The Sunflower

For the past few weeks, I've been driving by a lonely sunflower in the middle of a grass field:

This sentinel flower has been standing at full attention, dutifully facing the sun, every time I drive by in the morning.  Every day, it puts a smile on my face.

Here's the sunflower in full context:

The maples in the background are starting to turn yellow and orange and red, and the ash trees have lost almost all of their leaves.  This coming weekend will probably be the best showing of fall colours, and we've got our fingers crossed that the weather will hold out.  Speaking from experience, we just need one wet and windy day to bring all the leaves down.  That would spell the end of summer 2013, and we don't want that to happen just yet.  It seems like summer just started!  We've got some rain in the forecast this weekend, and then more of what we've been having.  Our current spell of beautiful weather has been the best we've had all year, it seems.  Not a single night of frost, not a single rainy day, just bright sunny days, and cool foggy nights.  Just perfect!

The soy fields in our area were cut in the past week, and the field right across from my favorite sunflower is bare:

You can make out the adjoining field of corn on the left-hand side of the photo.  Corn still has a few weeks to go before harvest.

Our wheat was harvested a few weeks ago, and our fields have already been spread with manure and plowed under, ready for next spring.  Our direct neighbour has spread his field with liquid manure, so maybe a bit of rain to wash the smell into the soil might not be a bad idea.  Right now, it's nausea-inducing.

My favorite sunflower started to hang its head late this week, and today when I drove by, the field had been cut.   Bye-bye sunflower, hope to see you again next year.

Moon Rise

Clear, clear, clear skies.  A glorious sunset, a wonderful moon rise.  Venus is at 2 o'clock.

The camera doesn't do justice to the colour of the sky.

The air is crisp.  Our low tonight is 4C or 39F.   I don't need to tell you the woodstove has been lit.

Ah, September.  I love thee so.

Stormy Weather

It's hard to believe but summer is winding down.  You'd think that with 45 years behind me, this annual recurrent feature called "fall" shouldn't come as a surprise.

September is a slap in the face, always has been, always will be.  Unless I move to the southern hemisphere, I think I'm screwed.

Maybe I shouldn't be worried, but considering summer started some time in July, I feel like I just didn't get enough down-time in.  Maybe that was bad planning on my part, or maybe it was weather-related, we'll see how I feel mid-February when the battery in my brain needs a boost.

We've had some remarkable storms blow through our area recently.  Here's the front moving in:

 

Within minutes it was pouring.

I always marvel at how dark it gets when clouds roll in.

Thankfully, the skies cleared up and the sun came out again, basking everything in a golden glow.

Facing east, we even had a beautiful rainbow.  I've opened the Velux window in the bedroom to take this shot, hence the corner of the roof in the picture.

Considering we have temps going up to 32C or 90F coming up, it's not over until it's over.  We should be able to squeeze a bit more summer out of September yet.

It's August 10 Already?

I obviously don't roll on the same calendar as everyone else.  On top of being a lazy blogger, I'm also guilty of being a lazy photo down-loader.  I'm going to keep this post as picture-heavy and word-free as I can, or forgo sleep altogether.

So, hang on, boys and girls:

Our neighbour's wheat field was not lodged during the storm that hit on June 28th, where we had 20 mm of rain in minutes, if I trust Environment Canada's statistics.

The wheat in our field tried to right itself over the following weeks, and it did, partly.  Still the quality will be terrible, if not a total write-off.  You might want to stock up on flour.

A swirly cloud sunset, for your pleasure.  Our sunsets this season? Few and far between, sadly.

A twelve-spotted dragon-fly.  The first I can recall seeing.  Global warming, here we come!  We'll be feeding polar bears soon.

From dragon-fly to Firefly - the yarn, that is.  This wonderful Firefly from Classic Elite became the aptly named Firefly tunic.  I actually finished something.  In keeping with my latest (laziest?) tradition, I pushed this into my knitting BFF's hands.  Credit goes to Elaine who seamed it for me.  (I think I'm on to something here...putting the onus of finishing projects in someone else's hands?  Brilliant!)  The wonderfully sheepy project bag came from zigzagstitches on Etsy.  Now I don't look like a bag-lady anymore, toting my projects around in tattered grocery bags.  I also love this tunic so much, people around me are starting to wonder if I have anything clean in my closet these days, other than this sweater.  Actually, yes there is, and no, I don't want to wear anything else.  End of discussion.

How's this for a sunset?  July 19th.  (I procrastinate about posting, don't I?)  Better late than never.

Yet another storm rolling in.  We've been deluged this year.  This photo dates July 28th.   Another 20 mm of rain.  I think the weather's on to something of a roll, too.

When the streetlights go on at 4PM, it's because it's raining hard.  Actually, it even hailed.

It rains so much, that it's even raining when it's sunny.  We've had bizarre weather this summer.  Environment Canada posted 0 mm on August 4.  I'm here to tell you we got nailed by a rogue thunder cell.

I finished a scarf made with Blue Sky Alpacas Metalico.  All natural baby alpaca colours, blended with mulberry silk.  Oh wow.  I can't wait for it to snow just so I can wear this!  Just kidding.  I'm saying that in the hopes that we'll only see snow in December.  Like on Christmas Eve December.

I love how Tessie does her Superman flying imitation.  I call this the Supercat pose.  Both Tessie and Bobber are hefty little munchkins.  Where was Cappie?  Enjoying the great out-of-doors.  I don't need to tell you she weighs half of what the chunky-monkeys weigh.

I've knit 12 of these scarves and blogged about it not-a-once.  Katia Jordan's One Skein, A Stole.  I wear this thing All. The. Time.  It matches the Firefly tunic.  See what I did there?  I camouflage the Firefly with my Noro scarf!

Today I made mango chutney.  We have so much local produce these days, but I had to make mango chutney with mangoes from Mexico.  They were 3 for 99c at the grocery store.  I needed 4 to make 6-250 mL jars.  That's a deal too good to pass up.  Don't let the exhaustive list of ingredients dissuade you from making this.  It's quite the condiment.

...and because they're not all stinkers, here is tonight's sunset.  We've got warm, dry, sunny days in the forecast for the coming week, which is a nice departure from recent weeks.

On that note, dear readers, I bid you adieu.  Until next time!

June in Photos

June's been one of those months.  Without further ado:

The Rams and Yowes blanket is finally finished.  Let's be more precise:  when the time came to sew the 700-plus border stitches down, I pressed the blanket into my mother's hands with quivering lips and batting eyelashes, and pleaded for her to put it out of its misery.

This blanket would still be stuffed in it's dedicated bag on top of the dryer if not for my mother.  A big round of applause goes out to dear Mom.

Never has a project been fraught with more neurosis.  I confidently stated that I wasn't interested in getting gauge, since it was a blanket.  Well, I should have listened, because in the end I ran out of several of the lighter colours to complete the edge, which is folded back upon itself:

Normally the back side would have the same dégradé effect as the front.  I toyed with the idea of ordering more wool just to complete the backside, but then decided against it.  To hell with integrity.  This project has been simmering on the back burner for over a year now, and I really wanted to get it done.  Now.  In the end, I'm okay with it - the blanket is complete and the end result is more than I hoped for.  Anyone who comments on the back gets a well-deserved smack.

Here's the front for your viewing pleasure.  Kate Davies is brilliant, always has been, always will be.  And Jamieson and Smith Shetland Jumper Weight?  Yes...yes please.  There will be more of this in my future.  What's insane is that NONE of the nine colours in this blanket  are dyed - they're all natural and named for the shades of Shetland sheep they come from:  white, gaulmogot, katmollet, mooskit, sholmit, shaela, moorit, yuglet and black.  And the smell?  I want to bury my face in this blanket and sniff away:  it smells of lanolin with just the right hint of barnyard.  Yummm.

Cue the rubber boots:

Our weather has been absolute crap, for lack of a better meteorological term.  It's been pouring for weeks, and the fields are beyond soaking wet.  It's definitely rubber boot time:

When it's not raining and we venture outside where mosquitoes make our lives miserable.  Last year our spring and summer was win/win.  This year, it's lose/lose.  We even light the wood stove some nights, if just to cut the humidity.

The only plant happy this year are the roses:

These gorgeous pink roses have been run over by the mower endless times, but they resurrect themselves brilliantly.  This year, they were given a reprieve and have shown their gratitude by blooming profusely.  Maybe they can stay.

This climbing rose is one of the very few I left standing.  When we moved here, the grounds were over-run with badly maintained roses.  One of the first things I did besides buying stock in Band-aids and Felco pruners was to cut most of them down.  My dislike of roses knows few bounds.  When given a bouquet, I remain gracious, but take them with outstretched arms and do a quick about-face to hide the resulting facial twitch that comes from repressed memories.  Thanks, I think.

That said and done, this year the pendulum is swinging back and I'm finding that I quite appreciate their beauty.

My guess is they like cold, wet weather, because that's exactly what they're getting.

We had a lot of wind and rain today.  Our wheat is now lodged:

I'm not sure what the next step will be.  We've never had lodged wheat, so this is a first for us.  I guess time will tell if the wheat is going to right itself, or if it's down for the count.  I'll keep you posted.

This elderberry bush is in full-bloom now.  Again, it's a wait-and-see approach regarding the berries, but the blooms sure are profuse this year.  If the birds don't get the berries, there will be lots of elderberry juice in our future.

Last weekend, we had a deer nibbling on the seabuckthorn berries.  The doe made her way up and down our hedgerow and perked up when she saw me.  I don't discourage deer when I see them, because it's quite rare they venture onto our property.  I gave her lots of room, hence the poor-quality zoomed-in picture.   Humidity hovering around the 90% mark doesn't help, either.  She sure was tall, though! 

With apologies for yet another poor-quality photo, here's a big coyote-wolf hybrid.  I've never seen a head on a coy-wolf as big as this one:

I was too stunned to get a better picture, because trailing behind was a little coy-wolf puppy.  I don't have a lot of sympathy for them and normally chase them away, but since it was my first time seeing one of their off-spring, I took the scene in from a distance.  I don't want to know how far they'll go to protect their young, so I turned back towards the house, throwing a glance over my shoulder a few times for good measure as they sauntered across the open field.

Our sunsets are few this month, and this is the only semi-decent one I have to offer for June:

There's still hope for July.  There's sun in the forecast for July 1, which is also Canada Day.  The timing for a Monday off couldn't be any better.

May in Photos

RIP little Schatzie, the ancient thorn in my side.  We had to have her euthanized at the beginning of March, and somehow I never found the words to tell the blogosphere.  Her health started to deteriorate rapidly, and rather than prolong the inevitable, we made the decision to end her life in a humane manner.  She lived with us for 8 years, and considering she was 20 when we adopted her, she lived a good, long life.  I always joked that I gave her palliative care for the last 8 years, but in truth, the last 3 were very demanding.  We miss the old girl, though.

Somehow, going from a dead cat to a turkey vulture seems morbid beyond belief.  These birds are so big, it's hard to comprehend.  When they circle the thermals, they are immense in the sky, and dwarf all other birds.  I've zoomed in here - the astute will notice the light standard in the bottom right of the photo looks like it's that close, but in reality it's over a kilometre away.

I waited and waited for my swallows to return this spring.  Maybe Cappie gracing the beams in the barn beside the house didn't look like the welcome committee they imagined, because for the first year in over a decade, we're swallow-less.  I'm really, really worried about this.  We've had a hard spring so far, with a really big frost about 10 days ago that annihilated the asparagus and grapes.  As it is, it's the end of May, and for the record, it was 8C this morning, and tonight, the wood stove is on.  Things don't bode well for the swallow population with conditions like that.

Tessie's quite the character.  The three cats have found their new places in the house sans Schatzie and Cooper.  I call the new dynamic "BobCat and his Harem".  The two girls provide Bob with just enough attention, and while the younger Capucine pounces on Tessie quite relentlessly some days, it's a very harmonious, easy-going sort of peace that reigns supreme.  Tessie's our sensitive, independent one.  Capucine's boisterous and pats me on the shoulder when she needs petting.  And BobCat's staked Cooper's spot on the bed, and most mornings, I wake up to both Bob and the Cappers, staring at me from the foot-end of the bed.

Spring sprang suddenly, and at some point in April, we traded winter boots for sandals.  We went from heating to using air-conditioning in the space of a week, but then things normalized.  The heavy frost mid-May even frost-bit the tender ash leaves that had just begun to sprout.  In 12 years here, it was the first time I can remember something like this happening.

Capucine is such a regal looking cat.  Her personality is larger than life, and she loves being petted and fawned over, but only on her terms.  She has so many little chirps and meows, and is very vocal.

It's hard to believe Tessie the scrawny stray became such a chunky girl.  She has the nicest, fluffiest fur I've ever seen on a cat.  It's funny how I'd never, ever had a tabby cat, and within a year, we find ourselves with two.

We've had a lot of rain in May.  For the first time in a long time, the field across from the house is planted with wheat.  I think it's been corn for the past 5 years, and if memory serves, it's been wheat only once in the last dozen.  It seems to be the flavour of the year, since most fields in our area were planted with wheat this spring.  The fields are now verdant and brimming with life.

Speaking of brimming with life, this was our tap water about a week ago.  The town even had the gall of putting a notice in our mail saying it was perfectly potable, but there were some "clarity issues".  You don't say?  I don't even want to shower with it, much less drink it.  Since then, the quality has improved, and hopefully with the added rain filling reservoirs and lakes and rivers, we won't encounter another 5 month-long boil water advisory like we had last year.

And that's May, in a nutshell.

Here We Snow Again

It's practically not possible, but we had another 25 centimetres of snow yesterday, with more forecast over the next few days.  If I trust Environment Canada's statistics, we've had 270 cm of snow, or over 105" this winter, breaking a 30-year record.

It's winters like this that make us want to pack up and leave, folks.  We won't mention that it's March 20th, and the official start of spring.   Just don't go there -  our sanity depends on it.

To add insult to injury, last year at this time we were wearing t-shirts, and this year, we're wielding shovels. 

It's been a cruel, long winter.

The days, however, are getting longer, brighter and milder by default.  We know the figurative end is in sight, but I think we're all so tired, we feel like we're crawling towards the finish line.

Even the cats go outside in the snow these days, where they race to the barn so they can poop in the gravel.  It makes so much more sense than going inside, in a litter box that gets cleaned 4 times a day, doesn't it?  Mental note to self:  pick up poop in barn while it's still below freezing outside.  Warmer temps mean...well...mushy cat poop to sort out of gravel.  Truly, the things I do for these animals...

There are a few exciting new developments, though.  Eric made true on his promise to move the drill press upstairs.  It was gracing the middle of the living room, so you can understand my delight that it's now out of sight.  Of course it needed to be taken apart to be moved, and my fear is that it will lie in pieces for a while.

Same thing goes for the lumber we had stored in the living room.  It's upstairs as well, so we've regained this huge amount of space in our living room.  The possibilities are now endless!

This clears the path for finishing the floor downstairs.  We're not quite sure what we're going to put down in terms of wood flooring, but it will most definitely be hard wood, and sanded and varnished in place if I get my way.  None of that micro-groove, pre-varnished junk we have in the kitchen.  Whoever thought a micro-groove would be a nice way to finish the edge of a piece of wooden flooring should be forced into hard labour that involves cleaning out said micro-groove with a paring knife.  It's especially challenging when you have several cats that track litter all over the house.

On that note, I leave you with tonight's sunset:

And, to add credence to my incessant bitching about the weather, here's an early morning picture of the same field taken exactly one year and one day ago:

The astute among you will notice a complete and total lack of snow.

The glacier can recede any day now.  Any day.

We'll be more than ready.

Is It Over Yet?

Things sure have been mighty quiet at Shim Farm Central this month.  I had considered writing a post about snow shoveling, one of my prime occupations this month, or whining on about the weather, but we've "been there, done that" with a few posts too many already this year.   Still, I don't want to turn the calendar page over without commemorating February with one more post.

Today we woke up to more snow - really, what's new?  Snow.  That's what's new.  I'm not complaining, just stating the obvious with a tone of resignation (and slight despair) in my voice.  It did look glorious outside, the trees were all heavily snow-packed, and as an added bonus, it was hovering just around the freezing mark which is a nice change from -20C.  The power flickered on and off all evening the day before, but we didn't lose power, so there's that to be grateful for.

This has been a long, hard winter, and February is the jewel in the crown of the season.  Everyone's remarked on it, so it's not just a figment of my imagination.  Hopefully, spring is just around the corner because I'm about ready to crack at the seams.

I've played a rousing 2,540 games of Freecell this month, just the sort of repetitive crap my gray matter needs to keep firing during this time of year.  Of course, I could be doing infinitely more interesting things with my time, and although I'm already regretting the time wasted, I consider it therapy.  Yeah, therapy.  That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

(I did manage to get the ribber for my CSM up and running again, but that's another tome for another day).

I haven't taken a lot of photos this month, and they're prime blog fodder.  No photos - no posts.  But the other day, I snapped this one of Crappy Cappy and the Tessalator:

This is as close to a still-life as they come in our house.  Plywood floor.  Two cats.  A vacuum cleaner.  Tools.  Plus a suitcase.  That pretty much sums up our lives.  (And the green mallet?  Our favorite tool, bar none.  The base is stamped WOOD IS GOOD and that's all I'm gonna say about that).

Crappy Cappy (I really should stop calling her that, because she's anything but) is such a sweet, curious cat:

Just look at her.  You just want to take that fuzzy little face and squee-squee-squeeze it.  She's on the tiny side, so we're calling her a Vermont Coon Cat.  That's just like a Maine Coon cat, but half the size.  Bless that little Miss-Stripey-Pants, because she sure is a dear little cat.  Here she is gracing the drill press conveniently (not!) located in our living room.

Eric's still working on the proverbial missing link upstairs, namely the frame around the master-bedroom door, hence the tools on the living room floor.

Eric says he's going to make true on his threat to move the drill press upstairs.  That would mean we could theoretically finish the floor downstairs, even if the upstairs isn't quite done.  Actually, I'm not sure I'd qualify the status as "not quite done".  Let's just call it "construction rustic".  That's our decoration period, and we're probably stuck in it for the rest of our lives.

This is going to be the structure around the door frame upstairs.  I'm not even going to entertain the thought of nagging Eric to get the job done, because I of course have played exactly 2,540 games of Freecell this month.  Everyone's on the path of least resistance in February and collectively, we're no exception.

BobCat, for his part, has made a new enemy in the neighbourhood.  Some unfixed male cat keeps wandering around our farm, marking his territory.  Soon, very soon, our Havahart trap is going to be set up, and that tomcat is going to find himself at the vets for a quick snip-snip and that problem will be solved, too.

With the weather getting milder, Bob's main occupation is going in and out of the house so often I need to grease the hinges on the front door before they wear out.  The unfixed tomcat is not helping his case.

This is what the little bugger does when he wants to be let in, about 3 minutes after he's let out:

He puts his face in the window, and using his paws, swats at the front door.  With the melting snow, his wet paws make a "kwee-kwee-kwee" squeaking sound, alerting me to the fact he wants to be let in.  It's not at all irritating, no...not one...little...bit.

Upon coming in, he'll walk to his food dish, because his servant might have added a few kibble, and then about 27 seconds later, he'll go back to the front door and asked to be let out again.  Sometimes, though, he'll go to the front door, ask to be let out, but will then make a beeline for the patio door, which obviously annoys me to no end.  Or maybe it's Bob's way of telling me I need more exercise this time of year.  Thanks, I suppose.  Whoever said dogs have masters and cats have servants was very, very astute.

Bob's mellowing out though.  He still spends most nights on the bed hogging my hot-water bottle, and has only once woken me at 5AM  this winter, asking to be let out.  When he starts doing this on a regular basis, that's my cue to let Bob sleep in the barn at night.  This spring, we'll see what Bob likes better - the barn or a warm bed?

Right now, Bob's settled in on the back of the sofa, right behind my head.  His purring is non-stop and I'm grateful he seems to have settled down for the night.  Now I better go and fix him his hot-water bottle, and hopefully beat him at his own game.  If I make things perfect enough, he won't entertain the thought of going outside again tonight, and I'll enjoy a night of uninterrupted sleep.

And on that note, lest you fear I've completely lost my get-up-and-go, here's a February sunset for your viewing pleasure:

With a few hours left to go, I'm going to turn the calendar over to March, and rejoice like I've never rejoiced before.

Out, February, out!