Moving into February

Photo taken January 30 as rain moved in after several days of sunshine to round out a cold and cloudy month. 

Warmer temps and bright blue skies have not yet dried the squelchy ground left from a pounding deluge on the 31st.

The air this morning had a slightly different scent, not of spring, but with a promise of something milder and more hopeful than entrenched winter.

No wind stirred through leafless branches; there was a waiting stillness.

Midmorning a pale shaft of sunlight crept tentatively across the floor, retreating within moments.

When I walked to the mailbox at 2 the sky was sullen, a murky greyness hovering, an east wind sending chilly fingers beneath my hood.

Yesterday, in brilliant sunshine, wearing a tattered flannel shirt as an outer layer, I began pruning, a task usually undertaken in November, forestalled then by days of rain.

I began with the Knock-out Roses on the east retaining wall. These had a less than thriving summer of 2024; I hope I can encourage them this year. The ungainly sage was trimmed back, as was the mat of marjoram which has spread out of bounds.

The sun-warmth was encouraging  on my back when I moved to the west side of the house.

Willis-cat followed me there sprawling on a slab of rock, as usual perilously close to where I was wielding the pruning snippers.

I hacked away at the rose bushes, cut away a tangle of twiggy vines from clematis Jackmanii, noting the tiny stubs of new growth in the joints of brittle stems.

Lastly, with Willis shifting a bit nearer, I sat on the wooden curbing of the raised bed and snapped off  tall dry stems of monarda. Already there is a fragrant mat of tiny 'bee balm' plants hunkered down against the cold soil. 

Several trips to fling brush and twigs over the edge of the south ravine; a walk about the dooryard, tired by now and noting how very much 'wants done.' Line-dried laundry bundled in from the back porch, the bergamot scent of monarda clinging to my clothes and hair reminding me that a mug of Earl Grey would be welcomed. 

Jim, tired of winter confinement, welcomed the sun on January 27 by cutting down a damaged oak tree at the lower end of the property. 

This is the area where a former owner's house burned, badly scorching several of the nearby trees, compromising their longevity. Power poles and transmitters add to the need for careful precision in dropping a tree.

I approached carefully once the tree was horizontal.

You can see the slow rot undermining the oak.

Several more trees suffered similar wounds from the fire, including a hybrid magnolia. Looking at that one today I wonder how many more seasons it can survive and bloom as the main trunk is badly scarred.

After wrestling with stale gasoline in both chainsaw and wood splitter, the wood harvest has been reduced to conveniently sized 'chunks' and trucked up the lane to be stashed in the woodshed.

Willis and I, trudging the path along the edge of the meadow, have admired the work of the resident pileated woodpecker.

I crept around the edge of the shop/garage to take this zoom shot of the bird bashing away at the tree.

His woodworking was accomplished in a matter of days.

Willis, posing, slit-eyed at the base of the woodpecker tree.

With the last of the huge quilts bound and delivered I turned to a project long overdue--a set of placemats and mug mats [coasters] for daughter Gina who has a long love affair with vintage red and white kitchen accessories. I purchased the fabrics as a 'fat quarter bundle' while in Wyoming. You can see my efforts to make use of every last scrap. I was able to find similar red check and a cherry print to finish.

Mug mats.

Photo credit: Gina. She has a 'thing' about stains on pretty placemats, so they go under a clear vinyl tablecloth.

I can create the components, but haven't much of a gift for 'styling' or arranging.

That can safely be left in Gina's creative hands.

So, there is the record of life leading into February [the bits that are suitable for sharing!]

I've had a nibble of Wensleydale cranberry cheddar, crackers and still nursing a mug of tea as I type.

I turned on the heat downstairs an hour ago, so no excuses--Thimble-kitten and I will tackle the current sewing project.