Mid-May and Spring – At Last?!

Last Sunday evening, I went all out in my effort to trap whatever it was that has been killing my chickens. I took two live traps and four rat traps, baited them with sardines, and set them at various places inside and outside the coop. I was sure the stinky sardines would lure in whatever predator was the culprit. Monday morning I went down, fully expecting one of the traps to be sprung. I was disappointed. But Monday morning was full of disappointments. It was 25° that morning and there was a hard frost. I had things covered and those things survived with minimal damage, but other things didn't fare so well. 

My biggest concern then, and now, are the fruit trees. The plum and pear trees bloomed at their normal early time and the frost destroyed all their blossoms, but that happens almost every year. This year's cold spring has delayed the flowering of the apple trees and that has been a blessing. But the season is growing late and the trees want to bloom. They are tired of waiting, and that makes for the worst of circumstances. Any bit of warmth, like we are expecting over the next two days, and what buds they still have will open. Having held off this long, they are at their most cold sensitive stage now. Orchardists in some areas have already reported that they've lost this year's crop. I can already see that they've suffered, but I can't tell how seriously yet. Many years after they bloom, they look fine and then all at once their flowers fall off. In the 26 years I've kept this orchard, I've had more bad years than good. But sometimes we have a spectacular year. Somehow in my reasoning, those few good years offset the many bad ones. Keeping an orchard has always seemed to me to be one of the noblest forms of agriculture. I feel like its an honor to be allowed to tend the trees. I know them. I know their names and their habits. I never think of myself as their owner or their master, but their caretaker. Sometimes I have to be harsh. I prune them hard. I remove one if it has become sick or a detriment to the fruitfulness of other trees. But I try my best to be kind to them and keep them in the best condition. And some years they reward me with bountiful fruit.

We are not raising pigs this year. One of Hannah's friends is raising two pigs for us. Because of that, I decided to use the wire panels from the disassembled pig pen in my garden. I already used some of them as the supporting structure for two little high tunnels in my vegetable garden. I used the rest as trellis archways in beds where they will support beans, cucumbers, and morning glories. They are just bare wire right now, but later when they are covered in the various vines, I think they will be beautiful.

Arches in the garden.

On Tuesday morning when I checked, the traps were all empty. Because the forecast said that it looked like we were done with frosty mornings for a while, I felt optimistic and put away all my frost covers. I can always bring them out again if I need to, but I hope I won't have to. The plants need all the sunshine they can get. So do I.

I took a walk around the property on Tuesday evening, enjoying the signs of advancing spring. The maples in my yard are late. Later than the trees on the hills around us. They are just now putting out their tiny coppery leaves. The old crabapple outside the kitchen window where I hang my bird feeders is blooming. It doesn't flower prolifically anymore. It has a lot of dead branches up in the crown. I will do some doctoring on it this year to see if I can restore some vigor to it. Out in the garden, in the flowerbeds, in the orchard, and everywhere they can, the little violas we call Johnny-jump-ups are blooming. I do not sow them on purpose and often pull them up in places where I don't want them, but I let them grow everywhere else. I love them for their bright faces. The rhubarb has recovered from its frostbite and is sending up magnificent leaves. There are a few late daffodils here and there. The lilacs, sadly, are beyond hope for this year.

Little maple leaves.

Crabapple blossoms.

Johnny-jump-ups.

The rhubarb.

Late daffodils.

Frost blighted lilac.

Most of the day on Wednesday was drab and rainy. I went down first thing in the morning to check my traps. Again, nothing. Apparently sardines are not as attractive a bait as I thought they would be. Or, I hoped, maybe whatever this predator was, it had gone away. I was to be disappointed in that hope. 

Although rain is a blessing, I tend to feel like a rainy day is a wasted day at this point. All my outdoor projects stall. And I don't feel like undertaking any indoor projects because, once the rain stops, I'll go outside and then the indoor project will stall. I can distract myself with reading and doing some family history, but my gaze eventually wanders to the windows and all that is waiting out there for me if only the rain would stop.

All week long, I worked on writing a talk for church. Today was our branch conference and I was one of the speakers. The subject I chose for my talk was the Day of Pentecost and the workings of the Holy Ghost. It was interesting researching the subject. We don't talk much about the Day of Pentecost in our church aside from a mention in a Sunday School lesson every four years or so when we're studying the New Testament. Other Christian churches celebrate Pentecost, or Whitsunday as it is also called, every year to commemorate the manifestation of the Holy Ghost on the fiftieth day after Christ's resurrection. The word Pentecost comes from the Greek word for fiftieth. Next Sunday is Pentecost, coming fifty days after Easter on the Christian calendar. When I was young, we had a set of books, The Bible Story by Arthur S. Maxwell, published by the Seventh-day Adventists. I don't know why we had it because we weren't Adventists and I don't know what happened to it. I remember it mostly for the amazing illustrations. The images I have in my mind for many things in the Bible are based on those illustrations – the Day of Pentecost in Acts chapter two for instance, with the cloven tongues of fire resting on the heads of the people. In my talk I also talked about the dedication of the Kirtland Temple where the outpouring of the Holy Ghost was likened to the Day of Pentecost. Then I finished with our need to be guided by the Holy Ghost. I referenced Pres. Nelson's oft quoted warning that "in coming days, it will not be possible to survive spiritually without the guiding, comforting, and constant influence of the Holy Ghost." It was a short talk, but I said what I needed to say.

Our set was like this.

I found this online. That's just as I remember it.

We had a nice thunderstorm on Wednesday evening. There was a lot of thunder and lightning before the rain came, so I went out to the big garden to watch.

On Thursday morning I went down to the barn and found that all my efforts – the traps, the reinforcement of fortifications – were to no avail. There were two dead hens inside the coop. After some careful forensic investigating, I've come to the conclusion that I'm dealing with a smart raccoon. The attacker ignored all my traps. It did not breach my fortifications. It had to have waited for the automatic door to open in the morning, which would have been in daylight, and then entered the coop to make its kill. It did not devour its victims, just their heads and necks. According to the sources I checked, raccoons are smart enough to figure out things such as when automatic doors are scheduled to open and close. I rethought my defense tactics. I set the automatic door to only open and close when I personally tell it to. That means I have to go down in the morning and evening to stand there and press the button. I will do that for the next week. I also moved the big live trap to inside the chicken yard where the automatic door is. The chickens can get into the trap, so I have to wait and set it after they've gone to roost in the evening. And I changed the bait in the trap to fresh meat. Surprisingly, sardines were not a popular item.

Thursday was another gloomy day, overcast, with rain off and on. We got a call late that morning that our second packet of bees had arrived at the post office. When Miriam and I got there to pick them up, we found that 90% of them were dead. It had taken nine days for them to reach us. The queen was still alive, but all the bees were in very bad shape. Miriam brought them into the house and tried to perk up the survivors. She gave them some sugar water and kept them warm in the kitchen overnight.

Friday morning I went down at first light to check my traps. I'd baited the big trap with some pork ribs the night before, thinking it would be more enticing than sardines. I was disappointed. The trap was empty, the bait untouched. Miriam installed the second set of pitiful bees in their hive later that morning. Their were so few of them. I don't know if they will survive.

Miriam installing the bees in the second hive.

Stacey and I went to the temple on Saturday morning. Our session was at 9:15, which meant we had to leave the house at 6:30. The morning drive north through upstate New York was beautiful. Our time at the temple was uplifting, as it always is.

At the Palmyra Temple.

At the temple.

When we got home, I joined Miriam, Hannah, and Sarah, who were working in the big garden next door getting things ready for planting. They had already transplanted strawberries and worked on covering some of the rows with landscape cloth. We paused to put up the Shillig's trampoline, which is a rite of spring. Then we went back to work. We put down more gravel in my vegetable beds. Kurt got out his tractor and tilled rows in the big garden and we picked rocks and raked while he tilled. We rolled out more landscape cloth over the newly tilled parts of the garden. The weather was pleasantly warm, if a bit windy. It was good to get so much work done. It started to rain just as we were finishing. Perfect.

Kurt tilling in the big garden.

The big garden at the end of the day.

I did a thorough inspection of the orchard that evening. With this next bit of warm weather coming, I was hoping I'd see signs that the apple trees are going to burst into bloom, but it doesn't look like there will be any bursting this year. Maybe a pop, and a small one at that. Most of the flower buds were damaged by the frosts and freezes and have turned brown and are falling off. There are a few late buds that might still give us a little fruit, but it's going to be a light harvest this year. It's disappointing. I doubt we'll have enough apples to make cider.

Our branch conference today went well, I think. It was nice to meet with leaders from the stake. The meetings were good. I gave my talk and it was okay. After the meetings, we had a linger longer and served lunch – chicken salad sandwiches, deviled eggs, salads, chips, grapes, and desserts. I think everyone enjoyed it.

Today is Stacey's birthday. We are going to celebrate later this evening. The Fosters and the Shilligs are coming here for pie this evening. Hannah made Stacey's favorite, coconut cream pie.

Today is the first day in a three day warm spell. We're in the 80s today and tomorrow and Tuesday we'll be in the 80s again. It's supposed to cool off a little after that, but according to the forecast, not enough to worry about frost. Could we possibly be done with frosts and freezes finally? I hope so, but I'm cautious enough not to be tempted to plant anything out yet. I'll wait until after Memorial Day, as I always do. I've learned the hard way to be patient and wait.