Evenings Come Early

A sunny day broke the dismal pattern of rain and gloom which has persisted since the weekend.

J. trundled his new wood splitter out to the end of the dooryard where he stacked the bigger chunks of maple harvested from a friend's yard last spring.

The neatly sectioned pieces of firewood can be loaded onto Snort'n Nort'n, then driven to the carport or the woodshed for storage.

It seemed as though the sun had just gotten round to slanting in the kitchen and dining area windows when it was gone, sliding behind the woods.

The setting sun cast a pale amber glow across the creek, while leaving the yard

and the east meadow in shade.

It seemed only minutes later that the moon began its climb up an apricot sky.

I was sweeping up wood litter in the carport, already noticing the night's chill.

One final blush of color toward the south-west.

Inside on the table near the sliding doors are two Christmas cactus purchased yesterday.

The first Wednesday of each month is 'senior discount' day at a chain store grocery in the next town.

I dislike the term 'senior citizen'.  I don't consider that we have arrived at the 'elderly' stage.

But--since we qualify for a 10% discount, by all means, let's take advantage!

J. dropped me off at Krogers and drove to the Lowes Home Improvement next door.

I encountered a display of winter flowering plants before I had pushed my

shopping cart more than a few feet.

I have mourned the loss of my nearly 20 year old Christmas cactus--the one uprooted, mauled and destroyed by resident kittens--these were 2/$5--before the discount.

The one on the left is nearly the shade of pinky-red of my lost plant.  The one with the creamy white buds is--just because!

Thus far, these have not come to the attention of Willow and Co.

Willis came in with the firewood and sprawled in front of the fire.

When I touched him, his stripes were well-warmed.

What is there about a cat which can make a solid brick hearth look this comfortable?

I am in disgrace tonight regarding the fireplace doors.

J. has been sweeping up the chips of bark created from his wood splitting, scooping them into a bucket and throwing the bits into the fire.

The bucket wasn't available when I decided to 'help' by tidying the carport.  There were tufts of cottony looking insulation flying about [J. and D. blew insulation into the attic space yesterday] dried leaves which had collected in corners and the debris of bark. I swept it into an empty cat litter sack--the kind made of heavy paper finished with a semi-water-proof coating.  I stuffed the bag at the back of the fireplace.

I noted a few minutes later that the burning sack had rolled forward and was very close to the glass doors. It was blazing too much to open the doors and attempt to poke it back.

When J. walked in with an armfull of wood he saw that the glass door on one side had cracked into the proverbial million pieces.

By the time he had dealt with the mess, smoke had billowed through the rooms.

Doors were flung open to the chilly night air.

Windows were raised.

We coughed and flapped.

The cats ran about and leaped onto the window sills, peering out into the dark.

J. has been talking about a fireplace insert to use the wood heat more effectively.

That has now become more of a priority.

Meanwhile, the doorframe has been wrapped in a sheet of aluminium foil

and the screen behind it drawn across the opening.

Fortunately friend Willis was not reclining on the hearth during this episode!

The Work Week

From left to right: Jim, Andy, Les and Steve made up the crew.

I tackled the branches.  When I finished on Wednesday afternoon the edge of the yard looked as if

a family of beavers had created a compound.

J. limbing one of the maples.

A load of wood behind Snort'n Nort'n.

My heaps of branches.

Some months ago a friend [who is also veterinarian to our cats] mentioned to J. that he was anxious to have three maples in his front yard removed. [These are "water maples" which I have mentioned before--known for having shallow and invasive root systems.]

J. was cautious enough to state that he didn't really want the liability for bringing down several large trees so close to power lines and in a residential neighborhood.

Even with skill and experience there is the off chance of a tree falling other than its designated spot.

The matter rested over the winter months, then last weekend, Les contacted J. to announce that his son was visiting and had declared that with suitable help the trees could be brought down.

I'm not quite sure why I was invited along---maybe to help Les' wife serve lunch to the workers [?]

When the first and largest of the trees was successfully toppled, I found I could be of use in collecting the top branches into heaps for two of the men to load and haul away.

When lunch was served on the sunny back patio my eye was caught by an oddly shaped bush with tight pink buds all along the stems. The structure of the branches resembled a small fruit tree that had been espaliered.

Les explained that it is a "patio peach."  It was given to him as a nursery reject, spindly and sparse.

He planted it at the edge of his compost pile and saw that it had water. It took two seasons for the little shrub to perk up and grow. When it had proved itself to be thrifty, it was moved to a bed at the edge of the patio.

When J. and I returned on Wednesday for him to work up the remaining two fallen maples, Les poked his head out of the clinic and told me to be sure and have another look at the patio peach.  The photos below show it in all its blooming radiance.

J. continued to whack up tree trunks with the chainsaw.  I continued dragging top branches into piles and raking smaller bits from the lawn.

We returned home with a load of wood about an hour ahead of the hail and T-storm.

Another load of wood remains to be fetched when the showers have ceased and Les's front yard dried out.

I also spent hours earlier in the week on my knees weeding in the perennial bed before the rains.  So much remains to be done.

I AM TIRED!

I've been reading my favorite blogs as an after-supper treat, but have been too sleepy and fuzzy-minded by then to post comments and responses.

All of you who garden know this feeling--that raking, pruning, tidying, planting all want doing in a narrow wedge of springtime fair weather.

The cats have felt neglected during this week of hard labor, mewing plaintively that they would like a warm body to plop in an easy chair and provide a comfortable lap.

That too, shall hopefully come to pass!

Photos reloaded on Monday.  They were in place when I checked the blog after creating the post on Sunday. Strange things happen.

Sunday

I washed and refilled the kibble feeder in the entry before heading outside for yard clean-up. The poor starving cats are crowding in to eat.

Lt. to rt: Teasel; Chester; Charlie; Jemima.
A stand of cat tails have mellowed in the cold weather.

D. and I dragged all the downed limbs to a brush pile near the garden fence. J. intends to cut up the branches to feed into the woodstove he inherited with the old work barn that sits down by the main highway.

A small paper wasps' nest revealed when the leaves dropped from a stubbly shrub.

Two of the female Mallards zoom aggitatedly about the pond. One of the resident muskrats has been on the prowl, upsetting them.