Gloomy Sunday

Today was about as dreary a day as you can imagine. The temperature never got above 55°F; the morning was wet, and afternoon did not dry. I was not able to cross “mow lawn” off my list. I mowed on Friday a little. All the dandelions lay down and sprang back up, so by Saturday it didn’t look like I’d done anything at all.

I don’t have many pictures for today. Hilda and I went on a tour of the natural wonders of McHenry County yesterday. In spite of having a lengthy internal debate about whether or not to take my telephoto lens, I forgot my camera entirely. It didn’t matter so much in the morning, when there wasn’t much blooming at any of the sites we visited. The property we saw after lunch, however, was resplendent in Virginia bluebells, Jack-in-the-pulpits, yellow poppies, and other flowers. It made the day worthwhile.

 Back on the farm, the birds are back. My one picture is the white crowned sparrow. We see it only briefly on its way up to northern breeding grounds.

White crowned sparrow, just passing through

I will have to get pictures of the Baltimore orioles, goldfinches, and rose-breasted grosbeaks another time. They are all here now. I saw the first ruby-throated hummingbird tonight. Earlier today I made a decision to not put out the hummingbird feeder yet because no right-thinking hummingbird would be out on a day like this. And there he was, with nothing to eat.

Gracie has now gone broody on us. I set up the kennel again this morning and installed her in it. I made pecan caramel rolls for Mother’s Day. While we were having breakfast, the heavy mist resolved itself into a steady drizzle.

“We need to let Gracie back in the coop. She will get cold in the rain,” Hilda said.

“The whole idea is to cool her off,” I countered.

“But she’s so tiny, and she’s always the first in the coop.” Hilda stood up.

“Sit down and eat breakfast,” I suggested. “I’ll go let her out when we are done eating.”

After breakfast, I went out and opened the door of the kennel. And Gracie stood in the cage. She has never been the sharpest knife in the drawer. After waiting (in the rain) a few minutes, I reached in to physically remove her. She scratched around in the run for some time, leading me to believe she had been cured by a mere two hours in the kennel, which made it seem like a Big Stupid Waste of Time to set the kennel up at all. A short while later, however, she was back in the nest box. I put her out in the kennel at 1:00, when the drizzle stopped and the temperature got above 50°.

It was a sad day for me. In addition to the gray and gloomy weather, I got all sentimental about cleaning the litter box. As much as I balked at doing chores when I was a child, as I have gotten older, chores anchor me in my life. The routine gives me comfort. I always have a sense of satisfaction when the litter box is all clean and smooth, ready for the next week. This is the last time I will have that sense. Next week, we won’t have a cat anymore. The vet is coming to the house Friday morning. After the funeral, I will empty the litter box, clean it thoroughly, and put it away. We have no immediate plans to get another pet.

I pulled myself together enough to spend the morning in the kitchen getting ready for the week and putting up the first batch of rhubarb. I cook the rhubarb with sugar, orange juice, and orange zest. I freeze it in small portions and eat it with yogurt. In the middle of winter, it is a pleasant reminder of spring.

This afternoon, I ventured out to pull dandelions around the fifth oak and transplant some of the penstamon that I planted in a bad spot when we moved. I once again missed the window for my shooting star, phlox, and Jacob’s ladder, which have already started to bloom. There’s so much penstamon, however, that I thought I’d try dividing and transplanting. If it doesn’t work, I still have some in the bad spot. Maybe I’ll get everything moved in the fall. My job so interferes with my gardening!