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| It must be spring. The asparagus is beginning to poke out of the ground. |
42 degrees/cloudy/breezy
Pentoga Road
The hatches are battened down. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead! Let 'er rain!
I guess I'm an old romantic when it comes to seasonal migrations. I well remember Dad pulling off to the side of the road when I was small so he could point out and enjoy a flock of migrating geese. I still pause and gawk. Though I seldom see them, I point the camera in their direction and start clicking the shutter. It's delayed, but I enjoy their overhead flight when I download the pictures on my computer.
While living in the arctic, I used to pour a cup of coffee then sit on my front porch and watch millions and millions of ducks, geese, and swans, arrive in huge flocks. At times, it was deafening, yet beautiful.
I often wonder if that's where these geese are going. Will their journey's end find them on the Noatak River north of the Arctic Circle?
Ah, I'm waxing nostalgic here, but it's easy to entertain such thoughts mixed with a splash of homesickness. Still, I wonder if these geese are heading home?
Page Three:
Sargie put a load of sheets in the washer before leaving for work Saturday morning. I hung them out bright and early and letting them blow in the wind all day, absorb the smells of spring. It was like sleeping in the great outdoors last night. Crisp, fresh, and clean, I wish we could hang the sheets out (to dry) all year round.
Two more trips were made Saturday morning to retrieve wood chips. It took several hours, but all the new garden area is covered with a light layer and areas of the existing garden that had become bare made the same.
Other than replace a couple of wooden sides on two raised beds, I think this summer's garden is ready to grow a few vegetables.
The rest of the day was spent weeding the asparagus patch. I was surprised to see that several had already poked their heads above the ground. As I told Sargie, as soon as we get a week of bright sun and warm temperatures, we'll be eating freshly cut asparagus. It can't be soon enough.
The volunteer blueberry bushes, those that came up from seed are doing well. All I have to do is figure out where to transplant them.
I came across the remnants of this land snail while digging around in the garden yesterday. I know they aren't uncommon, but I haven't seen one in years.
Page Four:
Sargie was home early last night and we enjoyed hamburgers cooked on the grill and a big salad for supper. The rest of the evening was spent just talking and watching television.
I heard rumors that Grady and Macrea might come over for a visit today. No doubt, we'll go for our ride at some point, but first, I might sneak outdoors and transplant those small volunteer blueberry plants before it begins to rain.
After all, a man's work is never done.
So are the tales from Pentoga Road...
The hatches are battened down. Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead! Let 'er rain!
We could use a good shower, but I'm not certain an amount measured in inches would be all that welcome. Oh well, April showers bring May flowers and Lord knows, we have enough of them to transplant once the weather settles down and the temperatures remain above freezing.
Page Two:
Saturday was a mixed bag of tricks. I had a difficult time keeping my mind on what I was doing as flock after flock of geese kept flying overhead, some very high, others, barely above treetop level.
I guess I'm an old romantic when it comes to seasonal migrations. I well remember Dad pulling off to the side of the road when I was small so he could point out and enjoy a flock of migrating geese. I still pause and gawk. Though I seldom see them, I point the camera in their direction and start clicking the shutter. It's delayed, but I enjoy their overhead flight when I download the pictures on my computer.
While living in the arctic, I used to pour a cup of coffee then sit on my front porch and watch millions and millions of ducks, geese, and swans, arrive in huge flocks. At times, it was deafening, yet beautiful.
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| Migrating swans over the Noatak River in the arctic |
Ah, I'm waxing nostalgic here, but it's easy to entertain such thoughts mixed with a splash of homesickness. Still, I wonder if these geese are heading home?
Page Three:
Sargie put a load of sheets in the washer before leaving for work Saturday morning. I hung them out bright and early and letting them blow in the wind all day, absorb the smells of spring. It was like sleeping in the great outdoors last night. Crisp, fresh, and clean, I wish we could hang the sheets out (to dry) all year round.
Two more trips were made Saturday morning to retrieve wood chips. It took several hours, but all the new garden area is covered with a light layer and areas of the existing garden that had become bare made the same.
Other than replace a couple of wooden sides on two raised beds, I think this summer's garden is ready to grow a few vegetables.
The rest of the day was spent weeding the asparagus patch. I was surprised to see that several had already poked their heads above the ground. As I told Sargie, as soon as we get a week of bright sun and warm temperatures, we'll be eating freshly cut asparagus. It can't be soon enough.
The volunteer blueberry bushes, those that came up from seed are doing well. All I have to do is figure out where to transplant them.
I came across the remnants of this land snail while digging around in the garden yesterday. I know they aren't uncommon, but I haven't seen one in years.
Page Four:
Sargie was home early last night and we enjoyed hamburgers cooked on the grill and a big salad for supper. The rest of the evening was spent just talking and watching television.
I heard rumors that Grady and Macrea might come over for a visit today. No doubt, we'll go for our ride at some point, but first, I might sneak outdoors and transplant those small volunteer blueberry plants before it begins to rain.
After all, a man's work is never done.
So are the tales from Pentoga Road...
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