WHAT TIME IS IT?

 

I usually don’t suffer too much through the time changes, but I was confused on Sunday (March 8) with the switch to DST. I was up early -- at least, I thought I was -- but I missed my 7:00 a.m. steps. Then the whole day was off. It seemed like we left for the farm in good time, but it was after 10:00 by the clock when we got there. Back in town, it was nearly 7:30 when we ate supper, and at 9:00, Mike announced that he was ready to go to bed. “But Mike,” I said, “it’s really only 8:00!” But he was adamant that he couldn’t stay awake – until he got to bed, that is.

And so far, that’s the way the week has gone, though I have adjusted somewhat. I understand that we arise late by the clock, but we happily go to bed at 9:00 (formerly 8:00).

A stack of wood at the pond awaits cutting / loading

We tend to think that spring is here, but it’s really only March. We hardly know what to expect from the weather anymore, but we could still have wintry conditions even into April. Still, we have signs of spring. A hummingbird buzzed the living room window in town this past weekend. “Where’s the feeder,” it demanded to know. And on the farm, the earliest of the early daffodils are beginning to bloom and the Crown Imperials are pushing through the soil.

Cottonwood Butte in distance

On this trip to the farm, Mike finished the cuts on the big tree, and I continued raking the yard. We thought about turning on the water but decided to put it off until our next visit and give de-winterization our first priority so that we can deal with potential problems. Then housecleaning will begin in earnest.

Temp was in the 50s and the sun was warm. The afternoon was breezy.

Reflections on the pond

At Bess’ request, I accompanied her to the pond. She likes to poke around there, but she doesn’t explore on her own. We scared up a large covey of quail living in the cattails, and two pair of geese got up from the south end of the pond and noisily flew off. I was sorry to have disturbed them because I like to be hospitable, but if they don’t return, that’s fine, too.

The pond is full but not overflowing into the spillway. And while we had close to an inch of rain in town early last week, the ground at the farm seemed drier to me. In fact, I got along fine in old shoes and was more comfortable as I worked.

Mike checked the upstairs bathroom and pronounced it bird-free. Hmmmm. I wonder. We hope the contractor can make our repairs soon. KW