We don't get snow in December here. It did snow last year, a dusting falling from the sky, barely sticking. But real snow? (https://www.weather.gov/rah/rdusnowfall apparently, every now and then....)
So Christine picked up important supplies (cat food) on Friday, and Saturday i picked up a few more (birdseed and an aluminum scoop shovel to use as a snow shovel, because Christine said she wanted one). Dad came by on Saturday, and we finally tried to start the generator: no go. Next step is a small engine guy to check it out. We're also not prepared as far as propane goes for the fire place. The longest we have been without power was a half day after a lightning storm: my parents and my sister have to go days without, but we haven't. We're trying not to get cocky, and we do have water reserves at hand. Today we've had blinks, but no outage longeough to say "well, that's
Other than the errands and poking at the generator, i worked outside prepping ground for wildflower seed in a few places. It doesn't seem like much, but i was so terribly sore in the evening. I guess i did break up the clay that had become smooth and surface compacted over the past months of rain and re-made berms in the rain garden.
Wildflower seeds are so incredibly tiny. One copes by mixing with something: i chose vermiculite. I had a half gallon bucket of damp vermiculite and carefully tipped a tiny packet of near dust in, then mixed as carefully as i could. Then cast the vermiculite over the prepared areas: the rain garden, a low stretch along the fence (essentially the rain garden mix with tall lobelias), a stretch of swale (with the low growing plants from the rain garden mix), and a mix of ephemeral perennial lupine and virgina bluebells (a borage relative) for between the mulberries and pawpaw trees. I envision dense stands of flowers -- and also baked red clay with a scraggly single plant here and there. I hope eventually the lush garden vision comes true.
I'm left to still do the plantings for the full orchard areas, and i assume i'll need to run something over the soil to break the top crust of the clay.
This morning we woke to an incredible view of snow, around six inches. It looked like powdered sugar as Christine scooped a path for Carrie. The cats were indignant that their morning constitutional was disrupted. Christine and i went out and knocked snow off the fence: with the cat defense -- the forty-five degree in-hang -- a good deal of snow was caught and weighing them down. We walked down to the creek. Red-brown oak leaves floated in the black current by the snow covered banks under the trees bowed across the creek. As we waled back around the yard, we shook young pines and cedars to relieve them of some of their burden. Winds had the tile pines swaying, its beautiful and mesmerizing, except for the thought of them breaking under the weight and crashing down.
I've been planning my contribution to the family Yule meal. I'm going to stuff a side of salmon with a cranberry-juniper-rosemary mix and another side with a less adventurous lemon caper mix.
Otherwise, a very lazy day.