Friday, February 24, 2017

Too-Early Spring

As it is supposed to drop to 26 F tonight, these little bits of growth may all end up frozen, but on the day I took the pictures, it was gorgeous.

Rose leaves...
 Plum buds...
 Willow green...
I love the way green creeps over this tree until, suddenly, it's full of leaves!
 Strutting tom, named Effingham Sandwich...
It's a long story.  He likes to show off for me, but he stalks the rest of the family and scares them.  He may not last past this summer.

 Buzzing bees...
I'm ridiculously grateful that the bees survived the winter, as we are new bee-tenders.
Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

Tuesday, February 21, 2017

Goings On

Saturday, we spent a glorious afternoon spreading composted manure in the garden and around the fruit trees.  I raked the asparagus beds.  There's still work to be done, but the beds are much improved.  We added mulch in various places.  James tilled.  I weeded and watered the garlic.

It was glorious, all but the part where I lost my glasses.  I had prescription sunglasses on, but it's hard to see in the barn and the shed, so I thought I'd be clever and keep my glasses hooked on my shirt.  I can't drive, cook, sew... I have an old, distorted pair, and they'll do until I can visit the eye doctor and get a new pair.  It may or may not have been nearly seven years since my last eye exam.  On a side note, if you're good friends with St. Anthony, the patron saint of lost items, will you put in a good work for me?  He hasn't told me yet where to look, so I keep asking.

Then, best of all, we had almost three quarters of an inch of rain Sunday night.  Everything is pleasantly squishy and the compost is soaking in.  It feels like an eternity since the last rain or snow.

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

Do you see what I see?

... Exceptionally gorgeous sunsets each evening
... More pleasantly cloudy days
... The first green of daffodil and tulip leaves
... A need for rain
... Bradford pear buds
... Preening turkeys
... A rainbow of chicken eggs
... No longer, a nearby house that has been dismantled piece by piece
... A few browning, decaying pine trees (a weekend's labor)
... Beds full of promise
... Decadently brown compost, ready for application
... A collapsing shed (a mite more than a weekend's work)
... Baby smiles

Until next time, remember, this is not paradise.  It's Purgatory Ranch.