Gooseberry blossoms

 

Lavender fields?

Fields covered with large swaths of lavender-tinted flowers are a common sight in rural Missouri this time of year. Pretty weeds, that's all they are. Just henbit. You probably have a few here and there in your yard. They're not particularly noticible in small numbers.

Henbit (Lamium amplexicaule) is a winter annual that grows from 4 to 12 inches tall. It's one of those weeds that serves a useful purpose in my opinion. It covers the ground in the winter and holds the soil in place, but it's not that difficult to eradicate in the spring when it's time for something else to grow there. It spreads only by seeds, likes moist areas, and seems to thrive in sun or shade. It's one of the earliest plants to green up in the spring, and thus drew the attention of our Jersey cow, who appreciates a tasty snack on the way back to the barn in the evening.

A closer look.

A different view, showing the leaves. Henbit blooms in late winter and early spring. It started in late January here at the farm and didn't seem too bothered by freezing weather.

Wild strawberries

Several patches of wild strawberries are blooming in the back pasture. The majority grow among a couple of burnt-out blackberry patches the wildfires cleared this winter. They're also near the cedars, at the edge of a plum thicket, and scattered here and there among the grass. Judging from the number of buds on most plants, this will be a bumper crop year. Just the thought of that intense flavor makes my mouth water. If I'm really lucky and really fast, I might even beat the local wildlife to a few berries when they ripen. 

Apparently nobody told this young apple tree it didn't have to bloom its first spring on site. The variety is William's Pride. We planted it last November. Precocious, isn't it?  

Got an itch!

Weekend projects

The answer to the surprise quiz picture: milking stanchion. (It was a surprise to me that I couldn’t upload the text.) My genius husband combined ideas from several designs and built this one, which suits me perfectly. Lottie Le Cow is less impressed but adjusting to the new stanchion, new stall, and new routine. We’d intended to leave the side open for easy feeding and cleanout. However, Wilbur Le Sheep hopped inside and christened it in a manner which feed boxes should not be christened. So my husband added the horizontal boards to prevent a repeat performance. The feed pans will still slide under the bottom slat, and now there’s a bonus feature – an escape ladder!

The new baby

She's 12 hours old now and content to doze in the dappled sunlight near the barn door. Her mama, a grade Jersey, has a most impressive udder. Woo hoo! Milk for everyone!

A beginning

The damp, chilly weather made outdoor work miserable this week. Yet it was exactly what we needed, days of light rain alternating with sprinkles or just a feeling of mist in the air. The earth had time to absorb the moisture as it fell, to begin to replenish itself and recover from the effects of the long drought.

A dog's job is never done

Bebe's chicken management duties interrupted our afternoon walk. We found this young hen huddled in the underbrush near the creek. I suspect she was hiding from those big bully roosters. Or pouting. It's hard to tell, chickens not having lips and all.

Cherry blossoms

A hard freeze is predicted tonight, so I suspect these blossoms won't be so pretty tomorrow. The tree is a bit tall and spindly. Mosses and lichens cover its bark so thickly I can't distinguish its natural pattern. Such is the way of trees in overgrown, neglected places. This one is struggles for its share of light among the elms, oaks, ancient cedars, and thorn trees that have overtaken the yard around an old homesite in our north pasture.

Elms in bloom

Elm flowers aren't that impressive, but I still get excited about this milestone of spring. Especially on a still evening when the wind isn't fluttering the tiny parts and ruining the focus on my pictures.

Dandelions already

Do you suppose the cow stops to admire this spot of color on her way out to pasture each morning?

Natural knots

This thick tangle of vines wraps around two young elm trees and extend up into the treetops. The bark is smooth, unlike wild grapevines nearby. I'm hoping when it leafs out I'll be able to figure out what it is.

Six months

Bebe's six months old and has been bigger than Blue, the aussie, for a while. She excels at breaking up rooster fights, protecting the poultry, and sorting them at night to keep those bully bachelor roosters out of the henhouse. At night, she guards the yard and barn when the older dogs range further to warn away the coyotes and other predators who might be thinking of dining on our livestock and poultry.

Scouting

Blue, the Aussie, likes to range ahead on our walks. He has the most intent, focused expression when he's scouting. This is serious work.

Day's end at the pond

Tonight's sunset provided the perfect close to a great day. Warm breezes, sunny skies, temperatures in the mid-60s, a perfect day for planting. We got the last two bundles of seedlings from the conservation department nursery into the ground -- 25 each of Austrian Pine and Norway Spruce. The first of the yellow potato varieties went into the big garden, plus four varieties of peas. It's early yet, I think, but the forecast for the next week is favorable. And what's the worst that could happen...a hard freeze ruins the planting, and I have to replant? What's that compared to the allure of warm soil underfoot and the anticipation of early peas with baby potatoes? The odds aren't bad in the gardener's lottery.

We tagged the trees planted yesterday. And replanted the Concord grape vine the puppy tugged out of the ground.

Way over there

The prairie chickens returned to their booming grounds just before sunset a few days ago. My daughter and I watched them for nearly an hour as they made their way across a wheat field and then began their display. One stayed a bit away from the others, keeping watch perhaps for the return of the hawk that had been patrolling the field earlier.

This morning I got up early and drove to the Taberville Prairie conservation area to watch the prairie chickens. Turns out, the current booming grounds are on private property across the road from this lovely piece of prairie. I saw six Greater Prairie Chickens (Tympanuchus cupido pinnatus). I even got one photo with a streak of sunrise and a dark spot that only I can positively identify as a puffed up male Greater Prairie Chicken doing its thing. Yep, sun flares, a splash of early spring wheat, and a brown blur with a white tail fan. Oh well. I'm still excited about my first opportunity to observe this native grouse species in the wild. I stood for a half hour on top the pickup truck toolbox, watching them through the telephoto lens and listening to the thrumming sound the males make when they're trying to impress the hens. It was a successful scouting trip. I have great hopes for future excursions with a better lens, better light, and maybe I'll luck into a viewing spot that doesn't require me to focus directly into the rising sun.

For more information about the Greater Prairie Chicken, check out the Missouri Department of Conservation's website. The Minnesota Prairie Chicken Society has great photos here. Photographer Joel Satore has stunning photos of lesser prairie-chickens booming in Oklahoma on his site. (Search on 'prairie chickens')

Shiny bugs

We're having a heat wave here, 76 degrees F this afternoon. That brought out the bugs, which made the chickens happy.

I disturbed this Six-spotted Green Tiger Beetle (Cicindela sexguttata) today while planting irises. It's small, maybe a half inch long, but the metallic green stands out against the bare dirt. It scurried away quickly, but was persuaded by a hastily constructed dirt dam to pause and pose for a photo.

Another armadillo hole

Last week's armadillo adventure ended when it dived into this hole. It's located in a thicket of locust saplings. Between the orchard and the strawberry bed. Now we have holes everywhere. Big holes. Little holes. Something's going to break a leg stepping into a hole where there wasn't a hole the day before. So how does one go about issuing an eviction notice to an armadillo?

At first I thought this hole under the stanchions in the old barn might be another armadillo bolt hole. The steady level of skunk odor indicates it's probably the striped one's hangout.

Armadillo wars

Another skirmish today, and the armadillo lived to dig another day. The dogs spotted our resident armadillo early this evening when we headed out to escort the cow back to her stall in the barn. As usual, it leaped, bounced, zigged, zagged, then dived down the nearest burrow. Blue, the old Aussie, dug as fast as he could, showing the pup how it's done.

A tree root was in the way, so Blue tried to gnaw through it. Then he tried to jerk it out of the ground.

Bebe, the 5-month-old farmcollie, checks out the burrow.

Bebe, diving into the brush after the armadillo.

The burrow. I could hear a 'whump, whump' sound from the armadillo when I leaned close, but it was too far down the hole to see it. For more about armadillos, click here and here. Or here for some intriguing pictures and roadkill humor.

Skunked!

The neighborhood pest visited the barn last night. Black body, white stripe, you know the type. It missed me and three of the four dogs. Poor Blue guarded our retreat and took a blast to the muzzle.

Hence the doggie bath scene. Poor Blue.

Blue didn't like the soapy hair horns or the doggie mohawk either.

Deskunking formula
1 pint hydrogen peroxide
1/4 cup baking soda
1 big squirt Dawn dishsoap

Sponge on. Scrub well. Leave the mixture on the dog for at least 10 minutes. We used a double batch for Blue, a 35-pound Australian Shepherd. His collar is soaking in a single batch of the formula.

Sorry, no skunk photos. While I immediately identified it as mephitis mephitis, your standard striped skunk, I recognized that purposeful gleam in its beady little eyes and quickly decided not to further antagonize it with the camera's flash.

Dessert for cows

About 4 p.m. every day, the Jersey cow leaves her grazing spot at the other end of the pasture for this clearing near the old barn. Early weed sprouts grow thickly here. Chickweed seems to be her favorite, and she's keeping it trimmed short. 

Winter blooms

I bought this moth orchid plant last summer on clearance, after it finished blooming, without a tag. I'm really not a 'pink' kind of gal, but I love the pink veins and the rich fuschia throat of this blossom. Beautiful, isn't it? 

Still burning

We're calling this the volcano tree. It 'erupted' this afternoon while I was crossing my neighbor's pasture to check on a couple of hot spots left from Tuesday's fire. I heard a loud crackling and looked across the pond just in time to watch the top blow off this tree. Okay, maybe it didn't exactly blow off, but in my sleep-deprived, caffeine overload condition, it seemed like it was blowing off. In slow motion, of course. Flames shot out the top of the trunk, then smoke billowed out so thick that I thought we were in big trouble.

Not so, as it turns out. The biggest trouble is the top of this very large, grandfather oak tree landed directly on the fenceline and wiped out a nice long section. Just one more extra chore for the farmer next door. The fire, however impressive, died down to a manageable level quickly enough. Hopefully it'll burn itself out soon. Hopefully there aren't any more of these quietly smoldering out there. That's been the trouble with this fire, the smoldering embers tucked away at the base of an old stump, or a dead tree, or a dying tree, or one that looks pretty good but has a nice hollow spot started at the base. The fire can spread through it before there's any outward sign. 

Peeking inside the hollow base...actually, it glowed a lot brighter, but the camera's flash changed the lighting enough to make the ash on the hot embers visible. 

Same view, no flash. 

More shadows - voila! Art! 

This clearing is just across the creek from the house, maybe 150 feet away. It was all on fire when I arrived home from errands Tuesday afternoon. Fortunately a neighbor had already called the fire department, and they arrived right behind me. I grabbed a long-sleeved shirt and a shovel, tied my hair back, and joined them. I'm not sure how much of a difference my efforts made, but there's no way I could stand back and just watch.

By dusk, the fire was out except for a few smoldering spots -- old logs, dead trees, stumps, and what remained of the big bale of hay in my neighbor's pasture. About 35 or 40 acres had burned, but not my house or barn, not the livestock, and it hadn't spread beyond the two properties, mine and the farm pasture to the west. Neighbors made sure I had their phone numbers, and the fire chief made sure I planned to keep an eye on things through the night and would call them if the fire flared up again. For some reason, he thought it necessary to tell me twice that I was NOT to try to put it out by myself.

It's been more than 24 hours, and I'm still keeping an eye on some smoldering stumps. I've washed the ash and soot out of my hair. A couple of naps eased the exhaustion. I keep walking out, checking the sky for smoke, walking the burnt perimeter to check for sparks, dumping jugs of water on embers that dare to show themselves. We've had little rain or snow the last few months, and the land is so dry. I'm nervous. And grateful, so very grateful that the damage wasn't worse, that my home is safe.

A lot of that gratitude is owed to the volunteer firefighters who came, did their jobs well, and treated me with consideration and respect. In the dark of the night, as I patrolled the fire's path, checking for hot spots, alone except for my dogs, I found myself smiling. A lot. I live in a great place, surrounded by great people. It's home. Really home. I belong here.

There's still the issue of how the fire started, and the education of a certain person, who doesn't seem to understand the finer points of choosing an appropriate time for a 'controlled burn'. I'm told he's been ticketed for burning during a drought-induced burn ban. I'm told he's been billed by the fire department for firefighting expenses. I'm told he may build a house down this way and someday be a neighbor instead of a weekend visitor. My neighbor with the burnt pasture next to mine and I discussed all this today. We think it's a path we need to tread carefully. There's a long future to consider.