“Iced carrots, missus? Really?”
Why Groundhog Day is at the beginning of February, I don’t know, since they remain in their burrows until March. I suppose it was invented by people living further south where Spring comes sooner.
This groundhog seemed most unimpressed.
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Whereas a late frost often kills off the lilac and other early buds, a light dusting of snow appears to have no ill-effect.
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When we came home on Thursday we were greeted by our first flowers.
This morning Grant was puzzled to see a bright orange flower in one of the hedges, but closer examination revealed that it was a piece of carrot, apparently taken there by a squirrel or chipmunk.
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Last year we were surprised to discover that groundhogs can actually climb as well, but in this instance I suspect it was one of those other pals.
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Gentle dabs of colour on the hills are so lovely in late afternoon light.
Like the glory of Fall, I always think it a shame that it doesn’t last longer.
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As I write this, on Friday, the temperature is climbing to 70F/18C and in a matter of days our beautiful vista will transform again.
Already, I have had to escort a hornet out of the house and received my first insect bite. Currently, ants roam around on my desk, which I really would prefer they didn’t. If I could figure out what attracts them I might be able to remove them, but I have no clue.
Annoying as ants are, I don’t like killing them as they are rather amazing and life is life, no matter how small.
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Insects that bite automatically get swatted, unless it’s a wasp. I am a little more cautious of them because their sting causes a painful reaction.
My grandmother apparently took issue with wasps, keeping a large pair of scissors handy with which she cut them in half. Presumably she had run afoul of them at some time.
Mother did battle with any creature that interfered with her garden. When my parents lived in Florida I recall that it was mole crickets, which principally attacked the lawn. I was spared being acquainted with them except in the form of frequent outraged complaints.
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Back in England, Mum mostly fought with stray cats that got hosed (!) and slugs that received much harsher treatment.
As a child I was not averse to killing insects that were likely to bite and to my eternal shame, I once even killed a snake, but by the time I acquired a garden myself, I had become vegetarian and embraced a different outlook. I would rather allow my garden to be ruined than kill its destroyers.
Slugs in my garden got rescued when necessary. I thought it was the least I could do to make up for the many fatalities at my mother’s hand.
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Wednesday, the day after that brief snow, we passed by another pond where we saw a different pair of wood ducks and a pair of mallards, basking in morning sunlight.
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What an exquisite creature!
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The ducks were sharing the pond with a couple of Canada geese.
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It was ten minutes later that we came upon the Bar-headed goose previously mentioned. We’ve come to the conclusion that it is part of someone’s exotic bird collection.
On the way home, we went past there again but it was nowhere in sight.
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We don’t usually come that way, but because we did I got a picture of a blooming aspen.
An aspen in bloom, that is.
Next day, Thursday, we went somewhere else.
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I have a bad allergic reaction to wasp stings, so will kill them without hesitation and zero remorse. And I would not be ‘escorting’ any hornets out of the house, as they kill thousands of honey bees every year. The hornet would die too. Our sunny weather came to an abrupt end today, with a 10C drop in temperature and some dismal drizzle.
Best wishes, Pete.