Visual treats for a grey morning

November is often filled with grey mornings, or long grey drippy days with Mother Nature unable to make up her mind as to whether to gently shower us with rain or blast us with the fury of a snowstorm. At such times I like to think of waking to something like the above. 

Blazes of colour of early morning sunrises are not only treats for the eyes, for me they are balm for the soul. I seem to be of the many who suffer from SADS - that horrid depression that makes the world seem like a miasma to be escaped at any cost - usually for me it's into a book, not into work as it should be.

The frosted wildflowers and hay in the field beyond the edge of the property begin to reflect the shimmering sky beyond as the sun starts its chariot race across the sky.

At the south end, the old barn which is being allowed to fall into decay is backlit with the pinks, blues and mauves of an early morning. My love of history reminds me on this grey morning of writing, that one thing I want to do is make a picture story of it - and imagine its long life probably over 150 years, serving as housing for many animals, keeping the original farmer and his family well fed and nourished. 

A project for another day. Enjoy yours today wherever you are, with sun, rain, snow, or wind. And hopefully you will be protected from Mother Nature's lashings if she tends that way in your area.

Early morning sentries

The sun had just risen over the hills under which the farmhouse is nestled.

The lake beyond was a rich blue reflecting the glorious skies as I realized that along the edge of the driveway stands a series of ancient trees. Sentries.

Their girth is huge, at least the ones on the oldest which are the maples. There are a couple of locusts which are much younger and an ash which appears to be as old as the maples. It arches protectively over the back of the farmhouse.

As the dogs roamed around the back and front yard, I ran to get my camera. The colours in the trunks of these giants and the shadows from trees on the other side of the driveway/lane, glowed in the early morning sun rays. You can easily see that fall is nearly over. Leaves blanket the grass, begging me to get out the rake. 

But it was the stillness that grabbed me. Even the morning traffic (which consists of perhaps a dozen cars and trucks spaced over an hour or so) was suspended. I stopped and drank it in.

 These two trees - different species - show their age - particularly the huge split trunk of the large maple in the centre of the photo. I ponder its age. Has it stood here since long before pioneer days and guarded the entrance to this old farm property in its early years? Was it selected by the original farmer to stay while others, not so healthy or larger, were taken for building furniture for the home or make beams or siding for the huge barn, now tumbling into disrepair? I love history, and this tree prompts all kinds of speculation and stories in my head. Perhaps it will figure in a story I write some day.

  In front of the house sits a stump, presumably from a black or honey locust, cut recently if I look carefully at the top. A small urn sits on it from a previous tenant or a romantic wanting to use its flat surface as a plant holder. Young locust trees sprout from roots around the base. Beyond, is the old farm gate leading to a pasture, rich in grasses, now growing in with locust and cedar. An old pole fence edges the bank leading down to what may at one time have been a dirt track connecting other farms and the small villages beginning along the edge of Rice Lake. All lovely speculation about the history of this place.

The sun rises higher exposing more trees and bushes lining the bank and the lake's edge, the blue of the lake itself and in the distance the other side of the lake which can be seen - barely - through the trees. 

The lake and its opposite side won't be visible come summer and I will be surrounded by a green wall, shading the house and protecting the property from vacationers, anglers and fun-seekers. Meantime I'm enjoying this early morning wander around the front of this very pretty piece of land.

Hope you have something similar to enjoy this day.

Woodland walk

Between the bushlot where the dogs and I walk often, and the field that is planted in grains of some sort, you can see where some farmer of long ago - back in the mid-1800s when this land was settled, moved all the stones from the field and built what we call a road allowance. The long line of trees marks the stone fence between one property and another or the bush lot and the field. But because of the size of the trees I see that it hasn't been used for a long time.

Originally the farmer would lead the horses pulling the wagon out to the field and he would dig out the stone as much as he could then either by using a pulley type of contraption on the wagon, hoist out the stone and then using ropes drag it to the edge of the property, or if the stones were small - as you can see the top ones are, just load up the wagon,  drive the horses to the edge where he wanted to dump them, and throw them off. This laborious work continued for many years. without machinery, just old-fashioned hard labour.

A friend of mine born in the 1930s told me that she would help her dad every year picking stones. Each field would have stones that the earth would heave up in the frost and thaw that is early winter and early spring here. Not the huge boulders that had been pulled out by her grandfather and a team, but stones that were of all sizes. That way the harrows, plows and seeders wouldn't get damaged while planting and harvesting. They also pulled out the "wild carrot" or Queen Anne's Lace by hand. No spraying for weeds, all done by hand or by the plow.

I muse on this rich history when I walk along the edge of the field or down the road allowance that is now strewn with broken limbs, and lately, huge fallen beech trees, climbing over them or between in one case where the limb shattered apart when it fell - it's about two feet in diameter - just the branch. And as I looked at all the trees I found one still standing, but not much left of it - that must be nearly 12 feet around it's girth at the base. What an old tree that must have been! One of the ones left from the land clearing of those pioneer days - maybe even old in those days.

I come upon a stump - well more than a stump - the bottom part of a tree long gone, and see where it's been chewed and hollowed out. I assume it must be a porcupine that has done this since I don't think pileated woodpeckers work that close to the ground. But the wood appears soft and rotten, so it could well be any creature digging after bugs and worms I suppose that made this crater in the side of the tree.

I loved the frilly, almost lacy look of the fungii in lines running up and down the trunk. Nature at work turning something into something else. Always things change. I remember from physics in those long ago high school days - nothing every is lost or gone it only changes its state. That was a reference to energy but since everything is made up of the same things - atoms - that little bit of wisdom from my teacher stuck with me for some reason and has formed the basis for much of my own personal philosophy.

Don't you love the huge chunks of wood carved out of the trunk? One of Nature's carpenters at work.

And finally - a turkey feather - or maybe from a hawk - but more likely a turkey  - a very large one that thundered up from its hiding place in the bush when the dogs approached.

Just some of the things we found on our walk. Hope you find some interesting things today wherever you are.