The Assurance of Spring

Tiny leaf buds on a shrub rose. It may be too soon to declare that all have over-wintered, but the signs are encouraging.  I had one rugosa [Charles Albanel] which was puny from the time it arrived from the mail order nursery. It either is not yet breaking dormancy, or--its deader than a doornail.

Digitalis purpurea.  I'm hoping that several other foxgloves may have self-sowed.

I lost a number of plants within weeks of transplanting them last May, most notably delphinium and Lady's mantle [alchimilla mollis.]  It may be that zone 6 heat and humidity were too much for them.

I've researched varities of delphinium and there are some newer hybrids that are supposed to be heat tolerant.

My budget for new perennials is not large this year and I'm hoping to have a cold frame or lean-to green house where I can start my own plants from seed.

I had such a structure during my last several years of gardening at our Vermont home.

It was a tiny place [ 5' x 8'] which J. built of salvaged lumber and situated against the south wall of the garage. We covered it with UV resistant plastic. There were rough "benches" on the south and west sides, a home-made door on the east end.  I lined up covered buckets of various soil mixes along the back wall.

A clump of catnip grew in one corner and a large toad lived in the damp beneath an over-turned terra cotta pot.  Seedlings started under lights in the house could be moved into this unheated space in mid to late April, subject to weather.  When a cold night threatened everything retreated into the garage to be sheltered in newspaper tents.

My late M-I-L was a gifted gardener who nurtured my love of flowers and gave me my first opportunities to transplant delicate seedlings and tend them until the time for them to go into the vegetable garden or dooryard planters.  There may have been sterile bagged soil mixes available at the time, but they weren't included in our meager gardening budget. An old enamel tray or pan would be heaped with a mixture of garden soil and compost and "roasted" in the oven of the wood range, filling the farmhouse with the earthy odor of good home made potting medium.

By the time I had my own tiny greenhouse I was buying my components: bales of peat moss, big sacks of basic sterilized soil, clean builders' sand, vermiculite.

Only another gardener knows the bliss of scooping and mixing, sowing the seeds in the prepared trays or potting on healthy plants into individual containers.

My greenhouse was a welcome retreat at the end of a work day:  a mug of hot tea beside me on the bench if the afternoon was chilly, iced tea for a sunny day; a cat or two slipping in through the door that was propped ajar with a brick; the scent of sun-warmed soil, the astringency of tomato seedlings; the nostalgic, soothing scent of lavender and rosemary, cosseted in pots of my grittiest soil mix.

Its a rare gardening season without set-backs beyond our control.  A late spring frost or cold too early in the autumn creates havoc with our best efforts. It is too dry--or too wet, a fierce wind flattens tender seedlings, blows over the stalks of corn just before harvest.

Vine borers spoiled both our plantings of winter squash last year and even wiped out the zuchinni. Weeds and pests invade. We sweat and toil with aching backs and grubby hands.

If gardening is truly part of who we are we do it again each year!

I sowed several more containers of tomatoes this evening, moved the first batch into the basement under the flourescent fixture. Germination hasn't been as good as I hoped, it may be a bit too chilly in the basement for the plants to thrive.  I anticipate carrying the seedlings out to the south-facing windows in J.'s garage on warm days--while I wait for the greenhouse to materialize.

The cats have been told that the seedling trays are none of their business!

Did I mention--the radishes we sowed at the edge of one garden strip have come up!

And J. cut enough of the over-wintered kale for a meal.

Enthusiasm for gardening is burgeoning afresh---thoughts fixed on a bountiful harvest!

The lilies came as a bonus with one of my nursery orders last spring.

The short strip of garden where I planted them was shadier than I anticipated.  I may decide to move the Double Knock-out roses which I planted there. Mints, transplanted lemon balm and seed-sown clove pinks were happy in that location. Already clumps of invasive Sweet Annie have put out new leaves.

This clump of daffs is off by itself just beyond the clothesline. As you can see I simply stood over it and aimed down for the photo.

The birds have lost interest in the feeders.  J. took the roll of wire and made a small "play ground" for the pampered indoor cats. We open the sliding door while we are at the table just inside and the felines who are brave enough venture out to take the air.

They are too funny--tip-toeing on soil and grass under the burning bush. A goldfinch or two lighted in the bush just long enough to mock the cats.  Chester and Mima "chattered" at the birds. Chester attempted to clamber into the bush but fell off with a thud when only inches from the ground.

I don't think the well supervised "recesses" will be any threat to the bird population.

Buds of a dooryard maple are red against a clear blue sky.

J.M. told us these are "water maples"--known as "soft" or "swamp" maples in New England.

The roots are moisture hungry and shallow creating ridges in the lawn which get "skinned" by the lawn mower. The small branches are brittle and snap off in wind and rain.

Willis has been in his element these two sunshiney days. J. has barrowed some old hay up to the big garden to mulch the berry plants, done some pruning of the elderly and very twiggy apple trees. Willis has toiled behind him.  The girl kittens, Sadie and Sally, enjoy forays into the upper garden but are not so likely to be constantly underfoot--or in this case--overhead.

Raging Waters

We have had several days and nights of rainy weather.  The temperatures are warm, ideal for thunderstorms.

The booming of thunder has awakened us at night.  The rain pounds at the landscape, then tapers to a drizzle. The photo above was taken by J. at 11 a.m. today [Monday] and shows the swollen bend of Big Creek which loops below our house.

Driving out Old Gradyville Road at noon we noted the waters of the creek surging level with the banks already covered in fresh green grass.  It is not difficult to imagine the even greater force of  the flash flood which swept away homes and their inhabitants in this neighborhood just over a century ago.

Long-time area residents still speak of that flood as though it had happened a mere decade or two ago.

Sensible folks stay at home on wet days and find rainy day things to do.

Instead of being sensible we decided to search out a number of homes listed for sale at the other side of the county. We encountered several scenes such as this--here Sulpher Creek is surging over the road.

We had to make several detours, exploring unfamiliar side roads which plunge down into the "hollers" and then climb along the ridges.

Seeing these ordinarily peaceful creeks in spate we can understand better the tragic accident which claimed the lives of four Amish children in the north-western part of the state on Thursday evening.

http://www2.journalnow.com/news/2011/feb/26/WSOBIT02-four-amish-children-drown-when-buggy-flip-ar-814799/

This is one of the many reports of that accident, if you care to read about it.

The loss of these Amish children has brought to mind a tragedy which happened nearly a century ago in the upstate New York area where my Mother's family have  lived for over 200 years.

I remember a visit from Aunt Belle when I was a very little girl. We were still living in my grandfather's farm house before my parents built our own little house just along the road.

Aunt Belle was sister to great-grandmother Eliza, the beloved lady [actually step-grandmother] who had raised my great-grandfather's three children as well as bringing up my mother and her brother.

Aunt Belle was prettier than Grandma Eliza, a plump, comfortable looking woman with soft white hair.

It was decades after this visit  that my Mother told me  Aunt Belle and her husband Leroy had lost three children who drowned in the brook which ran through their propery.  This happened some years before my mother's birth and I think it was not much mentioned.

My cousin Barb found the clipping which tells the tale, tucked in her grandmother's scrapbook.

She kindly transcribed it for me and I include it here--a somber piece of family history.

Aunt Belle became the 2nd wife of LeRoy Fleming and was 22 years younger than he.

Aunt Belle gave birth to two more sons in the years that followed the drowning of her boys.

LeRoy was by then in his mid-60's and passed away at age 73, leaving Belle to bring up these younger sons.

She supported them by working as a cook and housekeeper in some of the "summer homes" and "camps" of the well-to-do who could afford leisure homes in the Adirondacks.

When WWII came, the younger sons enlisted and Aunt Belle came to the Vermont farm to stay with Grandmother Eliza.

Drowning of the Three Fleming Boys circa 1913

THREE BROTHERS DROWN IN BROOK

Three little tots meet death in Ticonderoga stream while going after a cow.



One of the saddest tragedies that Ti has ever known and one that cast a pall over the entire community, making hearts throb with sympathy for the grief-stricken parents, occurred shortly after 5 o'clock Saturday afternoon, when 3 little boys, the only children of Mr. and Mrs. LeRoy Fleming, living in the Weedville section of the village, were drowned in Trout Brook. The victims of the horrible tragedy were little more than tots, the oldest boy, Kenneth, being but 9 years of age and the other two, Robert and Louis, being 8 and 7 respectively.

The drowning occurred about a quarter of a mile from the boys’ home. The little fellows were sent to the Trout Brook pasture after a cow. When they did not return to their home in half an hour their mother became alarmed and went to the pasture after them, suspecting all the while that they might be at the bottom of the sluggish Trout Brook.

She hastened directly to a footbridge, made of three logs across which boards are nailed, that crosses the brook. One can have but an inkling of her horror and agony when she saw the body of one of her little ones at the bottom of the brook near the bridge. In some way, given strength by desperation, she managed to get the body out on the bank and in the meantime her agonized cries brought people running to the brook. The bodies of the 2 other little boys were found near the first and were soon laid side by side on the grass.

Nurses came from the Moses Ludington hospital, only a short distance from and within sight of the scene of the drowning, and with Dr. Knapp, who came from the village, immediately began using the usual methods of resuscitation. They worked desperately for nearly an hour before giving up the hope of bringing back the sparks of life. Then the little bodies were tenderly picked up and carried to the home of their heart broken parents.

While nobody knows exactly how the accident happened it is generally believed that, after driving the cow across the brook, the little fellows started over the footbridge and that one of them fell into the brook. The other 2, all three inseparable companions, it is thought, immediately jumped in after their brother and their attempts at rescue resulted in all three going to a watery grave. The brook at this spot is of just about sufficient depth to drown boys of their size. The funeral services were held at the home at 8 o'clock Monday evening with Rev. Torrance, pastor of the Methodist church, officiating. Many friends and neighbors flocked to the home before and after the funeral to offer consolation to the broken hearted parents, who bear bravely their great grief, and many testimonials of sympathy were offered in the form of floral contributions, one beautiful piece in particular coming from the Boy Scouts of Troup 1. To say that all of Weedville is in mourning is putting it lightly. The 3 boys, manly, bright little fellows, were loved by all and their absence will be sorely felt for many a day in the neighborhood of the afflicted and now childless home.

The 3 bodies were taken to Hague Tuesday morning for interment, services being held at the grave by Rev. Mr. Dow of that village.

Spring Rain

Raindrops made white balls of light in this photo taken at dusk.

Probably the flash went off, but there was a drizzle down my neck and I didn't stop to play with camera settings.

Several claps of thunder woke me in the night and the day dawned softly grey and rainy.

We think the yard has grown greener with each passing hour.

There are weather advisories for flash-flooding along the many area creeks.  Big Creek below our road is rushing along in a churning of brown water.

It has been a day of small domestic chores for me--I was inspired to sort several kitchen cupboards!

The cats have been companionable and have had to be removed from cupboards.

They are such devoted help!

A Conniving Cat

For months Willis has found it amusing to slip in the side door when we are going in or out--he endangers himself--and us--by running between our busy feet.

At first he just huddled in the edge of the ktichen while the indoor resident cats rushed to sniff at him and deliver rather haughty remarks.

Willis seems to be "over" any concern about how the indoor cats react to his presence.

Several times this week I have forgotten to scoop him back out the door and hours later come upon him thoroughly relaxed and nonchalent,

"Put your striped cat outside," I tell J.

'But he wants to be inside!  He's not doing any harm!

Oddly, the girl kittens, Sadie and Sally don't care to be in the house--Sadie pokes her nose in occasionally and hurries back to the familiar territory of the porch.

We do not need another house cat!

Does it look like we may have one?

Spring Stirrings

The sky has been gently overcast all day, but the rush and rattle of yesterday's wind

gave way to stillness.

A mockingbird sang in the old appletree, a bluebird balanced on the tip of a maple twig.

I went around the gardens at dusk with the barn kittens in attendance.

Only another gardener would be excited by these small but very promising signs of spring.

Here a clump of lemon balm presents fresh aromatic leaves.

This Yellow Simplicity rose is the first to show swelling pink leaf buds.

My efforts to focus here were hampered by Sally the Kitten who wanted to help.

The southernwood has wintered well and has the tiniest fronds of silvery green like miniature tassels here and there on its branches.

The air was soft and balmy. Although there was no spectacular sunset there was a brief afterglow when the trees and barns stood in silhouette.

I heard the peepers tonight!

I sat on the front porch as evening drew in with soft greyed edges, a mug of green tea cherished in my hands.

The voices of the peepers rose and ebbed, audible even when cars drove by.

The air smelled of awakened earth and of the freshness left by a brief afternoon shower.

Coming inside when I could no longer see where I was putting my feet down in the pasture, I was welcomed by the homey scent of bread not long out of the oven.

Warmer Weather

Days of balmy sunshine here.

We've had windows open and the sliding glass door as well.

Teasel sprawls luxuriously under a bench enjoying the the warm pool of sunshine.

I have scattered poppy seeds [papaver sommniferum] over the bare spots in my middle flower border.

I have "Lauren's Grape", "Pink Peony", "Black Swan," and "Heirloom"--all from Select Seeds.

A strange dog has appeared twice this week.

No collar but somehow she doesn't seem like a stray.

I  think she has had puppies a number of times.

She is friendly and loving, but immediately carries off the cat dishes.

Within moments she leaves.

The old mother dog belongs to neighbors just down the road.

The lady of the house has taken to late afternoon walks accompanied by the yellow dog and a young boy who pushes an old-fashioned scooter.

Apparently the dog likes to make a little detour to see if we have any interesting tidbits available.

The wind has been brisk all day, sending huge billowing clouds across the sky, blotting out the sun, then parting to let it through again.

Laundry snapped and flapped on the clotheslines as we worked outside.

Several times we heard the cronking of the sand hill cranes swirling overhead.

Red-winged blackbirds appeared to pick up the seeds that fall from the bird feeder in the maple tree.

Their shoulder patches are pale, not yet flaunting the scarlet of the courting season.

Inside the cats have skittered about, inflating their tails and huffing over nothing we can see.

I tried several settings to take photos of the moon as it rode the swift-moving clouds.

None of the photos do justice to the wild and lovely night.

J. heard the spring "peepers" singing from the low ground by the creek across the road.

I listened, but my hearing is no longer sharp enough to pick up that welcome trill when the wind is whistling and the wind chimes clanging.

Willis and Sadie furled themselves about my ankles as I walked about in the glow of the yard light.

Willis has a "thing" about bowling Sadie over.

Change in the Weather

Sunshine on Friday after several days of cold and snow.

The birds continued to appreciate the three feeders.

I suppose it was inevitable:  Willis the Cat got his jaws around an unwary junco.

I didn't find a pathetic heap of feathers or other remains so just maybe the junco lived to tell about it.

J. promptly got on the scene with some heavy fence wire left over from his sturdy garden enclosure.

Willis and "the girls" were dismayed that their access to the bird feeders has been curtailed.

Think disgruntled catlets sitting on the cement curbing of the basement bulkhead, tails and whiskers twitching in indignation.

What's a cat to do?

A peachy sunset on Friday evening.

The snow melted swiftly all through Saturday and by early this morning it held on only in little hollows and on the north sides of the buildings.

I walked up through the pasture and crossed down to the road at about 8 a.m.--there was a wind that sang in my ears and ground softening to mud under my wellies.

I made many excuses to be outside today.

I hung laundry on the line, where it flapped and billowed and got dry!

I picked up twigs and small branches that littered the ground underneath the maples and the redbuds.

At suppertime I noticed these daffodils standing sturdily on short stems.

This one had opened in spite of being blanketed with snow for several days.

Our local on-line magazine has published the photos under a banner announcing the first daffodil of the season. Daffs are referred to locally as "March lilies."

And on Friday I was presented with a box of Hershey's best--which I am sharing with the presenter, J.

I made him a pan of very fudge-y brownies.