Take Joy!

Just Because I Can

Dasiy and Rosita  

(no, Daisy doesn't have eight legs—I think that's Jesse behind her. And Nicholas.)

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?

Lavinia

I've just received my copy of Ursula LeGuin's new novel, Lavinia. (Here's an excerpt. See if you don't want to drop everything and run to the bookstore.) It's about Lavinia, who married Aeneas . . . and, no, I've never read The Aeneid, so I also have a copy of the new translation by Robert Fagles. (This is, of course, on top of the other pile of books that just came last week. A veritable embarrassment of riches!) But I think these two will go to the top of the stack, even on top of Derrick Jensen (Endgame I and II).

A Small Drama In Three Acts

There he is again, that black-and-white interloper! That Fitch! Who does he think he is, anyway, trying to eat my cat food?

Hey, why don't you go out there and frighten him away?  You jump on me all the time, annoying little sister . . .

Darn! He's still there! Maybe if I ignore him really hard . . . 

Hah! I knew I could outlast them! Bast smiles upon me!

Players: Mr. Poozle (He Who Is Greatly Annoyed), Serena (Annoying Little Sister), Maggie (The Watcher In The Chair), and The Fitch (as Himself).

If you enjoyed our little play (or even if you didn't, though we can't imagine THAT), drop by The Friday Ark to see what else might be going on . . .

New Furniture

Not for us, silly—new cat furniture! The old cat tree finally got too ratty for even me to tolerate, so it is now living on the deck and we have this spiffy new one. Maggie and LeeLee are investigating . . .

Ordinarily, Maggie and Victoria can barely tolerate being in the same room with one another.  Apparently being on different levels counts as being in separate rooms.

What are you doing up there?

And now I know who turned over the bowl of cat food on the window sill . . .

The End.

Earth Day

So, in honor of Earth Day, I grubbed in the dirt . . . er, earth. Did a bit of weeding—I ought to be pulling up ground ivy, but it's still blooming and the bees are working it, so I pulled up what had finished, along with some grass and fed the whole bunch to the chickens, who were extremely enthusiastic. Planted catnip, two hummingbird sage plants, a bunch of dianthus, some regular sage, some oregano (actually, some more oregano—I took some from the front bed, which is being taken over by the Oregano Mafia, and planted it in a pot so I can have fresh oregano all winter. I hope.), some parsley-in-a-pot (same reason), a spotted dead nettle down in the rock garden . . . still to plant are a flat of golden marguerites, a flat of gold alyssum, a mixture of poppies and shasta daisies, some more parsley and a few dill plants (these destined for a pot, I think; we can sow seed in the garden), three clematis plants, and some blue stuff that we just liked. Oh, and a flat of delphiniums that John has plans for; yesterday he planted a flat of lupines under the grapevine.

I had 'help' from Earl, who rolled happily in the mulch
and Sam, who spent most of the afternoon cleverly camouflaged in the daffodils

and Maggie, who just watched.

Other than that, I did a load of sheets and towels and hung them out—it was lovely and breezy, and they were dry by midafternoon—and baked a couple of loaves of buttermilk bread. I cooked yesterday: hamburgers, enough for today too, and potato salad, and egg salad, and gelatin (I have given up Jello, at least for now; this was made with Knox gelatin and a mixture of apricot nectar and tangerine juice), and hamburger buns, which made nice sandwiches with egg salad for today's lunch. John and Roger built a new pen for the pheasants, and then ate the leftover hamburgers and potato salad. I worked some on Riley's dinosaur (only three fins and a couple of spikes left!); I should have it far enough along to get fabric for a bag this weekend.

Next I think I need to look up some rhubarb recipes:

Beauty for a Monday Evening

Top to bottom: bleeding heart in the back sort-of-a-flowerbed (violets in background), Virginia bluebells in the hollow near the woods, tulips out from the back steps, and trout lily in the rock garden (the little greenery is sweet woodruff, and the spotted leaves on the right are lungwort . . . and, alas, there are also wild cherry seedlings—the bane of my gardening existence).

Happy [Belated] Birthday

to Towanda, whose birthday was Friday, and I missed it! (In my defense, I spent the entire afternoon moving books from one room to the other, so that all the children's books—three shelves full of them!—are in one place and easily gotten to when visiting grandchildren are on the premises. And after that I was busy complaining that my back hurt . . . ) At any rate, Happy Birthday!

Jesse and Giselle are happy, too.

Do Not Corrupt My World

See my works, how fine and excellent they are!
All that I have created, I have created for you.
Think upon this and do not corrupt and desolate My World,
For if you corrupt it, there is no one to repair it after you.
--Ecclesiastes Rabbah 7:28

I ran across this at The Purloined Letter, a very fine blog that I just discovered. I especially liked this post, about taking her kids to visit one of those living history farms. Take a look!

Earll and Mr. Poozle Survey the Territory