Around 8 on a November morning a flash of movement from the window set Wilbur to barking. “A hawk,” Beth said, moving to the window overlooking the pond. “No. A heron.” She placed a hand on Wilbur’s head. “Look - It’s not even a deer. Just a bird.” Still, he insisted on a few more barks before circling and settling back on the couch in the position closest to the wood stove.
I stood directly in front of the stove. The thermometer had said 27°F that morning. Silver frost tipped the tall grasses ringing the pond. It was cold. Outside, the heron stood motionless before taking an achingly slow step through the pondweeds. Did it feel cold? It couldn’t, at least not the kind of cold I would feel if I was standing in that water. It had chosen to land there. I wondered at my multiple layers (including wool!) and wood stove. How much of the sensation of cold is cultural/psychological, and how much is biological? I don’t know, but feeling warm, or at least “not cold” seems important. Us naked apes have evolved very complicated lifestyles.
The previous week at the farm we planted garlic. It was finally dry enough to allow us to prepare the soil for planting. We planted 1000 + cloves of Russian Red, and small amounts of Georgian Fire, Nootka Rose, and elephant garlic.
But you know what they say about the "best laid plans." Check back in July 2022, when garlic harvest is scheduled, to see how things have developed.