Wednesday, June 30, 2010

June 30, 2010

My literary moments are growing further and further apart. I thought this might happen. I use the computer less, and when I do use it, it is to check e-mail at a time when I usually don’t have extended time to begin writing.

Plus, I find that my moments in nature are less frequent, I am not taking long walks, and the moments seem more mundane or fleeting. I am in the garden or walking out to the mailbox at the end of a long day. Does anyone want to read about the mist rising up over the farmer’s field as I drove home from a meeting? Or my seconds long encounter with a doe last night. I met her on the road. She was beginning to walk into the road as I was driving down. I slowed; she turned and went to the edge of the trees. There she stopped, turned and looked at the big beast that slowed for her. Our eyes met: hers a beautiful deep-toned brown of earth, mine green and shielded by spectacles. Could she see into my soul? I did not tarry, I have not tarried watching wildlife on the road ever since I pointed to a partridge to my hunting ex-husband. He stopped the car and shot it. I will never be a point dog again! I find that now it is better to keep those moments brief and secret in my heart, as a treasure for me to carry within.

Parts of the garden are doing great, parts are not. I planted edemame (fresh soybean, as opposed to dry) this year and had four plants come up from a packet of about 30. I was just talking to a friend that planted some too; she had the same ratio of 4:30. Maybe it was a poor seed crop. The winter squashes never seemed to sprout either. The seed was a few years old, but…. There is a farm stand where I can supplement my failures. The rest of the garden is fairing quite well, and I have no complaints. I am battling slugs, as is everyone I know. At our last book discussion group, we talked about our various means of dealing with slugs. Some of the more gentle folks I know get pretty heartless when it comes to protecting their vegetables.
The birds continue to sing, the beavers are enjoying the swimming hole, and the plants are blooming all out of sequence this year.

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Today a group of the land trust people met for a hike on some property in the town of Newburg. I must admit, I have not felt at all attached to the property, in fact the other times I went there I decided I didn’t like it. The town owns the land and it appears to have been heavily logged so much of it is covered in young growth. Because of that, there are not many views and the trail is ATV and snowmobile-wide, which I don’t like. I went today with the idea to look for the little things that are beautiful, and I found them.

First, upon stepping out of the truck, I spotted a few ripe wild strawberries. The field abounded in strawberry and raspberry plants. It will be good raspberry picking in a few more weeks. There were many ferns and wildflowers. I spotted Indian Cucumber and we tasted a piece of the root, for those that had never tried it before. I also found some Chaga (sp?)--a fungus that grows on birch which you can boil to make a tea. My sister gave me some for Christmas, and I have been trying to find it in the wild since then. No one wanted to try some, even though I could attest to its goodness; it must be that word “fungus”. As I said earlier, I was looking for the little things; much of the moss had their sporophytes up, little capsules with which they will spread their spores to reproduce. The tops were still tightly on, but it was worth a few photos. We came upon the dry remains of what looked to be a great vernal pool, and a larger view of farm fields and the hills of Dixmont.

After the trek though the woods we drove back to the president’s (of the land trust) house and had splendid and hearty potluck. It was a nice end to the excursion, with business and laughter on a breezy deck.

I came home after that luncheon feeling a bit lazy. I puttered in the garden pulling weeds with not much vigor or purpose. I began to hear the rumblings of thunder coming closer until it was close overhead. At that I looked up to see ominously black clouds to the north-west. I meandered to the porch to await the storm and watch from the comfort of the chair. The wind did begin to howl and the rain poured down in a deluge, while the thunder continued to rumble. I’ve yet to get that new TV I thought about getting when the world went digital. Who needs it!

Monday, June 14, 2010

June 14, 2010

I have the afternoon off. I was puttering in the garden, planting some seeds and transplanting the too crowded beets in anticipation of some rain. I moved some black-eyed susans from the flower garden into the field to speed up the naturalization process. They are one of those favorite flowers of mine. They were my mother’s too. In her garden/yard in suburban Connecticut she let the back yard go wild and create a lively field of yellow. Some neighbors didn’t like that she didn’t mow her lawn, but passersby often stopped to ask what the yellow flower was in the yard; some people even came back for seeds.

The rain did begin and drove me in. I guess I wasn’t too driven to work in the yard.
So here I write. Last night, I went to take kitchen scraps to the compost and saw what I at first mistook for my cat. Then I realized it was my friend the skunk. I skirted the composter and put the scraps on the edge of the garden. He ambled away, but it looked like he came back as the new scraps were gone this afternoon. Seeing the skunk got me to thinking about skunk tails or is it tales. I am sure everyone has a skunk story or two in their lives. I have at least three very memorable ones. The wildest was probably about a year ago. I had gotten home from work, went to shut the chickens in and stuck my head in through their little door. I can see their heads hanging over their roosting box. They were there and I shut the door. The next morning I went to feed them and give them water. As I opened the two people doors I saw that my girls had had a nightly visitor, wearing black and white, and a very strong perfume. Inadvertently, I left the door between the front of the shed and the chicken’s space open as I quickly fled. I opened their door and ran inside. I figured the skunk would amble out and that would be that. Well….The next morning I noticed that the grain bag had been torn into and corn was everywhere. I did a quiet search and found the skunk sleeping soundly with what was probably a very full belly behind some scrap boards that I was always going to use for shelves. I could not imagine how I was going to evict my unwanted resident. I contemplated setting up a stereo on the further side of the shed and plugging it in at the house so that the noise would scare him out. I opted first for a gentler approach. Since it was sleeping, I very cautiously took the corn out of the shed and into the house. Without the food that night, he decided to go off and look for grubs or whatever. Luckily, when I could have come face to face with the skunk, it was not at the chicken door. Luckily too that I was later observant enough to realize it was still around and I did not bumble in too noisily and quickly. There are other skunk stories to tell, but I will let them wait.

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

June 9, 2010

I was driving in to work today and came upon a road-kill. A turkey vulture was sitting atop it and tearing off pieces as I approached in my car. The vulture was not immediately intimidated by the size of my matrix and lifted its wings up and out to “scare" me off. It thought better of it a few seconds later and flew into a nearby tree, to watch me pass. Then as I turned onto route 141 where I can see the workings of a growing gravel pit, I noticed a flock of vultures circling over the torn and scarred earth. How symbolic to have vultures, harbingers of death and destruction hovering over the dying earth.

I remember my first experience with vultures. I was about 12 years old and we were visiting relatives in Pennsylvania. Our older cousin, Jonathan, took us for a hike, through farmers fields, past cow pastures and up onto a nearby mountain. In one of the fields there were a dead animal and a flock of vultures raucously feasting. At that point, they seemed as tall as me. Jonathan led us very close to the birds, which were not the least intimidated by us. They hissed and lifted their wings to increase their visual size. I was thoroughly frightened, but I was not about to show it to my cousin and my sister and brother. I skirted the scene as far from them as I dared without looking like a chicken; but I couldn’t help imagining the vultures plucking my eyes out.

On a more pleasant note: I checked out the swimming hole in the evening yesterday. The beaver was sitting on the sandbar near the opposite bank. I watched it for a few minutes as it ate, then moved to the bank and returned to the sandbar with a twig of alder. As I watched it was oblivious, then I heard a giant smack in the pool below me, the lookout beaver spotted me and let out a warning smack on the water before diving under. The other beaver quickly swam up stream and around the bend. My beaver now has a friend. I hung around for a while, but neither one returned.

Monday, June 7, 2010

June 7, 2010

I just got back from a walk in the woods. It is nice to have the sun back, but I admit we were in dire need of rain. The river is back up to the level it should be at, and my sump pump is happily humming away. I’m not sure it liked the hiatus, even though I did, at least for it. The lady slippers are going by, there were far fewer blooming this year. In the field the milkweed is beginning to bud. I pick a few for tonight’s supper. They do have oxalic acid, but if you rinse them a few times and change the water while cooking, you should be ok. I like them, but I don’t know too many people that are willing to try them, and those that did, didn’t really like them (like my children).

I spent Saturday afternoon in the garden. I finally have the lettuce and other greens, the beans, corn and s1uash seeds planted. I took advantage of the rainy forecast and got in all the seedlings that I had bought. I then mulched and put up a fence for the stunted peas. I hope they aspire to some height now that they have something to cling to.

I have to say that I will probably be caught lying many times if I keep this blog up for long. Right now my favorite shrub is in bloom. It is sheep’s laurel; the northern stunted (Maine) version of the mountain laurel I grew up with in Connecticut. The lie will be the fact that I will often say my favorite flower is in bloom. Just wait until full summer! I guess I forget the beauty and the thrill of the flower until I see it again. I am like that with food too. I can never use my favorite food for password protection for pin numbers, because depending on what is in season my tastes change. I am a fickle person, I guess.
Ah well there are worse things to be in life.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Thank goodness for the rain. What I had in the garden was looking quite parched when I returned home from a stint in Massachusetts and New Hampshire. I watered when I got home, but the rain was a blessing.

I took a trip to my sister’s for the long weekend. Last year at this time she took me to a Heron Rookery, where we saw probably twenty nests; there were at least twice that in actuality. This was the first time I saw a rookery. I did not realize that herons nest in the tops of the trees. They seem too big and ungainly to be able to land and rest on thin branches, but they do and with grace at that. This year we visited a sheep fair, and helped around the gardens. I got to see the robin’s nest that a robin built on their porch railing, unfortunately she came home from work one day last week to find the robin gone, one broken egg and two missing eggs. The robin has not returned.

I made a brief check on the swimming hole in the early evening. The beaver was taking a probably well deserved break. It was floating in the water with its forelegs outspread, and its tail and hind legs stretched out behind it. For the first time ever, I saw it just floating. When it heard me, it moved off upstream. I think I had found its den in the bank on one of my jaunts in the late spring.

Supper is beckoning…