Harley is soon to be ours!

John and I spent yesterday scouting out boarding places for Harley. I went back to one spot (holding my side over bumps and potholes) which looks pretty nice. I hope they like him and us! I don't see how I will be able to bike to work though, if I have to go muck his stall every day. Ah well, that's the price you pay, I guess. We'll see how this all works it, indeed, if we can work it all out. Worse case scenario, we'll have to sell him. But what fun we could have!

A horse in my future?

John has once again found another free critter needing a home--Halawa Moon, an eight-yr. old Thoroughbred, bay with a little star. We went and checked him out today and John took a test ride after a little workout on the lunge line. If we can work out the stabling details, and cut back on our extra expenses, Harley can be ours. Why is he free? His current owner just hasn't the time or experience for him. I will, or course, fret a little over the money, but John assures me we can swing it. And anyway, how long have I wanted a horse? Since I was a baby! Time for me to get,,,"Back in the saddle again"!

Spring plantings

John created a rolling hoop house for us this spring. Using an old warped table, he screwed the edging down so he could insert wire hoops and cover it with plastic. So far, it's been quite successful with our ever-changing fickle weather. Mind you, these are hardy plants: kohlrabi, spinach, kale, onions, green, broccoli rabe, etc. But this will surely come in handy as the season progresses. Our tomatoes, basil, peppers and eggplants are sprouting as I type, unfurling under the lights on heating pads. Once they're ready, they too will move out to the hoop house. What a clever guy--I guess I'll keep him around!

Overnight Sensations

Suddenly it's spring. The skunk cabbage sprouted leaves and the swales are greening up. As the sun swings higher in the sky, the stream banks are coming to life with marsh marigolds. Bright yellow forsythia shouts with the first color, joined by the now-golden male goldfinches. Yesterday morning, I awoke to the returning phoebe's buzzy, "fee-BEE". And the maples and budding with rich crimson flowers. Time for me to get busy waking up the garden!

The Frogs Make It Official

Yesterday, and the temperature hit near 70 degrees, the pond behind the neighbors began to burble with the sound of frogs. Yup, it's official , albeit one day early, spring is here. Adding to the cacophony, cardinals sang from nearly every treetop, vying for space. But the biggest voice from the birds, is the little Carolina wren, singing his heart out, flitting from the fence to the rooftop.

Signs of Spring

Last night, a barking fox yanked Callie out of her sleepy stupor. She stood by the window, peering outside, and pacing the floors, whining to be let out. The critters are out and about with this warm weather. The skunk cabbage spathes have pushed up through the stream-side muck, slowly opening up with the sun's heat. And the birds--the winter birds are telling us all--spring has sprung!
We may have one more run of sap and then maple sugaring season will be over--a short year with 90% Grade B syrup, but enough to hold us through until next winter.

Late Winter Hike in Punkintown

Writing in the Dark

The neighborhood goes dark, back to the 1800's. As the wind thrashes the windows and moans through the maples, I backtrack through the house, turning off the oven, the TV, the lights--all those 21st century appliances. The storm's intensity is making Callie uneasy. She follows me around the house, hard on my heels. I give her a reassuring hug.

Callie and I hunker by the woodstove, the lanterns giving off a warm yellow glow. Her fur, rain-softened, tickles my nose. She must sense my worry. The remaining 100 year old maple has stood steadfast through a century of storms. I'm hoping it will make it through the 60 mile an hour winds, and the thawed muddy ground, softened around its roots.

On a February night, this should be snow, banking the house to the sills, drifting over the sleeping gardens, blanketing the roof with a layer of insulation. The rain runoff has braided streams of meltwater on the back slope leaving islands of ice like a riparian delta. A steady stream tinkles down the gutter. We're getting an April-like downpour, thrusting global warming into our faces. How can it be denied with weird weather like this?

With the high-tech entertainment down for the duration of the storm, it's time to catch up on that pile of library books by the corner chair. With the lamp by my side, I delved into the top book on the stack...and drift away.

Wishing I was in Vermont

I'm torturing myself today, watching YouTube videos of the snow falling at Mad River Glen. As the rain pelts down outside, no doubt seeping into my cellar, I'm reading a snow report of 18 to 20 inches and counting! Being stuck in SW Maine is killing me--if I could only slap on my tele-boards and spend a day carving turns in powder until my quads burn so bad I need to quit. They ain't kidding when the say, "Mad River Glenn, ski it if you can"--I'm too far away to make it in a day's drive!

We Tapped the Trees Today, Oh Boy...

Let the games begin. Evenings spent sitting by the cooker, stirring sap amid clouds of steam, waiting for liquid gold to form. Yes, it's time for maple sugaring again. Our winter is warming up fast, so I'm not sure what kind of a run we will get. This week's offering is snow, sleet, and rain, but the temps are not supposed to get much below freezing. Without the correct temperature swing, we may have a lean sap year much like we've had a lean snow year.

For all the people grumbling about winter, I ask, "Do you like maple syrup?" Without winter, you won't get that delicious sweetness that comes along right around mud season--the tween time of winter and spring when the chickadees and titmice trill in the trees, the sun warms your back, and you can hear the snow melting as it pops and percolates into the ground.

My woodpile is shrinking. I've reached levels where I'm unearthing the seed caches of mice and chipmunks. Papery-thin snake skins whisper over my hands, and last years leaves crunch between logs.
I can smell the different types of wood now.

Global warming nay-sayers need only look at the mild/weak winter we've had to see the weather effects from our warming atmosphere. I wonder how many more sugaring seasons we may see in the this corner of Maine. We have to do more than switch out a few lightbulbs and bring our own bags to the grocery store!