every day is a good day
There is something calming about a stack of firewood. Each time I slice through the logs and remove a section of wood, new patterns emerge. It’s like watching Tibetan monks erasing an elaborate Mandala, only in slow motion. Every few days the chainsaw erases patterns and reveals new ones. By late spring, much of the stack will be gone, just a memory.
The Prunus subhirtella is in bloom … delicately. From fall into early spring, this cherry is a pleasant reminder of what spring will bring.
On a warm, sunny, December day, King Richard struts his stuff. Have a few roosters, and you are never far from royalty. Roosters are as vain as any king. They all think they are nature’s gift to any hen. Hens often have a different opinion.
The sun is sitting low in the sky these days, casting long shadows all day long. We’ve reached that curious stage when the sunset is the earliest it will be this winter, and in five more days, the sun will set a minute later. Though the sunrise will keep getting later until just after the New Year, when by the third of January, it will start rising earlier and earlier.
One would think that sunsets and sunrises would keep getting closer and closer together until the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, but they go their separate ways for a short time around the solstice.
December broccoli is a delight. I pluck ripe clusters as the form, and new ones develop further down the stalk. They are so much fun to grow and eat.
Frost turns lavender and oregano into mystery plants. They are practically unrecognizable compared to their summer forms.
The Cuckoo Marans are growing up splendidly. It’s hard waiting to see their chocolate brown eggs. In early spring, their very dark eggs will be so much fun to gather.
Stepping outside these mornings is a trip into magic. Clear days, clear nights, create the perfect conditions for frost to spin its white web over everything.
In one of the hoop houses, the young chickens have a warm place to sleep and spend these frosty mornings. A little over two months of age, they are looking like young adults. The Blue Laced Red Wyandottes are especially outstanding. They are like living tapestries.
When does winter start? There is the date on the calendar marking the start of winter, but really, once all the leaves are off the trees, it is winter. By the time swans are waddling over the fields, it is winter. When the sun is low and shadows stretch as far as the eye can see, it is winter.
The seasons don’t follow the calendar. They come when they will, the go when they please. Wait for them to arrive and go when they are officially supposed to, and you’ll miss them at their best.
This year, the swans and snow geese have been remarkable. Every day swans go honking overhead, and ribbons of snow geese paint the sky. I was driving home at dusk after delivering tofu, and it was hard concentrating on the road because flocks of swans kept flying by, just above the tops of the trees, on their way to wherever they were going to bed.
