32 F at 7:30 a.m. The sun rising in a pastel sky.
I was awakened from a half sleep on Wednesday morning by cats squabbling beneath my bed. As they shot from the room I identified the pugilists: Robert and Shelby [aka Crabby Cat.]
Muttered growls and hissings followed their dash through the great room. Elmo exploded from the foot of the bed in apprehension, Rosie bounced across my pillow in interested pursuit.
I creaked from bed, cornered Shelby in the grey dimness of the living room, lifted her gently by her scrawny scruff and deposited her quietly out the front door.
Back in bed I piled pillows so that I had a comfortable view through the west window. A milky haze covered the descent of the full moon. Sorting through a mental lexicon of descriptive phrases I decided that the sky resembled the soft opal sheen inside a shell.
Pondering my options for the day I thought that it was high time to finish the construction of a skirt begun weeks ago, then on to laying out a stack of quilt blocks.
As it happened another task took precedence.
It was nearly noon when I walked up the lane to the mailbox. J's laundry was churning away in the washer, three small butternut squash quartered, seeded and put in the over to roast for cream of squash soup.
The temperature was easing toward 50 F, there was no wind. I returned to the house long enough to pull on a pair of gardening gloves, then back out with the clippers.
It took nearly an hour to trim back the mounds of nepeta which have straggled dankly over the south/east retaining wall since being blackened by frost. In other years I've done that bit of pruning in mid-autumn, but found that handling the plants while still green left me sneezing and snuffling the rest of the day.
Various mat-forming weeds thrive every winter in the garden beds. I disinterred a few clumps, along with the wiry stems of polygonum. I snapped off dry stalks of coneflower, noted that some of the roses have already sent out tentative tiny leaves during the recent warm spell.
My energy was holding up, so I moved up the slope to tackle the sprawling sage and dead stems of yarrow in what was originally meant to be a herb bed.
The mushy remains of iris leaves, a straggle of unwanted vinca were pulled away under the ground level window of the downstairs living room.
The raised bed beneath the kitchen window needs a thorough overhaul; blackberry lilies and Michaelmas daisies planted there 3 years ago have proven too tall and floppy for the space.
For now, the only thing to do was some severe cutting back. This done, for the sake of tidiness I snipped off the dead stalks of plants that spent the summer in the black raised bins near the greenhouse.
The sun had moved in its low arc across the south ravine, lowering the temperature of the front dooryard. On the west end of the house it was still warm and sunny.
Many attempts to weed and mulch the west garden have been defeated by the persistence of a coarse bunching pasture grass. I yanked some of this, now shriveled and bleached, from around the roses and several clumps of dwarf nepeta.
I clipped dry stems of monarda/bee balm, delighting as always in the Earl Grey tea scent that clings to the plants.
Three hours of work, much left to be done, but I was noticing the ache in my shoulders; the sun was sliding along the south-western edge of the horizon.
Willis-the-cat, who had trudged resolutely up and down the slope as I carried bundles of cut stalks to scatter around the foundation of the old shed, had now parked himself on the retaining wall, a reminder that neither of us has the staying power of former years.
J. left his workshop and appeared as I was making my last trip with garden refuse. We walked two loops of the meadow track before coming inside for the day.
I am fascinated by the look of winter trees. The beeches produced a heavy crop of nuts this year, some still clinging to bare branches.
Seed balls on a sycamore.
Beech nuts.
A twisted hickory on the eastern boundary fence line.
I marvel at the twisted branches of the hickory. A large old oak which stood nearby went down in a gale of wind several years ago. I wonder if the two trees growing closely together forced the hickory to take on these contortions.
Tulip poplar.
A bristle of coneflower heads in the rough strip along the lane.
The youngest under-story beeches still hold papery leaves.
Willis, ever faithful companion.
It was slightly above the freezing mark when I looked at the temp gauge this morning. The early sun disappeared by noon, but was still shining when I washed the insides of several sun-facing windows.
Going outside with veg parings for the waste heap, then taking out cat litter I felt the cold bite of the wind.
Jim's requested meal of baked corned beef with veg is almost ready.
After we eat I must bundle into warm clothes and trudge to the mailbox and at least once around the meadow loop.
Then--finally--downstairs for a bit of sewing.
I too love the winter trees. I was a passenger in my daughters car the other day and was able to see the different shapes of the various types of tree that are often not visible in leaf. Now that I am down to two cats only there is no squabbling. I mentioned to my son the other day the sadness I feel that I will no longer be the servant to a kitten as it would not be fair. Maybe when the last two go to kitty heaven I will adopt an oldie to keep my company.
ReplyDeleteBriony
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Briony; Our two outside cats were born in 2010, so they are senior citizens. My darling Teasel is 16. Robert is the last of the three brothers born in 2012. We adopted 2 kittens in June 2021--even realizing there is the possibility they might outlive us. I can't imagine a home without at least one cat!
DeleteI have been trying to post comments on your last post ( re: the lovely quilt) but I see it didn't come through. I'll try again. If I continue having problems I may start posting comments on my blog at the end of a post. Just the blogs where I can't post. If that makes any sense. It is late. Past my bedtime and I fear I'm rambling on.
ReplyDeleteI wish you all the best in the new year. Granny M
Hi Sharon, I hope I can get my comment to publish today. My eldest daughter came by and supposedly fixed the problem. I sure hope so.
ReplyDeleteWinter trees have an awesome appearance, I agree. Even the dried coneflower heads are pretty.
You sure got a lot done outside.
G.M. Computers can be frustrating things. I'm sometimes tempted to get an I-phone or a tablet, but don't think I could deal well with another device.
DeleteI'm glad I had the chance to work outside as the weather is now colder and quite bleak. I'm feeling an urge to work in my sewing room. Its a nice spot for hibernation!
Being awakened to cat squabbles is not a pleasant experience, but it sounds like you were able to quickly dispel the argument. For the first time in nearly 50 years I am cat-less after always having a houseful. Usually they find me, but since adopting two cat-chasing dogs, none have come around. My last one was Maggie who lived to 18 years. There's a special bond with a cat - almost like a privilege to be allowed to share their companionship.
ReplyDeleteI can relate to your starting the day with one goal in mind, only to switch gears according to the mood of the day. You did get quite a bit of garden tidying done and it is always nice to get outside for some fresh air and exercise this time of year. The sewing can wait... I had a similar day early this week and was finally able to cut the last of the straggly stalks of tansy in front of the old shed and rake up the last of the leaves in the front yard. We've had similar, warm weather this year.
The bare trees with their contortions and seed-pods do have a certain beauty against the pale light of winter skies. It's interesting to see the different variety of trees you have there, and the plants that grow in your garden. I would love to see the results of your sewing and quilting, too.
Wishing you blessings in the coming new year. x Karen
Karen; Your mention of tansy reminds me that it might be a good addition to my very informal plantings of native asters, coneflowers and such. I grew it in my Vermont garden, so I know it sometimes needs restraining.
DeleteI can't imagine a home without cats in spite of the destructive effect several generations of them have had on our furniture. When I hoover up cat hair, empty litter boxes, rescue some object shoved off my desk I tell them its a good thing I love them!