Hellebore
Daffodil
Leaves out on lilac, honeysuckle, alpine curant, some willows. Soft maple about to break. No sign of anything on oak or redbud, but swelling on apple and serviceberry.
Ah, the serviceberry, the shadbush, the saskatoon, the amelanchier, with buds like silver swords. Many events have been timed by its blooming—the running of the shad up New England rivers to the thawing of mountain passes in the Appalachians. Here it means time to sit out on the patio prior to dinner.
Chilly in the house, but not so outside. We were not appropriately dressed on our afternoon dog walk to the priaire since we had based our accoutrement on the interior temperature.
Earlier, Tony and Abby took us to the Delafield Hotel for a brunch sans pareil.
This is the strange time of year when there is a hot summer sun but no shade.
Another Craig's list special. Built like a battleship, and weighing just about as much. Going to be happy chickens.
Met up with the Habes, after an inexcusable gap of nearly a year , in Fontana, on Lake Geneva.
Lunch at Gordy's then a walk along the shore path from Yerkes Observatory to Williams Bay, with a few stops along the way to test the Adirondacks.
It was one of those days engineered in celestial realms to be perfect—temperature, sunshine, wind (or lack thereof). A fine day for all, including Pax, who went swimming twice.
The ice went out last Sunday, and today, four days later, docks are going in, boats are cruising around, and Pax is in swimming.
Also, countless coots, who must be just stopping by to slurp minnows on their way north. Really thousands.
And countless piers, really many thousands, built identically, and all painted white, and all being put back into the lake as quickly as possible. There is no ordinance prescribing how piers should be built and what they should look like, but they are all built exactly the same, and they all look alike. Tradition? I don't know. But it is an example of what Christopher Alexander describes as the unknowable process of people working alone but working together to build something beautiful.
It is always a good idea to try a recipe on oneself (or the dog) prior to serving it to guests. The slow roasted pork shoulder was pretty much ruined by too much sauce and a sauce too heavy on the vinegar. It was edible, but far short of what I had hoped. Maybe there will be a next time.
Got the compost bins turned, and then a good long bike ride with Pax.
After dinner, six rounds of serious sequence. We actually do have good neighbors in this neighborhood.
And the river on a chilly April day.
It's true, though I have never seen them before—soft, milky icicles falling off the old maple tree by the driveway, the one that keeps my car well sapped. I picked one off the grass and tasted it, just to make sure, and it did have a faintly sweet and slightly maple taste. I think.
Pork shoulder, slow roasted on the Green Egg (mabe slightly overdone) following the recipe in Michael Pollans' Cooked, first step in the process of making West Virginia style whole hog barbeque, which will be served Thursday at our mini three-household neignborhood circle supper.
Whitewater Creek ripping and roaring, but not quite as flooded as about this time last year. Robins so over-stuffed they're having trouble getting off the ground. Several cars driving by with piles of snow on hood and roof, but here, nothing but flurries, and no accumulation.
A thunderstorm last night—first of the season. Not a great deal of thunder, but quite a lot of rain, perhaps close to two inches. Then this afternoon the rain came again and has been coming down hard and steady for hours.
Manitoulin has a weather advisory for heavy rain, followed by snow. And we may see a bit of snow here. But really this rain event washes away the last traces of winter. The dry, crusty brittleness, the remnant salt and sand, has been washed away, and the grass is greening and the buds swelling. Good for water levels, too.
