of last night's high winds:
Note that Sam is on the job, checking out just what has happened to his yard . . . there was also much exploration by squirrels and Ysabeau (though not at the same time).
This was the tree with all the bird feeders in it; it died several years during a droughty summer, and we've been expecting this for some time. Fortunately, it missed the beehives; it did fall over the fence around them, so John will probably have to cut the top out before he can get into the beeyard to replenish their sugar water. (We were hoping not to have to feed them, but after losing two hives last year, and talking to other beekeepers, feeding is the only reliable way to keep bees here . . . the temperatures are erratic and—this winter in particular—they're [the bees, not the temperatures] out and about when there's nothing much blooming. Last week, for instance, it was in the high 50s here. . . though we do have some things blooming: there are daffodils and crocuses, and the rosemary is in bloom, and there are even a few blossoms on the thrift, but none of it is enough to supply six hives in the dead of winter. I think the highway department has planted daffodils along some of the medians, too, so that helps.)
Note, too, that all the feeders are still intact! So I can still leave them here for the time being; later I plan to move the feeders over under the maple, so John can till up this plot for a flower-and-select-vegetable garden expansion. I'd planned to get him to anyway, but now I'll have more space in the sun. More peppers! And bee- and butterfly-plants. And I can move my struggling rudbeckia plants from the part-shade spot in the back, where they don't like it, and replace them with astilbes and a heuchera; and more daylilies. And did I mention more pepper plants? And the two dward cherries John's ordered, trusting that we'd find somewhere to put them.
My knees are complaining already . . .
(And now, back to our regularly scheduled Sunday afternoon, in which I do nothing useful: I should be doing the ironing, which has been languishing in a chair for many days now, but instead I am sitting in what's left of the sun, eating dried apricots and knitting monster ears.)