Usually, by this time of year, some of these are popping up around the flower beds. Haven't seen any so far - could we attribute this fact to the cold, snowy weather we continue to have? When we children were small, we used to pick them for Mother, disregarding the juice that ran from the stems and made our hands black and sticky. She would put them in a glass, sometimes slitting the stems so that we could watch them magically curl outward. (What makes them do that?) The tiny blue iris are blooming - my 3-year-old neighbor friend, Cayden, wanted to know why we had blue flowers. They do look somewhat forlorn, especially when it snows again, as it did on Wednesday night. I drove up Cub River to our quilt retreat yesterday morning, wishing I had taken my camera, because the snow was a very pretty sight, coating everything with magic. I was glad, however, to see it melted by yesterday afternoon. Perhaps spring will come, after all. We are waiting for those warm days when we can take some of our reading or sewing out to the patio to soak it all in, or to grub in the flower beds, or plant some of the early spring seeds. (I know, some of my friends have already planted their peas, radishes, etc., but these nights of frost deter me from being so ambitious.)
Usually, by this time of year, some of these are popping up around the flower beds. Haven't seen any so far - could we attribute this fact to the cold, snowy weather we continue to have? When we children were small, we used to pick them for Mother, disregarding the juice that ran from the stems and made our hands black and sticky. She would put them in a glass, sometimes slitting the stems so that we could watch them magically curl outward. (What makes them do that?) The tiny blue iris are blooming - my 3-year-old neighbor friend, Cayden, wanted to know why we had blue flowers. They do look somewhat forlorn, especially when it snows again, as it did on Wednesday night. I drove up Cub River to our quilt retreat yesterday morning, wishing I had taken my camera, because the snow was a very pretty sight, coating everything with magic. I was glad, however, to see it melted by yesterday afternoon. Perhaps spring will come, after all. We are waiting for those warm days when we can take some of our reading or sewing out to the patio to soak it all in, or to grub in the flower beds, or plant some of the early spring seeds. (I know, some of my friends have already planted their peas, radishes, etc., but these nights of frost deter me from being so ambitious.)
Even though the weather was questionable, as we came home from Boise, we decided to turn south and go through the little farm communities that are along the Snake River. For quite a long ways, the river is bound on the north by the results of big lava flows, out of which flow an astonishing number of springs, creating magical waterfalls. Would have been nicer to see on a beautiful day, but it still was quite a sight.
This is the scene you first see as you turn off of the freeway toward Buhl and then on to Hagerman and then Twin Falls.
Our time in Boise was spent in a motel-hotel along the Boise River. The weather must have been perfect for these fowl who came in a curious manner up to our patio windows.
A lone Canadian goose, who managed to get goodies from some of the walkers or joggers on the path along the river.
Papa and Mama duck also spent time hanging out by our windows. Her coloring is not so spectacular as the drake, but the markings on her feathers are very well done.
