FINALLY! A sunny day in the beautiful Ozarks, the kind of weather that makes you expect to see your peas sprouting. We have had a week of cloudy and cool, brought to us courtesy of a persistent low pressure area to our southeast, and that weather pattern finally moved along to reveal the resurgence of spring.
The culinary herb garden is smiling.
Out in front a manifestation of bluets (Houstonia caerulea) in the lawn, something people who use Weed-n-Feed and other such concoctions never see.
That whole section of the lawn is a wash of pale blue, which does not translate well to the screen I’m afraid. But here’s a close-up of these charming “weeds”.
The pollinators like them too.
Out in the stroll garden the species tulips I planted 18 months ago are promising bloom. At least, the ones the squirrels didn’t eat are.
Here’s a charming group of crocuses I found in the Hosta Dell. I know that nobody can get too much of the power of crocuses, so I’ll risk putting these smiling faces up. They won’t last much longer, actually.
Not to worry, though. Daffodil season has officially begun.
I’m afraid I’m going to miss quite a few of the early daffodils, since I am scheduled to depart on my vacation trip Saturday morning. I’m off to Asheville to catch a wedding, then on to Costa Rica for a little R & R with my friend Jeri. I can hardly wait.
I’m actually looking forward to the trip now. A few days ago my sciatic and femoral nerves were giving me absolutely miserable fits, and I was dreading sitting in a plane for hours and hours. However, we seem to identified the source of the real problem, which would be the spasm in the inner thigh that started back in January when I about killed myself in the snow two days in a row. How long a spasm can sit, lurk, and bide its time, waiting to take you unawares, and then punishing you for your neglect! Of course I know this from my work, but I neglected to apply my knowledge and get the spasmic system properly intervened with until just recently. The problem was exacerbated by a certain amount of denial, I suppose. I’m not used to having my body out of whack, and trying to believe that it truly is out of whack is difficult when it happens.
We had a little scare yesterday when I went to drive Jesse’s car to exercise the tires and engines. Apparently the last time I drove it we didn’t go far enough, or run long enough to counteract the draining of the battery that went on during the long cold spell. So it declined to start. Fortunately, when we took the truck over there and jumped it, it started right up, and tonight we are allowing it to reside in our carport while we attach a battery charger to it. I guess that means that I’ll have to wash it before I turn it back over to its rightful owner, since we have certain sparrows who believe the carport is theirs. Good thing he waxed it before he went off to Iraq, huh?
However, it was quite the learning curve to have this happen. I’m here to tell you that the Good Ol’ Days have up and went. You would not believe the sort of rituals and preparations you are instructed to take just to remove the battery from this vehicle. In fact, if you need to replace the battery in this cute little red muscle car, you are encouraged strongly to take it to the dealer. You can imagine how thrilled we were with the idea of transporting the little darling via tow truck to the nearest dealer, which is located in Springfield (approximately 50 miles from here), which is why we moved the vehicle here to charge the battery. The days of yanking an old battery out and plopping a new one in place have gone with the carburetor.
I can remember when I lived in Fairbanks Alaska with my first husband that we routinely pulled the battery out of the Saab and brought it in the house for the night, because if it sat outside in the car at -40° overnight it wouldn’t have enough power to turn the lights on, much less the engine over. We did not have the luxury of a garage, mind you, nor electricity for that matter, so there was no such thing as a battery blanket for our trusty little car. We even had quick release battery cables, which of course would make it a lot easier for an evil-minded person to rip you off of your battery, should they be so inclined.
In fact, all this hoorah that is going on about the sudden acceleration experienced by certain Toyota owners (present company excepted) brought me a flash of deja vu. See, in addition to an electric circulating heater, which we plugged in at work, we also had a propane circulating heater which we used in the mornings before we tried to start the car at home. Of course you know that if you burn propane you get heat, carbon dioxide, and water vapor. Water vapor at those frigid temperatures has a tendency to condense as frost on the closest cold surface, which would describe the engine of the car and specifically the accelerator cable. More than once on my way to work I would experience sudden unexpected acceleration as the frost on the cable would make the accelerator stick. I’m here to tell you that going 80 or 90 miles per hour on a San Diego freeway is NOTHING compared to going 55 mph on a completely ice encrusted and curvy road. I developed the knack of coming to a complete stop in the middle of the road, jumping out of the car, popping the hood and strumming the accelerator cable briskly to break the frost loose before the engine wound out to a million rpm down pretty well. We started making sure the hood was wide open when we were warming the engine up in the morning, doncha know!
At least I don’t have to worry about that kind of thing now that I live in the Ozarks! And especially now that it is spring.