Temperatures down to five degrees, more with the wind. Yet there are small buds on trees throughout the yard, and the tangle of last summer's vines wait for a good trim. A fast snow whipped over Cahas Mountain Monday eve. The blanket covered fescue and timothy, and the anxious asparagus.
This was but a hill, long ago a home for holsteins, but over six years we have planted yoshino cherries, apples, cypress, dogwood pink & white, the honeysuckle and wisteria. And a south-faced garden with stone down the other side. (Cats roam there in January.)
More zeroes coming this week. The horse has blanket, two stalls and fresh hay.
We all wait as the days widen.
The blue made me think of onion sets. It's almost time, and this 'round I'll probably return to Southern States, where they dollop out jokes along with the tiny bulbs.
It's a bit of a riddle as to why the sky invited the sun out today, as we've seen nothing but darkness and dank for a week. The January soil hasn't decided yet whether to thaw (don't!) in the 50 degrees (F) of this Sunday afternoon. But light snow is forecast again in a few more evenings, and the horse asked if she could keep her blanket 'till March. Probably.
But I'm dreaming of onion sets today, yellows and reds, and also the spring greens that I'll set in the dark and pungent soil of the low garden in six weeks.
We've been eating stews of thick sauce in a red pie pan, and aromatic soft breads with real butter. But on this sunny surprise of a day, it's the crunch tender and raw that I seek.
