Wrapping up November

Despite Granddad's difficulties, we proceeded with Thanksgiving. Got to keep Tradition going,right?

 

 I was able to combine staying up Wednesday night to listen for Granddad with assembling casseroles, all the while feeling as if I were one of the cooks in The Night Kitchen.  The Man Who Cooks assisted with the Thursday day preparation, and by dinnertime we had a feast ready.
HoosierKitty brought fantastically rich creamed potatoes and not one, but three pies.  (And that should answer the question of "What's for breakfast?" for the whole coming week.)
Mimi showed up with a pot and a sack of cranberries and good intentions but luckily I had already cooked cranberries and so we didn't need to do a last minute sauce.
Granddad actually got out of bed and cleaned his plate.

It was a select group, gathered to be thankful for each other and to drink a toast to all of you far away folks.

On Friday, instead of heading out to the stores we navigated our way out to two wildlife preserves.

At Stillwater Marsh we tried out my new bird scope and admired the quiet woods.

The marsh was frozen fast so there wasn't much bird activity.

We decided to go on to Bean Blossom Bottoms.  (Isn't that a great name?)

We set off down the boardwalk and found this wetlands full of birds.

Red-headed woodpeckers and bluebirds kept us company as we hiked.

  

We soaked up enough sunshine, fresh air, and quiet to sustain us for a while.

Decided to make this Friday-after-Thanksgiving outing a new Tradition, so if you join us next year for the Thanksgiving weekend, expect to spent some time outdoors!

Counting crows

I pile up the recycling, cleaning out the breezeway after everyone has left. It is only now that I discover that the pizza box left there is not empty after all.
Yup, that wonderful leftover pizza with the onions and black olives and feta and sun dried tomatoes....it's still here. I thought someone had eaten it up, or maybe that someone had taken it back to the suite with them. But no...
So I sadly tear the slices into bits and scatter them outside on the driveway.
The dog considers this a dreadful waste. She wouldn't mind week old pizza one bit. Fortunately she is restrained by the leash.
Back in the house, I hear the first tentative caw of "What's that?".
Soon the maples fill with large black bodies. They taunt each other. "You go first" "No, you" . Finally a brave soul flies down to the lawn and hop-walks over to the driveway. It cocks its head to one side, then the other, considering. The aroma of the rancid cheese is too much. It fills its beak with a giant morsel and can barely fly away with it.
The rest of the flock notices that this brave scout is still alive and happily ripping into a first class meal. The driveway fills with crows. I can't find the camera.
When the crows leave the only trace of pizza is a smear of grease on the blacktop.

the fog came in

I woke early this morning to see a heavy fog outside the window. A few red leaves left on the sumack were the only color outside.


I stepped outside to feed the birds and found the yard swathed in thick fog.

The road was swallowed up in it.

But by the time I turned back to the sleeping house the fog had begun to lift.

All clear

The tree that fell on me is gone. Once the machines started working it didn't take long for the huge tree to become chips and logs. And what does the yard look like without the tree?
It just goes on straight to the trees at the fence line.

The drought ends

It’s raining today.
Really, it is raining.
That sound on the roof, that’s rain.
Look out the window – everything’s wet. Haven’t seen that in a while, have we?
Umbrellas – we need umbrellas.
When was the last rainy day? July 11, wasn’t it?
The stiff straw-like grass is softening. Do I see a green blade out there already?
The dog dashes out, is surprised. She gives a great shake so that the person under the umbrella is even wetter.
It doesn’t matter. It’s raining.
Finally.

As busy as...

In keeping with other nature-themed blog entries (see "Land of Ducks" http://bloomingtonautica.blogspot.com/2007/09/land-of-ducks.html) I've decided to share a phenomenon I've noticed here , and to propose a new metaphor.

You perhaps can't see all the wasps, bees and little insects. I counted over 15 wasps in this one picture - in real life they are moving around too much to count. SO, when describing a place that's really humming, one could say "as busy as goldenrod in September".

Weather Report

For those of you not in Indiana, the seasons have changed. Abruptly.
On Tuesday it was still late summer and I sat outside eating with friends at The Basil Leaf. We talked about swimming and it still seemed possible. On Thursday we called each other to say "it isn't going to happen, is it?" Two clear cool nights and one-not-too warm day and suddenly it is now early Fall.
I wear a jacket out to fill the feeders and the air is different - clearer somehow. I spot the song sparrow on top of a spruce warming up in the early sunlight - but he doesn't sing. The quiet backdrop of cricket hum is now the only early morning sound.
It's time to think about leaves and pumpkins and apple cider. Time to close the pool and start walking in the woods. Time to enjoy once again the slow swing of the year towards winter.

If a tree falls....

If a tree falls, and you're standing right underneath it, will you hear a sound? As the survivor of an early morning tree attack, I can tell you the answer - yes.

This mighty maple was brought low by a small hanging pot of nasturtiums. I'd hung the pot out on one of the closer limbs. As I was filling the hummingbird feeder that dangled just a little further up the limb, I saw that the nasturtiums were dry. I filled the watering can and soaked the little pot and noticed that it sank lower and lower as the water weighed it down. Then I heard a tremendous CRAACK behind me, and thinking that just the limb was coming down, I stepped to the side -
See the red hummingbird feeder? This is the limb I was standing under, and the little bit of open area is where I luckily stood as the whole half of the tree came down. I came away with a bruised elbow, a couple of scrapes, and a small case of the shakes. The nasturtiums were not so lucky.

Although I do not recommend this as a regular start to a day, I will say that I was thereafter WIDE AWAKE.

Discoveries

Every morning the dog sniffs her way around the yard. She's built low to the ground and her nose is right there next to all the scents that the night has brought. I often wonder what it is that she's smelling. She will waddle right past a hole that looks interesting to me. Something must live there, I think. But she doesn't even give it a sniff. She stops to spend minutes intent on a spot of plain grass that looks no different from any of the grass around it. What is it that makes that spot so fascinating? I'll never know.
But sometimes I see what she smells. When the deer or bunny bounds away, I know she'll stop to sniff where they've been, perhaps with some regret for her short legs. And one day, her nose led her to something that didn't run away. She got to thoroughly explore her discovery, which stood patiently still to be snuffled all over, only withdrawing some tender body parts when the tickly whiskers came too close. It wasn't worried about the dog or the person who ran back into the house for the camera.
Maybe a little annoyed, wouldn't you say? but not worried, not at all.