Salvaging in the cellar

Spring rains have raised the humidity in my cellar, thus destroying the last of the winter squash. Four lovely Waltham Butternut are headed for the compost bin. The last six Northern Spy apples are turning to mush--also headed up the hill to the composter. But the shelves are still lines with mason jars of pickles, tomato sauce, giambotta (aka Grandma's junka food), blueberry and peach jams, apple butter, and apples sauce.
Grandma would have smiled to see all we preserved, and I think she's smiling right now, just listening to all the chatter out there about small farms, raising chickens, and locovores. You couldn't get much more local for her--veggie gardens, chickens, an occasional milk cow, goats, pigs, and the random lamb--all providing food for her kitchen.
What would Grandma think about being in a blog?

Frogs and Flowers

Callie and I heard frogs on our walk tonight. A vernal pool full of frogs sang in the evening's warmth. And we spied crocus flowers blooming in someone's lawn. Just as I was bringing in the wood, a Carolina wren began singing, "tea-kettle, tea-kettle, tea-kettle."


Tomorrow, we're due to get thunderstorms--Spring has sprung and we're late starting our seedlings!

Happy April Fools Day

The snow is nearly gone and the gardens are almost clear. Our onions are getting antsy--long tops need a haircut! Yesterday, I noticed the tulips and daffodils peeking up through the leaf litter. And down by the stream, the skunk cabbage spathes have appeared.
We're in for some April showers this week. I just hope the water doesn't come into the basement.

Whirring Woodcocks and Snowdrops

The courting ritual has begun. For the last two nights, we stood outside listening to the woodcocks rising up into the evening sky, whirring and chirping, dancing in the waning light. Their aerial display is something to see--if you can see it. I could just make out the silhouette of one as he dropped back down into the woods.

Yesterday, I heard a Carolina wren singing, and the snow drops have appeared. Yup, spring is here!

Call of the Woodcock

As John and I boiled sap on Sunday night, I suddenly gasped, "Did you hear that?"
Up in the woods, an American Woodcock was giving his raspy "bzzzt" call, staking out his territory. We didn't hear the musical whirring wings of the aerial display, but I think he may be the proverbial early bird, out looking for his soul mate in the snowbanks.

Last Gasp for Big Bertha

Well I made the call. My poor old maple, damaged last summer, is coming down next week. So we've tapped the bejeezus out of her, and hope to get the sweetest syrup before she comes down. We'll have hours of warmth from her in the next couple of years, but I'll miss her wide spreading shady arms this summer. The woodpeckers, chipmunks, great crested flycatchers, titmice, squirrels, chickadees, nuthatches, bluejays, and warblers will miss her too--no homes, no perches, and no bugs. But I'll replace her with another just as sweet--another sugar maple.

Sugaring Time Is Here!

It's one of the rites of spring, hanging the sap buckets and boiling in the garage. I get home from work and spend my evening sitting by the propane cooker, skimming the sap, waiting for the water to evaporate. Usually I take along a good book to keep me company. As the steam swirls around my head in a sweet fug, I stir the sap and read. The chilly damp air makes me hug the cooker, warming myself by the burner.

Last year, we tapped four trees and got approximately one gallon. This year, John's tapped seven trees, including Big Bertha, our aging maple that needs to come down this spring. She's giving us the last hurrah.

Dog Sense

Ok, who has more sense in this picture? The dog draped over my lap, or me for using Callie Lou as a lap rug? Note the title of the book.

Callie Goes Cross-Country Skiing

It's obvious Callie has never skied with anyone. Poles are to chase and heeding my commands go right out the window. But she did enjoy all the scents in the air. Tracking deer, coyote, other dogs, my bleeding hand (that's another story)--Callie Lou learned that staying well behind or well ahead of cross country skiers is imperative.

This was Callie's second time skiing off lead, so we headed to Wild Iris for the solitude offered in the quiet woods. Not long after we started, I had to switch to a warmer wax, and in the process, gashed my thumb which gushed blood. Of course, I'd forgotten a first aid kit, or even a bandanna to staunch the flow.

We skied for over an hour, meeting up with one other person (a 4-wheeler hunting coyotes with his dogs-grrrr). I decided it was a good turn around point and left hunter and dogs in the distance. Were the deer or coyotes watching us from the rocky ledges overhead?

Callie Lou enjoying her first Christmas with us--nothing like chewin' on a pig snout! Which outfit is more ridiculous? Dressed as Santa or Little Red Riding Hood. It was supposed to be worn around the neck, but it looks so much sillier on her head. Oh the undignified things we do to our dog!