An Autumn Pet Peeve

I love a field of autumn corn. The stalks all golden brown, lined up, and waiting to be harvested. It’ll be cut down, chopped, and used for silage to feed cattle during the long winter. (Silage goes in a silo and that’s what most farmers call it. I grew up on a farm very near the Quebec border and never heard the word silage until a few years ago. We used the word “ensilage” exclusively–the French influence, I guess.)

IMG_2535 (1)IMG_2534 (1)

I even love a field of mown corn. It looks restful, harvest finished, and its sere, muted shades make the surrounding foliage seem all the more radiant.

IMG_3555 (1)IMG_3520 (1)

But this? This make me peevish. Who does this?

IMG_3338

Who harvests an entire field and leaves one last corn stalk standing? So untidy . . .

(And can you see the blue jay photo bombing the picture?!)

Advertisements

Clouds: Ragtag Tuesday Daily Prompt

Like Margaret, who provides CLOUDS as this week’s Ragtag Tuesday prompt, I prefer fluffy, white clouds scudding through the sky, perhaps calling to mind a bunny or a kitty, or reflecting in placid waters.

FullSizeRender 19

But I was sure that most of the cloud photos in my own files would be of dark, forbidding, foreboding clouds, full of drama and threat. Maybe it’s a reflection of my mood, in the face of news of my country and our world?

IMG_0385

When I actually went looking I was surprised and pleased to find that, in reality, most of my cloud photos are dramatic, yes, but with the drama of sun dispelling darkness, of light peeping through, of hope.

Let’s be hopeful . . .

Grousing in the Garden

I didn’t want to write this post. Really, I didn’t. 

I’ve resisted as long as I could and they’ve just worn me down with their whining and nagging and moaning.

My flowers are furious; They look pretty and dainty and harmless . . . don’t be fooled. They are relentless. 

They demand equal time! They point out that everybody else’s flowers have been featured on the internet, that they are every bit as attractive, and, dammit, they want their moment in the spotlight. 

The irises are irate.

IMG_2299

The viburnum are threatening violence.

IMG_2302

The lilies of the valley lament and lament and lament. All those tiny little voices, lamenting. Oy.

IMG_2284

The hostas are downright hostile.

IMG_2326

Catnip is caterwauling, under its protective armor to keep the cats from nipping it down to nothingness.

IMG_2312

Peonies are pouting, again. They’re not at their best yet but they remember a successful protest from years ago, and they are emboldened.

IMG_2303

So, my apologies for a post full of familiar flowers. I don’t even know all their names and it occurs to me that some may be weeds. I simply don’t care anymore. I just want them to stop their belly aching!

 And please, whatever you do, don’t tell them they’re pretty! 

Fun with Ice and Snow. And Wind.

I was having a little lie-down yesterday, on a bitterly cold but sunny afternoon, when the usually-placid cat on the bed started growling.

She was looking intently out the window and I thought, “Racoon.”

Not hardly!

This para-skier swooped and flipped and flew outside our windows for an hour or more, in spite of wind chills well below zero. Later, another guy joined him, so we had a pair-a-skiers. (Sorry.)

Steamy Weather

Yesterday morning, the outdoor temperature here was minus-25 Fahrenheit. For those of you of a Celsius persuasion, that’s almost minus-32.

IMG_1587 (1)

Pictorial evidence

 

That’s the cold of insta-frostbite. That’s the cold of “keep your pets in, no matter how much they agitate to go out.”

That’s the cold of “three cat nights” in bed, hot chocolate with boozy eggnog added in, and letting the mail pile up in the box because how important could it be anyway?

And it’s the cold of one of my favorite weather phenomena.

Our Lake Champlain water temperature is 36 degrees right now (about 2 Celsius). The bays are frozen solid enough for ice fishers to be out in their tents.

But steam is rising off the broad lake. Big billows of steam . . .