Chives thrive

I’ve been snipping chives into our salads; they do perk the flavor up. Today I discovered that one stem even has a bloom head already! That’s early!

Tasty and temperate

We had our first hyper-local produce today, as in, food from plants from the property. We added our mint and our chives to the (supermarket) salad.

Interesting striated cloud at the top of the photo. Plenty of sun despite the partial cloud cover; our sun porch reached a pleasant low 70s in the afternoon. Rain and mid-40s expected overnight, which is warmer than last night, which was clear and down in the low 30s. Well into the 90s down south, so we’re Very Happy to be here.

So far

Today was a lot of removing and moving. Removing sprouting weeds, with weeds meaning The Botanist’s definition: a plant growing where you don’t want it to be, and moving pruned branches to the (potential) burn pile over by Our Field. Otherwise the pruned branches are In The Way, and that cannot be tolerated. 😎

Late in the afternoon when I was winding down with chores, I went across the street to visit with Lady Wonderful Neighbor, and we were chatting, and she gently leaned over and picked a strolling tick Off My Cheek. Yikes. Only good thing about that was it was still strolling. So, subsequently: major, serious tick-checking primate behavior. The count remains at one.

So the first paragraph story relates to the second in that some of the removing and moving involved getting into The Long Grass, which is not yet actually long because the spring is not advanced, yet: deer roam here; there may be mice/chipmunks, and thus a tick-supporting ecosystem. You get the picture.

Cycle of life

We were both too tired to get up and watch the eclipse, but, boy o boy, when the moon was out later, I sure noticed the bright light right in my eyes.

I was glad to see these trilliums survived last autumn’s tree cutting. The tree had to be removed; too broken and mostly rotten. This leaves our west façade very exposed to both winter winds out of the arctic and the setting summer sun. After clean up (presently underway), I will begin transplanting new buffer plants; however, they’re so very slow-growing here, it’ll take a while for them to grow and fill in.

Settling in

Today was open-the-cottage day, known in some quarters as open-the-cabin day. Invasive varmint count was zero. A big yay, truthfully unprecedented, that zero. Rhubarb that I tentatively resettled is doing terrific. Another big yay. So warm and pleasant out (providing there’s enough breeze to discourage the blackflies—yes, they’re early) that I cleaned up from cleaning up and opening by bathing in the lake. Not too cold in the shallows, really. And here’s the rhubarb that didn’t get transplanted; it’s also improving.

Unintentionally mixed bed

A pretty (yet out-of-focus in this capture) welcome center vetch, cousin to peas, lentils, and Old World beans (not green beans).


An abhorrent southern gardening practice is to over-trim, as in brutally butcher, lowly and fast-growing crepe myrtles. This ruthless, vile, and harsh custom annoys me to no end. Or greatly. Your choice.


Yesterday, I managed to skip the most demanding…topic…that I keep in mind when I walk: inhale through nose ONLY. ONLY. It is not instinctive; it is not easy to maintain. And yet: very important (to not tickle your vagus nerve…better to keep it quiescent).

Often, I post photos of organic subjects. Not always. Like today. Pure material culture. Functional, manufactured objects. Features. Parts of larger systems. Vroom. Whoosh.


Lilies orange

The notion that the difficult becomes possible if attempted in small, familiar increments encoded in the phrase “one foot in front of the other” is bunkum. At least for me these days. When I walk, I have to (try to) remember to tilt my pelvis a bit, shorten my stride, keep my chin up, keep my shoulders back, watch out for cross-traffic, avoid other pedestrians (Covid), avoid stepping in doggie bombs…you get the idea.

Pando is not panda

Plants grow very differently from people. We don’t have growth points that in any way resemble the end of this flower stalk. On a yucca plant? Not sure. Endlessly interesting, I think.

Have you heard of Pando? Maybe not by that name. It’s a forest of natural aspen clones connected by their roots growing in central Utah. And cattle and mule deer are grazing way parts of Pando, and keeping young shoots from maturing.