As of this evening, all of our ladies have been named!
We have Henrietta the Fierce (the golden one in back), Isabelle (our dark lady), Princess Buttercup (the golden one in front) and Saxifrage (the lighter Araucana).
They all have names! At last!
31 May 2011
los nombres de las gallinitas
As of this evening, all of our ladies have been named!
We have Henrietta the Fierce (the golden one in back), Isabelle (our dark lady), Princess Buttercup (the golden one in front) and Saxifrage (the lighter Araucana).
They all have names! At last!
30 May 2011
sunshine on my shoulders
Not that the sun is exactly shining right now, but it has been for most of the month of May. Overnight, it seems, our yard has turned green and leaves have burst out on the trees. There is leaf shade out our western windows and dappled light dancing on our walls, and the purple smell of lilacs in the air. Ahhh.
Sometimes I like to go away for holiday weekends. Over President's Day weekend we headed west to visit Andrea and Philip in Bellingham. It was a lovely ski-to-sea weekend. Cross-country skiing in glorious feet of snow near Mt. Baker? Check! Ferry ride to Lummi Island? Check! Donuts from Rocket Donuts? Check! A hike in the fern-draped forests of Lummi? Check!
This weekend, however, we decided to stay put, and there is something so delightfully delicious about a "staycation." We've slept in every day, puttered around in the garden, read books, taken long ambling hikes in the wildflower-laden hills. Several friends have visited from out of town, and it's been good to reconnect and enjoy their company.
Last weekend Greg led a botany field weekend for the Montana Natural History Center, a slightly more advanced course created for Master Naturalist students. I chose to attend as well, and we (along with seven other Master Naturalists, including Greg's parents) had an intense but lovely weekend learning about plant families and how to key out wildflowers. We would arrive at a trailhead, walk seven steps, see a flower, then hunker down, pulling out our Vascular Plants of Montana books, then counting petals, stamens, pistils, peering through our hand lenses, and carefully dissecting the flowers with our forceps in an attempt to gather all the crucial information.
New definition of nerd: one who actually enjoys having a plant in one hand and a dry, nearly picture-less book in the other, trying to determine whether the plant in hand has "involucral bracts with pectinately arranged processes about 1mm long toward tip" or "involucral bracts not as above." Yes, this process does involve frequently referencing the glossary . . . which often involves referencing the glossary. For example: I flip to the glossary to look up "involucral." I find that "involucre" is defined as a "whorl of bracts or small leaves subtending a flower or flower cluster." I then look up "bract," which is a "reduced or modified leaf often in the inflorescence." I then look up "inflorescence," which is the "flowering part of a plant." By this time I've forgotten what I was looking up in the first place . . . and I still have to look up "pectinate" and "process." My other option, last weekend, was to call, "GREG?? Help!" which often resulted in reaching the answer much more quickly. :)
Despite a forecast of rain for both last Saturday and Sunday (70% on Saturday and 60% on Sunday), we were blessed with two utterly glorious warm, sunny days, and the rain only came in the last half hour of the class on Sunday, just as we arrived back at MNHC for a debrief of the weekend. Excellent timing.
We spent some time drawing some of the flowers we'd seen over the weekend, and put all our drawings together in a lovely little booklet. Here's a sampling (this is very like the kinds of entries I make in my field journal. Sketching is just one of the many reasons I love field journaling!):
I drew Disporum trachycarpum, rough-fruited fairybells, in the lily family:
Greg drew some bright blue forget-me-nots (borage family),
and Bill drew arrowleaf balsamroot (aster family), which are blooming in profusion all over the hillsides of Mt. Jumbo.
All in all, it was a delightful weekend.
As I mentioned earlier, we've also had some good friends in town over the past couple of weeks. My dear friend Rachel is here for a few weeks, on her summer break from her job with the Uganda Studies Program in Mukono, Uganda. It's been wonderful to have her here, and to share tea, dinner, ice cream, and ambles in the hills. Greg's friend Bill visited for a few days as well, and we went for a beautiful hike on the Mt. Jumbo saddle with both him and Rachel. A few pictures from our hike:
The hillside awash in arrowleaf balsamroot.
Arrowleaf balsamroot up close. Fun fact: this "flower" is made up of myriad flowers--two different types, disk flowers and ray flowers. The ray flowers are the tiny yellow cups in the middle, and the disk flowers are the yellow "petals" on the outside. Cool, eh?
A silly moment.
Me and Rachel in the wildflowers.
Looking down the hill into the Missoula valley. I so love living in this place!
My friend and former co-worker Jessie was in town just for the Memorial Day weekend, and we took yet another hike up Jumbo, on a loop that I've never been on before. It was stunningly beautiful. Our hike was sandwiched by rain showers, and the grey clouds and damp air brought out the deep green of the ponderosa pines and douglas firs and the leaves of the flowers.
We saw not only balsamroot and larkspur and prairie stars, but shooting stars and even two buttercups that were just starting to bloom--buttercups, the first flower of spring, ones that are rare to see in early May much less almost June. We also saw lupine and bluebells, Indian paintbrush and heart-leafed arnica, kittentails and pussytoes. The diversity of wildflowers was a gift.
Rain showers washing over the Missoula valley, bringing out (and on) the green.
Today we planted our corn seeds (!), as well as beans and squash, and Greg has also been working on the chicken coop. The chickies are seven weeks old today, and we'll be able to put them outside soon! Only a few more months until we get our own eggs . . . I can't wait.
My stomach tells me it is lunchtime, so off I go. A happy Memorial Day to all!
Sometimes I like to go away for holiday weekends. Over President's Day weekend we headed west to visit Andrea and Philip in Bellingham. It was a lovely ski-to-sea weekend. Cross-country skiing in glorious feet of snow near Mt. Baker? Check! Ferry ride to Lummi Island? Check! Donuts from Rocket Donuts? Check! A hike in the fern-draped forests of Lummi? Check!
This weekend, however, we decided to stay put, and there is something so delightfully delicious about a "staycation." We've slept in every day, puttered around in the garden, read books, taken long ambling hikes in the wildflower-laden hills. Several friends have visited from out of town, and it's been good to reconnect and enjoy their company.
Last weekend Greg led a botany field weekend for the Montana Natural History Center, a slightly more advanced course created for Master Naturalist students. I chose to attend as well, and we (along with seven other Master Naturalists, including Greg's parents) had an intense but lovely weekend learning about plant families and how to key out wildflowers. We would arrive at a trailhead, walk seven steps, see a flower, then hunker down, pulling out our Vascular Plants of Montana books, then counting petals, stamens, pistils, peering through our hand lenses, and carefully dissecting the flowers with our forceps in an attempt to gather all the crucial information.
New definition of nerd: one who actually enjoys having a plant in one hand and a dry, nearly picture-less book in the other, trying to determine whether the plant in hand has "involucral bracts with pectinately arranged processes about 1mm long toward tip" or "involucral bracts not as above." Yes, this process does involve frequently referencing the glossary . . . which often involves referencing the glossary. For example: I flip to the glossary to look up "involucral." I find that "involucre" is defined as a "whorl of bracts or small leaves subtending a flower or flower cluster." I then look up "bract," which is a "reduced or modified leaf often in the inflorescence." I then look up "inflorescence," which is the "flowering part of a plant." By this time I've forgotten what I was looking up in the first place . . . and I still have to look up "pectinate" and "process." My other option, last weekend, was to call, "GREG?? Help!" which often resulted in reaching the answer much more quickly. :)
Despite a forecast of rain for both last Saturday and Sunday (70% on Saturday and 60% on Sunday), we were blessed with two utterly glorious warm, sunny days, and the rain only came in the last half hour of the class on Sunday, just as we arrived back at MNHC for a debrief of the weekend. Excellent timing.
We spent some time drawing some of the flowers we'd seen over the weekend, and put all our drawings together in a lovely little booklet. Here's a sampling (this is very like the kinds of entries I make in my field journal. Sketching is just one of the many reasons I love field journaling!):
I drew Disporum trachycarpum, rough-fruited fairybells, in the lily family:
Greg drew some bright blue forget-me-nots (borage family),
and Bill drew arrowleaf balsamroot (aster family), which are blooming in profusion all over the hillsides of Mt. Jumbo.
All in all, it was a delightful weekend.
As I mentioned earlier, we've also had some good friends in town over the past couple of weeks. My dear friend Rachel is here for a few weeks, on her summer break from her job with the Uganda Studies Program in Mukono, Uganda. It's been wonderful to have her here, and to share tea, dinner, ice cream, and ambles in the hills. Greg's friend Bill visited for a few days as well, and we went for a beautiful hike on the Mt. Jumbo saddle with both him and Rachel. A few pictures from our hike:
The hillside awash in arrowleaf balsamroot.
Arrowleaf balsamroot up close. Fun fact: this "flower" is made up of myriad flowers--two different types, disk flowers and ray flowers. The ray flowers are the tiny yellow cups in the middle, and the disk flowers are the yellow "petals" on the outside. Cool, eh?
A silly moment.
Me and Rachel in the wildflowers.
Looking down the hill into the Missoula valley. I so love living in this place!
Rain showers washing over the Missoula valley, bringing out (and on) the green.
Today we planted our corn seeds (!), as well as beans and squash, and Greg has also been working on the chicken coop. The chickies are seven weeks old today, and we'll be able to put them outside soon! Only a few more months until we get our own eggs . . . I can't wait.
My stomach tells me it is lunchtime, so off I go. A happy Memorial Day to all!
16 May 2011
May flowers, among other things
Somehow it's the middle of May, and I'm not quite sure how that happened. Mentally, I'm still back at the end of April. I guess two weeks behind isn't too bad . . .
I'm sitting here on the living room couch while Greg makes dinner. The evening sunlight is streaming through the window, and the new leaves of the maples are backlit and glowing. In just the past week everything has leafed out--maples, cherry, apricot, kiwi, lilacs, and even our oak tree. Pale spring green leaves arch over the streets; all the trees are misted in myriad shades of green. On the solo hike station for our 4th grade field trips at work, there's a card that asks, "How many shades of green can you see?" This time of year, the spectrum is vast. Deep green ponderosa pines. Pale greeny-yellow cottonwoods. Bright green larches. Yellow-green maple flowers and slightly deeper green leaves . . .
After too many weeks of chill, clouds, and rain, we've been getting the warmer side of spring weather. Temps in the 60s, sunshine, spring breezes, poofy white clouds. AT LAST. I've been able to wear my flip-flops (!) and skirts without leggings underneath. The Farmer's Market has started up, and we've bought local cheese and asparagus and native plant starts. So many delightful signs of spring!
And our garden is finally starting to take off. The garlic, of course, is doing marvelously, as is the spinach (from last fall), but now this year's spinach is leafing out, as well as our kale and onions and broccoli. Despite the slow start, I have high hopes of a good harvest this year. Our chickies are growing rapidly, too--then again, they have a heat lamp, which our plants do not have. They're now five weeks old, and this past weekend we expanded their home. They're supposed to stay indoors until all their feathers have come in, so we have a few weeks to go, and the box they've been living in has become far too small. Thank goodness for $1 screens from Home Resource and vast quantities of duct tape! Here are their new digs:
(Their original home was the cardboard box on the left side. Yah, it was definitely time to enlarge their space!)
We have now named two of them, and are still waiting for inspiration on the last two. In the picture below, the dark Araucana (the one standing next to the water dish and looking at the camera) is Isabelle, and the larger of the Buff Orpingtons, just left of the thermometer, is Henrietta the Fierce. Henrietta's been named since day 2, but the other three we've been calling Peeper, Cheeper, and Fuzzbucket (guess who picked those names? Hint: it was NOT me!) while we wait for their personalities to be revealed. However, if you have name suggestions, feel free to share!
Other exciting happenings: our tulips are blooming! They are so beautiful! Pictures are most certainly worth a thousand words in this case, so enjoy:
YEAH, tulips!
In February, I finished the field journal I began last year in the Montana Master Naturalist Class, which was an exciting accomplishment. Even more exciting, however, was beginning a brand new journal. I love new journals. All those empty pages with nothing written on them yet, clean and white and fresh-smelling. Since February 14th, I've been writing and sketching in my field journal several times a week, often during my 15-minute "sanity breaks" at work. MNHC is located right on the river trail, one block from a huge city park, and two blocks from the Clark Fork River. In the afternoons, I try to make a point of spending 15 minutes outside, breathing the fresh air and experiencing the weather instead of staring at a computer screen. I find a place to sit, note the time, weather, and temperature, and then simply look, listen, smell, breathe. I draw swelling cottonwood buds and snowflakes, the curves of the mountains, the shapes of the clouds, and birds that sit still long enough.
I am so grateful to be taking note of the world around me. Sometimes I come home, open up our Sibley's Guide to Birds, and sketch a new bird that I've seen that day or week, trying to get to know it better. Or I'll sit and draw a flower, pick one to press and tape into my journal, and then, at home, I'll look it up in our field guide and learn a little more about it. I love having this gorgeous, intricate, achingly lovely world around me to explore. The more I learn about it, the more I love it, and the more I want to get out into it and learn more.
Today I went out to Council Grove, a state park a few miles west of Missoula, to help lead our 4th grade field trips. One of the stations is a wildlife hike, which MNHC's top volunteer, Valerie, led, but as we walked along looking for birds and animal sign, I was amazed at how much I knew. I can identify a Lewis' woodpecker and a rufous hummingbird. I know the calls of the northern flicker, the western meadowlark, and the red-winged blackbird, of the osprey and the cedar waxwing. There is still so much that I don't know, but I know so much more about the natural history of western Montana now than I did six--or even two--years ago.
This may be my plug for getting to know your place. So many states have Master Naturalist courses, and even if you've lived in your place for years or decades, there's always more to learn. It may be one of the most important things you can learn: the natural history of your place. Even if there is no MN course available, you can buy yourself a bird guide, a plant guide, an insect guide, and teach yourself. That may be one of the things I love most about this discipline. I am grateful for a husband who knows the intricacies of Montana's plant world, and for friends and co-workers who are passionate and knowledgeable about birds and insects and mammals, but even if I didn't have these people in my life, I could teach myself simply by going outside, being curious, and looking closely at the world around me.
If we don't know what's in our world, we'll have little motivation to protect it. But the more we learn about our place--its seasons, its rhythms, its intricacies, its balances--the more we will want to preserve it in its entirety. When it comes down to it, we can't afford not to learn about our place, because we can't afford not to care about it.
All right, stepping down from my soap box now . . .
I'll end this by posting some other signs of spring:
Ice cream at the Big Dipper!!
Snow melting from the low mountain areas, leaving behind green landscapes and pools of water:
Transplanting tomatoes into bigger pots as they grow:
Kitty cuteness in the OPEN window!
Two words: Future. Cherries.
(Last year, we got four blossoms and no cherries, due to a late May frost. This year, we have dozens upon dozens of blossoms and we are hoping for no more severe frosts . . . )
The Dude (i.e., Basil) in his happy spot, viewing his domain.
The Shmub (i.e., Nutmeg) looking cute and deceptively dignified.
Gorgeous sunsets, with the sun setting much farther north:
Naps for Greg, who is done with classes for the semester and has a week-long break before the summer session starts, and for Nutmeg, whose life is basically one long nap interrupted only by eating and pooping.
Greg and the kitten have a very special relationship. One of massive cuteness, among other things.
I'm sitting here on the living room couch while Greg makes dinner. The evening sunlight is streaming through the window, and the new leaves of the maples are backlit and glowing. In just the past week everything has leafed out--maples, cherry, apricot, kiwi, lilacs, and even our oak tree. Pale spring green leaves arch over the streets; all the trees are misted in myriad shades of green. On the solo hike station for our 4th grade field trips at work, there's a card that asks, "How many shades of green can you see?" This time of year, the spectrum is vast. Deep green ponderosa pines. Pale greeny-yellow cottonwoods. Bright green larches. Yellow-green maple flowers and slightly deeper green leaves . . .
After too many weeks of chill, clouds, and rain, we've been getting the warmer side of spring weather. Temps in the 60s, sunshine, spring breezes, poofy white clouds. AT LAST. I've been able to wear my flip-flops (!) and skirts without leggings underneath. The Farmer's Market has started up, and we've bought local cheese and asparagus and native plant starts. So many delightful signs of spring!
And our garden is finally starting to take off. The garlic, of course, is doing marvelously, as is the spinach (from last fall), but now this year's spinach is leafing out, as well as our kale and onions and broccoli. Despite the slow start, I have high hopes of a good harvest this year. Our chickies are growing rapidly, too--then again, they have a heat lamp, which our plants do not have. They're now five weeks old, and this past weekend we expanded their home. They're supposed to stay indoors until all their feathers have come in, so we have a few weeks to go, and the box they've been living in has become far too small. Thank goodness for $1 screens from Home Resource and vast quantities of duct tape! Here are their new digs:
(Their original home was the cardboard box on the left side. Yah, it was definitely time to enlarge their space!)
We have now named two of them, and are still waiting for inspiration on the last two. In the picture below, the dark Araucana (the one standing next to the water dish and looking at the camera) is Isabelle, and the larger of the Buff Orpingtons, just left of the thermometer, is Henrietta the Fierce. Henrietta's been named since day 2, but the other three we've been calling Peeper, Cheeper, and Fuzzbucket (guess who picked those names? Hint: it was NOT me!) while we wait for their personalities to be revealed. However, if you have name suggestions, feel free to share!
Other exciting happenings: our tulips are blooming! They are so beautiful! Pictures are most certainly worth a thousand words in this case, so enjoy:
YEAH, tulips!
In February, I finished the field journal I began last year in the Montana Master Naturalist Class, which was an exciting accomplishment. Even more exciting, however, was beginning a brand new journal. I love new journals. All those empty pages with nothing written on them yet, clean and white and fresh-smelling. Since February 14th, I've been writing and sketching in my field journal several times a week, often during my 15-minute "sanity breaks" at work. MNHC is located right on the river trail, one block from a huge city park, and two blocks from the Clark Fork River. In the afternoons, I try to make a point of spending 15 minutes outside, breathing the fresh air and experiencing the weather instead of staring at a computer screen. I find a place to sit, note the time, weather, and temperature, and then simply look, listen, smell, breathe. I draw swelling cottonwood buds and snowflakes, the curves of the mountains, the shapes of the clouds, and birds that sit still long enough.
I am so grateful to be taking note of the world around me. Sometimes I come home, open up our Sibley's Guide to Birds, and sketch a new bird that I've seen that day or week, trying to get to know it better. Or I'll sit and draw a flower, pick one to press and tape into my journal, and then, at home, I'll look it up in our field guide and learn a little more about it. I love having this gorgeous, intricate, achingly lovely world around me to explore. The more I learn about it, the more I love it, and the more I want to get out into it and learn more.
Today I went out to Council Grove, a state park a few miles west of Missoula, to help lead our 4th grade field trips. One of the stations is a wildlife hike, which MNHC's top volunteer, Valerie, led, but as we walked along looking for birds and animal sign, I was amazed at how much I knew. I can identify a Lewis' woodpecker and a rufous hummingbird. I know the calls of the northern flicker, the western meadowlark, and the red-winged blackbird, of the osprey and the cedar waxwing. There is still so much that I don't know, but I know so much more about the natural history of western Montana now than I did six--or even two--years ago.
This may be my plug for getting to know your place. So many states have Master Naturalist courses, and even if you've lived in your place for years or decades, there's always more to learn. It may be one of the most important things you can learn: the natural history of your place. Even if there is no MN course available, you can buy yourself a bird guide, a plant guide, an insect guide, and teach yourself. That may be one of the things I love most about this discipline. I am grateful for a husband who knows the intricacies of Montana's plant world, and for friends and co-workers who are passionate and knowledgeable about birds and insects and mammals, but even if I didn't have these people in my life, I could teach myself simply by going outside, being curious, and looking closely at the world around me.
If we don't know what's in our world, we'll have little motivation to protect it. But the more we learn about our place--its seasons, its rhythms, its intricacies, its balances--the more we will want to preserve it in its entirety. When it comes down to it, we can't afford not to learn about our place, because we can't afford not to care about it.
All right, stepping down from my soap box now . . .
I'll end this by posting some other signs of spring:
Ice cream at the Big Dipper!!
Snow melting from the low mountain areas, leaving behind green landscapes and pools of water:
Transplanting tomatoes into bigger pots as they grow:
Kitty cuteness in the OPEN window!
Two words: Future. Cherries.
(Last year, we got four blossoms and no cherries, due to a late May frost. This year, we have dozens upon dozens of blossoms and we are hoping for no more severe frosts . . . )
The Dude (i.e., Basil) in his happy spot, viewing his domain.
The Shmub (i.e., Nutmeg) looking cute and deceptively dignified.
Gorgeous sunsets, with the sun setting much farther north:
Naps for Greg, who is done with classes for the semester and has a week-long break before the summer session starts, and for Nutmeg, whose life is basically one long nap interrupted only by eating and pooping.
Greg and the kitten have a very special relationship. One of massive cuteness, among other things.
Happy spring!
01 May 2011
Easter and beyond
Happy May!
May came in with sunshine and cloud, wind, and a little bit of warmth. Enough wind and sunshine to do laundry, enough warmth to sit outside at the Big Dipper and savor our first ice cream cones of spring, and enough cloud to make lovely dappled shadows across the valley.
As you may have noticed, gentle reader, my Facebook hiatus is over. It has been good to catch up with the Facebook world, particularly when it comes to pictures of babies and yard projects and friends who are far away, but so much of what is there seems trivial--more obviously so than before. Not that trivialities are negative, but I am finding that they are not necessarily worth turning on my computer for on the weekend or in the evening. I feel that I have more control over my Facebook usage, which was one of the results for which I was hoping. Success! I hope it lasts.
I also successfully spent time each day (mostly in the morning) doing yoga, for the 47 days from Fat Tuesday to Easter. Unlike my Facebook hiatus, yoga is something I hope to continue to do even though Lent is over. On Easter Sunday, we went to the early service at 8:00, so I chose to do yoga after church. Last Saturday and Sunday were the first truly golden-green-and-blue days we've had all spring, so I took advantage of the warmth and sunshine to do yoga in the backyard, which was glorious. It was good to feel the unevenness of the earth beneath my mat, to hold up my arms to the sunshine, to have blue sky dazzle my eyes when I opened them after meditating. Insha'allah there will be more bluebird days and more outside yoga this spring and summer.
There are many things I've been pondering lately--Earth Day and earth care, use of non-renewable resources and the life changes that would make a difference, natural history lessons and experiences, work challenges--but I think I will save them for another post. I have more to say than I have time to write at the moment.
Instead, a brief listing of recent delights:
shooting stars & douglasia & phlox & yellowbells on Waterworks Hill
the first uncurling of the first tulip bud in our yard
buds swelling on blueberry bushes and kiwi vines, cherry tree and maples
holding a wild saw-whet owl in my hands in the hours just after midnight
the perfectly level line of snow on the mountains
buttercups. blue-eyed Marys. desert parsley. biscuitroot.
a flock of cedar waxwings trilling to each other in an ancient cottonwood tree
rows and rows and rows of glorious garlic
the promise of onions and broccoli, cabbage and kale, carrots and beets, tomatoes and cucumbers . . .
growing baby chicks
cuddly kitties
the fun of new recipes
eating bounty from last year: garlic and rhubarb and cherries and tomatoes
a new appreciation for sunshine
new life exploding around me despite a cloudy, cool, and rainy spring
May came in with sunshine and cloud, wind, and a little bit of warmth. Enough wind and sunshine to do laundry, enough warmth to sit outside at the Big Dipper and savor our first ice cream cones of spring, and enough cloud to make lovely dappled shadows across the valley.
As you may have noticed, gentle reader, my Facebook hiatus is over. It has been good to catch up with the Facebook world, particularly when it comes to pictures of babies and yard projects and friends who are far away, but so much of what is there seems trivial--more obviously so than before. Not that trivialities are negative, but I am finding that they are not necessarily worth turning on my computer for on the weekend or in the evening. I feel that I have more control over my Facebook usage, which was one of the results for which I was hoping. Success! I hope it lasts.
I also successfully spent time each day (mostly in the morning) doing yoga, for the 47 days from Fat Tuesday to Easter. Unlike my Facebook hiatus, yoga is something I hope to continue to do even though Lent is over. On Easter Sunday, we went to the early service at 8:00, so I chose to do yoga after church. Last Saturday and Sunday were the first truly golden-green-and-blue days we've had all spring, so I took advantage of the warmth and sunshine to do yoga in the backyard, which was glorious. It was good to feel the unevenness of the earth beneath my mat, to hold up my arms to the sunshine, to have blue sky dazzle my eyes when I opened them after meditating. Insha'allah there will be more bluebird days and more outside yoga this spring and summer.
There are many things I've been pondering lately--Earth Day and earth care, use of non-renewable resources and the life changes that would make a difference, natural history lessons and experiences, work challenges--but I think I will save them for another post. I have more to say than I have time to write at the moment.
Instead, a brief listing of recent delights:
shooting stars & douglasia & phlox & yellowbells on Waterworks Hill
the first uncurling of the first tulip bud in our yard
buds swelling on blueberry bushes and kiwi vines, cherry tree and maples
holding a wild saw-whet owl in my hands in the hours just after midnight
the perfectly level line of snow on the mountains
buttercups. blue-eyed Marys. desert parsley. biscuitroot.
a flock of cedar waxwings trilling to each other in an ancient cottonwood tree
rows and rows and rows of glorious garlic
the promise of onions and broccoli, cabbage and kale, carrots and beets, tomatoes and cucumbers . . .
growing baby chicks
cuddly kitties
the fun of new recipes
eating bounty from last year: garlic and rhubarb and cherries and tomatoes
a new appreciation for sunshine
new life exploding around me despite a cloudy, cool, and rainy spring
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