"Rough Winds Do Shake The Darling Buds"...Of April

Ornamental crabapple in bloom.

Rounding up my week with photos taken over several days.

These are probably the last from my Canon Powershot

About a year ago one of the cats pushed the camera off my untidy desk [go figure!] and a tiny piece was chipped off the battery compartment door. Canon no longer serviced that model or supplied parts, so I've used the camera for the past year with a heavy piece of scotch tape holding the battery door in place--removing and renewing tape each time the batteries needed changed.

This stop-gap measure hasn't been very effective recently--the plastic bits are too worn for any amount of tape to hold the door tightly enough to maintain battery contact.

My new camera arrived on Wednesday.

On Thursday I drove to Wal Mart to purchase a memory card and a padded carry bag.

I am now, typically, balking at the learning curve involved in familiarizing myself with the camera which, according to the instruction booklet, will do many astonishing things.

Tomorrow I will need to quit dithering, or I shall miss the wonderful daily changes of springtime!

Close-up of the crabapple blossoms.

Rosa 'Wise Portia' after pruning.

I've spent time weeding, pruning and generally fussing about in the flower strips this week.

We experienced several days when afternoon temperatures soared into the mid 80's F with gusty warm winds which shook blossoms from the trees and strewed the maple 'seed wings' across the driveway.

On one of those days I washed the heavy curtains from the bow window and pegged them on the clothesline. I usually stand facing down the valley to pin out the wash [I'm sure I don't know why!]

The wind was blowing from the south--up the valley--and before I thought what might happen a gust of wind drove the wire line weighted with curtains into the side of my face, knocking my glasses askew.

I yelped in startled pain, caught a curtain as it tried to turn into a parachute.

I had a sense of Mary Poppins sailing aloft and hovering over our garden, not with an umbrella, but with my living-room drapes!

The old bird house in the back yard is home to a pair of bluebirds this spring.

Gina and I were enjoying the sun in the carport one afternoon when she spotted Bobby McGee the cat taking an unhealthy interest from his perch on a branch of the tree.

We began barricading the birdhouse with sticks, then J. brought out a roll of wire and encircled the trunk of the tree.

Bobby has prowled about. The birds have flitted nervously in and out of the house, never going very far. [There are four eggs in the nest.]

J. has bellowed at Bobby whenever he sees him lurking in the vicinity.

We can only hope that the bluebirds will raise their young and see them fledged without tragic interference from the cats.

Green-gold light early on Wednesday morning, looking south down the Big Creek Valley.

As I turned from taking this photo, a hummingbird whizzed past my head.

I rummaged out the nectar feeder, then we decided it would be dashed from its hook or the syrup spilled by the wild wind.

It was Saturday before we hung it out and I haven't seen the 'hummer' again.

Clematis vines clambering up the trellis.

I noticed today that the first one has opened--incentive to take out the new camera in the morning.

Cats are always inspired by windy days.

The three boy 'kittens' raced about the front yard, pounced at each other, tore up and down trees.

I sat on the porch with my coffee watching them.

The large bumblebees which the locals call 'wood bees' are out in full force.

They buzz around the porch in the morning sunshine, zooming in to hover disconcertingly close.

It is an odd thing to be stared down by a bee!

They seem not to have beligerant intentions!

Bobby McGee, always the most adventurous of the kittens, has dicovered that he can climb the grape arbor near the clothesline and leap onto the roof of the garage.

Bobby paraded across the roof, peered down at me, raced back up to the peak.

On his way back to the ground, Bobby stops to inspect the honeysuckle vine which rampages over the grape arbor.

Rain moved in during Thursday night, a pelting, cold rain.

Temperatures had dropped 30 degrees in the space of a few hours.

During a lull in the rain, I pulled on my boots and walked down to the mailbox, the old camera in my pocket. I wanted a photo of the dogwood before the blooms were dashed to pieces by the wind and wet.

I set the camera for 'macro' but had to hold the wind-lashed branch with one hand and manage the camera with the other.

The resulting photos are not well-defined.

Late in the afternoon the sun came out, the sky cleared, but the wind continued to bluster.

Petals lay scattered in the grass beneath the crabapple tree.

Fragile dry branches were snapped from the tall maples.

I gathered them to break up for fire starters.

I have been weeding in the peony/iris bed which borders part of the upper garden.

When Devin and I enlarged this strip around the two original peonies, he carried some soil from the back pasture to build up the level above the stones.  The soil seems heavier and coarser than the garden soil.

This is a difficult area to work as roots from a nearby tree reach into it. Last summer I tucked plants of creeping thyme around the stone steps--none of them survived.

The sweet spicey scent of the viburnum fills the dooryard.

It is far sweeter than the odor which has come up the valley on the wind these past days.

A neighboring field has been spread with 'fertilizer' from an area chicken farm.

I won't attempt to describe the reek--the wind has generously carried it for a mile in either

direction from the field!

Spring when it finally arrives, is an impetuous and head-long season.

Flowers bloom and quickly fade, weeds take over;  the list of tasks that need to be done 'right now' is exhausting even to contemplate.

The venerable old apple tree in full bloom today will be fading, changed by tomorrow---and I didn't take a photo of it in its full glory!

Instead I used my outdoor time to grub weeds from the lower perennial strip--digging out the stalks of wild onion that proliferate, wrenching at clumps of invasive, thick-rooted grass.

The tasks will never be all ticked off the list. Some will be abandoned, others will take priority.

There has to be time to 'smell the roses,' to watch the sunrise, to sit on the front porch in the early morning and listen to the mockingbird, time to watch the boy cats tumble in the grass.

Each day is precious.