Guess What I Saw This Morning?
An indigo bunting, perched atop the weeping cherry! (Of course, I was inside, and by the time I got the camera and snuck out, he was gone . . . but he was beautiful!) I'd never seen one before. And now the catbird is back, and there are 8 or ten male goldfinches on the thistle feeder—which means, I hope, that there are 8 or ten momma goldfinches sitting on nests down in the woods. And blue jays—there are blue jays everywhere! Some of them nesting, I think, since half a dozen of them spent yesterday morning herding a crow carefully (and loudly) away from the woods in back. They come up and steal catfood out of Victoria's dish on the back deck railing every morning; but they don't just swoop in and take it. One will perch at the opposite corner, look around carefully, and then hop sideways to the dish (Stealing? No, not me. I'm just here for a little rest . . . ), then grab a piece and fly away. A lot of people don't like jays (my grandmother used to call them 'the James Boys' because they'd steal food from the little birds), but we have plenty of food for everyone (Even those abysmal grackles—I don't really like them, but they're so gorgeous when the sun shines on their feathers. Fortunately, they are only passing through.), and I love to watch them swooping through the tops of the trees.
The little chickens and turkeys are not-so-little anymore, and this afternoon's plan is to fence off one of the old chicken lot for them. They're outgrowing the brooder box, and must be moved soon! With luck, I can get pictures . . .
But for now, it's thundering (Rain, maybe!! I hope so—we've hilled the potatoes and they could certainly use it.) and I am going back to the sewing machine—tailgate begins in two weeks, and I'm making aprons. And aprons. And aprons . . . (We went to Asheville Cotton yesterday —20% off everything—and spent an ungodly amount of money. Consider the economy stimulated. But it's not all my fault; John was with me. He's worse than I am, if that's possible. The two of us together in a fabric store are a disaster—or an unexpected windfall, depending on which side of the cash register you're on.) Later I think I'll make a big bowl of potato salad, and another big bowl of slaw (I bought a lovely cabbage the other day), and we'll have potato salad and slaw and hot dogs for supper, and maybe some blueberry crisp—I have blueberries in the freezer. Or maybe rhubarb something . . . or blueberry-rhubarb crisp. That combination makes good jam; I don't see why I couldn't make crisp . . .
And if it doesn't rain, I need to pull the weeds out of the flowerbed in front of the grapevine so we can plant the rest of the flowers from Henn's—I've planted the margeurites and most of the parsley, and a bunch of odds and ends, but I want a perennial bed there. I have shasta daisies and golden alyssum, and some poppies, and there's already a lot of ornamental garlic in there, and the lupines under the arbor, and a foxglove or two, and the omnipresent violets. I had a couple of geums there last year, but they seem to have gone away. And maybe I'll stick a parsley plant or two in . . . you can't hardly have too much parsley.
And if it does rain, I have the aforementioned book, not to mention the cross-stitch dinosaur-in-progress (he has fins now, but he needs toenails and other backstitching, and some ground to stand on, and then he goes onto a bag. I may need to visit the toy store for some big plastic dinosaurs, too.), and the side porch has a tin roof and a couple of old lawn chairs . . .
What did I ever do to deserve such a wonderful life?
