88 degrees

Temperature reached 88 degrees yesterday. Deer crossing the roads early in the morning, looking for water. Dog splashing in the Ira Creek. We have been leaving windows open lately, but now we close them during the day, and open them in the evening. Outdoor activities in the mornings and evenings. Fan in the bedroom at night.

summer solstice

It is the noon

Orioles are crying

The river flows on in silence.

Buson

Lupines

Today's post has been a staple on this blog for many years. A number of years ago I read A Sand County Almanac by Aldo Leopold. I think it was a leftover from John's college days. I would highly recommend it to any lover of nature and wild things. One of the readers of this blog is a long time biologist for the state of Vermont. She once confessed that she had seriously considered naming her son Aldo as  Mr. Leopold had greatly affected the arc of her own life. Yikes, that was a close one eh Cory?

In short, the Sand Counties are poor.

Yet in the 1930's, when the alphabetical uplifts galloped like forty horsemen across the Big Flats, exhorting the sand farmers to resettle elsewhere, these benighted folk did not want to go, even when baited with 3 percent at the federal land bank. I began to wonder why, and finally, to settle the question, I bought myself a sand farm.

Sometimes in June, when I see unearned dividends of dew hung on every lupine, I have doubts about the real poverty of the sands. On solvent farmlands lupines do not even grow, much less collect a daily rainbow of jewels. If they did, the weed-control officer, who seldom sees a dewy dawn, would doubtless insist that they be cut. Do economists know about lupines?

In the stillness

In the stillness,

Between the arrival of guests,

The peonies.

Buson

dirt roads

Road construction season is in full swing. Fields have been plowed. Manure has been spread. Plantings of beans and corn peeking out of the soil. With all the warm and dry weather, first cuttings appear.

Sounds of tractors on the road.

My daughter went to college in Southern California, at Pomona College. I always used to say that she went to a map and found the place in the country where she could be furthest away from her stalker, er, father to go to college. I'm still not sure that wasn't a factor. Anyway, she made a lot of friends, and I remember her saying that her friends were astonished at how backward her home life was here on the other side of the creek. They couldn't believe that an old fashioned TV antenna was what was used for reception, and that she only got two channels. They couldn't believe that she lived on a dirt road. There was one other thing, but I forget what it was. What was it, Pip?

There are a lot of dirt roads here. Narrow steep dirt roads with tall trees along the sides. They certainly can be a problem during mud season. But this time of year they are sun dappled beautiful.

We walk these roads a lot this time of year. Every once in awhile, especially in the fall,  it occurs to me that there are people in the world who spend thousands of dollars to come to experience what amounts to daily living for us. We are very lucky.

There is always something left to love.

Lorraine Hansberry

Page a day calendar on gratitude

John C

Allyn and I have been doing a lot of walking recently, walking anywhere from three to over four miles a day on a loop close to home. On this route we pass the Day farm which I mentioned recently in a blog. There are a lot of beautiful places nearby, but the Day farm has to rank at the top of the list.

It is, to my way of thinking, literally the crown jewel of the town of Ira. It sits high on a hill, overlooking the activities of the valley below from its heavenly perch. I don't know the history of the farm well except that it was run and managed by the Day family for generations. When we moved to town in the early 80's, the farm was owned by a wonderful old Vermonter, Lewella Day. She was the last of that lineage, and when she died, the farm was sold. I think it's fair to say that the Day farm went through its ups and downs for a number of years. It was recently purchased again, and is now known as the New Day Farm. This wonderful place once again seems to be on its ascendency.

https://www.newdayfarmvt.com/

Throughout this period of recent instability, there has been one constant at the Day farm, that being the caretaker, John C. He worked for Lewella for years, and continued to tend to matters on the farm after she died. John C came to mind recently as I passed by this pasture, one of the many fields he has cared for during his tenure there.

The fields at the Day farm are, and have always been, maintained in pristine condition. Keeping fields in perfect condition is not easy here in Vermont. I should know as I have battled blackberry bushes and multifloral rose in our own pastures for many years. With a little bit of inattention, they can really get out of control. The next photo is from a nearby field, not one of ours.

You get a lot of time to think when you are out walking 41/4 miles. As I walked by the field from the New Day Farm, I couldn't help thinking of its exceptional quality, it's beauty, and of the blood, sweat and tears that went in to keeping it that way for so many years, through the years of unstable ownership. This field and all of the pastures there are works of art. If the New Day Farm is a work of art, and I think it is, then John C must be an artist. Granted he had a lot to work with here, but the presentation came in large part from his efforts over the years. And he is not the only one. Here are some more photos of farms not far from here.

I've heard it said that what separates Vermont from New Hampshire is the number of pastures and open spaces that exist in Vermont to this day. Vermont is a jewel, but it continues to be a jewel because of the unsung efforts of old Vermonters like John C. Hats off to him and his like.

Fireflies

I grew up in California which has two seasons. It rains in January and February, and is sunny for the rest of the year. I remember going to visit my relatives in Ohio. Everything was so green! The highlight for me was the fireflies. They simply seemed like a miracle. I think because I didn't grow up with them, they still do. I remember when we were heading back to California, I would stick a few fireflies in a can and throw the can in my suitcase, hoping that I could introduce fireflies to the California environment, no luck.

Fireflies arrive here on the other side of the creek in June. I've been going to bed pretty early lately, but I went out the other night to have a look. There weren't as many as in years past, but they were still there.

Fireflies in Iowa-Youtube

The population of fireflies is decreasing throughout the country and the world. Supposedly this is due to loss of habitat, use of pesticides and light pollution. I have to feel that there are other causes because we don't experience any of those causes here. Many many species are disappearing, including monarch butterflies and fireflies. There's hardly a month that goes my without an article in the NY Times about how species are going away. Climate change certainly plays a huge role in this. Try to imagine a world without butterflies and fireflies. Magic is going out of the world; day by day, species by species. We have to do something.