WiseAcre Gardens

I’m not a morning person so getting up at 4:30 AM doesn’t make me a happy camper. Especially when it’s raining. But taking up to 3 hours to drive the first 50 miles when leaving Long Island is even worst. Either I get up grumpy or drive myself crazy. Grumpy beats road rage every time. Thank goodness there’s a 7-11 open at that ungodly hour. I have to have my morning coffee even if it costs 6 bucks to fill my thermos. (inaudible grumble) So I drank my coffee and made good time.

Needless to say a pot of coffee creates certain urges. This time it made me stop at a historical marker. I’ve passed it for years without reading it. I figured it was pretty much like those “George Washington Slept Here’ signs but this one was a bit different.

Theodore Roosevelt seems to have passed up a bed for a horse. In surry or hurry?

There’s not much to see. An old boarded up Inn in the middle of nowhere along Route 28n.

It figures. I was headed home with a truck load of perennials and it snowed. I have to admit it was a pretty sight. Taking photos while driving wasn’t the best idea but some did come out. Only one was needed – most of the trip through the Adirondacks looked just like this.

I was hoping that once over the divide I’d leave the high peaks and the snow behind. This shot outside Long Lake pretty much dashed those hopes.

It was snowing when I got home. I didn’t unload the truck and even now the plants are still in it. It’s turned milder today and the snow has melted but my wife took the truck and won’t be home till late tonight. So you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what I brought home.

Be careful what you wish for. My lawn had large white patches of Bluets and Pussytoes in it when I left. I remember wishing the lawn would have a solid blanket of white on it. When I got up this morning it did.

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For those that wondered what the hole from the last post is for – that’s where the basketball court is going.

The last hopeless remnants of a rigid frozen state. Isolated holdouts hide deep in the woods clinging to the only thing they know. A cold hard existence.

Some will leave no trace left behind

Others, pooling together will linger in a more fluid state.

But even the iciest holdouts will soon pass to the other side.
Old Man Winter’s crystalline restraints are no match for Spring’s warm embrace.

I just had to get that out of my system even if it meant a double posting today. I liked the images and thought they might give you an idea where some of the mossy rocks in my head come from.

Old Quill Story:
Today’s hike got turned around pretty quickly. I found something I wasn’t prepared for and needed to carry it by hand. I figured it wasn’t too smart to continue tripping around in the woods and risk either breaking it in a fall or setting it down to photograph something else and forgetting it. I did what I normally don’t do. I did the sensible thing. I turned around and took the easy way home.

What Lurks under the leaves?

You’ll have to come back tomorrow to find out. I will not be releasing the identity of the previous owner of these teeth until all graphic evidence of this discovery has been processed. But I’m happy to leave you guessing with this photographic clue. It should give you something to gnaw on while you’re waiting.

Tomorrow’s post will also include reasons for proper tooth care. Viewer discretion is advised.

The siren song of honking Canadian Geese lured me down to the river. That and wanting to take photographs of anything but moss today. I was hoping to find happy signs of Spring. What I ending up finding was the cruel grip of Winter exposed on the bank of the Grasse River.

There were a few Canadian Geese swimming along the far side of the river. But what I ‘saw’ was the ice jam that had until recently choked the river had broken up leaving thick sheets of ice tumbled along the bank. Spring now rules on the north shore. Nothing harsh there – I have to agree with Martha Stewart. Breaking the back of Old Man Winter.
...’that’s a good thing’

The Grasse is greener on the other side of the river. Over on my side of the river a wooded hill shades the ice until late afternoon. On this side Winter still grips the river bank. It’s slowly losing it’s grasp but the ice still extends a good way into the river from the shoreline.

The following photographs are no more gruesome than Mother Nature herself. But your imagination may be. What happened here is anyone’s guess. I certainly don’t have a clue how this coyote got caught in this predicament. There is a run off stream that flows to that spot. Could the body been washed downhill? Or did the varmint slip into the river while crossing and pushed to this point by the ice?

I can’t be positive this is a coyote. I’m just guessing. It’s been ‘no more’ for a long time and is yucky looking. Besides that all the run off has left the coat caked in silt and grit. But whatever it is the image provokes some horrific thoughts.

Pleasant Dreams

Try not to think about it.