It’s seven and the sun is only slowly setting. Every year, at probably around this exact point, I’m surprised again by how long the days get. How much changes with all that light! It’s quite the swing from winter, when you’re indoors anyway thanks to the cold, and daylight gets down to 10 hrs—wake up in darkness, dark before dinner. Suddenly now, you wake in the middle of the night and grey light is already creeping through cracks in the curtains. Mildly disorienting… I used to be more tuned to the daylength differences when, for half the year, May through October, I was up at five every Saturday for the farmers’ market. Still, awake around dawn or not, there’s always a particular time in spring and fall when the changes hit. Anyhow, right now, this is great for fieldwork—more hours in the day!
Mike (tfb)
Best not to touch!
Meet the oil beetle! When I see new insects that I don’t immediately recognize, there’s an automatic, “Who goes there?!” challenge in my head. So many little critters can do so much veggie damage, one can’t help a “you’re either with me or against me” reaction to the unknown. In this case, I have to identify this fairly spectacular, sparkly beetle, sitting on a thistle that will soon be tilled under. (More to follow… Think powerful blistering agent, voracious beehive raider,… I doubt there’s a single insect species that doesn’t have it’s own odd and elaborate quirkiness )
Robin at the window
Looked down at the patio door and what did I see? A robin on the outside, standing right up to the glass between us, kind of looking back at me. Or maybe (more likely) seeing its reflection as another robin. It’s a bit of a surprise. Robins are usually summer company in the field, darting around, searching for bugs as I weed or harvest, not hopping around in near zero weather, in snow and freezing rain. It’s like being let into another part of their life. In any case, this guy or gal looks pleasantly plump and unperturbed. I’m glad to see they are quite all-weather and doing fine in the off-season.
Melting in March
A kind of harsh day. Squinting against sun glaring off puddles and patches of snow. Damp and on the freezing side of chilly—just warm enough for melting. The cold air is filled with the musty aroma of dead, wet, thawing vegetation. It’s mucky where there’s mud, although the ground remains frozen underneath, so you won’t sink into boot-trapping depths just yet. Not the most pleasant day for walking in the field. Still, it’s welcome early spring weather, a pretty sure sign that a brand new growing season is on its way!
Fluffy puffy snow
What would they make of that? I imagine people who’ve never been exposed to cold and snow, waking up to this post-snowstorm scene, a thick layering of fluffy powder, gently rolled over everything like soft white dunes. Holy cow…
Snow fights rain
Snow fought the rain, and so far, the snow won. A rainy day in December around here doesn’t leave the prettiest picture. The paths through the snow are down to a mucky couple of inches on top of the frozen ground. But it looks like the rest of the whiteness will be sticking around for now.