Spring Is Here

 



 Right in my yard.  The daffodils are showing off along the front of the house--and they're just getting started.  It's funny, they all pop up much earlier than plants not on the southern exposure but they bloom from east to west so the oldest daffodils that are on the west end of the house are the last to bloom.  Silly, isn't it?  I don't mind, that just stretches out the time I get to enjoy their exuberant yellowness.  I wish the grape hyacinths showed up better.  Believe me, they're a lovely shade of purple and do not blend into the washed out gray of the mulch which, by the way, needs to be replenished this year.  These little hyacinths have escaped the confinement of the flower bed and are making a break for it in the edge of the lawn.  I think I might dig them up once they're done blooming and put them back where they belong.  Or at least where they won't get mowed down when the lawn guy starts coming.

I told you that I got out the patio table and chairs and the faded umbrella.  Well, this morning I couldn't stand it and got out the scrub brush and the 409 and cleaned it.  Naturally there are some stains in the porous white plastic top that didn't come out but I've got a bottle of cleaning bleach I might try on there before giving up and getting a different colored table.  Actually we have an old green patio table in the shed that's got that faded and powdery look about it, maybe I'll pull it out and see what it looks like...

 
This probably looks like grass to you but, trust me, it's chives, so there's something edible in the garden already.  Woohoo!

Because the morning was so fine I took my Bullet Journal out after breakfast and sat on the patio writing in it.  It was heavenly to be out there in the warm sun and sweet breeze.  The robins weren't thrilled because they decided that I was keeping them from the suet and birdbath.  I wasn't but I also wasn't going to be chased inside by loudmouth birds.  The chickadees couldn't have cared less.  I checked the weather and they are forecasting rain for later.  I looked at the bales sitting there and realized that I'd never be able to carry them into place if they got the chance to soak up rain.  Soooo, I unrolled the hardware cloth (so the mice, voles, and gophers don't tunnel up into the bales from below) where I want the bales and hauled them over there.  DS is coming on Thursday to pound the stakes in for me.  I realized that I needed to ask for help since I bought 8 foot long posts and I am 5'2" so even with a ladder it'd be a trick for me to safely pound them in, much less pound them in so they're standing up straight.  I bought six stakes which means I need to stop at Stein's on my way home from my haircut tomorrow for two more bales.  Then I can start conditioning them with fertilizer and water so they'll be ready to be planted in a couple weeks.  Durwood and I are debating what to plant now.  Negotiations are intense.  Cauliflower vs broccoli.  Brussels sprouts?  Butternut squash?  The tomato debate has been decided--Early Girl, Sweet 100, and Wisconsin 55--those are the three that produced so well last year so I'm not willing to dedicate precious bale space to non-performers.  I'll plant carrots again this year even though I'll have to fence out the rabbits and I got a packet of bunching onion seeds, aka scallions, that I'm excited to try.  I'm going to plant a white potato and a sweet potato in the extra bales.  I've never grown potatoes but my Grandma Angermeier used to and I seem to remember a better tasting potato at her table.  This whole straw bale gardening thing has me in its clutches, can you tell?

May 1--Pierre-Auguste Renoir, Odalisque.  Marie lay propped on pillows on her chaise and she was draped in a number of beaded gypsy shawls.  She was barefoot and one knee was bent, her foot resting on the chaise.  Her dark hair tumbled to her shoulders and gold hoop earrings glittered in the shaft of light from the balcony window.  She looked seductive, alluring, and dead.  Sergeant Guardier stood back while the lab nerds took their pictures and lifted things too small to see with tweezers into paper bags.  Guardier had known Marie since they were in elementary school.  Marie, her sister Cecile, and their parents had lived with a grandmother around the corner from Annie Guardier's large family.  In fact for almost a year Annie's brother Michel went around with Cecile before he left for the navy.

"Hooray, hooray, the first of May..."  We all know how that little couplet ends, right?  (and this would have been a perfect day for it, except for the wind this afternoon stirring up the leftover autumn leaves sending them skittering all over)  It still makes me giggle to remember the gleeful look on Dad's face when he recited it to me--when I was about 30 years old.  Too funny.  Now every year on this date I can't get it out of my mind.  I got about 4 pages of the knitting guild newsletter assembled this afternoon after we got home from the funeral home pre-planning appointment.  I'm confident that I'll get the rest done in plenty of time to get it sent out on Thursday.  After all, nobody says I have to send it out in the morning on Thursday and my only "have to" is to help DS when he comes to pound in the garden stakes.  Piece of cake.  Stay cool.
--Barbara