Now That Summer is Upon Us

It makes perfect sense to post about spring, don't you think?

I'll start with a few photos of the front garden bed that I promised Lynette about five centuries ago. 

This bed, in it's current form, is about three years old now (here's what it looked like in 2011 ).  I had plans to expand it further this year, but the house-painting thing got in the way.  I'm very pleased with it, especially now that it's to the point that apart from a little pruning, some weeding, and some watering it mostly looks after itself.

Below is my favourite part, although the fleabane (that pile of green in the center) has gotten so tall now it's threatening to take over. I may have to move it somewhere so it can roam free:



I wish I was better at taking garden photos.  It looks much better in real life, but I love the rocks and the little green creeper (elfin thyme). Those purple flowers on either side belong to dwarf sage, which loves the climate here, and in the foreground is a miniature mugo pine.

We also got ourselves organized one spring afternoon and tackled a much-needed project for the blackberries.

I was given a couple of these - they're a thornless variety - by my boss a good five years ago. I had them planted against the fence to the right of the photo where one of them languished for a few years and the other one turned up its little roots and died.

I moved the remaining one when it looked like it was about to expire - I think that was last year or the year before - and it settled in quite happily, to say the least.

Obviously the trellis we had was not going to do the trick.  So Daniel got to work and came up with this:

And after the construction was done (we just nailed in staples to hold the fence part up), I took the brambles to hand:

 

With a nice end result, I think.  Certainly the blackberries are happy - they've been blooming their heads off and are now setting lots of lovely fruit.  Can't wait!

I also wanted to show you a photo pf a rhododendron we saw when we were in Portland, Oregon last month:

I guess that's what happens when you have a wet climate where it doesn't snow (Portland is near the coast). Unbelievable!

And, finally, here's a picture of a very unfriendly (not) cat we met while we were walking around the residential area in Portland where we stayed. 

Why a photo of a strange cat? Just because I like cats ;)

So What Do You Think?

Blue...

Or green?

I thought that once I put some of the trim colour next to it, the answer would be quite obvious.  It wasn't.

Then I thought if I painted a really sunny spot, the answer would be obvious.  It still isn't. Sigh.

As a reminder, here's what our house looks like:

So what do you think?

Incidentally, this is a large part of the reason why you haven't heard from me in a while.  It's proven to be a lot more time-consuming than I thought it would be.

And for the house painters and detail-oriented amongst you, no we're not stripping everything back to the bare boards.  While that would be lovely, we would need a contractor to do it properly and that's more money than we have or, really, than the house is worth since there's lead in the paint and that involves all sorts of regulations for the professionals. 

We are going to have someone do all the preparation up high (basically everywhere that I'm too chicken to get to), and do the final painting.

Who knew choosing a house colour could be so fraught?  I will say, though, I picked the right green on the first try :)

Cheers.

Spring Has Officially Sprung!

And so what did we do on the first full weekend of spring? We went and played in the snow.  No failure of logic there!

We drove for about three hours north-eastish to a place called Galena Summit (just north of Ketchum on your map, Mum and Dad), and picked up some other folks along the way. We rented a yurt for the night, that we could only get to by skiing or snowshoeing.  Since we don't ski, we went for the shoes.  It was only a short hike in - barely two k's I would say - but it was all uphill at about 2 300 metres of elevation.  I found it hard work, but everyone else seemed fine, even though they were towing sleds packed with sleeping bags, food, and beverages.  Not to worry, it was good exercise.

Idaho has a whole network of yurts that can be rented (if you can actually get a booking, they're booked out months in advance of winter).  Generally, you get a yurt, a stove to cook on, utensils, a fireplace, somewhere to sleep, and a pit toilet.  Everything else you need to bring with you.  Ours had a sauna, too, but we didn't use it.

 We had a lovely evening.  Even went for a walk after dinner on the trails.  Ate and drank more than necessary, which I think is almost a requirement on these kinds of trips, and played card games.

Here is the motley crew on Sunday morning when we were about to leave:

 There wasn't a whole lot of snow around, but it was enough to snowshoe on.

And now for the highlight of the weekend.

When we got there, we saw a notice on the door warning us about a pair of foxes in the area who are very fond of stealing things from yurts - everything from food and beer to lamp oil (I imagine they use the latter at night when they're sitting around their camp fire).  The people at the lodge that owns the yurts have named them Swiper (of course) and Sapphire.  The notice also said they are quite happy to be photographed.

As it turns out, the fox that visited us (my guess is it was Swiper, because I think foxes are close to having babies at the moment) was more than happy to have five humans adore him.  We got within a couple of metres of him, and I swear he was posing for us.  He stayed for a minute or three until he realised we weren't going to be providing him with food, drinks, or lamp oil and then wandered off through the trees.

He was a bit bigger than a kelpie, and obviously much, much furrier since he still had his winter coat.

Swiper even gave us his profile to photograph:

And then he posed for a close-up:

I have to say, I've become very fond of foxes, something I never would have imagined in Australia.  In their native territory they are beautiful animals.  And who could resist that smile?!

It's a Bit Squashy Around Here

So earlier this year - in the Spring - I decided to expand one of my garden beds at the front of the house to create a herb garden.

I already had a rosemary (the one that has survived six winters now, even though it's not supposed to) and an oregano in the right place.  I moved my thyme, mint and tarragon (half of which I gave away), transplanted my chives and garlic chives, and popped in some sweet basil, lime basil and parsley once the weather was warm enough.

I also moved some asters and cone flowers, and planted some marigolds, glads, and some kind of grass that I don't know the name of.  The whole bed runs up against the hop vine trellis.  We planted the hop vine this year, too.  Wasn't expecting it to do much, but it actually blossomed and set hops:

I had read that it could take a few seasons to produce anything, but I guess it wasn't listening.  With a bit of luck, Daniel will be able to make a fresh hop beer next year.

But anyway, that's not the point of this particular story...

I had the herb bed all sorted out and looking lovely, when I noticed what looked like a pumpkin sprouting.  I thought I'd leave it and see what happened, not really expecting it to do much at all.

Apparently the garden gods had different ideas, because before I had even noticed (and why I didn't notice I can't really explain), it had taken the place:

 

And in the meantime, another one had sprouted up in the pea trellis out the back in the vegie patch....

I couldn't really pull it up because it was fruiting, and that would be a waste.  So I waited and waited until everything was ripe.

After the harvest, it wasn't pretty:

But fortunately none of the herbs it had run over died, and I did indeed get a harvest:

Fifteen acorn squash!  And another thirteen from the one out the back!

Normally these things grow about the right size to feed two people, but I had ones big enough for six people.  

I found homes for a lot of them, and the rest are in storage to be munched on over the winter.

The crazy (not to mention frustrating) thing is that I have been trying to grow these off and on for YEARS, and I've been lucky if I get one or two fruits.  But let them show up where they want to, and I get a bumper crop.  Sheesh!

Needless to say, I'll be saving some seeds.

Storms, Floors, and... Sheep?

I'm sure you're all quite sick of hearing me say how hot and dry it's been this summer, but just in case you didn't hear... it's been HOT.  And DRY.

When we got some rain last Thursday, I got all excited.  Rainy, stormy weather is a bit of a special event around here (anyone would think we live in a desert, it's so dry).

 I happened to be in the carpark at the local branch of our library when the system came through and I just happened to have a camera, so of course I had to take some photos.  As I recall, it was about four o'clock in the afternoon when I took these.

 

Such a nice change from clear blue skies!

I'm not sure the trees were too thrilled, as windy as it was.  By the way, don't you love the way the library sign has an exclamation mark at the end of it?  All of the branches in our county(shire) have one.

I made it into the library only to find out they were closing the doors due to a power failure.  I was just about to go back to the car when the skies opened and it rained.  And rained. For a good 20 minutes or so, I'd say.  I just sat in a chair and watched the storm blow through, and I enjoyed every second of it.

Daniel was at a concert about 30 ks from home, and he said it rained for about 40 minutes there.

Unbelievable!  And very exciting until we heard there had been mudlsides to the north of us that kept the main road to the cabin closed for the better part of a day.  Not to worry, we snuck up there through a back road.

Speaking of cabins... I finally got around to doing something with the bathroom floor.  I don't know why, but some people like to carpet their bathroom floors.  Actually, I can understand it with the cabin.  My guess is the previous owners found a cheap remnant of carpet  and put it down so they didn't have bare wood, and it probably provided a (very) small measure of insulation.

It's just not my thing.  And can you see me keeping pale coloured carpet clean?  Puh-leese!

So I lifted the carpet (much to my delight they hadn't even glued it down), filled and sanded a few holes and gaps to smooth things out, and got to with putting down some cheapy self-stick vinyl tiles.

 

After some help from Daniel when it came to working out things like getting a straight line to start with and cutting shapes for around the toilet, I wound up with this:

 I'm sure the Keepers of Cabin Lore and Etiquette, who require everything in cabins to be wood, stone or metal (and very carefully manufactured to look "rustic"), would be horrified to see it, but we like it!  Plus which, it's toned down the fire engine red of the sink; double bonus!  It cost about $50 all up.

I spent a week up there, and the floor was about the only productive thing I did, apart from cooking Daniel a birthday dinner.  I read a lot, dodged the rain, read some more, went for a walk or two, and watched the world go by.  Oh, and I bought some violently shiny nail polish called Caribbean Frost and painted my toenails, which now look like the wings of some sort of beetle. 

And you know what?  I don't feel the slightest bit guilty!  No mean feat in a culture like this that seems to require everyone to be busy ALL the time.  I had a lovely break.

As for the sheep...  here they are!

 Complete with horseman and sheep dogs.

It's not the best picture in the world, but I didn't want to get too close and upset things (I took it standing on the deck).

There must have been a couple of hundred sheep, and the drovers were moving them from their summer pasture to their winter pasture.  Not sure where that is exactly, but somewhere up the road from the cabin.

Daniel had the pleasure of getting stuck in sheep traffic, as he was on his way back from town.

The shepherds in Idaho originally came from the Basque country in Spain, and they still spend summers in the mountains with their flocks.  These guys (there were about three of them) had a couple of Great Pyrenees dogs with them, too. No doubt their job was to help guard against wolves and such. One of them was a very old dog, and I think I know now how the expression "dog-tired" came into being.  He was sooooooo slow, but there was no way he was going to let that mob move on without him.

It's a great thing to see; not just because it's a tradition for people here, but because it also means fall and (hopefully) cooler weather is on its way. 

And with a bit of luck, cooler weather means some rain.  Did I happen to mention it's been hot and dry?

Cheers!

We Found it!

Since the 4th of July holiday fell on a Thursday this year, Daniel and I decided to take an extra day and head up to the cabin - furry folk in tow - for a four-day weekend.

It has been blindingly hot here of late, so we were looking forward to some lovely cool evenings at the very least.

Daniel rode his bike a lot. There were a couple of rides that were at least 100 kilometres long in there, and one of them was uphill pretty much all the way.  I know this, because I drove it so I could pick him up in a place called Idaho City, and even driving it was not for the faint of heart.  Lots of twists and turns on a two lane road full of holiday traffic.  And it was hot.  

I honestly don't know how he does it, especially since it was mere preparation for a ride he's doing this weekend that is more than THREE HUNDRED kilometres, and he's hoping to do it in ONE DAY!  I have to sit down and catch my breath just thinking about it!  I'm absolutely amazed at not only his fitness, but his mental fortitude.

Yours Truly spent large amounts of time reading, working on a baby blanket, and hanging out with the furry ones.  They've been up to the cabin about three times now, I think, and each time it gets a bit easier in that there's less complaining in the car, and they relax (by which I mean sleep) a little sooner.

I did manage to get in a hike, though.  I've been struggling a lot with the stupid fibromyalgia monster of late, but Daniel found a short (just over a couple of kilometres) hike in the mountains that I thought I would be able to handle even though the walk out was uphill and at somewhere around 2,000 metres of elevation. The (rather sparse) notes I found about the trail rated it as "difficult", which I assumed was because it was uphill.   But since it was short, and I didn't have to run up it, I thought it would be okay.

On Saturday we packed sandwiches, lots of water, snacks, and some sunscreen, and headed out, leaving the cats to their snoozing.  We took a blanket, and Daniel took his fishing gear with the hope that he'd have a chance for a cast or three.

We made a three hour or so drive northeast up into the Boise Mountains along gravel roads that became increasingly precarious until we reached the trailhead for Lost Lake.

So no worries, we found the trailhead and there wasn't another soul to be seen.  Hurray! We headed out along what looked to me like an old logging road that was really just two ruts in the dirt, and took in the scenery. 

We hiked for a bit.  And then the trail vanished.  We scouted around until we found those two ruts again, and continued on our merry way.  Did we bring a map?  No we did not. Pffft! Who needs a map for such a short hike? 

We lost the trail a few times until it petered out completely.  It was at about this time I began to realise that we had hiked quite a bit more than a kilometre and although there were lots of lovely things to look at, a lake was not amongst them.

Still, we soldiered on through increasingly dense shrubbery, and then we hit an area that had been burnt out. 

 

It was pretty rough going, so we stopped for lunch.  And that's when squadrons of giant mosquitoes decided to launch their major attack, after a few earlier sorties had Daniel swearing a blue streak.  Did we bring bug spray?  No we did not.  

Now normally I can guarantee that I will be mosquito-free if Daniel's around, because they swoon over him, but when he left to hike up a hill to see if he could see Lost Lake they apparently decided I was fair game, too.  It stayed that way for the rest of the hike.

There wasn't a lake to be seen from the top of the hill, and that's when I realised we had somehow managed to get completely off the trail.  At Daniel's (very smart) suggestion, we started hiking back down the mountain keeping a little stream that was there (and which we figured probably emptied into the lake) within earshot. 

Back though the burnt area we went.

At this point, it was beginning to feel like a bit of a quest.  I felt like I should have had a sword and a suit of armour, or something.  Or at least some bug spray.

Still, it was absolutely beautiful, and very peaceful.

Thanks to Daniel's smart thinking, we eventually hit what looked like an actual trail, instead of two ruts in the dirt, and we hiked up to what we hoped would be Lost Lake.  I use the term "hiked" quite loosely.  Daniel gambolled up the steep slope like a billy goat, while Yours Truly applied the tortoise method and toiled up through creeks, rocks and tree roots very slowly.  

And then we found it!

Just lovely, isn't it?  Daniel fished for a bit (he caught and released three trout), while I rested and slapped at mosquitoes.  

The bugs defeated us in the end, and because we had waylaid ourselves and run out of time, we headed back down through wildflowers and crystal clear streams.

It wasn't until we reached the bottom that we discovered how we'd managed to miss the trail.  We thought it was to the right of Daniel.  I mean, it looks like a trail to me.

We completely missed the fact that behind the fallen tree he's pointing at was a well-trodden, perfectly visible hiking trail!  Oh well.  We ended up hiking a bit more than six kilometres, and I am pleased to report that I didn't overdo it and end up being miserable.

On our way back to the cabin, we drove through an area called Bear Valley.  Didn't see any bears, but what a stunning - and HUGE - valley it is.

Definitely on our list of places to go camping.  Especially since it's apparently chock full of fish for Daniel to catch, too. 

You know, just when I think I've gotten used to the scenery in Idaho, we spend a day doing something like this, and I realise that I couldn't be more wrong.

What a wonderful day it turned out to be. 

Cheers!

Sometimes Crazy Weather is a Good Thing

We've had a very strange Spring here.  It's been alternating between very chilly and very warm, with virtually no rain (at least until last week, when it rained two days in a row for a total, I would guess, of a little less than a centimetre).

This has, as you might imagine, wreaked havoc on the vegies. Poor things don't know if they're coming or going, and given that we're only three weeks from the start of summer I'm not holding out much hope for the cool weather crops like broccoli, cauliflower and spinach.

Having said that, this type of weather is apparently right up my mock orange's alley.  I have never seen it bloom so beautifully as it has been this past week.

I took this early this morning.  It's about a metre and a half tall, and smells absolutely divine once the sun hits it.

And because it's so pretty, I thought another photograph was called for. 

That's one of two wee baths I have for insects, and that's my dwarf culinary sage in the background, which the bees are currently swooning over.

I have been given one of the joys of gardening; something might be going pear-shaped in one spot, but there's bound to be something gorgeous somewhere else.  Too bad you can't eat mock orange!