Another recent arrival

The red-bellied woodpecker has returned to our remaining stately maple. This species has become more prevalent in our area in the recent years. And what a striking bird it is--that flaming red-orange crest!

Morning and evening chorus

I love listening to the day fade away, serenaded by the birds and frogs. First, the robins sing, and lastly, the cardinals. Once the sun disappears, then the peepers start up in the pond. What a lovely sound to lull you to sleep. And come morning, it's the reverse, starting with the cardinals. This morning was even more special when I heard a few white-throated sparrows singing, "Mrs. Peabody, Peabody, Peabody." I haven't seen too many of these little sparrows around over the last few years. Word was, they migrated further west. So it was a pleasure to hear their song at 6:30 this morning and see them scratching at seeds under the feeders.

Too hot too soon

Alright, if there's any proof of global warming, how about 82 degrees on an April day in Maine? Things are greening up, but the sunburn factor is pretty high when there's no shade yet! I transplanted all our veggies into bigger pots yesterday and pinkened up a bit in the process. Oops, forgot to put sunblock on the arms!

Mourning Cloak butterfly

One of our earliest butterflies appeared on Friday, April 17th. The Mourning Cloak butterfly, so-named by Thaddeus W. Harris because the caterpillars were believed to be venomous. With its hairy, spiny appearance, this caterpillar morphs into a beautiful butterfly. Out on Big Bertha's stump, a Mourning Cloak was sipping at the sap, still puddled in the center.

Phoebes are back

While walking Callie Lou, I heard the first phoebe of the season. Many people confuse this dull olivey-grey bird's call with the black-capped chickadee who also gives a "fee-bee" call. The phoebe's is a much more raspy call, with a descending ending. Despite its dull color and non-musical call, this little bird is a tremendous bug-eater. So welcome back, phoebes!

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.