Staying Connected

Though I feel like I have walked away from so many contacts I have made here at Blogger, I am committed to staying connected and will use blogspot as a stepping stone to my new website and blog.

I am taking a break due to burn-out from working so hard on the new site. I hope you might check it out by clicking here. There you can see the story that goes with the photo above. It was a precious encounter and there are more photos if you click on the link. Best Wishes for now. 

Waiting with Wildlife for Spring's Return

We are all patiently waiting for spring to arrive here in Western Massachusetts.  Flower Hill Farm has no buds a bloom in the trees or scattered about the snow covered grounds, and though I may be a bit weary of this winter, I can see signs of spring in the arrival and behavior of some of our wildlife.  I have seen turkey vultures soaring high over the hills and do note more song filling the rawness of early morning.  Also, sap is flowing within the sugar maples, while stacks from sugar shacks are ushering plumes of sweet steam into the chilly air.

A Red-shouldered Hawk woos me with his strikingly patterned wing span and full tail fan, as he flies from Michael's Black Cherry tree towards the forest below.  More ephemeral than a spring flower but what a warm rush of awe I feel in witnessing this flight.

The bluebirds are ready for spring to finally spread our way too.  I cannot help but think he is trying to tell me something coming in out of the bright sunshine, to perch in the cooler shade closer to my door.

 I am curious why the bluebirds never eat the crabapples, when so many other birds find them tasty.

Cedar Waxwings are seemingly content harvesting American Cranberry bush Viburnum and crabapple fruit.  I am seeing them through a studio sliding door and screen which gives a more pastel feel to the image.  The bright yellow tips of their tails remind me of daffodils that must be stirring a bit beneath the snow.

Waxwings filled the naked trees like large buds.  They will perch for awhile and then suddenly all will dive like a small cloud into the crabapple orchard and feast on the apples.  There is a flock of waxwings out in the crabapple orchard as I write this, but they are mostly still, taking in the warmth of the sun, on this 18 degrees Fahrenheit frigid morn.

On the ground there are hundreds of animal tracks crisscrossing around the snowy gardens and fields.  Here a white-tailed doe gracefully displays her namesake as she walks through the middle garden mirroring the white landscape.

 In the crabapple orchard, could they be munching on the tiny fallen fruit.  It has been a very long winter and all the wildlife must be longing for a heartier meal.

I startle the deer, when I open the door to have a closer look and they quickly flee into the north field.

I have always wanted horses and find them beautiful to see out in fields.  Seeing deer bounding through the snow covered scenery adds cheer to the still clinging winter day.

White-tailed Deer do very little damage here but this critter is an entirely different matter.  She chomps off-shoots of shrubberies as if they were celery sticks.  Clearly some beasts are more compatible for waiting out spring's return.  To be fair to the Eastern Cottontail, I could add that most shrubs do recover from this pruning.

Wild turkeys, however, bring such fun into the gardens.  When they fill the scene their liveliness is so comical and uplifting.  I sense they are very winter weary too, as they literally leap and lift themselves up into the trees.  This hen is not leaping for joy here but for the tiny crabapples that are abundant in the canopies of the small trees.

A hen harvests apples from up in the crabapple tree, while a few toms skid and slip about below picking up what she drops in the slippery snow. 

Sunlight is perfect lighting — illustrating the bronze-green iridescent wild turkey plumage.  This male displays his long beard or tuft of hair.  I have yet to find an explanation for this odd detail that only males don.

Such colors brighten spirits still longing for spring.  All these visits come within a day except for the Red-shouldered Hawk, who visited one day earlier.  These beautiful creatures simply take each day as it comes and in observing their grace and patience, this human can bear the wait for spring's return with gratitude and good faith too.  

Last Autumnal Breaths of Cadmium and Aureolin Yellow with Palm Warbler Only Passing Through

Last breaths of cadmium and aureolin yellow 

falling through another season of autumn . . . 

 as it falls through us . . . only passing through it all . . . 

Rock Maples stand mighty and tall.

Miscanthus yellow blazes sigh with tassels reaching upwards ten feet high. 

Standing nearby, soft rustling songs become more an undertone as lengthy, waving blades . . .  yellow . . .  then fade, and float towards the leafy floor. 

A brighter, fleeting yellow reflecting tones of our November garden and landscape . . . little Palm Warbler . . . only passing through, where I used to believe you stayed and bred your brood. You are headed south now to the southerly edges of the United States or perhaps you prefer the Caribbean after spending summer months in the brisk provinces of Canada.

I last sighted one of your kind in the month of April on his way to points further north. There was such a promise of green back then and plenty of food to keep this sunny songbird content in lingering within our community for a cluster of days.

I can see you are a different bird all together from the Palm Warbler I so delighted in this spring. Wishing you a safe journey to wherever you choose to overwinter and hopefully with vernal vegetation anew, I will be here to see your cheery, cadmium yellow plumes mirroring clumps of merry daffodils.

Tree Swallows do return and remain every spring and summer, raising spirited broods here in the south field within the weathered walls of our rustic nest box . . . now being choked by bittersweet as it takes its last gulps of duller yellow.

Our weepy cherry's yellow canopy now lies in a buttery carpet around its twenty-year old main stem.  

Asparagus gone wild, flames cobalt-yellow before our Metasequoia gone russet about the north field. 

A couple of our crabapple trees, within the small orchard, make shiny, yellow spheres . . . tiny apples tasty to birds, throughout the winter months.

While on the ground, beneath our oldest apple tree, the vermilion stream of fruit has become a favorite rivulet for our resident White-tailed Deer to step into. Soon the flow of apples will run dry and that is, as it should be.

Beware brown eyes . . . it is the hour of hunting season of your clan . . . by man . . . who hopes to eat you, apples and all. And I could say . . . if with integrity and honor this beautiful beast comes to be . . .  venison . . . that too might be . . . as it should be. Still, I will continue to whisper . . . "Stay close and you will be safe." Heed yellow's warning . . . with your usual caution . . . stepping through the land beyond this land.

A Sultry Summer August Day Full Moon and Clouded Sulphurs Play

August is a wild time of year in the gardens here at Flower Hill Farm. The daily lives of wild things blend and move about with ease. There is an understanding between the land and animals . . . we all take what we need . . . but never too much. I do wish to call a court in session to introduce charges against our resident rabbit's rabid rapacity, however.

We rarely see young bucks, such as this one, sporting unique antlers. He will shed the lopsided headpiece this winter or early spring of next year and begin to grow new ones. Careful attention must be paid to this teenager to be certain his curiosity does not get the better of my Liatris for a second time.

The deer have much to munch upon within the acres here, and many more surrounding, so they are kind to me and my gardens. I continue to cut oak, maple and birch saplings allowing new tender growth that deer find nutritious and delicious.

This is the main color show of the gardens now . . . last year Ironweed, Joe Pye weed and Rudbeckia were magnets to butterflies . . . this year there are mostly native bees . . . but few fluttering wings go by.

I did finally see one restless Monarch butterfly last week, but she did not approve of our older milkweed and moved on right away, in search of tender leaves to fasten her eggs upon. I miss the enchanting process of metamorphosis but do have one little Black Swallowtail ward who has now become a chrysalis. 

There were many Monarchs last year enjoying the nectar of Ironweed. The image above was taken a bit later in August than the one above it . . . so perhaps more butterflies will find their way here again.

Nearing the last week of August . . . but there is still time for frolicking. Clouded Sulphurs exhibit their tiny orange and black full moons, while sipping runaway marjoram and courting or cavorting in the field below the middle garden.

Wild Morning Glory is taking over the Bluebird nestbox . . . I am allowing it, as the larger Bluebird family has taken off, beyond the cotton clouds, for now. Nearby, Rudbeckia 'Herbstsonne' reaches for the light to a height of over seven feet. This great plant will never catch up to the stately tips of the Hydrangea paniculata it stands before.

Hydrangeas, though tired and somewhat spent, still offer sustenance to many pollinators. There has been not a plant/weed lifted from this area for all the days of summer. I am surprised by the diversity of small and simple flowers that seem to delight both butterfly and bee.

Our much beloved (NOT) rabbits devoured the planter plantings but now volunteers of pineapple basil, verbascum and salvia are content being squatters. The gardens are on their own this year . . . once the rabbits ate my first food plantings, sigh, I gave up and decided to just be on the land and see what happens when all is left to grow on its own. I do confess to cutting many winding, meandering tendrils of bittersweet, grape and bindweed.

 Apples are ripening and some falling . . . creating an edible carpet for wildlife. There are so many more than enough for us all. Last days for the daylilies too . . . as each day unfolds and closes another fresh and droopy bloom.

'Journey's End' final blooms . . . true Lilium reflecting summer's closure coming soon. Not far off

summer's end and beginning autumn, as syrupy sweet petals fade and fall.

The south field is overgrown with sumac, which will paint the landscape red in weeks to come and then all will be mowed revealing the form of land again by November. Here, the Tree Swallow nestbox is overrun by bittersweet. I recall less height to the field and wildflowers but weeks ago when a Tree Swallow pair tenderly care for their nestlings.

Migrations are in motion . . . today there were at least a hundred Tree Swallows swooping and scaling the sky just above these fields and spreading over towards the middle garden. I like to think that among the many are the two families of swallows from our north and south field nestboxes and they are all on their way to Cape Cod where I may chance to see them once again later in September.

Lavender giants boldly tearing through the sky in dusky twilight . . . our Rock Maples on the south side of the 1790 farmhouse are ever dramatic and inspirational . . . to the painter in me especially.

Upon the edge of the north field looking south . . . a simple place to be . . . to watch waves in canopies of trees and the great blue yonder . . . while chasing ephemeral light stretching over Mount Tom in the Pioneer Valley beyond.

August is nearly full as is its swollen, golden, 'Sturgeon' or 'Blueberry' moon . . . yet, many surprises are to be found in moments lived within the realm of our wondrous Mother Nature. Summer seems longer in moments.  Shall we seize the moment then . . . for as long as each new day gives forth fresh butterflies and our young resident hummingbirds are still dipping and humming into my dreams . . .  I cannot say summer is gone.

A Bestiary - At Native Plants and Wildlife Gardens PART TWO

White-tailed Deer

Doe Communicating with Her Hoof . . . Stomping Her Authority 

Please join me over at Native Plants and Wildlife Gardens for my monthly post. 

This month I share stories and photos of magical and enchanting encounters with White-tailed Deer in our gardens and fields.

Mighty Oaks Begin Their Show Early Winter Paints the Landscape White!!

The Autumn landscape now wears russet and deep golden hues.

As strong tall Oaks free their true colors. 

This morning the landscape and gardens were tossed ahead a few months into winter temperatures and snow! 
Most unusual for this time of year.

This young buck forages through the wet snow. 
I love the way one of his budding antlers is directly poised 'side by side' with a plant stalk. 

By late morning the snow begins to melt and fall from the greatly relieved shrubs and trees. 
Like throwing off a heavy coat!

I am thankful to see green again along with the shades of Autumn. 
I found it quite astounding . . .  the difference in my mood . . . seeing the white melting away into the colorful palette again. 

High up in the naked Rock Maple a year round resident adult Red-shouldered Hawk fluffs up his feather coat. 
He gives me a glaring once-over, before placing his gaze upon the garden floor. 

His russet front mirrors the returning Autumn palette now mostly filling the landscape . . . 
 as it should be on an October morning.

Swooping down for some prey in the garden. Hopefully a rabbit or vole.

I could not see if he caught anything. 

Each day grows side by side another. Never knowing how one will compare from  the other.  I suppose it makes life more adventurous that way, though I would rather not have winter on what I expect to be an Autumn day. It is down right rude of winter. Tomorrow we are to be treated to another winter storm! 

I thought I saw some early winter snow in Sweden awhile back. Visit Katarina to see what might be 'sida vid sida' there.