It rained yesterday — we even got a big fat thunderstorm/downpour in the afternoon. It’s the biggest adjustment when one grows up east of the high plains where it actually rains on a regular basis — living out here where we average only about 14 inches of rain a year — well, that quarter inch that drenched my yard the old-fashioned way yesterday afternoon was more welcome than I can describe. This morning everything is still damp and cool. It’s supposed to be another scorcher today — high 90s — but that we’re starting out ahead of the game is…
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Here are the first roses of the spring … Therese Bugnet, I think — I’m terrible about putting the markers in the ground. The cranesbill geraniums in the background are starting to bloom and the Iris that my friend Andrea gave me a couple of years ago have finally really come in. They’re huge and gorgeous this year. So, the weather warmed up, and the flowers are starting to bloom, and just about everything survived our little snowstorm. I think I lost one or two cucumbers, but I have plenty and can afford to lose a couple. The peas and…
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Spring has been late this year — I can’t remember a year since I’ve lived here where it’s been May before I’ve had greens — but April was cold, grey, and snowy. These are the first of the year — Grumolo Bionda Chickory from my beloved Seeds of Italy. These overwintered, actually — once things thawed out this spring, I pulled the dead rotty bits off the tops, and lo and behold, green leaves sprouted from underneath. So, while the spinach, arugula, italian mustard and turnip greens and broccoli rabe are all just wee seedlings, I’ve got some greens out…
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The weather turned cold and grey today — and after our walk/swim, poor Owie was so shivery that he needed to be swaddled in a towel. Some hunting dog, eh?
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The entire day I searched for spring but spring I could not find, In my straw sandals I tramped among the mountain peak clouds. Home again, smiling, I finger a sprig of fragrant plum blossoms; Spring was right here on these branches in all of its glory! Plum Blossom Nun (via the Nebraska Zen Center)
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It’s been a grim spring here weather-wise. Cold. Gray. Snowy. Gray. And yet, it’s been warm enough that these pretty daffodils bloomed. I don’t even remember planting them — they must have been in the batch I bought from one of Nina’s kids as a fundraising thing. At any rate, I was silly enough to plant them right under the dripline from the porch, so they got kind of battered, poor things. I’m always torn about picking flowers from the garden — where will I enjoy them more? Outside? or inside? But since these had broken stems from the water…
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Winter has returned to Montana — it’s been three days of cold, dank weather with low grey skies. Now the heat wave we got in the early part of March was as little scary — it’s not supposed to be in the mid-70s that early, and it was alarming to have to break out the sprinklers. But this, well, it’s completely expected, not a surprise, and yet … sigh. We’re all ready for some blue skies, some sunshine, for the fruit trees to start filling town with pretty flowers …. in the meantime, we’ll have to settle for daffodils in…
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It’s snowing this morning. Peaceful still snow. Sometimes big flakes, sometimes tiny, but the air is still and a quiet trickle of snow falls outside. It’s as if we’re all inside some quiet, gentle, still place. Looking out the back window as I did the breakfast dishes I saw a woodpecker on the birdfeeder — since my cat died last fall, I finally felt I could get a birdfeeder (Patsy in her prime was quite a birder. She once caught a hummingbird and brought it to us when we were barbequeing on my front porch in Salt Lake — as…
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To live with the Santa Ana is to accept, consciously or unconsciously, a deeply mechanistic view of human behavior…Whenever and wherever a foehn wind blows, doctors hear about headaches and nausea and allergies, about ‘nervousness,’ about ‘depression.’ … . Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem Even for Livingston, a place where the wind routinely blows so hard that they have to divert truck traffic off the interstate …
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Not much to say, really, except it’s twenty below zero this morning! Twenty below! When I was a kid that was the magic number — the number at which even the grownups would concede that it was Really Cold Outside. Twenty below and Dad would drive me to school instead of making me go wait for the bus. Twenty below and the parents would set the egg timer when we were really little, so we wouldn’t get frostbitten (except for that time Up North when they all got chatting and forgot us, and I had to sit on Ray Kennedy’s…