The property just along the road was inherited by a man who merely rents out the land and, according to neighbors, "hasn't been near the place in five years." Cattle are pastured there and often surround the abandoned house. Daffodils grow in the yard and haven't been stomped by the cattle.
This swath of daffodils in a nearby field is typical of their abundance, seemingly growing wild.
Our bedroom is still rather impersonal, the walls wearing the clean white paint applied before we purchased.
We wonder if our huge log-pole pine bedstead will look appropriate in the little cottage.
The cats are not concerned with the lack of embellishments in the room.
We are happy that they have settled in and emerged from under the bed.
J. found a plank in one of the old barns, cut pieces to size and then sliced them lengthwise to make two bluebird houses.
This one he hung on the north-west side of the house, well away from the old one in the apple tree.
The second of his birdhouses has been placed in the "pussywillow tree" below the east-facing front porch.
We'll be watching to see if any of several hovering bluebird couples are impressed with the new accomodations.
Patches of violets have flowered under the clothesline and in the grass along the side of the house and garage.
The ancient pear tree burst into fragrant bloom today. I found remnants of last autumn's pears in the grass beneath the tree. They were shriveled and leathery, but smelled richly of dried fruit.
I also found a tiny-leaved straggly rosebush beneath the pear tree.
I'm wondering if it is the white flowered "Scotch briar rose" or perhaps a yellow flowered one I recall as "Father Hugo". I need to locate the boxes full of gardening books and refresh my mind. Surely identification will be easier when the rose blossoms.
I think that the pear tree may predate the cottage, which was built in 1980. There is a hollow in the trunk at the point where it begins to branch, which suggests that it is an elderly tree. A previous house stood for many years on the farm, which was known as Mosslands, named for the Moss family who have been in the neighborhood since pre Civil War times.
A clump of hollyhock, rather oddly placed at the edge of a small grassy bed which contains iris.
Too fine a day to stuff laundry in the dryer.
Pebbles the Horse is currently pastured just beyond the clothesline, in an electric-fenced area which extends past the back of the garage. She makes note of all our activity in the dooryard and frequently reminds us that she is a poor starving and neglected horse.
When an Amish buggy trundles by on the road, Pebbles flicks her tail, frisks about her pasture and whickers a greeting .
This vine is straggling up a makeshift trellis. In looking at the bits of gone-to-seed blooms from the past year, I'm guessing it could be a clemetis.
I've identified the two dogwoods we were told are planted north of the house. Other shrubs which are showing new leaves are not familiar from my years of gardening in New England.
I may be consulting gardening books or posting photos with a plea for help in identifying.
