Chipmunks

I have the biggest, fattest, cheekiest chipmunks on the planet living in my stone walls. If I leave the garage door open while I work in the yard, I often find one dashing out as I come in. They are not stupid. They know where the seeds are, well were (I am out of seeds and will not buy any more until winter.) I have no one but myself to blame. When we had that 4 feet of snow; I scooped the snow away and poured sunflower seeds down their hole. Now they think I am the local market.

A Single Tulip Blossoms

I love tulips but so do the deer, groundhogs, squirrels, and, oh yes, the chipmunks. Years ago, I planted a few knowing it was futile. Although they struggle to come up every year, this year I actually have one bloom. Since there is only one; I enjoy it all the more.

Signs of Spring

What is the first sign of Spring for you? The first Robins? The faint pink blush on the trees? The thermometer inching past 60? The chorus of Spring Peepers in the wetland? Now that the signs of Spring are all around us, even up here on the mountain; I asked a friend what were his first signs of Spring. He said the golden waves of Forsythia along the highways. Now, I love Forsythia as much as the next girl, and they do bloom early, and I have lots at my house; but they are not native. I guess I was hoping for something wilder.

The first (non-crocus) flower of the Spring for me is the Coltsfoot. It is at the other end of the Aster family since most Asters bloom in fall. It can start blooming as early as February along roadsides and waste places.

Imagine my surprise when I learned that it is not native either. It was introduced from Europe. Bummer. What a bubble burster.

So I am back to the tried and true childhood favorite.

Here comes Peter Cottontail

Easter is my favorite holiday. It is a time of renewal, hope, promise and change. Every year I have people in for an often freezing-dash-around-the-yard egghunt and lunch. I hope your holiday was as terrific as mine.

Happy First Day of Spring

We made it! Spring had officially sprung.

Keep the faith

Underneath all of that is...

All of this.

Wordless Wednesday

The Scent of a Lilac

Lean close. Can you smell it? Oops. Careful. There's a bee.

Try this one.


Is there anything sweeter than the smell of a lilac?

New Jersey State Botanical Gardens in Ringwood, NJ has a collection of 200 lilacs planted in the 1920s. They have spent years carefully pruning them so that they are at the right height to allow not only for viewing but more importantly (at least for me) smelling pleasure. The plants start to bloom in late April and peak around Mother’s Day.


We wandered among the heavily scented beds. The sun-warmed blossoms wafted their perfume into the air while we gently lift the heavy panicles to breathe deeply. I overheard conversations about the beauty of these flowers, the exquisite color of those and above all the comparisons of the various scents. Some were sweet, some spicy, others delicate, or woodsy. Families moved from bush to bush to sniff and examine the different shades of color. The flowers were white, violet, blue, lilac, pink, purple and a startling magenta.



I encourage you to go sometime this week to the gardens while the lilacs are at their peak. (They are down by Parking lot B.) It is lovely anytime of the year, but this week is my favorite.

Native Flowering Dogwood

Nothing is prettier in the sparse spring woods than the white clouds of dogwood gleaming through the tender green haze of new leaves. Dogwoods grow in fertile, moist areas in open woods and along roadsides. We have pockets of them up here on the mountain. You can see them from afar. Summer dogwood fruit is eaten by about 40 species of birds and the flower buds are eaten by squirrels and birds like turkey, ruffed grouse, bobwhite, and pheasant. Double click on the photo to open it up. It is a lovely flower.

Inquiring Bluebird Spouse

"Honey, I'm going out for a snack, can I get you anything?"

Daffodil Days

Daffodils are one of my favorite flowers. I planted thousands of them when I first moved to the mountain and now that are multiplying into fantastic stands. Bonus: the deer won't eat them!

Lonesome Whippoorwill

Whippoorwill

I wake to the sound
Whippoorwill

Achingly lonely
Whippoorwill

Calling at midnight
Whippoorwill

I join his vigil
Whippoorwill

But none comes, to be
Whippoorwill

With him or with me
Whippoorwill

It is too soon.

Whippoorwill

Whippoorwill

Whippoorwill

Wordless Wednesday

Signs of Spring

After book group last Sunday, some friends and I went for a stroll at the Celery Farm in Allendale, NJ. It was cold and muddy but the signs of spring were everywhere.

Spring Has Come to the Mountain

I love the idea of naturalizing spring bulbs in the grass so they erupt as purple, yellow or striped surprises just when I can no longer take it and am sure that Spring will never come. I have sunk bulbs in the grass of every house I have ever lived in, mostly to no avail. The deer also love tasty surprises in the flattened brown lawn. I found these gems basking in the sun in a flower bed that I rarely see. Apparently the deer overlooked them too.

Wordless Wednesday

Susurrant Trees

The trees whisper of spring’s approach
While small birds sit amidst the conversation
Cocking their heads this way and that.
Listening.
Listening
To the creak of old wood
And the faint stirring of new life
Drawn from icy spring rain
And softened soil.

The birds are impatiently interrupting
The tentative susurration of the trees
With twitters and joyous song
Singing.
Singing
With the sway of branches
In bracing winds.
For they too have heard it in the air
And seen it in the strengthening light.

But the trees pay them no heed
For they are tenderly exploring
Winter’s shearing with tentative pulses
Flexing.
Flexing
Winter’s frozen toes in warm patches of sunlight.
And contemplating swollen buds for yet another season
of light and leaf and dancing shadows.

Wordless Wednesday

I love Easter.

I love that the Hyacinths, opening in the warmth of the house, fills each room all the way to the basement with the smell of spring.

I love the little wicker baskets stuffed with wisps of green cellophane grass and foiled-covered treats.

I love sharing my table with my loved ones at this first feast of the barely budding new season. 

 
I love the bright plastic eggs lovingly stashed in the crevices of rock walls by the Easter Bunny.

I love the ham, Au Gratin potatoes and asparagus with Hollandaise that we eat every year without fail.



I love the set of springtime dishes that grace the table with their gold rims and flights of butterflies, dragonflies and other winged things.

I love that there are 2 little people that look forward to coming to my house for Easter and start to pester their parents months in advance.

I love that this is the day that we celebrate our faith. Without the crucifixion and resurrection we would not be Christians.

I leave you on this Easter Sunday with my Aunt Evelyn’s recipe for Herb Rolls. She made them for every holiday when I was growing up.

1 pkg dry yeast
3 ½ C. flour
2 tsps. celery seed
¼ tsp. sage
1 tsp. parsley
1 ¼ C. milk
¼ C. shortening
¼ C. sugar
1 tsp. salt
1 egg

In a bowl mix together the yeast, 1 ½ C. flour, and the herbs. Heat together the milk, shortening, sugar and salt until just warm (not too hot), stir to melt the shortening. Stir wet into dry. Add the egg and beat at low speed for 1 minute, then move to high speed for 3 minutes, scraping the bowl constantly. By hand, stir in enough flour to make a stiff dough. Grease a large bowl. Put in the dough, turning it over to grease all sides. Chill 2 hours covered with a damp cloth. (Don’t do it overnight, the dough grows too much in the fridge and oozes out of the bowl, then does not rise well when cooked. Been there, did that.) Pinch off a piece of the dough and roll it in the palm of your hand to make a 1 ½” ball. Put 3 dough balls in each opening of a greased muffin pan. Let rise about an hour until doubled in size. Bake at 400F for 12-15 minutes. Makes about 18 rolls. These can be made the day before and put hot into aluminum foil, sealed tight and refrigerated. Pop the unopened foil package into the oven, after the potatoes come out, for about 15 minutes. Set out the butter lamb to soften at the same time. One of my favorite things. I love these. Enjoy.

Early Spring Sunrise

As the creeping dawn paled the inky blackness
to shades of gray;
from the east slivers of pale yellow
created Scherenschnitte of the bare trees.
The sun strengthened to light the long layers
of clouds with peach, orange, fuchsia.
High above in the bright pink sky
a river of birds flowed north.
Some still strong after a long night’s flight,
others straggled to keep up.
Rest was just beyond the horizon.

More used to appreciating sunset than sunrise, the drive to work was an unaccustomed pleasure.