Posts Tagged ‘budding trees’
Riding Gravel
As nature is hovering around the point of total explosion of spring growth, some trees seem so delayed compared to others around them that I get concerned they may no longer be living.
Cue my dread over the way the seven-year-old transplanted maple tree in the labyrinth went from vibrant to dead in a matter of months when it didn’t sprout a single hint of new buds one spring.
Our oaks are always slower than most of the rest of our trees. The overly tall Miss Kim Lilac tree is already green, and the maples have a yellowish hue in their early stages of leaf emergence.
That Miss Kim in front of the house has long looked confused over living or dying. One of the sections will completely dry up, and the rest will burst forth with aromatic white flowers. It currently has a healthy new stalk sprouting in the middle, which had me thinking about pruning the height down to let the new shoot compete for dominance. Mostly, I resort to interfering as little as possible.
With all that blue sky yesterday and the ground too wet to mow, I decided to give my bicycle some overdue attention.
After refreshing my tubeless tires with sealant and cleaning the drivetrain, I hit the road on an exploratory route to visit friends who live about ten miles north of us. After riding this bike on gravel roads and bike trails for the last two years with friends who have “gravel bikes,” I’ve become much less averse to going off-pavement.
The road tires on my bike are 32 mm and, for the most part, smooth. I have been surprised by how well they have performed on the different versions of gravel. Yesterday, I decided not to let our many unpaved roads inhibit my route choices and confidently forged ahead with the most direct path to my intended destination.
My secret weapon is the electric assist on this bike that makes the effort needed on gravel feel almost equal to riding on pavement.
After stopping for a quick visit and a glass of water at our friends’ place, I was uncertain about which road to pick for my return home. While stopped to check the map on my phone, I was alarmed to suddenly notice air leaking from my front tire.
I placed my finger on it and noticed it was wet with sealant trying to do its job. I quickly spun the wheel to redistribute sealant and decided to make haste for home, hoping the constant spinning would avoid further leakage.
Now I don’t feel a need to justify buying new tires, and I can pick something with a tread intended for a wider variety of surfaces. This will open up the surrounding area to unlimited exploration pedaling for me. Plotting routes on the map is a challenge when trying to limit myself to pavement out here in the country.
That leaves only not knowing how steep the hills I encounter will be on untraveled roads in this undulating, driftless region where we live. That decision to go with an E-bike is one I will never regret.
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Noticing Green
In the absence of an enjoyable run of warm sunny days, spring greening has advanced undaunted. I get the impression I will need to begin the season of lawn mowing soon. In a defensive reaction to that reality, I have been trying to imagine how and where I can step back the borders of mowed grass to expand areas of natural ground cover.
Unlike that pathway in the photo, some of our mowed trails are becoming more moss-covered every year. I would really like to avoid driving over the moss with the mower in those areas, but I will need to devise an alternate plan for controlling the growth of anything taller than moss that continues to show up.
There are a lot of buds beginning to appear on the tree branches, triggering a sense of anticipation for the weeks when green growth flourishes at a pace that becomes nearly impossible for us to keep up with in the places where we need to manage it.
Lately, it feels like our greatest challenges have been in striving to eradicate invasive garlic mustard patches and defeating a tenacious web of tree-climbing vines infesting a large portion of our woods.
We experienced some heavy rain showers last night, and the ground is very swampy everywhere we walked in the woods. In the paddocks, it’s just plain muddy. We took the coverings off the horses this morning. The rain sheets had become mud-caked and weren’t doing much to keep the horses dry anymore. I wouldn’t call the weather warm yet, but it looks to be just enough beyond that freezing precipitation threat that the horses will be able to cope with their backs bare.
I don’t want to appear greedy, but it would be great if the universe would consider tossing us some extended sunshine and a run of daytime temperatures above the 50s (F). Maybe throw in a full purge of all criminals holding office in our government and incarceration for the villains pulling the strings behind the scenes for good measure.
I mean, as long as I’m putting in requests…
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Budding Signs
We are beginning to see hints of color on the tops of certain trees on the horizon. Many shrubs and bushes at eye level are sprouting tiny new leaves. Looking straight up, signs of life appear at the ends of high branches of tall trees. It won’t be long before we have trees with leaves again.
It’s been a while since we’ve experienced any high-heat days. Recently, our mornings have hovered around the freezing point but I don’t think it has been harsh enough to kill new sprouts. Grasses are going gangbusters and will require mowing soon or some areas will get out of hand.
In yesterday’s glorious sunshine, Asher stopped in the middle of a walk to lie down in the shade and watch the natural world unfolding before us. I decided to sit down with him.
In less than 30 seconds, I spotted a wood tick walking across the front of my shirt. Despite that unwelcome reality, we enjoyed the spectacle of a bird in a tree over our heads that seemed to be practicing every call or song he had ever heard. I never once noticed a repeated sound. Up and down; high and low; trills, chirps, whistles, yodels, slides, chatters, singsong melodies… it seemed to have it all. The “Rich Little” of bird calls.
I guess the budding sights of spring were inspiring that bird to sing in the extreme.
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Relative Something 