C. just sent me a picture of a healthy housefly running about on the snow. What? Aren't they supposed to be sleeping or finding a way into my kitchen or something?
I saw her and raised her the mosquito I found in the living room a couple of nights ago, whining around my head and making spirited attempts to bite.
Just sayin that nature doesn't seem to sleep the way she used to. Too bad.
And about that fence replacement that caused us all such urgent pruning and worrying back last summer?
The fence people, still without the replacement fencing, it's stuck in a warehouse somewhere back of beyond, the pandemic having disrupted all sorts of supply chains, have been round several times, in teams, with official looking clipboards.
Including at the start of the snowstorm. They and my neighbor shouting over the wind, discussing the stuff he might have to move, all with snow blowing in all directions, no doubt blotting out the clipboard notes. They're determined, I'll give them that.
What this has to do with nature observation is this: on my rotted out old wooden gatepost there is a perfectly beautiful colony of miniature fungi, which I observe frequently.
It's a brilliant red and green world, easy to imagine in a picture book. And no doubt when the new synthetic fences, I bet anything they won't use wood, are installed, there won't be a handy fungus observatory for me.
Fortunately we have a lot of local trees with plenty of populations to examine and wonder about. Such wealth everywhere, really. I bless our climate, with the cold winters enabling the spring growths, and the rain bringing on all kinds of interesting plant life.
Oh, the snowdrops as of this morning:
Under there. No doubt still blooming. I think the tracks are squirrels.
