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

American robin at the window on a snowy day

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

Landscape: sunny and warm snow-melting day 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!

Sweet tooth

A baby cantaloupe, nestled in a tangle of vines under a canopy of leaves. Mmmm, will be…delicious. It’s well on its way to fully-matured, ready-to-eat goodness, a few weeks to go, but anything can happen. Last year, a freak localized hailstorm hit my tiny melon patch, marble-sized hail shredding the leaves and fatally damaging just about every fruit, while missing where I was at the time, just a mile down the road. Especially with our crazy erratic weather, you can’t 100% count on it until your teeth are sunk in, juice dribbling down your chin.

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