It’s a cloudy, dismal day. It seems like it wants to rain. Indeed, there’s a big green blob over us on the radar, but no rain is coming down. The sky’s indecisiveness makes me edgy. We really, really need rain. I cannot, however, make it happen through force of will. We can only wait.
The chickens are doing fine. Their feathers have grown back. Goldie has her magnificent hackles and beard.
Goldie with beard and hackles |
I have recently noticed that Silvia has dark brown eyes. I thought her eyes would be lighter because of her white feathers. Wrong. She’s a little devil, that one. I have to watch her every minute when I’m doing the chores. She is right there when the coop door is open, ready to make an escape.
Silvia's soulful dark eyes |
I had nothing else for a blog post. I went for a walk hoping for, but doubting that I would find inspiration. Everything was gray and brown. So depressing. I got all the wait to the north side of the property before I saw anything interesting. I spotted a splash of red in the undergrowth. Multiflora rose is a nasty, prickly invasive species, but it offers abundant pollen and nectar for pollinators and also has innumerable bright red, pea-sized rosehips in the winter. Fruits such as these are often good food sources, although the number of them suggested that not many animals were eating them. Some humans like rosehip tea. I am not one of them.
Multiflora rosehips |
A dandelion bloomed bravely in the field. Terry says the soil has to be 50°F for dandelions to bloom. Even so, most dandelions bloom in the spring. This one was confused.
Out-of-season dandelion |
Another plant that was living in its head was a little farther west. This pussywillow, another spring bloomer, had shed its bud scales to reveal the soft fluff of its flower. No doubt the persistence of warm temperatures confused it. It will be surprised if it snows Wednesday like the meteorologists are predicting.
A pussywillow living in its head |
There are two kinds of Christmas trees growing in Terry’s ill-fated trial plot. Some of them are now way too big for Christmas trees.
These trees are too tall |
Others have been decimated by deer. Another plan for income bites the dust. I asked Terry if he was going to plant more, but he assured me that he has some started in a more protected area. Damn deer.
These trees are too small |
There is a good crop of Michigan holly again this year. The first couple of years that the shrubs produced fruit, birds ate them all. The berries are now so numerous that the birds can’t keep up.
Michigan holly |
Terry’s recent activities have included putting up a shade on the south side of the dwarf Albert spruce and arbor vitae. These small trees will get sun scald in the winter if not protected.
Sun protection on dwarf Alberta spruce |
In the woods by the creek, a big mushroom (8" diameter) sprouted on the side of a buckthorn stump. I think I said this recently, but it bears repeating. I’m amazed that we have any fungal fruiting bodies around with as dry as it’s been.
Big mushroom |
On my way back to the house, I saw scattered patches of fur. I thought maybe it was from a rabbit.
Murder scene |
My suspicions were confirmed when I found part of the white cottontail. One rabbit less. We won’t be short.
White fur from the rabbit's cottontail |
The only thing left in the high tunnel is the herbs. The thyme (right) is completely out of control. If it overwinters again, I’ll have to wrestle it back with a shovel. The oregano (front right) was so beautiful, I dried more of it even though I don’t need it.
Herb bed in the high tunnel |
Here it is November 17, and it hasn’t even been cold enough to freeze the parsley. Parsley is way more robust than wimpy, wimpy basil. Then there’s kale. Kale lasts forever. I keep thinking I should do something with it, but what? I planted it for Jane’s turtle, and after a few tries, even the turtle decided she didn’t like it.
Parsley and kale |
No rain yet. Maybe tomorrow.