Learning journal: Cake

Michael is a pie person. My family tend to be cake people. Even having grown up wallowing in cake of all types, I continue to learn about cake.

Our wild black raspberry crop came in few and far between this year. Even gathering over about a week, I could only come up with about 4 cups, so I decided to incorporate them into a cake. A cup or so of sugar, juice of a lime, a drop or two of almond extract, corn starch, and some light simmering, transformed them into pie filling consistency.

I made my mom a lemon raspberry cake for her birthday, but I wasn’t happy with the actual cake part. When I was making the Grand Girl’s cake, I researched what makes a good Red Velvet cake. Moistness and lack of hard edges were a couple of the criteria. The Red Velvet batter was very thin. The lemon cake batter was thick. But both instructed to bake until wet crumbs stuck to a cake tester and then to let the cake finish cooling entirely in the pan. What this does is allow the cake to finish baking outside the oven, which prevents over-baking. The recipe also called for the juice and zest of two lemons. Wow. This is where I got the lemon cake recipe: https://sallysbakingaddiction.com/lemon-cake/ Because I can never leave well enough alone, I fine-chopped some lemon thyme (one of my flower pot herbs) and added it to the mix. It came out as moist and lovely as the Red Velvet cake had. I got that recipe here: https://divascancook.com/the-best-red-velvet-cake-recipe-easy-homemade-moist-with-southern-flair/ As for the frosting, I went with the Divas Can Cook version again. It is basically the same as Sally’s Baking Addiction in method, but uses four packages of cream cheese instead of one, and less sugar. Even my daughter who doesn’t like frosting likes the supercharged cream cheese. Then again, she likes cheesecake, so I suppose this makes sense. As a practice tip: using parchment paper in the pan allows the cake to release when cooled without sticking to the pan. This would not work with a Bundt pan! The cake left a fresh, lemony taste in the mouth. It may be due to the zest of two lemons or the lemon thyme. Whatever it was, the cake did not last long!

I am beyond thrilled to have more people to help me eat cake!

Season journal: jam

We planted Nankin cherries in among bare root pine sprigs about 30 years ago. Now those pines tower above the cherries, mostly shading them. They are tiny things and usually produce enough fruit for 4-6 cups of jam.

This year, I filled this bowl to the brim!

Fifteen cups of cherry jam! I feel rich.

The black currants came few and far between. They gave me four jars of jam. You will know I truly love you if you get one of these jars. It is my favorite.

The red currants have thrived this year. They are jelly fodder. If we have enough, we may even try to make a little red currant wine….

The mulberries we planted five years ago are beginning to produce fruit. Not enough at any one time to make jam, but sufficient to entertain Michael while he puts away the ducks at night.

The black raspberries are also few and far between this year. I will see if I can gather enough to make jam.

We have tiny chicks. I may feed them some raspberries. Or I may feed raspberries to a Grand. They are all great.

Garden journal: high summer is here

We ate all the radishes and need to plant more. Salad forms the base for all our dinners. We can eat nothing but salads now that we are not enticing Irene’s appetite. We have no trouble inhaling whatever comes our way!

The popcorn made it through the crates Michael built. Because it is a heritage variety, it tends to lodge (fall over) in high winds. The crates help keep it upright. The beets will be ready in another week or two. We are still waiting for our first peas and beans. We have had good rain, but days that swing between hot and cool.

The winter squash want to take over the world. We need to keep them out of the field this year, as the oats and barley will ripen before the pumpkins will.

Tomatoes have set fruit. August should see them ripen. Eggplant will come in at about the same time. My mouth is watering already.

I am particularly proud that the potatoes look this good. Even though we moved them away from the beetle infested ground, the beetles are mobile. They found our potatoes.

We patrol the patch almost every day. We crunch the mature beetles, lift up leaves looking for those conveniently colored egg clusters, remove them, and squish any of the grubs that have already hatched. It is a lot of stoop labor, but it is the only way to control this particular pest. Left alone, they strip plants to the ground.

We harvested the broilers today. They were about 7 pounds each. We will leave a couple of the broilers we ordered for early August until they are in the 10 pound range for holiday dinners.

We recruited help picking and chopping the 36 pounds of rhubarb that is now sitting downstairs, fermenting into wine.

It can never be too early to introduce the Grand Guy into the delightfulness of rhubarb.

That way he can teach his cousin how it’s done!

Death and life journal: Goodnight Irene/Happy Birthday L

Irene. Ma. Summa. Red. She left us on June 20th, a Monday morning. The very last smile she had was for Lilith, who turned 5 shortly after her Summa died. She will be buried next to Clyde at the Northern Wisconsin Veterans Memorial Center in Spooner. We will be able to visit them and share stories, raising a cup of coffee to Bucka (Clyde) and a glass of Baily’s to Summa (Irene) as they lie there side by side. She gets her own gravesite, as she is a veteran in her own right. She was a trailblazer on so many levels. And every time we visit, I will sing “Together Again,” just for her.

Summa wanted to be there for The Grand Girl’s party, but didn’t quite make it. I made sure Irene saw the twirly skirt she told me to buy for this dancing girl. They both loved it, as I knew they would.

Michael and I operated on 3-4 hours of sleep for about 2 weeks. It led us to the inevitable brain fog that does not easily go away. We had 100° weather the day Irene died. We lost 21 of our broilers to the heat. We didn’t check on their water supply in time. Four of the broilers and all of the Golden Wyandottes survived our negligence.

We ride bikes, care for the birds, work in our gardens, and do those things that life and death require. We are not so much tired as we are exhausted. It will take a while to heal from this transition. It was good to be housemates with Ma for the past 8 years. The last 6 months became intense. For the love of those around you, eat good food, mostly vegetables, and avoid sitting for long periods.

Blooming journal: everything’s coming up roses

Irene. Ma. Summa. Red. She is one of the most precious flowers in our garden. She’s been a bit droopy lately, but seems to be coming back. We are hoping a little more TLC (and a lot of elbow grease) will get her over this latest slump.

Wild roses. Red clover. Orange hawk weed. Vetch. Goats beard. Wild carrot. Phlox. Columbine. Daisies. No cascades of azaleas as in Berkeley. No riot of hibiscus as in São Paulo. But the aroma of ripening black raspberries is headier than single malt whiskey.

The winter squash are up and getting in gear. Tomatoes, eggplant and peppers look lively. All but one of the potatoes spronged. The first radish is always the sweetest. Popcorn and onions haze green. That is rhubarb being boisterous in the front row.

Michael completed the fence for a new duck pasture today.

The chicks grow by leaps and bounds.

And the Grand Boy has a smile as bright as the roses. Michael and I have been exhausted. But a cup of tea on the deck, watching deer and turkeys and herons and swallows, reminds us why this work is worthwhile.

Garden journal: squirrels ears

Michael says the time to plant corn is when the oak leaves are the size of squirrels ears.

It’s been a challenge to get the garden bed prepared in time.

Yesterday I noticed the oaks had leaves.

And Michael planted the popcorn. He also planted onions. Cabbages and carrots go in today.

The radishes he planted in the raised beds surrounding the big garden say hello.

They share space with sweet potatoes, green beans, peas, peppers, and lettuce.

The potatoes went into a straw pile garden.

The big garden is infested with potato beetles. They overwinter in the dirt. We fought them all last year. It was time to find new ground.

We also planted our other nightshades (tomatoes, eggplants, and peppers) in new dirt. We had to cover these delicate plants with straw a couple of days ago due to frost danger. They survived!

Penstemon, Sweet William, wild geraniums, mustard, strawberries, and yellow violets accent the intense and varied greens of spring.

We have taken advantage of cool afternoons to ride through this changing landscape. It helps work the kinks out! We sleep hard and fast these days. Soon the busy season will be here.

Livestock journal: the importance of poop

We retrieved a box full of chicks from the feed store on May 10. Michael had set up a place for them to be warm and safe in the chicken coop. Our weather had been chilly, so two heat lamps glowed brightly.

Then the weather warmed. We neglected to keep a close eye on the temperature in the chick enclosure.

Michael found this poor baby four days after we picked them up. Discovering the cause of death was important due to the possibility of having brought avian flu into our coop. Due to the liveliness of the other chicks and the temperature swings, I first checked for signs of dehydration.

Sure enough. This is a condition called pasty butt. It kills by preventing poop to come out of the chick. I found three chicks who needed their bottoms cleaned. I performed this act of care with a cotton swab dipped in oil. We reduced the heat lamps by one and haven’t had any more losses.

Harvest journal: delayed duck reduction

Our livestock age group became unbalanced when Michael underwent foot surgery last year. We normally harvest ducks in the fall. This year we started yesterday.

The ducks began to molt, but due to the late spring were not terrible for pin feathers.

Pin feathers are like stubble: sharp and short. They are hard to remove from the skin, which has led us to discard the entire skin at times. We hate doing that as duck skin is about half of the harvestable weight. It also makes delicious sausage, cracklings, and rendered duck fat. No one eats feathers, not even coyotes, with good reason. Pin feathers also reduce the amount of down salvageable from the duck. Sharp is antithetical to downiness!

We sacrificed 5 drakes and a hen. These small stones came from the hen. The drakes only had sand sized grit in their gizzards. We added the hearts and gizzards to the sausage meat mix now sitting in our freezer. Out of 6 ducks we harvested a 10 pound package of a meat/skin mix for sausage (80% meat, 20% skin), a 5 pound package of pure skin and fat (to add to other sausages), and 3/4 pounds of livers for dinner tonight. We try to use as much of the duck as we can, not least because it took us about 7 hours of hard work to put duck in the freezer.

Many people would not go to the trouble and would simply kill the old ducks and bury them. Harvesting our ducks is part of loving them and celebrating their lives. Pear blossoms mean future work, but present beauty.

Same with plum, apricot, and cherries. Having food literally be the fruit of one’s labor provides a level of appreciation for what energy it takes to feed people.

We hope not only to feed another generation, but to pass along that appreciation.

Michael’s motto: Raise them right. Don’t plant them too deep.

Blossoming journal: it happened one night

We went from frost warnings to highs in the 80s in a matter of hours.

The bloodroot appeared on May 6th, while I still needed to wear a jacket while walking Zeke.

Then an amazing storm blew through. It smashed more than blossoms, but we avoided major damage.

The next day the marsh marigolds were out in force.

Trillium! White trout lilies! Violets! Pussy toes! Anemones! Blue hepatica! Yellow trout lilies! White hepatica!

Dandelions.

Green leaves! (We may have suffered more tree damage if the leaves had been out.)

Frogs, toads and turtles!

Chicks!

It’s enough to make a body tired. We will be working on gardens as soon as they dry out enough. No drought here. I pray for rain in those places that need it.

Celebration journal: Getting to 90!

Age has its privileges. One is having your cake brought to you. Another is dressing any way you want. But the best is seeing the fruit of your labor taking root, growing, and blossoming.

It’s having and seeing good friends.

It is eating your favorite cake.

It is letting others take care of the babies.

But having the time to spend with the youngsters, creating a permanent place in their hearts where you will live forever.

Weather journal: getting to May

April came in like a polar bear.

And left like a squid.

The trees still have no leaves. The upside: we are no longer in drought status.

Our pond overflowed its banks just a bit. The wild ducks are loving it. Due to the chance of the bird flu going around, we are not keeping any of our birds in the pond pasture or feeding wild birds.

The ducklings spent April inside, finally growing large enough to venture out by May 1.

In order to house our new ducks, Michael is fencing in “Area 51.” He hit water at 3 feet. We left that sward open to allow access to the septic system from the driveway. We will put in gates to allow trucks to cross when needed. We will also put a gate into the area next to the deck. We will be able to herd ducks out of Area 51 and will increase their pasture space.

The horsetail reeds showed up May 1. They are late, as is everything else. Brrrrr.

The rhubarb keeps trying and keeps getting burned off. Good thing they have monster root stock.

We have started to turn over gardens. We haven’t finished. Haven’t planted potatoes, which should go in by mid-April. Digging mud. Not fun. It doesn’t loosen the soil for planting. We have enough to keep us busy.

Like cuddling Beanie Boy and cooking for his parents! Irene turns 90 on the 5th. We are having a wing ding of a party.

Most people just clean. We do construction! I’m sitting at the airport waiting for my mom to arrive as I post this.

Let the party begin!

Season journal: the hallelujah chorus

Pussy willows. Irene’s favorite. They appeared yesterday, along with the first chorus of frogs.

The St. Croix runs high, covering the sand bar at the Nevers Dam boat ramp. The first loon of the season flew over Zeke and me this morning. I realized that a Sand Hill Crane sounds like a loon, only on a different scale; an oboe to a loon’s clarinet.

The ducklings peep with piccolo insistence-Food! Water! Food! Grow! Step foot into the coop and they clump and pretend to be moss.

They need more practice.

Cumulus clouds rain on us, easing the frost out of the ground. You can almost hear the increase in tempo: trees budding, grass growing, insects buzzing.

Michael ran into blocks of frost turning over the first garden plot. The chickens make quiet but excited clucks, as if saying “See, there’s a worm. Hush. Don’t scare it. Yum.” Thrum scritch scratch thrum drum.

Warm enough to spend time on the deck, taking in the show.

Livestock journal:Ducks on pasture

Michael filled water buckets for ducks last night. This morning they were glazed with ice. We are due below freezing temperatures still, but the ducks needed to go to pasture.

Every year we carry them, one by one, between the duck mansion and summer pasture. We carried 29 down this year, leaving Gracie in the mansion due to her arthritis. Arthur died in March while I was at my mom’s, leaving Gracie and the Khaki Campbells as the last of our original ducks. The Khakis remain spry and so made the trek to summer pasture.

It would be cruel to leave a flock bird alone. Gracie has plenty of company. We incubated 42 duck eggs this year. 39 of them were fertile. We lost a hatchling who could not quite make it out of his eggshell in a timely manner, leaving us 38 tiny birds. We purchased another 16 ducklings: new Pekins and more Khakis (shown in the above photo).

We fostered them in plastic tubs in the basement until they outgrew that space. Their growth rate drove us to advance taking the mature ducks to pasture, even if we have to haul water by hand for a few days. (We hope it doesn’t stay cold!)

New ducklings are so entrancing.

More than half of the old ducks (not Gracie or the Khakis) will be harvested this year. I brought a variety of potato sausages (duck, smoked chicken, and venison-pork) to my mom’s house so we could do a comparative tasting. The duck won hands-down.

We love our ducks. We love to cuddle them. We love to care for them. We love to eat them. It is an interesting and amazing process. Not for everyone. Perfect for us.

Phenology journal: the firsts that last

A neighbor dubbed me the local phenologist, which means I note when things first appear. I also like to celebrate annual rituals. The juxtaposition of the two makes for wonderment.

For instance, I have been waiting to see the first blossoms of spring, which in these parts tend to be the mosses sending up their ephemeral shoots, which they did today. I also heard the first Great Blue Herons in their nesting grove.

I had the privilege of witnessing the apricot trees in my mother’s yard in New Mexico turn from barren branches to boughs of blossoms on March 25.

I try to travel to make her cake. A small return for all the cakes she has made me, and others, over the 89 years she has been traveling around the sun. I missed the past two years due to the pandemic, which itself is a first of sorts. This was my first foray into crowded spaces. I sailed through and landed safely.

To commemorate the years of absence, we had an extra celebration, and an extra cake.

My mother lives within walking distance of the Rio Grande. The river runs low this year. Wild mallards made the most of what water there is.

I live within walking distance of the St. Croix River. It has seen fuller days. I saw my first Bufflehead Ducks on their fly-by. About an inch of rain fell today. The river should be higher tomorrow.

Even though I left in snow on March 24, and came back to snow on March 31, yesterday I noted my garlic had sprouted.

Our first incubated egg hatched the evening I returned. Irene’s lip is bloody in this April Fool’s photo because we found her on the floor when we returned from the airport. She refused to use a walker before I left. This is her first acceptance of a mechanical assist. Our ADA efforts have paid off, as she can negotiate the bathroom and shower. She has a recurring malady that returned shortly before I did. We hope to get to the bottom of the problem soon and get her back on her own two feet.

Speaking of feet, Grand Girl #2 sprouted her bottom two teeth: all the better to nibble toes!

The Grand Boy learned to sit on his own in my absence.

My first surviving Grand Niece arrived unreasonably early on March 11. At 3 lbs, 11 oz., she wins the tiniest tot prize. She is a fighter and is expected to go home in days. When she arrives, she will have her first meeting with her Abuelo, my brother. Her name, appropriately, is Violet. We hope to celebrate her first appearance for many years to come!

Equinox journal: signs of spring

We awaken to early sun shining through the eastern windows, lighting the kitchen and our bedroom where before there lay darkness. More sun. More warmth. More water.

On March 16 I heard my first Sand Hill Crane. I haven’t seen any yet, but the song is unmistakable.

The swans, geese and teal congregate en masse at the river, but fly away in pairs.

Sugaring taps appeared on the 13th. We need to prune our fruit trees soon and let the sap heal their wounds.

The earth warms, melts snow, re-freezes overnight, leaving lace by the roadside.

Snowmelt flows to the river to wend to the Gulf, waving to friends in New Orleans as it goes by. Hello Caroline!

Hollows become ponds again, holding the melt until the frost comes out and water can seep back into the ground, filling gaps and holes and crevasses to seep back up through root and branch and leaf.

This barred owl was up late yesterday, hiding in plain sight. We often hear its hoot, but rarely see its grace.

Zeke pulls me along in the red morning light. The agates shine on roadsides again.

We hope to see these darling girls and their guy in about 6 weeks, when they will come and help Irene celebrate 90 years of springtimes.

They will find security in Michael’s arms, as do I.

They will go to “See Summa,” bringing the joy of growing things with them.

Construction journal: United at last!

Okay. So we could get from the old house to the new addition all along, but the two houses always felt separated. No longer.

The roof didn’t fall on my head! I can walk from the present kitchen directly into the addition! Can I use any more exclamation points?!?!??!!!

A week ago we started moving the kitchen furniture around to make room for this project. Moving kitchen furniture took two days.

We put a nailer in the corner (a board to which we can eventually attach wallboard), moved insulation from the future entryway to the corner, and put up plastic so we don’t have to live with insulation dust forever. Or until we wallboard this wall, which might feel like forever.

We took a day off to play with the Grand Boy and feed his parents. He makes us so cheerful!

We removed wallboard.

We removed part of the window framing that wouldn’t make the roof fall down.

Michael rerouted all of the wiring and then we installed wallboard in the half of the old window that will not be part of the walkway.

I removed all the nails, screws and staples from a beam gifted to us by friends when they were rehabbing their house in Minneapolis. Thank you Danica and Zack!!!

Michael devised a system to keep the roof from falling on our heads while we took out the studs and installed the header for the new entryway.

We used the old studs to supplement the beam to create an 11 inch header, which is more than what was needed to support the trusses for the roof. My daddy taught me that over-building is a good thing. Michaels daddy taught me that under-building causes problems. Clyde also taught Michael everything he knows about small engine repair, so it balances out.

We now need to stabilize the edge of the flooring exposed by our efforts. It was rotting from leakage from the window. This is why we will replace all the windows and doors eventually. But today, we celebrate uniting the old house with the new.

Construction journal meets weather journal: outrunning the rain

We awoke to wet. And slippery. Zeke will have to wait for his walk until things thaw.

We watch weather. Our lives depend on it. I learned to love weather apps from Michael. I grew up deprived of weather sense, fostered in places where a thin coating of ice on puddles constituted severe cold. Snow fell far away. Now we stockpile sand against those times, like today, where it is another tool allowing you to get water and feed over ice covered walkways.

Weather dictates the order of priorities. Michael stands before a box containing our new water heater. His experiment of taking out the filter from our water line resulted in sand and grit coming and clogging many of our appliances. Some have their own filters we can flush. Others do not. The on-demand heater my brother gifted us is one that does not. Since we may be hosting our daughter and her family this summer, we needed a reliable source of hot water.

This closet looking space is a future stairwell. That big box would not fit down the current stairs, so Michael cleared this space and made a ramp to the basement.

I got to push the box over the edge, blindly trusting Michael to catch it.

Safe!

We will build a platform for it to stand on, but this is its new home. Midway between bathrooms and close to the future kitchen. Now to run a water supply line! Oh, and install a water filter too…

We bought the water heater in March 2. We unloaded it and loaded my trike and a used screen door into the Suburban. The ice and snow came On March 5 and 6th.

Zeke finally did get his walk. This doe waited until we were almost level with her before running to the woods. The turkeys huffed off reluctantly as well.

I give the swans and geese leeway. We all rejoice in open water.

Despite continuing cold, Michael began gathering eggs on March 7. They should begin to hatch on April 7. We have confidence that spring will come again!

In the meantime I am removing this last bit of old siding while Michael accompanies his mom to a doctor visit. This is where the screen door came from. It will replace a screen door that failed at my daughter’s house. Recycling at its best.

I am so looking forward to being able to set up my saws and making more cabinets. It is my reward and/or curative for/from the frustration of dealing with federal courts. I work for chicken feed…and lumber on.

Anniversary journal: here’s to the anti-romantics

Michael and I married on a Tuesday. I went to school that morning, then came back to our efficiency apartment to clean it up to host a wedding party. That was 35 years ago. We’ve had a great time before and since. Our celebrations have usually been somewhat anti-romantic.

Rather we have devoted our time to working together on projects. Right now, that is taking down the siding on the wall that separates the addition from the original house. The next step will be re-routing the electricity so we can cut two passages between the original house and the addition.

I feel that I channeled some predecessor when I took a hammer and pry bar to the siding this morning. I had an hour before I had to leave to take Irene to her cardiologist appointment.

Michael continued on after I had to leave. He accomplished much more than I hoped. As usual. My hands were already failing at this point.

After Irene and I returned from her appointment, we went out to dinner at our local dive. Tater tots. We love tater tots. We love each other. Celebrating together is the absolute best.

We hope to teach the small ones the importance of work. To tell each other every day, and not only on special occasions, that they are cherished and appreciated. To spread the catechism of daily devotions, mixing the prosaic and divine. Marriage is a long conversation, according to Fred. The more voices, the more complex the harmony. Here’s to adding to the music of the universe.

Birthday Journal: Best. Cornbread. Ever.

Michael has been wanting a grain mill, so I got him one for his birthday. It came today.

Specifically, he’s been wanting to grind popcorn into cornmeal.

He shelled out some of our strawberry popcorn.

He put it through the grinder several times.

Melting butter in the 10” cast iron pan before baking is one of my secret tricks for making good cornbread.

The red cornmeal expanded the horizons of cornbread to another level. Michael says that it would not be a sacrifice if we never ate wheat bread again…and he is the baker in this family!

The cornbread paired well with cream of chicken soup. Eating from a Willi Eggerman bowl kicked the delightfulness factor up a notch. Having a layer of almost-orange chicken fat reminded me of lush green grass and caterpillars on this cold, snowy day.

We live where the wild things are, and some of those things make it onto our plate. Others are not so wild, but still are not products of industrial farming. Slow food includes slow cooking as well as slow growing. One can argue that food is food and why should anyone put so much time and effort into grinding meal? You cannot buy red corn meal and orange chicken fat…not even at the French Laundry.

These two are beginning to teethe and soon will be mumbling apple sauce and winter squash. Michael says we need to plant more popcorn. I agree. It may be a while before they are noshing on it popped, but we can feed them red cornmeal mush!

We also need to hatch ducklings this year, as we will have the Shepherdess here for a while this summer. So much work, and all of it good.

It’s what makes for a Happy Birthday Boy!

Dark days journal: brightening things up

Dark and cold have been the themes for the past several weeks. Both Michael and I notice that we move less and want to eat more. I think it has something to do with 20° below and wind: the perfect time to become creative!

My mother has gifted my girls baby blankets made from odds and ends of leftover sock yarn. She gets to the end of a project and knits squares out of the leftovers, thus having a ready supply to crochet together into a blanket. I haven’t knit anything in ages (except hats…I love hats) and so decided to try the same to clear out a bit of my yarn stash. I also cannibalized some socks with holes in them. I made different shapes to keep boredom at bay. I then sent the blanket to a woman who might appreciate a blanket “that doesn’t have colors usual for a baby.” I hope her baby likes it as much as the Grand Girl loves hers.

Michael moved a brush pile onto our garden, stacked the deer carcasses on top and then added more brush. I cleared the farolito bags and candle ends and added them to the mix. It made for a hot and fast burn. Ashes to ashes. Dust to carrots and cabbage.

The eastern windows catch more and more light, whenever the sun does come out. I haven’t tumbled more rocks, as cleaning them of grit must be done outside to preserve the plumbing. I like to save those types of projects for above freezing weather.

Michael unearthed my jewelry supplies, allowing me to experiment with wrapping the agates I tumbled last year. I hope to crochet valences to support wrapped rocks, so I will have time and space to admire them daily…and not have to worry about the cat knocking them around.

Dusty grows huge in the dark days. He sees no reason to do anything more than eat, sleep, and harass Zeke.

Zeke will go out in all weather. He did cut short a walk in the wind one day, but mostly revels in being out and about. Here he found a drift of oak leaves. This, he says, means springtime.

Irene improved her hearing to the point where she can appreciate music again. She reclaimed her keyboard, but the music stand got lost in the shuffle. Michael created a new one from a broken flag holder from my trike. We hope she will have honed her skills enough to play herself “Happy Birthday” (ala Grisman?) by her 90th in May.

The turkeys high tailed it for the woods a few moments after I snapped this photo this morning. I took the snowmobile trail, confident that the snowmobiles wouldn’t be using it yet. I trekked across the field to rescue the heater from the stand: the last task to clean up from hunting season. Now to start spring cleaning! We need space to incubate chicks and ducklings.

Did I mention my love of hats?

Hats: a fun way to make the dark days brighter!