then and now

That was 10 days ago. It was the third snowfall in two weeks.

This is now:

The bloodroot is up.

And it's cashmere combing time.

'Tis the season of Everything Suddenly and All At Once, and time is getting away from me on a daily basis. But tonight I was determined to at least post a few snaps and say hello before falling asleep.

Hello!

~~~~~

with feathers

We've had two more snowstorms which have been pretty to look at and certainly more comfortable to work in than several days of rain. Now the snow is gone, the rain has stopped for a couple of days, and we've even seen the sun.

But it's been very cold again - in the low 20s when I get up - and windy. 

Biting winds.

Here's a hungry chickadee, back turned to the wind.

Brrrrrrr.

 My birdfeeders have never been busier than in recent months. I haven't totted up how many pounds of feed have been purchased, but I consider the cost to be my Entertainment Budget. And well spent.

Goldfinches are such scrappy little birds. They'd rather argue than eat.

And now the goldfinches are starting to color up. Spring is near.

This little nuthatch was perfectly still for about two minutes.

Lost in thought?

Mourning doves are so colorful.

Understated, but colorful.

Speaking of color...

Fingers crossed the bluebirds will continue to visit a while longer.

~~~~~

happy new year

I've never felt the year turn on January 1st; always in the Autumn. Possibly a remnant of my way-way-back Celtic ancestry.

But last year, April 4th was such a watershed moment it overshadowed the rest of 2024. And the disruption of ordinary life caught a second wave with the shoulder injury in October.

So when I woke up yesterday and thought "April 4th...that seems like a significant date..." it only took a split second to remember why.

Update: the barn has still not been brought back to original condition, but most of the parts that have been replaced are much better-built than the original. So it's a matter of taking the rough with the smooth. (Oh, a bit of humor there, since the barn is built of roughcut lumber.) The barn served most of it's purpose fairly well through the Winter. Now that it's Sort Of Spring, there is plenty of time for more work to be done on the barn before next Winter.

It's so much harder to get things built or rebuilt when I can do almost none of the work myself these days. I just have to accept that, I suppose.

That last sentence suggests that I have not accepted it, doesn't it? Oh well. Anyway.

Since the 4th of April 2024 was such a dramatic day, I've decided to look at yesterday, April 4th 2025, as a turning of the year. Why not? Happy New Year, blogpals!

I rarely make New Year's Resolutions, and don't need to do so now because since the shoulder injury on October 8th, there has been a great deal of rethinking what I'm doing and how I'm doing it, mostly in small, everyday things. And small changes have been made, so...functional resolutions, one might say. 

All that's left to do now is to celebrate!

~~~~~

triangle

Today is the anniversary of the 1911 Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire in New York, which left 146 dead. Ultimately, the Triangle fire was a major catalyst for changes in US labor laws.

It's difficult to write about this, not only because it was a heart-hollowing tragedy, but because of the complexity and sheer volume of contemporary accounts. Once I started reading, it was difficult to stop. 

A summary from the Cornell website, which was my starting point:

The fire at the Triangle Waist Company in New York City, which claimed the lives of 146 young immigrant workers, is one of the worst disasters since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution.

This incident has had great significance to this day because it highlights the inhumane working conditions to which industrial workers can be subjected. To many, its horrors epitomize the extremes of industrialism.

The tragedy still dwells in the collective memory of the nation and of the international labor movement. The victims of the tragedy are still celebrated as martyrs at the hands of industrial greed.

The anniversary of the Triangle fire is marked with events each year, and this year I signed up for a project organized by Tatter. One hundred and forty-six volunteers each embroidered the name and age of one victim on a piece of white fabric. The individual pieces were then stitched together by other volunteers at Tatter, to be displayed as a banner during the annual commemorative event at the site of the fire.

As suggested by the Tatter organizers, I tried to learn a bit about Yetta Rosenbaum to personalize her embroidered panel. She had been in the US for 3 years and 9 months, so I began with her hometown (in current-day Ukraine) and soon got lost in its very complex history. Moving forward, I found maps and street photographs of the lower East Side of Manhattan in the late 19th and very early 20th centuries, and marked the routes Yetta could have taken to the factory. Did she take a streetcar? Or if the weather was nice, or she needed to economize, did she walk? Did she ever catch a glimpse of the Washington Arch before entering the factory? Was she excited when a movie theatre opened in 1910, right down the street from her home at 308 East Houston?

It's a fine line between feeling sympathy for a person one has never known, and feeling empathy for an imagined version of a person one can never know.

Many bits of documentation I found about Yetta Rosenbaum - even her age (21 or 22) and the spelling of her name - were contradicted by another account. Which is why I'm not including all those bits which would certainly add dimension but possibly with false colors. Does it matter? I'm not a 1911 reporter, repeating gruesome details and selling newspapers. Nor am I participating in the subsequent legal proceedings, presenting information with the sole intent to blame or exonerate. But when I found myself imagining the walk to the factory, I felt I was crossing a line into creating a fictional person, not learning more about the real woman who travelled to America and worked long hours at a factory and who died, tragically and horribly, at a very young age.

In fact, I cannot know much about that real woman.

But at least I can say her name.

~~~~~

sticks and string

"Knit on with confidence and hope, through all crises."

- Elizabeth Zimmermann

The self-striping yarn above is "Bullfinch" from the British Birds series created by West Yorkshire Spinners. The socks were made BSD (before shoulder dislocation) for a special New Years gift, then not mailed til February 22nd because I got ridiculously derailed trying to find the card (a painting from Yosemite) specifically intended to accompany the socks. After I finally put them in the mail (with a different card, an ink drawing of one of my daylilies), they were bounced up and down the eastern seaboard for a week before arriving at their destination, 50 miles east of my house.

Here are the next British Birds cast on as soon as I could start knitting again PSD (post shoulder dislocation) in mid-January:

"Wood Pigeon." They've got some pretty birds in Britain, haven't they?

And here's the waffle-stitch leg of one of the socks I'm knitting now: "Owl." If you've never seen self-striping yarn, there's a peek at the skein beneath the zipper:

This yarn series has become a favorite since I discovered the "Mallard" and "Pheasant" colors a few years ago. There are still a few more British Birds I may knit with someday, including Kingfisher and Green(!) Woodpecker.

The sock pattern (using the word loosely) I've come up with for simple distraction knitting: a ribbed cuff in either the stripes or a contrasting solid, a cushy waffle-stitch leg, a slipstitch heel (striped or contrasting), and a smooth stockinette foot. The toe design varies: a star toe (as in both pairs above) if there's a chance I'll have to rip it back to resize the sock post-gifting and/or if I want to have stripes right to the end; a grafted/kitchener toe otherwise.

Here's a close view of one of my favorite things about knitting socks:

After making the 90-degree "turn" at the bottom of the heel, three directions of stitches blend the heel and the foot together in a continuous fabric. It's so functional and elegant.

I imagine there's a lot of "through all crises" knitting going on these days. Not exclusively in the US but we're doing our share. At least I hope we are. It's a productive  form of distraction. From pain, from sleeplessness, from worry.

Emphasis on "productive."

Onward.

~~~~~

two little things

The first falls under the heading "little things that make other things easier." I love everything under this heading. Here's a food/kitchen thing.

Every time I open a new bottle of ketchup, I immediately upend it in a wide-mouth jar. I let all the contents drain out of the narrow-mouth container that was someone's terrible idea many years ago but which caught on despite it's obviously dysfunctional design. So much frustration. So much waste. The only changes I've seen to that terrible design have been replacing glass with plastic (another bad idea) and inverted squeezable bottles which are every bit as frustrating as the predecessors. My simple, effortless solution takes nothing but a bit of time, and only once per bottle - not every time I want ketchup. Using a spoon or knife is elegant compared to whacking and shaking. And splattering. And swearing.

The second little thing is a bit of free distraction, interest, restfulness, and perhaps even inspiration. 

It's the Window Swap website

I just click the button at the bottom of the screen that says "open a window somewhere in the world" and enjoy a  video clip someone has posted from their window. And then I click the button again. The views are various in every way, and for a person like myself who looks out her own windows for much of every day, it's a tiny bit like being able to travel again.

Would anyone like to share a Little Thing in the comments? All categories are wide open!

~~~~~

random monday

Up until a couple of weeks ago, before the "real" morning chores, I was also doing a short predawn round: just bringing in two frozen buckets, replacing them with fresh buckets, and filling the wilds' feeders. All done in silence because I didn't want the goats getting out of their cozy beds before dawn to keep me company. Two or three goats would always spot me, but since I didn't speak to them they may have figured I was sleepwalking.

Maybe I was.

Evening barncams: infrared and heatlamp red.

Now, for the first time in many years, there are enough functioning (touch wood) barn cameras and bucket de-icers to make the prequel to morning chores unnecessary on most days. They've got water and I've got an eye on things.

This new 15-gallon water trough is accessible from two paddocks. Can you see the ice, despite the de-icer? That's because the circuit had been tripped.

The annual Water Availability Dance involves shifting buckets, circuits, extension cords, and de-icers in order to reach the mysterious balance required to keep the power flowing and the water liquid. It's never fun, but this year was a bit more troublesome not just because of the snowsnowsnow but because until early January all my chores were still being done with one hand/arm. The new trough, and some very rough one-handed fencing, were part of an effort to reduce the number of buckets - and hence the number of de-icers - needed. To my jaw-clenching surprise, there was still trippage, as seen above, until I swapped out higher-wattage bucket de-icers for 80 watt models designed for birdbaths. Success! Now every creature on the place can reach one of four water sources at all times. The buckets just need daily topping off and a scrub every few days. It's like a holiday.

Speaking of which, we have entered a predicted stretch of genuinely warm weather. Yesterday was about 20F when I was doing noon chores, which was a heck of a lot warmer than single digits have been. I celebrated by prying open a chaise and taking a few minutes to enjoy the scenery.

Hazel thought this was a great idea.

I wasn't even wearing gloves, so it was very easy to reach the peanuts in my pocket.

Don't know why, but this year I suddenly have a cut-off point for thawing frozen gate latches with my bare hands: 11F. Holding onto more than one latch at 11F is downright unpleasant. Gates have been tied shut with baling twine for many weeks now. If the hitches get coated in ice I just cut the twine to open the gate.

Well, to wrap up this jumble of a post, 

here are a couple of locals on a recent murky morning:

I hope your February is going well.

~~~~~

blurreds

 

Back in early Autumn I was expecting a Real Winter this year, though I couldn't have told you why. And we are certainly having one. Even with extra tasks and occasional complications, a feeling of deep wellbeing washes over me now and then. I'm really enjoying this season, after all the recent years of relentlessly bizarre weather. It's a relief just to have a season, recognizable and timely.

~~~~~

light

At 7:37AM the first bright gleam of sunlight appeared between the trees, over the stone wall, on the north side of the little roundtop by the barn. The stone wall on the east edge of my property runs north-south, and for months the sun has been appearing over the stone wall on the south side of the roundtop. By midsummer the sun will be rising so far to the north along the wall that I will only catch that first moment of light through the forest if I am already outside at dawn. Fortunately, I very often am outside at dawn. 

It's well below zero F again this morning, and after just one rainy day last week my world is now entirely encased in frozen snow and ice. In particular, all my chore paths are now ice. Regardless: the first morning when I see that sudden bright gleam on the north edge of the roundtop is always a thrill. 

Well, it's time to dust off the ice cleats. Here's hoping we all stay on our feet today.

~~~~~

the pears of january

 

Markmaking took a fruity turn in January.

It wasn't a deliberate thing.

I just drew a pear one night. 

This pear:

And then it happened a few more times.

It's an addictive shape to draw, I think.

People use the term "pear-shaped" like it's a negative thing, but now that I've discovered how much fun it is to draw and paint pears, I have a genuine appreciation of the shape. It's a perfect thing to draw when you don't know what to draw.

In fact, the next time someone tells me they "can't" draw,

I will suggest they draw a few pears.

Who knows where it might lead?

~~~~~

old snap

This snap was taken on January 23, 2022. I couldn't get a better one yesterday, but also couldn't wait to share the good news.

The bluebirds appeared yesterday!

For weeks I've been adding a small percentage of mealworms to the daily sunflower seed in the big feeder so that if the bluebirds came back they would find the welcome mat in place. This week I also put up the little blue tray feeder and started filling it with mealworms. The only noticeable result - before yesterday - was that I now have at least one titmouse addicted to expensive mealworms, darn it, and a grey squirrel who will leap from a tree to that little feeder and then use it's whole face to push a shower of expensive mealworms onto the ground below in case there was a sunflower seed hidden beneath the mealworms. Grrrr. I always provide a generous scatter of sunflower seed first thing in the morning for all the squirrels, and I thought we had a deal.

Anyway, I was beside myself with joy when I caught the first glimpse of a bluebird yesterday, then two more. I'm smiling right now, just writing this. I'll try to get some new snaps to share soon.

~~~~~

same task different morning

 Breakfast hay delivery, Sunday:

This cart was the hurried replacement when my lovely little green one got crushed last April.

Breakfast hay delivery, Tuesday:

This is my 4th hay sled, bought on sale at the end of hunting season. Finally a sled long enough and deep enough to hold a hay bale without tipping over between the roundtop and the paddocks. Huzzah!

I was up at 2 this morning - nothing was wrong; this is typical - and happened to check the thermometer outside the back door. -2F. 

Again at 4AM: minus 4.

The forecast is for a continuous drop til 8 AM, then a gradual creeping up above 0. The 8 inches of powder we got on Sunday night has settled a bit but hasn't lost much by way of melting. The sled will be getting a workout twice daily for a while, I think.

In case you're wondering what happened to Monday's hay, fear not; it was delivered to the goats but I didn't go back in the house for the camera. Which reminds me: does anyone have a recommendation for a good pocket digital camera? Please? I've been hemming and hawing about this since 2023, when I had budgeted for a replacement camera but then had to suddenly spend thousands on my water system. Goodbye, replacement camera. Hello, running water!

Before my current camera - which has been partially held together with tape since 2022, is having focus and metering issues, and can't be used during chores because it won't fit in a pocket - I had two little Canons with fine image quality, excellent macro, and surprisingly powerful zoom capabilities. I'd like those features again, but perhaps because the market has shifted dramatically due to increasingly good cellphone cameras, the good pocket digitals have become more expensive than I expected. (Of course this may just be my advanced years talking. These days the voice in my Shopping head often sounds very like my Dad, who always compared the price for a replacement item with the price paid for a predecessor, sometimes decades earlier.) Anyway, please share any suggestions for a pocket camera, because I think I'm going to have to bite the bullet and invest in a new one. Thanks!

~~~~~

this day

 teacup feeder:

teacup feeder this morning:

It snowed all night and was very cold. It was still single digits during an early round of checking and feeding. When I headed back inside, dawn was breaking:

And by noon the world was quite dazzling:

I hope you were able to find some beauty in this day.

~~~~~