Spring Things

Spring means Mack can be out in his run most days and he is a happier dog for it.

It means grubbing mugwort out of everything, everywhere. Stuff is a curse.

 I get to lug all the geraniums I grew from seed last spring down from the empty bedroom to the east and out to the porch and yard. A tedious chore for sure, but I can't wait.

Spring means ducks in trees
Cavity nesting Wood Ducks in search of a hollow tree

Female Common Mergansers perusing the housing market too

It means singing, long, loud, lovely songs from every corner of the farm and yard. All week we have had at least four Wood Thrushes fluting from the corners of the nearby fields and up on the hill as well. Until yesterday the hill roads were dry enough I could hike up there without gathering giant balls of clay on my boots until I walked like Frankenstein. That situation will probably be a while in returning after the weekend downpours.

Spring is the invasive weeds that I deliberately cultivate in the yard coming into stunning bloom for the early pollinators and hummingbirds....which are back in small numbers btw.

I love Deadnettle...so subtly elegant in shape and shading.

Speedwell, the daintiest of delicate, rich, pale blues.

A couple of sorts of forget-me-nots shining in the corners. Stuff like that. I let hem grow where I want them and chop them out where I don't. They are a whole lot easier to control than mugwort. Lord, how I hate that stuff.

A pretty Palm Warbler, just passing through

A mild winter allowed the herbs to winter well and I am grateful. It was a wonderful thing to be preparing the meats and cabbage for golumpki casserole yesterday (I make up the basics and Becky constructs the final product...) and to be able to go outside and clip herbs for seasoning.

Traffic

Even the giant hyssop came up from the roots and is already several inches tall and thriving. Normally it may reseed, but this makes for a much better start.

Anyhow, as I sit here in the living room waiting for it to be time for everyone to start their day, I hear a House Wren right outside the window, a Tufted Titmouse whoo-whooing from the dying ash in front of the house and see the robins shuttling worms to the nestlings on the porch.

I have blackfly bites all over my head from standing still in a little marsh listening to a Barred Owl's inquiries in the distance, but Spring makes it all worth it.

Song Sparrow