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.

~~~~~

a few brief updates

Book Report:

Have you ever read Daphne du Maurier's "Rebecca"?

One day last week when I was searching my much-appreciated online regional library for an audiobook to download, "Rebecca" popped up as a recommendation. I read it for school when I was about 13 and a few images from the story have stayed with me, but not much of the plot detail. After checking the brief sample clip to be sure the narrator would be easy to listen to (for me, the narrator can make or break any audiobook), I downloaded the novel for knitting entertainment.

Well.

I'll tell you what.

This book is a stunner.

That Daphne du Maurier really knew

how to put the words together.

And the narrator, actress Anna Massey, was brilliant.

I've listened for an hour or so each evening, while working on the second(!) orange sock. And today, while listening to the final part of the book, I mindlessly knit an extra inch

on the foot of the sock.

Hundreds and hundreds of tiny (unnecessary) stitches.

That's a pretty good book!

~~~

Weather Report:

I have not been talking or writing or thinking about Autumn yet. This is not denial. I know it's right around the corner, and I'm already working hard to prep for the season that will come after it. No, I love Autumn and will welcome it gladly, but I've had a strong feeling that we have not seen the last of Summer.

And sure enough, for the past three days we've had mid-70s. Truly Hot. It's been hard to sleep; hot and stuffy even with all the windows open.

This isn't even Indian Summer...it's just 

Not Yet Autumn.

~~~

Gardening Report:

A friend generously offered some of her perennial plants for my new border garden. I was thrilled! We had a lovely time chatting while she thinned numerous spots in her vast and varied gardens.

There is some question as to the exact identity of several of my new plants, as their blooms are for the most part gone. But they include bee balm (possibly in two colors!) and echinacea and hyssop and several other things. Now all are planted either in the new border garden or in one of the small flower-and-veg beds between the barns. 

Tansy! I'm told it produces light yellow flowers.

It took me about 5 hours to get everything in the ground and watered. Now I hope the plants will have time to develop new roots and get snugged in for a good rest, in preparation for a revival in the Spring.

~~~

Piper Report:

Piper went into fits of serious barking several times last evening. There was clearly Something In The Woods, and Piper wanted to holler at it but not chase it off. I went out twice and walked around in the dark - which Piper always finds great fun! - but couldn't see or hear the mystery critter. The goats were upset, but not all facing into the woods and staring the way they do when they sense a threat - no, they were all staring at That Dog Is Scaring Us.

I know the feeling, goats. My heart pounds when Piper barks. She rarely barks at all, and when she does, it is very sudden!

The more typical Piper: Not Barking.

~~~

and a Follow-Up:

I should add a little more about the rock and root...apparently not the best subject for a wordless post, sorry!

Here's the story behind the pictures.

I was digging a hole for one of the new perennials in untilled, hardpack soil, removing roots and stones as I went along. The "plant-end" of the root in the pictures snapped when I pulled on the stone. I might not have noticed it had it not been bright orange-pink;

probably my nemesis, oriental bittersweet.

Here's my interpretation: the root, perhaps when it was quite small, had begun growing into a tiny "fracturable" spot on the stone. As the root grew longer and wider, it forced the the stone to begin to break apart. The depth and degree to which the stone had begun to fracture was clearly associated with the progress of the root, with a wide crack on the "entry" side narrowing to a nearly invisible hairline on the opposite side. And on the non-root side of the stone (I'm running out of "sides;" but it's kind of a lumpy stone), on the other end of the stone, let's say, it is completely solid rock; there isn't even a hairline crack. I tried to show all this in the pictures by rotating the stone, but when I saw HelenB's comment about the potato, I realized a few words of explanation would have helped! I'll try to keep that in mind for the future.

Thanks for visiting and commenting...

I hope you are all having a lovely week!

~~~~~

speechless saturday

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