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Line-dried
sheets make for sweet sleep
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There is a list of more than
thirty spring chores on the refrigerator.
Things we must get done before spring changes to summer and the full
press of heat and days full of weeding and mowing is upon us. And those,
seemingly in a blink, move to fall and the harvest and hours over the canning
kettle and processing veggies for the winter’s eating. But, I am getting ahead of myself, and with
the sun shining brightly, pussy willows plump along the roadside as we walk the
dogs, and the trill of the first bobolink of the season filling the warming air,
there should be some enjoyment, and there is.
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Summer
seating
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Yesterday, we took the Adirondack
chairs out of the shed, dusted them off and lined them up on the patio that we
spent last fall building. We had our
coffee there. Yesterday in jackets
because there was a stiff breeze out of the north and west, sweeping in the
cold of snow still lying deep in the shaded woods. But the sun was warm, and swallows swooped
and dove against the sky catching the flying insects that are beginning to come
out of hibernation. We sipped and talked
and planned the day while the dogs ran and leaped around the yard. Monty is happy with just the joy of running
free of deep snow that challenges his short legs, but Kris. Kris has decided he is a bird dog and he is
taking it very seriously, speeding around and leaping high to follow the
swallows that soar up into the blueness, almost out of sight, then swoop back
down over the yard, a mere four feet above his head. He leaps and pirouette and runs both
stretched out and with tail and hips tucked beneath – only when cornering – to try
to catch them.
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The
joy of warmth
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We also brought out the grill.
Although we both love the winter soups and stews and the hearty roasts and
casseroles that shape our winter diet, we are weary of the heaviness, longing
for something from off the grill. I
boiled potatoes and eggs for a salad that we will have today along with chicken
marinated in honey Dijon mustard and then slow cooked over the fire. A culinary pick-me-up when we most need it,
and easier to prepare, especially with muscles sore from raking and digging and
planting and long rambles across the now bare field with the dogs. But back to the list of chores.
They range from simply
planting the garden, once a gargantuan task but easier now that we have cut
back on the size, to finishing the herb garden we began last year. There is the pruning of the fruit trees to be
done and spraying with dormant oil, and then the on-your-knees shearing dead
tips from the blueberries and raspberries that give us everything from fresh
handfuls to eat to bottles of “Madness”
we share with friends and that is good sipping before the fire on a
February night. The list is heavily weighted
with those things that must be done. The
scrubbing of lichen off the siding of the houses, painting the foundation,
reseeding winter killed lawn or bare spots where last fall’s seeding did not
take. And, there are new things too.
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Pussy
willows on the mantle
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We are building an enclosed
front porch this year. Nothing grandiose,
just a simple three- season porch with windows and screens to keep out the bugs
and rain and the northwest winds that hit that side of the house in
winter. There are winter clothes to pack
up with lavender and cedar and put away until next fall, and blankets and
quilts to be laundered, too, and hung out on the line to dry. We hung the first
sheets on the line yesterday and they came in stiffly crisp and smelling of
sunshine and fresh air. But I diverge. The
biggest projects this year include things such as rebuilding the woodshed, and
clearing out and chipping the small trees, brush and red stick growing in along
the northern tree line. That means the
chipper has to go out to be tuned up, and while we are at it, we will also send
out the riding mower, that helps me keep our nearly three acres of lawn in good
trim.
We picked a few pussy willows
today on our mile walk with the dogs to our neighbor’s. It is the first visit for our boys and the
first long walk up the road with all the snow gone. A million delicious scents and smells kept
their noses quivering, and the plunged into the roadside brush, searching out
new adventures, constrained only by their leashes. Monty, our puddle jumper, of course had to
plunge into bog water in a ditch, galloping along and sending muddy plumes of
water up around him. When at last he was
over his romp, he looked as if he had pulled on dark stockings. A few of the popples have begun to fuzz out
in the soft blur of catkins, and those, along with the pussy willows, mean food
for the handful of bees that have begun buzzing about, and tender spring feed
for the deer and moose.
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Gotta
get those birds
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We went to visit because the
neighbors have an eight-month-old Labrador and we are all sure that the three
of them could have a jolly old time. But
she is recuperating from spaying, and on confined activity – a near impossible
task for a young Lab – and so, they did not meet, but rather eyed each other
through a window. They’ll meet and play
another day. The roadsides were nearly pocked with moose prints and deer prints
of all sizes, and the dogs found them fascinating. It was a nice visit, sitting out in the sun
on the neighbors’ deck, looking down over Salmon Lake where all but an almost
opaque layer of ice, right in the center, has melted away and the open water glittered
and winked in the sun. And then the long
ramble back home, at a slower pace, to notice the barely budding bushes and the
clean wet scent, and off to the southwest, the building of clouds that bode
tomorrow’s rain, which we need badly as we have been under a fire watch for the
past two weeks
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May
Day snow
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I have just a little over a
week of classes left before the end of this semester, and then the days will be
mine. I’ll leave behind the grading of
papers and planning of assignments for what one might assume are days of fun,
but are simply labors of another sort. In
this fleeting spring, each day is a chapter in itself, filled with writing I
have promised myself, flowers and shrubs to replant, mulching to do, the weekly
mowing of the lawn, a handful of baby quilts to make, and a new wood stove to
install for the winter that is ever present in our thoughts. There will be vegetables to can and freeze,
and pickles and jams to make. To add to it, this year I have decided to make
full thermal quilts for all the windows, especially those on the north and west
sides of the house from whence the bitterest winds come. Although the house is relatively warm, there
are those mornings, even those days when the temperatures dip to double-digit
lows, and the cold frosts the outside panes. It’s a big project, but one that
will be well worth it in warmth and heating costs.
And so on this first of May,
we are planning and easing our winter-soft bodies into the labors ahead,
knowing that there are sore muscles in our future, and yet glad to be alive on
this most glorious first day of real spring.
Yet there is the reminder of what will come, for along the southernmost
side of the field, in the verges and depths of the forest of firs, snow still
lingers, six inches deep, where the sun does not reach, and we push ahead to
prepare for two seasons from now. There
is pleasure in the labor, and it keeps us healthy in body and soul.
Happy May Day one and all!
