, unemployment plus student loan plus IRA contribution plus freelance income plus dividends taxes! And I'm getting a refund!
Whee!
Now I just have to remember to mail the darned things.
... or does anyone else ever find themselves grinning just because they typed a smiley face into a comment box?
I think I may be spending too much time online.
We need to be more tolerant of religion. Religion is under attack. American is a Christian nation, and needs politicians who understand that.
I hear a lot of this lately, from both the right and the left. The most vocal advocate for this concept from the left (or, more accurately, from the center) is a woman named Amy Sullivan. (For a good series of posts on the topic, with links to her arguments, I recommend Hullabaloo.)
I am finding the voices from the center and the left more annoying than those from the right lately, and I think the reason is this:
They are both arguing from the same flawed set of root assumptions, while acting as if they are profoundly different.
I'm getting excited by the slow evolution of spring, which I think is clearly here, despite forecasts of snow for next week. (They were forecasting it for today, so I think we're ahead - for now.) The grackles and robins are insanely active, and are all over the lawn, the trees, and the bird feeder, singing and stabbing and swooping. I'm particularly enraptured by the metal gate creak and burble of the former in the trees, and the tip-and-run, tip-up motions of the latter on the lawn.
Today I went by the hardward store and came home with two shop lights, some grow light bulbs to put in them, and some chain to hang them with, and set up a small plant growing station in the garage. The lettuce seeds I planted last weekend have become little sprouts, with the seed-leaves just starting to turn green; they are now growing tall under the lamps. (Would you believe that the hardware store had no good gutter/roof-reaching ladders? They were all those shorter triangular ones that you use when painting indoors. Grumble, grumble.)
Since the afternoon was surprisingly mild, I took the opportunity to wander around the yard, seeing what was what. I raked up some old leaves into a pile I hope will evolve into compost over time, and picked up sticks shed by the maples over the winter. Every time I made a crackling sound the new neighbor's dog barked at me. (It's an old golden retriever, and I think it's partially blind. I can be right in its line of sight, and it does nothing, but step on a stick or rustle some leaves... bark! bark! bark!) I also eyed the apple/crabapple (it's either two trees that have grown too close together or a weird graft gone wrong); it's got all kinds of crazy twigs and branches growing in all directions. I suspect that this is the inevitable result of this being a rental property - who has time to look after a gnarled old tree in the backyard? This is not the season for pruning, but it's something to think about for next fall.
There was physical activity to a degree that made me feel like I was using my muscles and stir my appetite, but without causing strain or exhaustion. Putting the lamps together was a nice challenge both mentally and in terms of hand-eye coordination. (Plus I just like hardware stores -- good thing, since I ended up going twice.) Being outdoors was good too; the sounds of the birds and the streamlet in the back, the smell of the soil and the raked plants, the softness of the warming air, the color of the deepening light in the clouds and along the horizon... I liked picking up the sticks, I liked looking at my hands doing useful things, I like my new yellow-and-black gardening gloves (already christened with a layer of soil and decayed bark)...
All in all, it was a wonderful way to spend an afternoon.
Any useful advice about clearing out gutters?
(Aside from the obvious: don't fall on your head.)
Spring is clearly on its way, even though winter doesn't go easily. The grass is greening up and pushing aside the yellowed thatch of winter, and the trunks of trees are also green, albeit with moss and lichens reinvigorated by the recent rains. I've not seen any leaf buds on the trees yet, but I suspect they are not long in coming.
The familiar gang of wintertime birds has been joined by several raucus newcomers, notably robins, grackles, and an occasional red-winged blackbird. The grackles have the most presence: they stride over the sodden lawn and stab at the ground with their beaks, perch in the trees and offer songs in a metallic twang, and intimidate smaller birds at the feeder, all the while looking at me sidelong out of their yellow eyes. The air is full of twitters and songs and chirps and chiks, and the bushes are full of creatures. I opened the front door one day and a veritable explosion of wildlife erupted from the evergreens surrounding the porch: finches and sparrows flew out, a dove wittered up, and a squirrel dashed madly away. They spray seed all over the porch and bounce on the maples' branches and watch me warily when I am outside.
I can sense them all waiting hungrily for my seeds and fruits-to-be.
The weather has been midwestern-changeable. The end of last week was an endless round of flood watches and warnings and occasional tornado sirens; the weekend was nights of rumbling thunder alternating with warm damp days. High winds are predicted for tonight, and snow is in the offing by the end of the week. It's weather that discourages planting, even as I chafe at the bit as my seeds stream in, care of the U.S. Postal Service. I've drawn up spreadsheets detailing planting requirements, and their care, and run various permutations trying to figure out which plants will go where, with whom, and when. I did manage to plant a container of lettuce on Sunday; the seeds are hardy, and can be brought indoors when the weather worsens.
It turns out that there is a reason why the yard near the front porch is alternately bare and weedy. It is nothing but clay, some yellow, some brown, and all filled with crabgrass and other prickly, rangy plants. It is going to be challenging to plant, I suspect. For now, I just eye it with misgivings, and weigh the pros and cons of aggressive remedial action, actions that would improve the soil, but which would require time, effort, money and tools. This is the danger of living in a rental house: all the potential, but any improvements will be left behind in a year and a half. Containers can be lugged along -- theoretically -- but it would be nice to have flowers growing where the weeds are. At the least, they would look better, and I wouldn't feel obliged to mow them into submission while negotiating a steep slope, two stumps, and a drainpipe.
I can't believe that the last frost date is so far away. Spring is already here - I can feel it!
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