Opening Day

 

Quiet as a church out there, only echoing moonlight on icy roofs to disturb the peace. I have to wake the dog up to walk him it's so early.

The men will be here soon ready to pursue the gospel according to White Tail out on the frigid hillside. 

It's opening Day, the holiday before Thanksgiving, and it will be dawning soon. The sun will drive away Orion, who is now lurking to the southwest, and dispelling Ursa Major, currently standing on his tail on the ridgepole of the house. 

Wish I was young and tough and could walk out there too. Instead I will sit here, swilling the weak stuff that passes for coffee for folks my age, and remember other years, and other deers.

Best wishes for a safe and fruitful season for all you folks celebrating the winter hunt this morning. Be sensible and all.

And as is traditional, this;

Today

 

Would have been Dad's 90th birthday. I wish he had made it. I miss him and Mom so much.... 

I keep a word processing document called Letterstomymother, in which I record all the things I need to talk to her about. We used to chat every evening for years and years and years, sometimes for five minutes, "Hi, how are ya? We're doing fine." Sometimes for two hours, clearing up all of our problems by airing them out good

Sometimes sharing stories.

Sometimes bragging. There was a lot of bragging. Mom cared if I found a good bird. She wanted to know about that big buck the boy got, or a promotion at work for one of the girls. She would have loved to hear about Bailey hitting five months old and being so darned cute and snuggleable. "How's that baby doing?" she would have asked.

Last night Peggy brought home a stellar report card. She is reading at nearly twice her project goal level. I really, really wanted to call Mom and tell  her, but that couldn't happen.

So I dropped her a note instead. It isn't the real deal but it's better than nothing.

Anyhow, Letterstomymother covers Dad as well. His profound deafness made it really hard to talk to him on the phone, but she always conveyed everything that was said in our little chats, and he always wanted to know. So I am sure if she somehow reads what I am writing to her, she is telling him what's going on, as soon as we get off the air.

Love you Dad. Love you Mom. Hope Heaven is all that is promised.

Bittersweet November

 

After a summer where it started raining at the end of June and never stopped, we have been gifted with some amazing weather for November. Sunny skies, lovely sunrises and sets, and warm...ish...temperatures.

However, the effects of the summer in terms of the haymow will be felt all winter and probably well into next spring.

It sure is pretty these days though, for the next-to-last month of the year. Going to enjoy every minute while it lasts...which may be only through today. 

At this special time, I want to wish all our nation's veterans blessings, comfort, and peace. You have certainly earned all that and more. Hope your day is all you need and want it to be. 

And thanks.

Sunday Stills....Glass

I love colored glass! I pick up bits I find on the ground on the farm, sea glass, pretty bottles and bits, and put them in sunny windows. My kitchen windowsill is full of glass, stones, and toy birds and animals.

For more Sunday Stills.....

Biannual Institutionalized National Jet Lag

 

Begins this weekend or so I'm told.

All I can say is ugh.

And it froze hard last night. Latest hard frost I can remember. Time to cut down the cannas and dig them. A terrifying job, as they grew several feet over my head this year and bloomed right up until yesterday. The corms are going to be the size of these!

So why

 

The blog drought? Nothing but Sunday Stills posts as far as the eye can see...

Well, first I guess is that the short days and darkness really mess with me. I just plod along one foot in front of the other and hope for the best. Not much joy this time of year.

Then there was pointing up part of the house foundation. The big limestone blocks and random field stones of one part were devoid of anything resembling mortar so we mixed up some stuff and had at it. Felt good about that but the next part is under one of the porches. Not looking forward to that, but it only took a couple of hours to get almost half of the total done so that's a good thing.

We did get over to Cooperstown NY to look for American Coots
Found them (thanks Bill)
As well as this statue, named Indian Hunter
by John Quincy Adams Ward.

Not much birding/not many birds. With all the rain the river is barely staying in its banks let alone receding to reveal lovely mud flats and shallow feeding areas that ducks and water birds love. Just roiling waves and swirling currents and logs and branches galore. Scandalous gas prices don't help either. We have to ration our travel pretty sharply. 

Lotsa Black Scoters

We saw good ones last week though, at the same reservoir where I took several of the Sunday Stills photos this week. When we arrived there was a flock of ducks in the middle of the first large impoundment at Cobleskill Reservoir.

I knew right away they were something cool, but neither my camera nor my binoculars were up to the job of being sure what they were. I could see that they were scoters, but which ones? Turned out they were Black Scoters and not the rarer sort I thought and hoped they were but still the first ones I had seen in NY. Forgot I had seen one in NC, so not lifers but still cool.

So anyhow, between the season and not much of interest going on, I have not been able to write much. Sorry. Better days are coming, it says here in fine print...or at least that is what my dad used to tell me.

Sunday Stills....Light

I like the light and these short fall days with the sun at such a low angle there are plenty of shots to be had. I had a hard time narrowing it down in fact.

For more Sunday Stills... 

Sunday Stills...in your Car

 

These were taken from inside the car as we drove around in pursuit of birds.

For more Sunday Stills.....

Moon Bold

 

And apple blind...

After a too-short night of moon-tousled sleep I went out in the dark with the doggo.

I was wearing my headlamp as is the norm when my day starts before the sun does. We bought rechargeable ones at Runnings and they are the nutz btw.

Anyhow, big, solid, brown, bodies with icelight eyes leapt across in front of us, just at the top of the bank on the other side of the driveway, where the beebalm grows in summer. Nomming apples from the Winesap I'm thinking, and welcome to them as it happens.

The dog stood transfixed. The biggest bunnies he'd ever seen. A real bunny popped up out of the new flowerbed and followed the visitors up on the lawn.

It had warmed up over night so it was decided by our little committee of two that Mack should go out to his kennel for a bit. I fastened the three devices that keep his Jack Russell self contained and out of the chickens...gate latch with snap added, knotted parachute cord, cow tie chain at the bottom...and turned.

And there just across the lawn, were two pairs of those ice eyes staring back at me. This was no deer-in-the-headlights business. They seemed utterly fearless. In fact the taller one started stepping slowly toward me, barely moving, but closer....closer...closer...

A bit disconcerted I clapped my hands. 

No effect.

I spoke. "What are you guys up to anyhow?"

Still closer. 

Finally I walked boldly right toward them. I was halfway across the lawn before they finally turned, eye lights winking out one at a time, and sauntered off into the shrubbery.

They reminded me of a horse in the novel, The Show Gypsies, which Becky purchased at great expense so I could read it again, after all the copies in the area were stolen out of the libraries.....He was a great, big, black jumper, with a streak o' mean if you know what I mean. And his name was....

TOO BOLD!

***BTW Becky did NOT pay that much for the book. She bought it a couple of years ago. The price just keeps going up and up and up, and I cannot fathom why. It's a good yarn, but it's just a horsey romance kind of thing. Why were all the copies stolen from the libraries? Why is it so pricey? I just don't know, but if she sold it now, she'd make a heckuvva profit. 

Sunday Stills...Go Low

 

So sorry I missed the last two weeks. Busy time of year in a year that has already shown traces of overall

madness.

For more Sunday Stills.....

End 'o Garden

The mums, I think the variety is Sheffield

So...it is time for frost in this area, past time really, not that I have the slightest desire to see it arrive. Instead I have been reveling in the blooming plant life that this soggy summer sent us. What a year for flowers!

Cannas are at least four feet over my head and still blooming like mad. The invasive purple and blue morning glories that surprised me by coming up from seed every year after I misguidedly planted them a few years back, have covered the arbor and burst out into the yard, waving bright flags until noon or later every day.

The old-fashioned mums the kids hate so much that they dig them all up and give them to me (chortle, grin, chortle) are elbow high, and so burdened with pink flowers that they can barely stand. I do love me an easy flower that practically grows itself. These things languished in plastic bags, practically bare root, until I got around to heeling them into the dirt last year. Hey, I was busy, it was hot and blah, blah, blah. They didn't even notice the abuse and all grew. ALL.

The butterfly bush is in its second year and looks amazing. I bought it last year because the dusty grey foliage looked cool. The bazillions of purplish flowers are a nice bonus.

I go in for that Tarzan-is-about
to-come-swinging-by-on-a-vine
look....

Various annuals are doing their thing as well. I learned about cutting back and feeding leggy petunias from a YouTube video last year. It works. The red one on the front porch had to be cut back TWICE this year because the growing conditions were so amazing.

'mingo beans

However, as I brush through the narrow path between the morning glories and one of the mums at the back door, I can't help but realize that this is not going to last. Although at this moment there is no frost in the forecast, you can feel it coming, smell it on the air, sense it in the need for warm sweatshirts in the early morning that somedays lingers all day.

Any day now. Or any night.

I am not ready for frost or winter or wind or wild weather, so I just enjoy every hour of good garden time that the good Lords sends me. It will all be gone soon enough.