Moonshine

A Waxing Moon on Promotion

Partying Until the Sun Comes Home

Gazing Back

Like Lancelot in Blue Jeans

Glory of a Full Moon at Dawn

A New Kind of Moonshine Over Sandpoint

When the sky unmasks its armor of cloud cover, moonshine lights up Elmira like big-city lights. March was an exceptional month given the the cooperation of an unguarded night sky.

As if the moon were on a promotional campaign, it followed me around like an Internet ad. Todd, the dogs and me all piled into the car to drive to Sandpoint around sunset. We turned east toward the Bonner Mall and there it hung brightly above the colors clung to the Cabinet Mountains in a reflection of the setting sun. It was a spectacular joust between moonrise and sunset.

The next morning it hung above Elmira Pond as if it had been partying while the sun slept. The white orb glowed in a pink sky that reminded the moon to go home and sleep it off for a while. It just hovered, not willing to go and seemed focused on my garage. But eventually, the moon left.

Clouds hid the next moonrise. Yet sometime during the night, I awoke. Stepping out of the shaded dark of my bedroom I was surprised to find my office area lit up. Blinking my eyes, I staggered to the south window to see the moon peeking through clouds like a brilliant eye. Unsure if I was gazing or was the object of gaze, I settled the moment by snapping a shot of the moon.

Perhaps tucked away in a crater of the moon is a photo of me.

Two mornings later, March 16 the sky dawned like Lancelot in blue jeans. In the periwinkle twilight prior to casts of pinks and orange, the full moon blazed over Elmira Pond in all its lunar glory. I felt like Queen Guenevere, gasping at the beauty of the exposed knight, still shining without his armor. Like paparazzi unable to hold back the camera, I snapped photos.

And then it was gone. Clouds and moonless nights have returned, but something new is on the horizon. My favorite place to eat in Sandpoint, the place we always go to for burgers but end up eating smoked ribs and jambalaya, Sweet Lou's, now serves a new shot...

...moonshine.

If you visit Sweet Lou's, try the cherry moonshine and wink at the bartender like the moon or a shining knight in armor.

Oh, Potatoes!

Famous Potatoes

Thriving Plants

Promising Harvest

Dirty Tubers

Scabby Skins

Neighbor's Potatoes

Rosy Skins

When I say, "Oh, potatoes!" I mean "Oh, fiddlesticks!" This is a family-friendly blog, otherwise I'd be finding harsher words to express big disappointment. Big. Let's start at the beginning...

It was odd this past spring, to find seed potatoes scarce in Idaho--of all places. Read any local license plate and you'll find the all-American red, white and blue touts, "Idaho, Famous Potatoes." It's potato growing country, right? So, why couldn't I find any seed potatoes?

Worse, I couldn't order any seed potatoes. All my favorite catalogs printed in fine font, "No shipping to Idaho." No shipping to Idaho? What? But we grow them here. Famously! When I asked why, all the seed company could tell me was "per Idaho  regulations."

But lucky for me, I stopped by one last nursery and nabbed their very last bag of seed potatoes. I planted every single one (there were 10). At first sprout, I grew excited. I love potatoes. By mid-summer, my hills were producing promising plants. All 10 of them. Yes, I was going to be famous for potatoes, too!

Because I was late in planting, harvest came in October. But that was okay. I had extended my garden into a winter trial patch and had a gorgeous fall day by which I dug up potatoes. Over 40 pounds! What wonderful, dirty potatoes I had.

Following instructions, I kept them dirty and laid them out on trays to cure in the entryway to my cellar. So they have been curing. I stopped buying potatoes at the store and when my last store-bought potato was fried, I grabbed a handful of tubers to wash.

And discovered scabby skins.

Oh, potatoes! So I bagged up the rest, knocking off dirt and seeing that they were all so inflicted. Did it happen in the garden? While curing? What went wrong? I was not going to be famous at this rate! I peeled them, fried up a batch and they were rubbery. Bad skins, bad texture. Oh, potatoes!

Coming home from Sandpoint, I saw a sign that read potatoes, so I asked Todd to stop. He did and we bought 15 pounds from a woman who has a lovely cabin on a hill. She's from Germany and her husband was former Air Force. Her reds are dirty like my yellows, but wash up into beautiful, tasty rosy globes

We asked what went wrong with my potatoes and she knew instantly--my soil is too rich. Yellow potatoes are most susceptible.Technically, too much nitrogen in my soil. Great for zucchini, not so great for potatoes. She recommended a sandy spot that wasn't pasture (no manure). We have a great swath of sand where the summer grass dies off and we will give that a try.

If I can find seed potatoes. Else my license plate should read, "Oh, Idaho Potatoes!"

Ring-Necked Duck Dads

Sacked Out

Noticed

Sleepy Horse

Tree Swallow Break

June 16 Early Morning Pond Report:

Horses look like a hit and run accident, lying along HWY 95. Pistol sees us and wanders over like a sleepy toddler. He yawns in our faces. Good morning.

Ring neck duck males are padding across the water, one chasing the other. They split to separate sides of the pond. It's shrinking, the pond that is, but no need to be so territorial. No birds of prey lurking in pines, but no sign of baby ducks either. The reeds are so tall I'm sure they are just hidden.


The tree swallows are active. They are always active. They seem to accept our presence and we have yet to be dive-bombed. As I water the garden--grow little seedlings, grow--swallows dip and dive above me. Swallow shadows dance on the garden floor.

Hellgate Osprey Cam Report:

My daughter Allison has a communications internship with an osprey project at the University of Montana. It's Father's Day and the Hellgate osprey nest might have it's first hatching. Alli's job is to monitor and zoom in the camera. But that requires watching, and she is watering her garden and walking her two huskies.

So I'm watching.

Merganser Stretching

Iris (the Hellgate female) is plopped upon her eggs. Cams such as this allow bird nerds such as me to glimpse at daily nest life. It's like reality TV, complete with soap opera drama. Like the time when Stanley arrived late from winter migration to find Iris had two eggs in the nest. Not his. Stan wasted no time in ridding his nest of eggs not bearing his DNA.

So, it gets me thinking about duck dads. So I did some research on our current resident duck dad (thank you Cornell Lab of Ornithology for your educational website)

Duck Dad in the Pond on Father's Day

Ring-necked duck dads have a peaked black head and dive. But what kind of father are they? Unlike osprey, ring-necked ducks are not much into nest building. But he does help mama find a good location, swimming along the vegetative edges of ponds and marshes. The nest, cupped by mama and lined with her feathers, is only a few inches above the water line.

Duck Dad Cloud

I have definitely seen this couple swimming the edges of Elmira Pond. So, that supports the possibility that the four ducklings belong to this ring-necked duck dad. As I suspected, keeping the babies in the vegetation protects them from predators.

Ring-necked duck couples remain a pair during

Blue Heron Beyond "Blue Goose"

breeding season. Otherwise they flock. This, too, I have observed on the pond. Earlier in April the pond was full of wigeons and ring-necks. They dispersed, with one couple, then another returning. I'm not sure if the second couple found real estate or not.

Ring-necked duck dads display their dad-ness through ram-like behavior. During breeding season, a ring-necked duck (hoping to be a dad) will meet a contender with his bill tucked to his chest. The males will swim at each other, chest to
chest. Wing blows and biting might escalate. This I have not seen, but earlier, I noticed wing-preening and head-tossing.

Nae Roses Continue to Bloom (like Nae)

Once incubation begins, the ring-necked duck dad might take off, or hang out. Seems our resident dad is hanging out.

Or, maybe those ducklings are not his.

June 16 Afternoon Pond Report:

A southern breeze bends pond grass making it look like brushed velvet. Wispy clouds streak the blue sky. One cloud looks like a duck in flight.

Teacup Roses Slowly Open

Blue Heron rises up momentarily from the reeds, just behind the "Blue Goose," our new old truck. The grass and reeds are shooting upward like northern Idaho pines.

The Nae Roses continue to blue. The little teacup roses unfurl much more slowly, as if savoring each ray of sunshine. My germinating garden seeds continue to take the teacup rose approach to growth. I await the day seedlings take off like pond grass.

Pond Provides for All

The horses slosh through water to munch on belly-high grass and an osprey passes overhead. Tree swallows continue to dip and dive, and a hummingbird momentarily hovers at the west-side porch. Ducklings play hide-and-seek while duck dad sleeps in the sunshine.

Mistaken Identities

June 15 Early Morning Pond Report:

Sunshine!

Like a flawless glass disk of powder blue, the sky is cloudless. The horses bask in the sun like lazy daisies soaking up sun-rays.

The dogs and I wander about the back pasture, they sniff and I gaze. If they had a dog blog I'm sure they'd report on where the cat hunted the night before and what three-day old horse poop smells like.

Not Wigeons

As eager as a Pointer on a scent, I scan the pond. Lady Merganser holds court on her log; wigeons (don't get attached too that identification) glide nearby and the ducklings scatter into the reeds just in front of me.

A familiar scree hails the arrival of a red-tail hawk. As he settles onto a tall pine limb, I spy another such hawk a few trees down. Oh, darn. New ducklings, new birds of prey hanging out.

Babies Identified?

A newcomer flits over the pond and at first I think its an osprey...a tiny osprey. That's not right. I watch as the bird with dark and light markings hovers over the pond...like an osprey...and dives! It's fast and makes a little splash, darts skyward and dives again and again and again.

My heart sinks. It must be a falcon hunting baby ducks. As the hunter flies off, I notice a bluish-gray sheen to its feathers. I don't think he got a duckling. But what kind of falcon was he?

Merganser...Common or Red Breasted?

Red Tail Hawk...Maybe

Time to hit the books. With a mug of coffee and bowl of granola mixed with plain yogurt, I set up Bird Nerd Central on the south porch...three books, binoculars, camera and Todd's shoes. I am prepared to identify this pond hunter.

Three books and three possibilities--a peregrine falcon, ominously known as a "duck hawk." Too big. A prairie falcon. Legs too thick. Wrong color. A sparrow hawk. About the right size, blue, but the head seems wrong.

As if I needed some help, the pond hunter returns to dive the pond again. I trot out to the pond for a better look, leaving behind the binoculars. Of course. He's too fast and small for my camera and off he flies. He has to be a falcon.

Wild Daisies in the Morning Light

Puzzled, I scan the pond and am delighted to spot Blue Heron. The ducks glide past and I notice he is standing on an emerging island of growing reeds. The pond is shrinking. The spring water is receding and the growing grass is tipping the balance from water to bog.

Ring Neck Ducks

Back to the books. None of the possibilities fit. By my third cup of coffee I begin looking up wigeons and mergansers. Uh-oh...I realize that I've confused wigeons for ring neck ducks. Again. That explains why I haven't heard the cute little wigeon peeps. They are not wigeons.

Look Who's Back!

Common merganser or red breasted? Ladies are harder to identify, but I know for certain that she has the sawbill beak--I've seen her devour bull frogs and dive for fish. She has the crazy mohawk and it looks orangish. She could be either. I think the male is not as colorful as the common fella, so I'm leaning toward red breasted.

Mistaken identities are common to bird-watching.

June 15 Garden Report:

Possible Pumpkin!

Seedlings got the memo--grow! A few have pushed through dirt to greet today's full sunshine. They are so tiny. So much life bound in such small cells, green leaves that will one day produce fruit a hundred times bigger than this beginning. I have a possible pumpkin, several scarlet runners and a few beans. I found several pea hulls dried and empty. The Minnesota wildflowers remain dormant.

Nae Roses

And the roses! Bloom, babies, bloom! What pretty surprises they are since I was not the planter. One wine-red rose opened as if it knew today was Nae's birthday. Todd's sister is still younger than he is today. The bush will now be the Nae Roses.

The little teacup roses that look like birthday cake decorations continue to unfurl petals slowly. Several other buds promise to be yellow or pink. We will wait and see.

June 15 Late Afternoon Pond Report:

Slowly Unfurling

For the fifth time today the pond hunter returns. Finally I capture him in the binocular lenses. And I laugh! I was so wrong...not a falcon at all. The ducklings are safe from this one--he's a belted kingfisher.

An osprey passes over high in the sky, leaving the fish to our new arrival.

And the fish, they rise as the evening bugs float over the water like cottonwood puffs. Fish circles differ from the fairy rings left by the tree sparrows.

Every bird has been identified (or mis-identified) for the day. I even take a stab at naming the ducklings as ring neck babies. Time will tell.

Osprey Way Up

Gray Day

Off-Pond Update:

Hey, Ladies...

Tom Turkey

After sowing carrot seeds at dawn on Tuesday, I left Elmira Pond to visit my best buddy and sister-of-the heart in Helena. Five minutes into a five hour drive, I hit the breaks--turkeys.

A big tom in full display was showing off his tail-feathers and strut to two skittish hens. Wondering if I could talk turkey, I rolled down the window, snapped some photos and gobbled. Tom gobbled back so forcibly his red wattles jiggled.

A gobble can be heard up to a mile away. I've yet to see turkeys at the pond but they do roost in the trees across HWY 95. I hear them at dawn before they drop like ripe fruit from laden branches.

Cold, Wet & Gray

I'm thinking if I stop for every bird witnessed, I'll never get to the Queen City of the Rockies and my friend waiting at her fence. So, I drive on past bald eagles sitting along Lake Pend Oreille, even a baby bald eagle, newly ousted from the nest.

On I drive. Some things are better than birds.

June 14 Early Morning Pond Report:

Rainy Day

Morning arrives soggy, gray and cold. While Elmira does not have big temperature swings, a cold day in summer is the same as a warm day in winter--about 52 degrees. Somehow, the morning feels disappointing, yet the day has not begun.

Huddling in Todd's jacket, I sit on the south porch in fuzzy socks with both hands wrapped around my coffee mug. It's a new roast of beans from Montana, Flathead Cherries.

A Day for Hunkering Down

The pond is locked in steely silence. No osprey. No Blue Heron. No mating bull frogs. And no geese. The Canada Goose is common. Yet, couples mate for life and the family unit remains intact through winter and spring migrations. Has it been long enough for the goosling to take their first flight? Where did they go. The pond feels empty.

Birthday Cake Roses

As empty as my garden of dirt. Nothing poked up while I was away and the transplants still look questionable. If this is summer, will anything grow?

As the horses hunker down in the southeast pasture, I turn to Habakkuk 3:17-18:

Profusion of Buds

Though the fig tree does not bud
    and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
    and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
    and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord,
    I will be joyful in God my Savior.

It may be dreary, but true joy is not dependent upon  my fickle state of mind, the absence of birds or the germination of my garden. I thank God today for this paradise, for these green pastures and quiet waters. Clouds and cold matter not.

Horse & Fairy Ring

And it is then that I notice something I had missed. The rose bushes have budded. Tiny tea roses of butter-cream yellow with petal tips of candy-pink decorate the dark green of the flower beds like colorful frosting on a birthday cake.

The larger rose bush I had trimmed in April is bursting with a profusion of red-wine buds. One has even started to open. This was not here three days ago. The roses promise to be stunning.

Birds & Beast

Then Blue Heron lifts up out of the reeds. I am relieved to see him. His legs tuck up and he clears the willows he usually settles under, heading southeast, rising higher and higher. I do not know what his flight means or if he'll return.

It is okay, not knowing.

June 14 Evening Pond Report:

No osprey. No geese. No Blue Heron. But the mergansers and wigeon couple are still on Elmira Pond. Tree swallows pound the pond like mini ospreys, attacking an insect hatch. They leave behind fairy rings.

Mama Duck & 4 Babies

If you miss the acrobatic flight of the swallows, you might think fish are jumping. Some swallows hist the water two, three times like a skipping stone. Yet, I see distinct arrows cutting across the water. Frogs swimming?

I scope the far shore of the pond and receive yet another surprise today. A mama duck. Ah, females are hard to define. While I'm not certain of her breed, I'm now certain of what is making the water arrows--her four little ducklings. Tiny, newly hatched ducklings.

The Storm Moves On

One is way out ahead of mama, the little explorer of the group. Mama swims close to the reeds and the other three. What puff-balls they are today. I'll keep my eye on them and see if I can figure out mama duck's markings.

Snapper grazes close to the pond. Birds rest upon her back, hopefully eating flies. The flies can get bad here and be miserable for horses. These birds
have a moving roost, complete with meal service.

At last the sun has returned and it looks as if the storm may move on. Hard to say what is on the other side of the mountain. The dogs and I walk the back pasture and as we return I glance at the garden, talking to my transplants.

Green...I see green. In the southeast corner by the raspberries canes I planted mustard seeds. Tiny, tiny mustard seeds. If we just had the faith of a mustard seed we could move mountains...or grow gardens within their shadow.

And, my garden is growing in the old bog patch above Elmira Pond.

Learning to Dive

June 7 Morning Pond Report:

Cloudy Beginnings

Ever so quietly, an osprey glides over the pond and quickly hovers for a dive. He's low and slow. But determined. After several unsuccessful dives, he pauses in mid-flight to shake water off his feathers like a wet dog. Learning to dive for dinner is no easy task.

New Home for Transplants

Clouds build up dark and a warm wind whips ripples across the pond, stray strands of hair across my face, and yet the osprey seems impervious to gusts, never faltering in his hover. He's learning to dive, and continues to pound the pond feet-first for another 10 minutes. With a final shake of water he flies off south without a fish.

June 7 Garden Report:

Sun-Basking

It's digging in the dirt time! Before long, the wind has coated my teeth with grit, but after some weeding along the fence-line it dies down. I plant and cage the three tomatoes from Kate's Greenhouse, and  set the basil plants (turns out there are four, not one)  among the tomatoes. The pickling cucumbers, diva and armenias all go along a fence-line. I build several squash mounds, plant the tarragon and find a spot for a calendula plant. I'm going to try making a balm from the calendula flowers.

Horse-Napping

The garden is beginning to take shape. It's like painting, adding a dab here, building up there until a picture emerges. The horses keep me company for three hours and I take breaks to scratch their foreheads and chins. Pistol stretches out in the sunshine on his side, basking in a rest as if watching me dig is wearisome. Snapper closes her eyes and hangs her head in a horse-nap stance.

It is time for roots to learn to dive in this soil and breath new life into the transplants. I water and welcome them all to their new spot by Elmira Pond.

June 7 Late Afternoon Pond Report:

Lunch

Tuna Salad on a toasted English muffin, Spicy Thai Kettle Chips and a California apricot means it's break time. I sit on the front porch and, as if invited to high tea, Blue Heron flies in. Abandoning lunch, I manage to shoot pixels of his graceful glide so close to the water he might actually be swimming.

A goose stands on the log that is favored by the resident mergansers and the entire goose clan skims across water sparkling like flecks of mica. Goose guard is working; they still have 14 goslings, getting bigger and more distinct each day.

As ever, the pond is pretty and I dive right in, metaphorically, and snap more shots.

Blue Heron Swim-Gliding

Goose on Merganser Log

Mica Waters

Afternoon Light

Blue Heron's Favorite Reeds

Beautiful Sight, Every Day

Clouds Roll Over Hills

Goose Clan All in a Row