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.

My World with cats

Is there anything better than a comfy blanket and a sunbeam? I think not. In my next life I want to come back as a well-kept housecat.

Wordless Wednesday

Yellow Cherry Tomatoes

I spy with my little eye....something yellow.

I love yellow pear tomatoes, so this year when I decided to grow a few vegetables in pots, I scoured the local nurseries for a yellow pear plant. This one had the right picture on the little white plastic stake. But when it started to produce fruit, the small green beginnings looked suspiciously non-pear-like. They had no necks. My sister, the master gardener, confirmed over the phone that I had been misled. Instead, I have yummy ripe yellow cherry tomatoes. Delicious, low-acid, perfect, popped right off the vine. They are not what I wanted, but it's not worth making a fuss.

Yellow Gate

On the road down the mountain in the middle of a narrow blind S curve there is a small yellow gate. I drive past it at least twice a day. It intrigues me. It is never open. It has 2 cement steps leading to it and beyond it a path towards a house. The front door of the house matches the gate. No one comes or goes from that house. Yet it is not abandoned or even very old. Why would they have put a gate in the middle of an S curve that cannot possibly be used?

I have stopped my car many times in the middle of the curve (keeping one eye out for cars) and photographed the gate. The shots are clear, crisp, perfectly composed and bad everytime. It has gotten to the point that I slip into the S, roll down the window, snap a few shots and drive on. I do it regularly-both coming and going. There is no reason for this gate to not be photogenic. I don’t get it. It is not ugly. It is like those people that always blink in pictures or turn their faces away.

In the spring the gate and the Forsythia hedge are TOO garish. In the summer the gate shouts out its strident color from the tall green arching branches of the Forsythia. It is not a meek mild-mannered quiet sort of gate. But one that demands attention every time you go into the S. It is almost like a flashing yellow caution light. Perhaps that is why it is bright sunshine yellow. You cannot miss it.

One morning after a winter storm I slipped into the S curve. The gate was surrounded and covered in fresh snow. It looked subdued in the gray winter light. I rolled down the window and snapped a few shots as usual. That night when I got home I discovered I finally had a good shot. Several days later when the snow melted a little, the gate was back to its unattractive self.

Oscar

I pulled up to the house and re-read the directions. Huh! Looks right. I glanced around. I didn’t see any cars. I prayed they were home; I did not want to make this trip again.

I got out of the car and walked toward the house. The walk angled around to the back. As I approached the backdoor a large Dalmatian lunged out of its house and strained at the end of a chain barking ferociously. I stepped onto the grass to be further away from the jaws. Definitely not friendly. When I rang the bell more barking ensued from inside.

The door was flung open and a large black sheep took up most of the doorway. It took one look at me and started to bark in tandem with the Dalmatian outside. I looked on bewildered. A woman’s hand pushed the sheep out of the way as she peered around the door.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

“Hi. I called. I’m here to see the cat.”

“Oh yeah, come in. My husband’s not home right now.” I stepped into the kitchen.

She was holding the big black dog by the collar. “Why don’t you go into the front room?”

I looked around uncertain.

“Just step over the baby gate. I’ll get Scooter.”

The formal living room had been freshly cleaned. The lemony scent of Pledge still lingered in the air. I sat gingerly on the edge of a chair looking around. The woman tromped down the stairs with a large yellow tabby cat tucked under one arm. She handed him to me. She opened her mouth to say something but at that moment the phone rang. She hurried off to answer it and left me alone with Scooter.

I sat and stroked the big cat. I could feel him trembling every time the dog barked. He was such a love. He didn’t hiss, or squirm or claw. He was clearly miserable living in chaos.

The woman popped her head back around the door.

“That is Scooter. My husband’s parents moved to Florida and didn’t want to take him. They took the dog though. So Jimmy took him. But it is not working out here. There are the dogs, we also have 3 other cats and my daughter is 4. I think there is too much activity here. He is living under our bed and never comes out.”

By this time the cat was purring and butting his head against my hand. I looked down at him. I absolutely could not leave him here. I stood up.

“I’ll take him with me.” I gave him back to her to hold. “I have a carrier in the car.” I hurried out past the still-barking dog. I grabbed the carrier from the car, hurried back inside, stuffed in the bewildered cat and got out of there as fast as I could.

He just sat huddled in the carrier all the way home. When I reached home an hour later, I brought in the carrier and gently put it down in the basement next to the litter boxes. When I opened it, he crept out, sniffed the litter box, and then bolted up the stairs.

He spent the next 3 weeks hiding in the 4-inch space under the couch or squeezed between the couch and wall. I changed his name to Oscar because he was such a wienie. But everyday it got better. I adopted 2 other abandoned cats. Bourka you have already met and I will blog about Winkie in the future. They were as timid and traumatized as Oscar.

That was 4 years ago this month. Look at him now. He sleeps on the furniture not under it. If you are here long enough, he will be sitting on you. He is a different cat now-confident, loving and a perfect companion not only for me but also for the other 3. You remember there are 4 right? Stay tuned….

Wordless Wednesday

"Look! There's a spot!"

Wordless Wednesday

"Look, what I brought you!" A gift of summer from the girl across the street.

Daffodils

Tete a Tete

Pink Charm

Cassatta

Ice King




And most of them are not blooming yet!

It's Starting

The early season daffs have started to open. Remember there are 2,000. I will be enjoying and sharing them for weeks.

Trout Lily

In my travels this weekend, I saw a few wildflowers starting to bloom.