Sunday, February 27, 2022

Mr. Magoo Walks Into A Drizzle

When the clouds are not so dark to slow the shutter speed, when my hands are being relatively steady and when the camera actually focuses closeup, I can download a picture to the computer and actually see the Witch Hazels blooms in some detail. Everything needs to be just right.

The mulching of the roadside vegetable garden is underway. I am trying to outsmart the raccoons by getting a very early start. Wish me luck.

Fresh mulch attracts earthworms big time. Earthworms set the raccoons and who know what else to pecking holes all over the vegetable garden. I hope to get all the digging and pecking over with before planting time.

There were plans for another garden chore, but a cold drizzle commenced before I could get to that. Mud was going to be involved and dry mud is better than wet mud. I wandered off in the drizzle before the rain started again. The winter view from the scenic byway grows more garden like by the year.

In this light and eyesight, the individual plants don't matter as much as the form, color and texture they bring to the garden in the big picture, of the ambiance and feeling that creates. Something is happening here.

I see crocus as pops of color. They are best planted in mass quantity.

One eyeball at a time, easy office visit laser fix. Two weeks to partial vision and another month of Mr. Magoo wandering out there in the drizzle.

Friday, February 25, 2022

I See Crocus

The rain has been warm. The big yellow pot is still frozen. It will drain again in the spring.

Rain and cloudy skies do wonders for my secondary cataract eyeballs. I can see snowdrops far off in the wet.

It was warm enough after the rain for Button to go out for a walk with me.

To see the Witch Hazel in bloom which much to my annoyance has a visible browse line. Damn varmints.

At least it is from last year's browsing. I can't see any signs of flower consumption this year. The new branching that caused below the browse line has not had the branch tips chewed off ... yet.

The wet really makes the colors of the Under Garden of winter pop. It was like oh yes, that is what seeing color is supposed to be like. I love this picture of the garden. The Lay of the Land.

They are out there.

I see crocus. I also saw a black and white tuxedo cat running down the drive when I pulled in one afternoon this week. The markings were a bit unusual. Here kitty, kitty. A bit later I realized it was probably Pepe Le Pew. Here kitty, kitty. That makes me Mr. Magoo.

Wednesday, February 23, 2022

Audible Snowdrops

I walked by some snowdrops on a warm sunny day and there was a surprisingly loud audible buzz. The snowdrops were swarming with happy bees. Early pollinators are not a surprise. It was the quantity of them that was impressive.

The snowdrops have been divided and spread hither and yon and are popping up all over the mountain. Once established, they spread quite well on their own.

Winter is winding down in a warm spell this week. The gardens are being readied for spring. Sticks are getting picked up and a rubbish pile has been burned.

Winter cold with a dash of snow will be back for the weekend.

The warm has induced more work kind work and the general feeling when I do that is I am ready to retire. It takes a while to warm back up to work kind work.

The life of an aging peasant gardener.

The baby conifers and evergreens still have some growing to do. I currently can't see much detail, but I know they are all growing under natural bonsai conditions.

Conifer people would be appalled by my growing conditions.

But there are snowdrops in a wild garden high on a North Carolina mountain top and I can hear the songbirds returning to the forest and claiming territory on warmer winds.

Saturday, February 19, 2022

In The Cold Blue Light

A chill wind blows. Not yet. They neglected to mention the last two light, post rain snows.

The bulbs will rise in due time. The Under Garden of winter is not done.

Thursday, February 17, 2022

Snowdrops And Witch Hazels

I stayed home today because I could. Went next door to rake the paths of all the twiggy winter debris. The wind was blowing ahead of the storm.

Can you see them? This slope above the future Turnips Fields is loaded with snowdrops. Look close.

Snowdrops and logging machinery. A lot of trees came down on the land next door. The ridge top gardens will be bathed in a good deal more welcome morning sun. The view to Sandymush Bald is greatly improved.

The Turnip Fields are getting sunnier and tidier by the year. What will their future be? I am ready to plant some asparagus. Asparagus will survive falling trees.

Lower down the mountain the witch hazels are in bloom. The wind kept picking up force. I'll leave you here to wander, out there with the wind and the witches alone.

Wednesday, February 16, 2022

Visiting Snowdrops

This is the view from Bulbarella's kitchen window. The kitchen light is working again after a $1000 electrical repair. I will be blaming the outage on the sisters with a little help from their father. It's a long story and it was a long repair.

I wandered over this afternoon to visit the snowdrops, doing more chop and drop of dried meadow bits along the way.

The bulbs are rising in warmer weathers. The chop and drop is done from what I can see. Time to go back to picking up sticks. The paths could use a good raking. Maybe this weekend.

The bulbs are rising and Bulbarella will be back to her mountain top in two weeks. The house needs to be cleaned and turned back on. I'd rather be outside visiting snowdrops.

Tuesday, February 15, 2022

Blurry Bloom Day

So, the eye doctor confirmed the secondary cataracts diagnosis with the one eye at a time quick and easy office visit laser fix. I'll just be blind for another month and a half.

Life is blurry

The full moon began rising at the end of a clear sunny Bloom Day. All the witches had gathered, at least that is what I think I see.

The red head 'Diane'.

It is hard to believe the camera can capture the white haze of my cataract vision.  That's what I see in this picture, but I'm not sure about anything I am seeing at this point. Life is blurry.

It is a full moon in mid-February. The snowdrops are up and blooming, the first bulbs on the mountain.

'Jelena' is winding down as the other two witch hazels begin to open.

'Arnold's Promise' out of focus in the foreground is an extreme version of the blur in my vision.

The eyes of Monet are back. I keep drawing on the canvas.

One eye at a time.