Tennessee In Bloom

 Color is once again returning to our landscapes.

The spring trees are in bloom.

Dogwood, Bradford Pear, Cherry and Magnolia, all doing their part, and adding their touch to the spring palette.

 

An altered look about the hills;

A Tyrian light the village fills;

A wider sunrise in the dawn;

A deeper twilight on the lawn;

A print of a vermilion foot;

A purple finger on the slope;

A flippant fly upon the pane;

A spider at his trade again;

An added strut in chanticleer;

A flower expected everywhere ..."

~Emily Dickinson

Hello Spring

 Hello Spring, we've been waiting for you..... your healing sunshine is desperately needed.

The Robins have returned, a sure sign that you have arrived.

Our days have warmed up nicely.

New grass and flowers are beginning their journey to awaken.

Songbirds have returned, and there's a nightly croaking of a frog heard at the tiny pond.

Springtime appears.

 

Flowers are budding

Birds are nesting

Bunnies are hopping

Frogs are croaking

 

Color Comes To Town

I know that spring is upon us, when the Redbud trees start giving out their beautiful lavender-pink buds.

The redbud is a tree that is valued far more than its small size might suggest. This lovely harbinger of spring has been called “a breath of fresh air after a long winter” and no less than “one of our most beautiful native trees” writes tree expert Michael Dirr, of The Arbor Day Foundation.

It is hard to express adequately the miracle of a tree that had branches so bare all through winter suddenly go from stark brown to magenta.
But there she is again, emerging from her own winter of storms, freeze, winds, and drought, still standing, still surviving, still blooming, still giving.

—Shaku Selvakumar

Spring Forward

 

                   

This coming Sunday at 2 am our annual clock changing takes place once again.
An hour forward to Daylight Savings Time, payback for that extra hour of sleep, we enjoyed so much back in November.
Spring is not far behind,  just fifteen short days,  what a lovely thought...…

 

                                                      🐇🐇

Returning

Two days of continuous rainfall, water standing ankle-deep, I'm beginning to think a pair of webbed-feet would be fitting.

Temperatures are unseasonably warm, and will remain so throughout the week.

There are shoots popping out of the ground everywhere, which is a little discerning, since we are still in the depths of winter, and snow is still a possibility.

I think Mother Nature has a wicked sense of humor.

Row, row, row your boat......

 

 

 

 

Talking In Their Sleep

"You think I am dead,"
The apple tree said,
"Because I have never a leaf to show -
Because I stoop,
And my branches droop,
And the dull gray mosses over me grow!

"But I'm still alive in trunk and shoot;
The buds of next May
I fold away -
But I pity the withered grass at my root."

"You think I am dead,"
The quick grass said,
"Because I have parted with stem and blade!
But under the ground,
I am safe and sound
With the snow's thick blanket over me laid.

"I'm all alive, and ready to shoot,
Should the spring of the year
Come dancing here -
But I pity the flower without branch or root."

"You think I am dead,"
A soft voice said,
"Because not a branch or root I own.
I never have died, but close I hide
In a plumy seed that the wind has sown.

"Patient I wait through the long winter hours;
You will see me again -
I shall laugh at you then,
Out of the eyes of a hundred flowers.

Edith Matilda Thomas  (1854 - 1925)

Wintering

I'm beginning to get cabin fever, and just as slightly warmer temperatures arrive, an entire new weather system is headed our way.

More snow, and sadly combined with frozen precipitation.
The school children have been afforded  extra days  off school,  and yet their presence outside has been scarce.
Back when my daughter was young she would spend an entire afternoon outside with her neighborhood friends, sledding and building snowmen, only returning to the warmth of  home for a change of gloves, and some hot chocolate. Nowadays, it seems like the children stay inside and play computer games or watch TV.
Times have changed.

Hobbit Days

As with much of the nation we are experiencing a blast of cold winter weather.

It's predicted for much of the coming week, so hearty soups are the go-to meal of the day.

 

 

I've made a fifteen bean soup today, chocked full of country ham, celery, onions, tomatoes, carrots, garlic, and chili spice.

Served with a slice of buttermilk cornbread, it's the ideal comfort food, on a blustery cold day.
Come join us for a bowl.

 

 

 

 

We'll leave the light on for you ! 

 

 

 

 

If you feel like making your own pot, here's the original recipe.

• 1 lb. smoked sausage, ground sausage (browned in pan), ham hocks or diced ham. Our favorite is to use a leftover hambone with some meat on it.

• 1 pkg of Hurst 15 Beans
  1 lg. onion, diced
  1 clove garlic, minced
  1 tsp chili powder (optional)
  1 can diced tomatoes (15 oz.)
  Juice from 1 lemon
  Bay Leaf

• 
  

• I also add:  

  Two stalks of celery
  Three cubed potatoes 
  Two sliced carrots

• Optional: Hot sauce or crushed red pepper to taste

 Original 15 Bean Soup® recipe Hurst Beans

Iced Over

 If given the option, I would have chosen snow.
Soft, white flakes blanketing the ground.
Instead, we are covered in ice.
Trees, houses, vehicles, bird-feeders
.No snowballs today.

 

 

 

Silenced

Mother Nature threw down her blanket shortly after sunrise, just in time for an artic blast moving through the area.

Our first snowfall of the year, magically transforming the landscape.
Soft, wet snowflakes shutting us off from our little world as we know it, cocooned in a blanket of white.
Silenced.

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,

Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields,

Seems nowhere to alight: the whited air

Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven,

And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.

The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet

Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit

Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed

In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

The Snow Storm ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson