The well-timed purple crocuses were followed by more than I've seen for quite a while. I had started to wonder if I'd just invented planting so many, but they were out in force: dark purple, pale purple, gold, pale yellow, white. No individual flower lasted long. I suspect that judicious watering would have extended their existence. Rabbits did not eat them; rather, the plants prettily bestrewed their petals on the leaf-littered ground around their striped leaves. The snowdrops, which I have neglected to mention so far, sprang full-formed from the last of the melting snow and bloomed for almost two weeks. I must plant more. The bleeding heart in front and the peony on the south side of the house are up; the bleeding heart shoots have started to change from red to green. The irises are up. The daffodils are up, and I have counted six buds so far. I think there was only one flower last spring. I believe that I took a brief break from the Amazing Expanding and Shrinking Novel last fall and fertilized all the bulbs, but it may be that the heavy snowfall and very cold winter made them happy too. The day lilies are up. I saw the first inquiring shoots of lily-of-the-valley on the south side of the house between the slab below the water faucet and the house foundation.
The motherwort is well up and the hairy bellflower is starting, doing its usual imitation of violets, phlox, or spiral goldenrod. It's a great chameleon in its early stages. One of the wild geraniums is up, and the cranesbill, after making a brave showing during the previous thaw and getting roundly punished for it, is putting up a few leaves just to see what happens. The violets are just starting here and there; in a very short time, they will cover huge expanses of bare ground, bless them.
An interesting phenomenon that I don't recall seeing before is the vole or mouse tunnels in the lawn. The whole front lawn looks like a vast aerial view cut by winding highways or riverbeds. When I was shovelling after the last large snowfall, I saw a little whiskered nose poke out of the pile of snow I'd just made next to the porch, and frisk away when I moved the shovel. I bent down and looked, and there was already a tunnel in the snowdrift I was still making. I managed not to block the tunnel entrance with more snow, though I'm not sure that blocking the entrance would have stopped the rodents for long.
The mint has four very tiny leaves. I watered it today, along with anything else that looked hopeful.
Juncoes are still here, and in greater numbers than over the winter. I assume they are passing through on their way north. House finches are making themselves known; chickadees are making their "Phoebe" sounds and also rattling and buzzing as they like to do; cardinals have been singing for weeks. I saw a blue jay and a robin fighting over who got to sit at the top of the neighbors' evergreen. The blue jay won, but the robin got the last word, a huge long whinnying call that sounded very disrespectful.
The mock orange bushes and the neighbors' ancient, battered but unbowed lilac are just starting to leaf out.
Last year's maple leaves are leaving their job of mulching my flowerbeds and whirling away down the street. I should probably do some raking. There are crocuses and tulips under probably ten inches of leaves, and they need some light.
There is one mourning-cloak butterfly in the back yard, and a handful of black ants, and some box elder bugs.
Pamela
The motherwort is well up and the hairy bellflower is starting, doing its usual imitation of violets, phlox, or spiral goldenrod. It's a great chameleon in its early stages. One of the wild geraniums is up, and the cranesbill, after making a brave showing during the previous thaw and getting roundly punished for it, is putting up a few leaves just to see what happens. The violets are just starting here and there; in a very short time, they will cover huge expanses of bare ground, bless them.
An interesting phenomenon that I don't recall seeing before is the vole or mouse tunnels in the lawn. The whole front lawn looks like a vast aerial view cut by winding highways or riverbeds. When I was shovelling after the last large snowfall, I saw a little whiskered nose poke out of the pile of snow I'd just made next to the porch, and frisk away when I moved the shovel. I bent down and looked, and there was already a tunnel in the snowdrift I was still making. I managed not to block the tunnel entrance with more snow, though I'm not sure that blocking the entrance would have stopped the rodents for long.
The mint has four very tiny leaves. I watered it today, along with anything else that looked hopeful.
Juncoes are still here, and in greater numbers than over the winter. I assume they are passing through on their way north. House finches are making themselves known; chickadees are making their "Phoebe" sounds and also rattling and buzzing as they like to do; cardinals have been singing for weeks. I saw a blue jay and a robin fighting over who got to sit at the top of the neighbors' evergreen. The blue jay won, but the robin got the last word, a huge long whinnying call that sounded very disrespectful.
The mock orange bushes and the neighbors' ancient, battered but unbowed lilac are just starting to leaf out.
Last year's maple leaves are leaving their job of mulching my flowerbeds and whirling away down the street. I should probably do some raking. There are crocuses and tulips under probably ten inches of leaves, and they need some light.
There is one mourning-cloak butterfly in the back yard, and a handful of black ants, and some box elder bugs.
Pamela
no subject
Date: 2011-04-12 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-12 10:06 pm (UTC)P.
no subject
Date: 2011-04-12 10:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-12 11:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-13 01:51 am (UTC)Or didn't you mean Philadelphia PA?
no subject
Date: 2011-04-13 02:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-13 03:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-13 02:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-13 12:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-13 01:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-13 04:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-13 01:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-04-13 06:42 pm (UTC)Next year will be better here, but this year is all woe and gloom.
K. [I miss my clothes line, too: I think we'll get that fixed before the other]
no subject
Date: 2011-04-14 03:42 am (UTC)P