The storm moving in tonight was expected to bring rain, turning to snow before morning. I took a gamble, that it won't get too cold, and left the fig trees out. Please note: figs are not a normal plant for this area. I inherited my two potted trees about 10 years ago, and have been babying them ever since.
Aries had time to clear a path across the deck before his work carpool showed up. I figured quite a bit of it would melt again, but I really don't mind shoveling snow. Plus, snow reflects the sunlight back, but anything cleared down to dark dirt absorbs the heat. This snow might be here a couple of days, but cleared paths dry out quickly, making going about on chores later a lot easier, with less chance of slipping, and helps keep the house cleaner too. 
Aries had given them fresh water earlier, but it had frozen into slush since then. I tossed that, and fetched a fresh bucket of water from the house. I then continued my shoveling. I like to make a path back up to the back door of the house, with a side spur into the dog run. It gives the chickens more room to walk about, and they like hanging out inside the south-facing doghouse there.
From the back door, I shoveled past the garage to the woodpile. The woodbox inside had plenty for today, but having a clean, dry path will make it easier for Aries to refill it for me when he gets home from work. One more path, connecting back door to kitchen door, and I'm finished out back (in mid-winter, when the snow is deeper and won't be melting anytime soon, I also do one more over to the cellar and shovel the door).
My onion order arrived last week, but I haven't even been able to get out to the garden yet. Depending on which day it is in our current weather cycle of the past three weeks, it's either too wet or the ground is frozen or it's buried beneath a couple inches of snow once again. But the info sheet said the onion plants will stay dormant for at least 3 more weeks if kept cool and dry, so I've put them down in the cellar for now.
Speaking of alcohol (like that segue-way?), Aries bottled the hard cider this evening while I was out doing some last minute Thanksgiving grocery shopping. Playing with the hydrometer says this batch, made with apples only, no added sugar, is about 7% alcohol (most beers are 4-6, wines around 12). Since it's not as strong as the last stuff we made, he bottled it in pint bottles. When we go to drink it, that should be a nice size for the two of us to split a bottle. The cider yeast didn't settle out like the champagne yeast did previously. That earlier batch is now a very dry, clear bubbly (almost like champagne - duh). This batch looks like mud. It tastes pretty good though, even now. Letting the apples set for a few weeks, to soften and sweeten before grinding, worked well.
And was genuinely surprised to see that during that little bit of time from when I'd just been out in the garden, our first snow flurry of the year was now coming down fast and furious. Ah well, it is the middle of November, after all.
Of course, any gardener that's been here a while knows we can't set out our tomatoes until after Memorial Day. And even then, some sort of night time protection is usually necessary until practically the Fourth of July. But while cold may be normal, the wet this year is a bit more than usual. This year's combination of cold and wet has made it difficult to even get out in the garden, much less get things planted in a timely manner. And whether I'll be harvesting anything at all from my fruit trees remains to be seen. Just about everything is now, or just finished, blooming. Only the grapes and berries are still waiting.
Knowing today's storm was on the way, and expected to be a wet one, yesterday I braved the cold wind to get out in the garden and finish getting my Early bed planted. I scooted around beneath the netting to plant seeds of English, Chinese, and Snap peas, some pak choi, and a variety of lettuces. I set out some little seedlings of Swiss chard and calendula. The onions were set out last week, and the garlic, shallots, and spinach from last fall are looking good. The last bit of that bed I filled up with leeks dug from my leek nursery bed. Now, everything is getting a good soaking, and should pop right up when the sun comes back in a few more days (well, that's the plan, anyway).
Next project, when the weather allows, is to get the Roots and Brassicas bed ready to plant. Too much cold can stress some cole crops, especially the cauliflower, stunting their growth instead of producing nice big edible heads. But I should be able to get them into the ground in another week or two. Today's snow just provided a bit of natural irrigation, melting quickly when I brought them back into the house for the night. It's time, too, to get my seed potatoes out of the cellar and into the light. Maybe we won't see a Spring this year, but I know Summer will be here before we know it.
I love this photo, taken through my living room window. The rain and reflections on the deck look like an Impressionist painting, and the late Spring bulbs now blooming in the herb bed are so pretty. Tulips are really hard to grow around here. Not because of the weather, but because of the ground squirrels. They'll dig up and eat every tulip, and I've lost hyacinths to them too. But this bed (knock on wood) has done great for years - long enough that the original single bulbs have all multiplied into beautiful clumps.
I'm not sure why these have survived. The ground squirrels (not pretty, fluffy-tailed tree squirrels - these are burrowing, scruffy-tailed rat-like squirrels) are still out there, scouting around under the bird feeders, dashing for their holes under the wood pile when I let the dog out. I know the squirrels won't touch daffodils, and when I planted these bulbs I mixed all different kinds together, tossed them out onto the ground, and then planted each one where it landed. Maybe having the daffodils scattered throughout, besides giving me an extended and ever-changing show each Spring, also deters the squirrels from the tastier tulip bulbs.
Or maybe it's the perennial herbs that are just now coming up. Oregano and marjoram are a dense green carpet now, thyme, rosemary, and chives in small clumps, and a big clump of tarragon. As summer gets closer, they'll take over, hiding the withering leaves of the bulbs. Right outside my kitchen door, this little garden is a joy throughout the year. A wandering line of round stepping stones, a few rocks, a cement sculpted turtle, and some hollyhocks for vertical interest makes a wonderful view, sitting out on the deck in the morning sun.
Or some days it's better from inside looking out, and a warm fire going in the wood stove. Day before yesterday, the cherry blossoms were capped with snow. Right now, I'm not sure whether I'll be getting any fruit this year, or not. The night temperatures have only dropped right around freezing, not much below, and the snow might even have provided an insulating layer. We're a bit above the valley floor, so the coldest temps slide on down the hill, past us. So, even with these snowy photos, there's still a chance the blooms will set some fruit. One can always hope.
Before lunchtime, it had pretty much burned off here too, and proceeded to warm up into a really nice day. I got my little indoor seedlings thinned, writing about it for my turn to post on the Simple Green Frugal Co-op blog. For the past few cold and grey days, I'd moved the hardier seedlings in under the lights with the tender ones. But with the sun coming out, no wind, and today's beautiful warm temperatures, I put them out on the deck in the sun. Tonight, they're back inside, on the kitchen counter. I want to let them get a little bit bigger before setting them out in the garden. More storms are still in our forecast, and I haven't been able to get the planting bed ready anyway.
As usual, I don't know what kind of fruit crop I'll get this year. The plums are all in full bloom, and the Asian pears and the sweet cherry have just started. Despite the snow, the temperatures haven't dropped too far below freezing, and the wet just might have insulated the blossoms a bit. I saw some bees on the Oregon Grape this afternoon. I've been watching for them, and it's nice to know a hive still survives somewhere nearby.
When I went out to shovel off the deck, I found Dot, our old Golden Laced Wyandotte hen, dead under the steps, sopping wet and covered with snow. She was at least 10 years old, and had been a bit gimpy for the last year or so. But she managed to hippy-hop around ok, her wings were in fine shape, and she had no problems getting up onto the roost at night. I've been letting the flock out or the pen around sunset, for a little runabout - it's a short enough time that they don't get into too much mischief. We'd gone to a lecture at the State Museum (about Nevada rock art - petroglyphs and pictographs) last night, but were back home just as it started to get dark. I'd have seen her if she was still out in the yard, or having trouble getting back, when I went down to shut up the coop for the night.
When I lived in Leadville Colorado, the high altitude and below-zero temperatures would produce the famed champagne powder - a light, fluffy snow, so dry it wouldn't even pack into snowballs. But in April in Nevada, we get Sierra cement - sloppy, wet, heavy stuff. Pack this stuff, and you have slushballs.
Luckily, cold temperatures have kept the trees and bushes from leafing out much as of yet. Most of my trees bear the scars from May snowfalls. The only casualties so far this Spring have been the earliest apricot and forsythia blooms. And we do need the water. Our 7 inches annual precipitation almost all comes in the form of snow, so it's now or never for this year.
And the start of April, cruel April, isn't supposed to be much better. More snow is expected later on this week. I am happy to see the moisture. I didn't have to water my trees at all this winter - the storms came through pretty regularly. Now, I'm hoping the regular precipitation will strengthen the fruit trees stressed by the droughts of the last few years, and maybe they'll be better able to fight off the borers that plagued them so last summer. I'm still waiting to see before doing any pruning on the peaches, plums, and cherry.
Yesterday, outside one kitchen window, a quail stands watch on the deck railing as his covey sneaks through the fence, heading for the spilled seeds under the bird feeder.
Out in the garden, I hope the doubled-up wire fencing will be enough to protect newly emerging seedlings of my fall-seeded spinach and arugula from hungry little beaks. One plan this year is to reconfigure my garden layout this Spring to make the garden beds easier to cover. The city is sprawling our direction. As developers bulldoze the sagebrush, the birds and animals are on the move - looking for new homes and food. Our lot must look like a green oasis, flashing signs saying, "Good Eats Here". I try to make sure they get only their share.
A bright spot in the gloomy weather are the yellow crocus outside my living room window. Closed up tight when it rains or snows on them, as soon as a ray of sun breaks through the clouds they open right up. This wire cover is chicken-proofing. Three of the hens got into this garden and had a field day. Once the girls find something of interest, they get downright obsessive about it. Merely running out there every half hour, flapping my apron or waving a broom isn't gonna keep them away. Time to go find more wire. So, now, they're lined up outside the little picket fence, cocking their heads from side to side, beady little eyes checking out all the wire. This garden is safe for the moment.
March is certainly no lamb this year either. Rain here is snow just a few hundred feet higher up the hill, and snow is still in our forecast this week. This morning, looking out the other kitchen window, a couple of white moving patches caught my eye (hard to see, center of above photo). I recognise what it is immediately, but it surprises me.
It's the rump patches of five mule deer. I'd seen fresh tracks walking with the dog up the canyon, but we rarely see deer down this low. Two things cross my mind: one, I hope they're not hungry enough to jump our fence - maybe the dog will deter them; two, if you see deer, there may be cougars. You probably won't see them, but they are around. For my walks up the canyon, I think I'll be using my sharp-tipped hiking poles for a while now. March came in like alert? alarm? Just no lions, ok?
I'm sure the stresses of the dry past two winters contributed to my losing a nectarine tree to borers last year. I'm still waiting to see if my pie cherry tree can recover, but haven't had to worry about trying to get water to my trees this winter. Now, if only the cold weather will stay until real spring comes. February warm spells followed by May snowstorms are all too common around here, making a fruit harvest an iffy project every year.
Outside, a bit of sun this morning and temperatures above freezing led me to think I might be able to get some sheets to dry out on the clothesline. By afternoon, I've lost the sun, but they still might dry. The chickens come running when I step out onto the deck to go see if I can bring the sheets in - she might have food!
The sheets are still damp, but I do throw a few handfuls of corn out for the chickens. More and more of them are starting to resume laying eggs as the days lengthen. Eating corn helps them stay warm at night in our unheated coop, but I want them to start eating more of the laying crumbles. Three eggs in the nest boxes today, plus a fourth they broke. I've got eggshells saved up in a jar in the house - I'll have to get them crushed up and start feeding them back to the birds. Earlier this morning I saw one of Missy's girls standing in the doorway of the old doghouse under the black walnut tree. Missy, now gone, was a notorious nest hider, and passed that trait on to some of her offspring. So I look inside the doghouse, and sure enough, there's a fresh green-shelled egg (we had an Amerucana rooster for a while) lying on the floor. I'll have to start checking in there regularly now too, I guess.
I've been checking on the produce in the cellar, and most seems to be keeping quite well. I separated the storage apples last fall by keeping ability and possible damage. Today, we pulled about 1/2 bushel of ones that I didn't think would last very long and crushed them for a small batch of cider. We only had to toss about six of them as complete losses, and do a bit of trimming on a few others, but they had held in amazingly good condition. They'd softened and sweetened quite a bit. Just hand-squeezing the bag of apple mush, we got about 5 quarts of juice, and then the chickens got a real treat.
This little hot-air balloon I crocheted in bedspread-weight crochet cotton to fit over a 3" satin ball ornament; the basket was starched and shaped over a shot glass. The pattern is in a 1984 American School of Needlework Christmas booklet by Mary Thomas. I love that I found perfectly-sized wooden Santa and Mrs. Claus figurines to ride inside.
A few statistics:
Usually, I shovel out the chickens, come in and warm up, shovel a path to the woodpile, come in and warm up, and know it will all melt away in another week or so. But this morning, I was working a group arrival on five different flights into the Reno-Tahoe Airport.
A drive that normally takes about 45 minutes took me twice that, but I left early so made it right on time. And then spent more than five hours in the airport. First flight canceled, next two delayed, another one canceled, the last one finally came in an hour late and then sat on the runway for another hour waiting for an open gate. Had to do some shuffling around to get everyone onto their transportation up to the Lake, and then I could head home. Still snowing, my drive back took just as long.
Aries got to play with a new toy all day. He'd been given a big old broken-down snowblower earlier this year. He cleaned it up and got it running again. This was the first time he got to use it, so by the time I got home there were all kinds of paths and all of the driveway cleared, all the way back to the garage. And twenty-four hours later, it's still snowing. Wheeee!
