Another dreary day, but warmer this morning when I get out of bed. Still stiff. Still achey. Still the arthritis thing. Richard has been to Walmart for coffee prior to coming home and getting the well switched over to the water tank, so I can still run the dishwasher - I DON'T hand wash dishes - and wash laundry. He has to go to work 2 hours earlier than expected but that's ok, the pump is connected to the tank, I've done a load of dishes and a load of laundry and he's re-filled the tank, just to be on the safe side. So now we have water and heat. And that's a real good thing.
Before Richard leaves he tells me that the water tank holds 378 liters of water, and asks me what that is in gallons. Yeah, asks me, the NOT mathematician to do a math calculation. I take out my trusty cell phone with it's calculator and try to do the math. Riiiiggghht. Me, the techie, can't figure out how to work it. I fumble and grumble, finally getting it, then ask him what buttons he would push to get the answer. And Richard, the non-techie person points to the correct ones right away. Harrumph.
The dogs are in fine spirits when we go out to the garden yard, Mason and Pippi racing down to the garden boat. Rosie of course stays inside, dozing on the sofa.
There are Starlings in the apple trees. Lots of Starlings. No, lots and LOTS of Starlings. We have a resident flock here, descendants of birds that were nesting when we moved to this place 20 years ago. We have learned to live with them, and have found they are one of the first signs of spring. There is one in the Gravenstein apple tree, trilling and making coaxing noises, almost sounding like the song they make when they are mating. Hmmm.
Suddenly there is a furor high up in the branches, a couple of birds chitter, something falls out of the tree, and the birds swoop away, squawking. The dogs race over to investigate, and I hobble after them. A piece of tree bark lies on the grass. Not sure what that was about. Hmmmm.
There are birds everywhere in the yard, Towhees, Robins, Stellar Jays, Starlings, Chickadees, all creating noise with their chatter and squawks. I listen, but continue on with what I am doing...deadheading Petunias, pulling a few weeds that have dared to grow in the garden boat, look for ripening tomatoes. There is a small Black Prince, a Yellow Mortgage Lifter, and a Bull's Heart all starting to turn color. The Pink Brandywine appear to be just on the edge of turning and I think the Yellow Brandywine is too. Lovely, just what I want.
We return inside and I decide that today is the day to make Peanut Butter Marshmallow Squares, one of my favorite easy things to make. Soon they are chilling in the fridge, and I am licking the spatula. Can't wait 'til they are firm enough to eat. Won't offer Bente any though, as she is not a fan of Peanut Butter. Apparently Peanut Butter is fairly unique to North America, at least it was when she was growing up in Denmark, and she never developed a taste for it. Poor woman, how can anyone live without Peanut Butter!
Bente calls as I am reading my library book. As we chat, I am looking out the patio door and something catches my eye. Flickers are swooping and chasing, something I have never seen them do before. There is at least 4 of them chasing after another one, almost as though it were mating season. It's fall, what is going on with these birds? Hmmmmm!
I think back to yesterday, when I pointed out clumps of Cute Little Island Bush Bunny fur in the garden yard to Richard. He looked at me quizzicly. "Why would there be clumps of bunny fur in the yard?" I ask. He stares at me as if I have lost my mind. "Well, why do you think there is bunny fur there?" he replies. I shrug my shoulders, and he gives me a pitying look for being so dense, then says, "it's bush bunny mating season." I reply "oh. OHHHH!". Boy am I slow.
Could that be what is going on with the birds? Do they sense a longer, warmer than normal Fall? Is that why the chasing and chattering? Shaking my head I take the dogs back outdoors for a romp. Mason proceeds to his favorite spot at the fence, a patch of dirt under the shelter of an overhanging Wild Rose and stands looking down towards the end of the driveway and the rode beyond. He barks and runs up and down the fence trying for a better view.
After 15 minutes we go back inside. As I glance at Mason, I see something odd on his face and start to laugh. The silly dog has been sticking his nose through the fence wire, sniffing the breeze and this previously white muzzle is now gunmetal gray. He looks like he has a serious 5 o'clock shadow. Typical boy!
Time for a piece of Peanut Butter Marshmallow square, and a cup of hot cappuccino to chase away the chill of the day. Nothing on TV tonight, unless you are fans of interminable American Presidential Debates - which I am decidedly not. Guess I'll read a book.
Or clean in the dog room.
Or peel apples for freezing.
Or tidy up the kitchen.
Or read a book.
Oh and 378 liters equals 83.3 gallons.