Look at you!
Standing in an apple tree full of blossoms.
What do you have to be grumpy about?
Oh.
That is your happy face.
Sorry.
Carry on then.
Look at you!
Standing in an apple tree full of blossoms.
What do you have to be grumpy about?
Oh.
That is your happy face.
Sorry.
Carry on then.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Dinnertime
One evening, right around when I should have been fixing dinner, I couldn’t go inside. I was stuck on the deck, captivated by all the different kinds of bees flying through a patch of scilla looking for their own dinner.
The girls and I laid on our bellies and watched honey bees, bumble bees, mason bees and assorted flies until our own dinner was severely delayed.
We couldn’t tear ourselves away from the show until I discovered how to use the time lapse feature on my camera, then to keep our shadows out of the picture, we walked away.
When we returned, ten minutes later, dinnertime for the bees seemed to be over and we finally headed inside to start on our own.
A Friday ritual.
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Spring never slips over the earth in an instant, instead it comes in fits and spurts.
A flower pops up here, while a bit of snow falls there. A chilly day today is followed by blue skies and sun tomorrow as winter slowly cedes to spring.
This year instead of sharing time, winter and spring are sparring. The ground’s dusting of snow is quickly burned off by the hot sun, only to be replaced by evening. Warm days are chased with frigid ones. A sunny day is repeatedly interrupted by howling wind and snow. Its a war between the seasons, but I know who will win.
Life always marches on. Spring always follows winter.
The baby chicks are peeping warm and safe out of the biting wind and the daffodils are slowly blooming despite their occasional covering of snow.
New bees have been installed with plenty of honey to keep them fed until the weather warms and new fruit trees have been planted in spraying snow with fingers crossed.
Spring always wins, but that doesn’t mean winter has to make it easy.
This month we said our first hellos to brand new family, brand new friends.
And this month we said our last goodbyes to others.
Spring always comes, life always goes on, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.
Last week, after a few warm days, winter came back to ensure we all didn’t forget about her while in the throes of spring fever.
She showered us with sleet and rain and snow and ice – just because she could.
Winter stopped by for a day, perfectly encased the world in ice, then let the sun out the next morning to show it off.
By the end of the day she was gone. Every last bit of her.
Today the daffodils are showing yellow in their buds.
I told them to hold on.
Winter has gone but I think she’s still hiding just beyond the next bend.
I encourage you all to head over and visit Jerry Johnson on Dispatches from a Northern Town and read Glazed. He got hit a bit harder than we did with the same storm and he describes this weather perfectly. (Also I’m pretty convinced that he has re-adjusted the “in like a lion and out like a lamb” saying about March just right…)
The last weekend in February was warm.
Fifty plus degrees warm.
And sunny.
So sunny that two of us ended up sun burnt.
The snow melted, sandals and shorts were dug out of closets (because this is Wisconsin) and we all enjoyed the hint of things to come.
And then, on the first of March (because this is Wisconsin), it snowed.
A perfect, beautiful fluffy snow. And people howled as if spring had been stolen from them.

It’s still coming.
Can’t you feel it?
The sun beams warm the patches of floor they fall on.
Can’t you see it?
The chickens are laying more eggs.

The forgotten tulip bulbs have sprouted in their bags.
Even the garlic can’t resist the call of spring as it sends out tiny green tendrils from it’s dark corner of the kitchen.
It’s not here yet.
It’s not time yet.
But a little snow fall can’t stop it.

It’s still coming.
The sky is overcast.
Rain, or something like it that is colder in a way that’s best not to acknowledge, is spitting down and the spring that seemed imminent just days before has blown away in the cold gusty wind.
Yet the howl of wind and wet is abruptly muffled as the door closes behind you. Replaced by a soft symphony of tiny peeps and a friendly ring of red light and warmth.
Baby chicks, delicate beings that defy everything about a cold spring day.
Tiny scraps of fluff proclaiming that spring is here.
Yup, that’s right guys, I’m posting a picture of Multiflora Rose.
I mean, sure – it’s a nasty invasive plant in Wisconsin taking over and crowding out native species.
Sure – its thorns not only penetrate through gloves and clothes, but then hook into your skin and stick there, usually drawing blood.
But I have to do it. I have to post a picture because…
Look how pretty it holds the raindrops!!!
Don’t worry.
Raindrops won’t save it.
It’s all gotta die!
In less than a week we have gone from over a foot of snow cover to mud with patches of icy slush.
Clara has tried to make the best of the situation.
Jane and I appreciate Clara’s efforts but we feel the same way about the loss of our snow.
And Ivy…
…Ivy is ready to embrace all the warm weather she can get!