Oct. 3, 2021 Yellow
Finally checking back in here and found this post that I did not finish. I thought that I would write it now (August 28, 2022) and move on to creating this year's page at long last. I was battling mental as well as physical illness last year and, after many tests, underwent gallbladder surgery in January. I did manage to get back into the garden a few months after that and thanks to our rainy spring, I was not too far behind the season. I must have started writing this post as a way of reaching out to the garden's light when things were very dark with me. I am still recovering, but now the light is within and around me and I feel equal to the task. Sending light today to anyone who is experiencing health challenges of any kind. |
June 1, 2021
Our chickadee neighbours brought their kids over to the apple tree today. The fledglings are still fluttering and begging from their parents at times, but they're also hunting for themselves with some success. The adults demonstrated how to hang from the ends of branches, but the young ones were happy with sturdy perches and, after all the excitement, an afternoon nap.
May 16, 2021
I was walking around the garden with my camera a lot today, checking out flowers and bugs but not really getting the opportunity for great macro shots. The wind was a factor, but I was also restless. I suddenly realized that though I was in a garden, surrounded by nature and beauty, I was sort of floating around in the thought realm, being in my story of being in a garden surrounded by nature and beauty. I was looking for something remarkable to photograph, which was an emotional state akin to hunger in its emptiness. I paused a moment to feel my feet on the Earth and to ask my garden humbly if there was something wonderful it wanted to show me. I took two steps and saw this beautiful little fledgling sheltered beneath the viburnum. It was as if the branches had moved aside to show me. I stopped, zoomed the camera in for a photo, then moved steadily away so that the little one could feel safe. Its parent, a towhee, came to feed it. When I checked back later in the afternoon it had flown elsewhere. I am grateful for the encounter and the renewed sense of connection to the actual world.
May 11, 2021 The Unintended Benefits of Mediocre Mason Bee Box Design
A few years ago, I was desperate for an economical option to increase the amount of tubes available to my mason bees. I saw this in a seed catalogue and thought it would work well. The cylinders are made of some sort of firm natural material and can hold a big bundle of tubes. I put out two full cylinders to start with and had cocoons sitting beside them in the box so they could hatch in the morning sunshine. The wrens decided it would be a great place for a nest and built right on top of the cocoons. When the mason bees needed more tubes, I filled the last cylinder and sat it on the back deck against the house, but by autumn it had gotten wet, warped and cracked. I had also noticed that the cylinders also heated up way too much in sunshine for anything to survive in the tubes immediately next to them. It wasn't the best mason bee house.
The following year, I cleared out the old nest and rearranged the cylinders. The wrens were even happier with the new configuration and built another nest behind the two cylinders. When that brood fledged, I left the nest alone. The wrens used it again as a dummy nest this spring, sprucing it up half-heartedly, trying to divert attention from whichever nest they were actually using. A queen bumble bee must have found it a few weeks ago and thought it was the perfect new move-in ready home for her to start up her brood. I didn't notice until I was walking beneath it early on a recent morning and thought there was a bathroom fan running on the wrong side of my house. The bumbles were all buzzing just as the first rays of sunshine hit the box.
Since that day, the bumble bee nest itself has grown a lot. I haven't yet counted the bumbles leaving for work in the mornings. There are still a few mason bees coming and going from the tubes, but the two species don't bother each other at all. I am hoping that the bumbles have enough protection from pests all season long. This spot receives full morning sun and is shaded for the rest of the day. It also has decent air flow, so could be a very good spot for them. With bumble bee survival depending on many variables, I'm hoping this box has finally found its true purpose.
The following year, I cleared out the old nest and rearranged the cylinders. The wrens were even happier with the new configuration and built another nest behind the two cylinders. When that brood fledged, I left the nest alone. The wrens used it again as a dummy nest this spring, sprucing it up half-heartedly, trying to divert attention from whichever nest they were actually using. A queen bumble bee must have found it a few weeks ago and thought it was the perfect new move-in ready home for her to start up her brood. I didn't notice until I was walking beneath it early on a recent morning and thought there was a bathroom fan running on the wrong side of my house. The bumbles were all buzzing just as the first rays of sunshine hit the box.
Since that day, the bumble bee nest itself has grown a lot. I haven't yet counted the bumbles leaving for work in the mornings. There are still a few mason bees coming and going from the tubes, but the two species don't bother each other at all. I am hoping that the bumbles have enough protection from pests all season long. This spot receives full morning sun and is shaded for the rest of the day. It also has decent air flow, so could be a very good spot for them. With bumble bee survival depending on many variables, I'm hoping this box has finally found its true purpose.
Feb. 7, 2021
The two photos at the top are of the ant hill before winter. The ants gather fir needles and pile everything very high, arranging the needles like little spikes. I am guessing it is to help water drain off the hill easier. I took the photos below this morning. Throughout the winter, rain, snow, and bird stomping flattened the hill.
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I think the ants are tolerating the St. John's wort because it holds their hill together somewhat. Many of the girls were still inside the hill after the frosty night, but a few hundred are warming themselves up on the gatepost and beginning to rebuild. Some people look to groundhogs to tell them spring is coming, but I trust the ants.
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