Improved somewhat
May. 14th, 2011 08:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
altivoWell, not the weather. This is the grayest spring I can remember in many years.
Despite a guild meeting in the morning, shopping in the afternoon, and Gary going to a music event this evening so I'm left with the dogs, it feels less hectic than any day in the last two weeks. That's the definite improvement. I even had time to read over my dinner.
Outdoors, spring proceeds with or without the sun. Lettuce, spinach, and chard are sprouting. For some reason, peas are lagging and may have to be replanted tomorrow. Apples, crabs, and pears are blossoming, not quite open enough to scent the air yet, but soon I hope. And no hail or ice storms to reduce the crop this year please.
Also, we have redbud in bloom. I have been nurturing a redbud for ten years, and finally it has blossoms on a couple of branches. You folks farther south may laugh, but we are near the border of where redbud will no longer tolerate the winters. This one was started from one of those little twigs that the Arbor Day Foundation gives away. After three years it stood about four feet high and had lots of foliage, so I thought it was going to make it. Then it winterkilled right back to the roots and I figured it was dead. It is planted in a relatively sheltered spot and is partly obscured by other saplings that grew more easily. A Bradford pear and a crabapple from the same bundle of twigs now stand over 20 feet tall and bloom profusely in May.
So I forgot about the redbud for a couple of years. Then in summer I noticed the characteristic leaves again and sure enough, it had resprouted from the roots. It has a rather lopsided shape, but many redbuds do grow that way. Early this spring I was convinced that the tree had died over the winter, but now the rose and magenta blossoms are appearing. These come before the leaves, and are intensely colored. With any luck, they are a sign that the rootstock is healthy and the tree will continue to spread.
Rhubarb is almost ready for a first cutting. Last night we ate the first asparagus from the garden. Dandelions are blooming. Yes, I know, my ancestors celebrated spring by eating the dandelion leaves, but I don't care for them, thanks.
Oh, and while I was putting the horses and sheep to bed for the night, I heard a fox barking incessantly. Finally I went outside the barn to try to figure out where it was and could tell that it was just at the back corner of the arena. Sure enough, a movement in the undergrowth and then I saw her cross the lane and head west behind the arena. A smallish fox, probably a vixen, strawberry blond rather than deep red, and possibly a bit thin due either to nursing kits or to poor luck hunting. This could well be the kit that was tangled in our sheep fence a few years back, and had to be released by hand. The color and size would fit.
Despite a guild meeting in the morning, shopping in the afternoon, and Gary going to a music event this evening so I'm left with the dogs, it feels less hectic than any day in the last two weeks. That's the definite improvement. I even had time to read over my dinner.
Outdoors, spring proceeds with or without the sun. Lettuce, spinach, and chard are sprouting. For some reason, peas are lagging and may have to be replanted tomorrow. Apples, crabs, and pears are blossoming, not quite open enough to scent the air yet, but soon I hope. And no hail or ice storms to reduce the crop this year please.
Also, we have redbud in bloom. I have been nurturing a redbud for ten years, and finally it has blossoms on a couple of branches. You folks farther south may laugh, but we are near the border of where redbud will no longer tolerate the winters. This one was started from one of those little twigs that the Arbor Day Foundation gives away. After three years it stood about four feet high and had lots of foliage, so I thought it was going to make it. Then it winterkilled right back to the roots and I figured it was dead. It is planted in a relatively sheltered spot and is partly obscured by other saplings that grew more easily. A Bradford pear and a crabapple from the same bundle of twigs now stand over 20 feet tall and bloom profusely in May.
So I forgot about the redbud for a couple of years. Then in summer I noticed the characteristic leaves again and sure enough, it had resprouted from the roots. It has a rather lopsided shape, but many redbuds do grow that way. Early this spring I was convinced that the tree had died over the winter, but now the rose and magenta blossoms are appearing. These come before the leaves, and are intensely colored. With any luck, they are a sign that the rootstock is healthy and the tree will continue to spread.
Rhubarb is almost ready for a first cutting. Last night we ate the first asparagus from the garden. Dandelions are blooming. Yes, I know, my ancestors celebrated spring by eating the dandelion leaves, but I don't care for them, thanks.
Oh, and while I was putting the horses and sheep to bed for the night, I heard a fox barking incessantly. Finally I went outside the barn to try to figure out where it was and could tell that it was just at the back corner of the arena. Sure enough, a movement in the undergrowth and then I saw her cross the lane and head west behind the arena. A smallish fox, probably a vixen, strawberry blond rather than deep red, and possibly a bit thin due either to nursing kits or to poor luck hunting. This could well be the kit that was tangled in our sheep fence a few years back, and had to be released by hand. The color and size would fit.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-15 10:16 am (UTC)Ah, and I remember that fox kit! That was the one that was featured in your recipe book, right? It'd be neat if this were the same one; it'd be good to know that she made it, and I hope she's gonna stay lucky and survive and have kits of her own, too, if she doesn't already.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-15 12:13 pm (UTC)I suspect this is the same fox kit all grown up, and it's very likely she has a kit or two right now. I'll be watching for evidence.
no subject
Date: 2011-05-15 12:22 pm (UTC)It's especially true in baking, too, where you're often not just relying on the tastes of things to go together well but also on certain chemical interactions to take place. Pancakes (granted, these aren't technically baked, but the preparation's closer to baking then cooking) are a good example: when you think about where flour, milk and eggs come from and what they are, it really is amazing that you could mix them and end up with something usable, AND then heat the mixture and actually get a firm but soft, edible disk that tastes good to boot (if done right).