Strange season #phenology

The Christmas amaryllises are coming along nicely, it seems. But, as if they were human siblings, they're all developing differently.

amaryllises looking over green (and brown) grass

Photo by J. Harrington

This year's tree is decorated. Yesterday, most of the family spent hours wrapping presents and putting them under the tree. Yr obt svt is, as usual at this season, the laggard. We're starting to catch up and we've long favored the tortoise in the race with the hare. Where you finish is more important than when you start, right?

presents under the tree

Photo by J. Harrington

That attitude also applies to this year's ice formation, or lack thereof. The warm weather we've had has left us with more open water than ice cover. The only thing that seems in synch with "normal" rhythms are the downey, hairy and pileated woodpeckers visiting the suet while the red-bellied woodpecker shows up once in awhile to enjoy a few sunflower seeds.

Sometime between now and tomorrow morning we may see the return of snow, followed by blustery winds. That's befitting the season even if freezing precipitation gives us fits.

                     A Country Boy in Winter

By Sarah Orne Jewett

The wind may blow the snow about,

For all I care, says Jack,

And I don’t mind how cold it grows,

For then the ice won’t crack.

Old folks may shiver all day long,

But I shall never freeze;

What cares a jolly boy like me

For winter days like these?

Far down the long snow-covered hills

It is such fun to coast,

So clear the road! the fastest sled

There is in school I boast.

The paint is pretty well worn off,

But then I take the lead;

A dandy sled’s a loiterer,

And I go in for speed.

When I go home at supper-time,

Ki! but my cheeks are red!

They burn and sting like anything;

I’m cross until I’m fed.

You ought to see the biscuit go,

I am so hungry then;

And old Aunt Polly says that boys

Eat twice as much as men.

There’s always something I can do

To pass the time away;

The dark comes quick in winter-time—

A short and stormy day

And when I give my mind to it,

It’s just as father says,

I almost do a man’s work now,

And help him many ways.

I shall be glad when I grow up

And get all through with school,

I’ll show them by-and-by that I

Was not meant for a fool.

I’ll take the crops off this old farm,

I’ll do the best I can.

A jolly boy like me won’t be

A dolt when he’s a man.

I like to hear the old horse neigh

Just as I come in sight,

The oxen poke me with their horns

To get their hay at night.

Somehow the creatures seem like friends,

And like to see me come.

Some fellows talk about New York,

But I shall stay at home.

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