wordless wednesday

 

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wordless wednesday

 

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back to the beech

Beech in the morning.

Beech in the afternoon, with an oak rising through.

Beech with the crown of the oak above.

So many leaves have come down in recent days. I'm looking at a changed palette and a different view every day. We've reached the point where, if the sun isn't shining, it looks and feels very much like November out there. But when the sun is shining, I'm convinced there's still plenty of time to transplant raspberries, build more raised beds, and plant tulip and iris bulbs.

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a bit of blog befuddlement

Many thanks to everyone who left a comment about commenting.

I've been wandering around backstage in my own blog, trying to find the source of the problem. I've learned a couple of things, but nothing related to the issue.

So far the only possible clue is that comments may not be posting from phones - 

two readers have now mentioned that.

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I'm relieved to know that there are no ads appearing on Comptonia!

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About the ads that have recently been showing up on the Feedly page, here is an example using my own blog post list. I hope the screenshot will be legible - as always, left-click to embiggen.

To be clear: I'm not seeing these ads on the actual blogs - just prominently displayed on the Feedly list of posts for each blog.

One of these things is not like the others...

 

Here's another example.

Ads disguised as blog posts:

Well, that's enough about the mysteries of the internet for one day.

Onward to something I understand: today's Daily Markmaking.

A detail of the base of the massive red oak on the Upper West Side,
surrounded by stones and snow.

I hope your week is off to a grand start!

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a note from saturday morning

Yesterday was refreshingly sunny.

Bright blue skies!

Fluffy wisps of clouds sailing by!

They were sailing, of course, because it was windy. It was also very cold.

Piper insisted on coming out for the first session of morning chores, but expressed a wish (immediately granted) to return to her cozy bed long before those chores were finished.

 "Okay, I see you have an adequate handle on the chores.

You can take it from here. I'll be in my office."

Meanwhile, at the sliding glass door on the porch, Moxie and Della have front-row seats for Squirrel Theatre. Performances scheduled daily, under the birdfeeders.

Della: "Athletic but incoherent performance."

Moxie: "I liked him much better as Hamlet."

More snow is predicted this weekend. And Monday.

Also: Wednesday and Thursday.

This morning, the sky is dense and grey again.

So...

let's have another look at yesterday's sky, shall we?

Red oak, white pine, American beech.

Quercus rubra, Pinus strobus, Fagus grandifolia.

A dear and familiar skyscape.

Sugar maple and white birch.

Acer saccharum and Betula papyrifera.

When I want a lesson in survival,

I look to trees.

I hope your Saturday is beautiful.

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morning path

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a bit of progress

We are having a second day of this:

Drizzling, mizzling, very cold rain and gloom. I may declare a Day of No Chores. Apart from, you know, the minimal actual chores, which take place outside, every day, morning, noon and evening, no exceptions, period.

Morning chores were delayed a while, though...

the goats were sleeping in.

Hooray for barncams!

In the past few weeks,There have been several small but challenging projects of the "Before Winter!" variety going on here. In one example, I've hired help to move a short section of the 6-foot perimeter fence. There are two reasons for this task. First, tightening up some of the sag created by the goats reaching for something especially delicious on the other side. Mostly Betula, who is quite a big fellow and can do this:

The second reason to move the fence is to expand the upper edge of my perennial border by the driveway, to provide a safe haven for the heroic Chelone obliqua. I fully intended to get this done "Before Winter!" last year, but failed. To my deep regret, the remnant Chelone population that struggled to recover after the Snowplow Incident of 2013 got ferociously decimated by the snowplow again in 2014. I swore that if any survived, they would be transplanted in 2015.

In early Spring, a leaf appeared here and there, poking gamely up between the unheaval of gravel and old macadam chunks pushed several feet into the garden by the plow. Every day I checked and saw another and another, until there was a little hopeful patch. I thought it would be safest to let them grow and bloom before moving them in the Autumn, but hedged my bets by experimentally moving a few plants in the Spring. They struggled a bit in their new location by the goat barns, so for the big move in Autumn, I picked a spot more like their original, if troubled, home along the drive.

Moving the fence just a few feet into the paddock made room for a wide row of Chelone on the other side. You can see the original fenceline on the left in the above picture, and the new line with the unattached fence sort of festooned along it, waiting to be stretched and reattached. The distance between the two lines is only about four feet. But it's an important four feet. I hope there will be enough sun for the plants; a constant concern here. But at least the plow cannot touch them.

Most of the transplanting was done before this rain began. There are a few plants I've offered to friends, to give the original population an opportunity to thrive and bring joy in more places. But if the friends don't come for them, I'll transplant the remaining few when this rain stops.

Which brings us back to today.

I'm feeling a bit like this leaf.

Tattered at the edges, worn thin in places.

Still hanging on, though.

I think I will strive to feel a little more like this:

Very similar features, but very different effect.

And look here:

Magic.

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