Summer.
By now the male hummingbird perched on the top
branch of one of the old dry poplar trees on the east side of the house has
become a familiar sight. I can see it from my bed in the morning, from the
breakfast table later, and whenever I’m working in the kitchen. If he is not
there he can usually be found either at the feeder or visiting the perennial
bed in the garden. I have not yet seen the female this year: doubtless she is
now busy raising her young after building the nest. The male is not involved in
any of this.
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After a slow, cool beginning to the growing season crops and
garden look very good. When I wrote the last blog posting we had not yet begun
our field work, and now it seems a distant memory. Conditions were quite wet,
although not as bad as last year, and again we had to drive around low spots
where cattails and reeds have taken up residence. Things progressed quite well
once we had started, but there was no shortage of mishaps. Broken cultivator
shanks that were on back order until a few days ago (weeks after we needed
them) were only the beginning, the only effect here a temporarily reduced width
of tillage, and three flat tires within a couple of days on that same cultivator were annoying,
but no big deal either. The broken axle on the anhydrous ammonia tank was
potentially more serious, or could have been if it had happened on the highway
instead of in the field. Fortunately the fertilizer dealer brought a
replacement tank until the welder could come and fix our own.
For me, the biggest excitement had to do with our car. I had
parked it at the side of the road beside the field we were working on one day, about
three miles from home, pulling the key, but leaving it hidden in the car as we
always do, so that whoever needs it can use it, and when I returned a few hours
later the lids to all compartments were open – and the key gone. Strangely enough
the car was still there and nothing else was missing, but it is a distinctly
uncomfortable feeling if someone can come anytime to pick up your car and drive
off with it. Thankfully no house or any other keys were on that key chain. Of
course we had no time to replace the locks just then, nor even really time to
worry about this.
Two days later, on Mother’s Day, Maya and I took the car to
pick up another car in the pasture beside another field. It was twilight, about
a quarter to ten in the evening, the end of another long day. I pulled up
beside the other car – or at least that was my intention. Instead, I felt a sudden
jolt and couldn’t move any further. Automatically I switched off the engine
and, with some difficulty, opened the door. It turned out that I had driven into
a circular hole, a little more than a metre in diameter and about half a metre
deep, a hole that most certainly hadn’t been there before. The left front wheel
was firmly stuck in the hole, while the right rear wheel was in the air. The
bumper looked very bent, and I was quite devastated. One by one the other
members of the family arrived, everybody coming up with another plan how to get
the car unstuck. Lifting it up – even two strong young men like Magnus and Carl
– proved an impossible feat, the idea of pulling it out was soon abandoned as
well. We were all tired and decided to leave it there until further notice.
All this has long
been forgotten – almost forgotten, anyway. The car was retrieved a couple
of days later with the help of sturdy boards and jacks, the fender magically
slipped back into its natural position, not even a dent visible. We are not
aware of any attempt by the thief to claim his prize, and other concerns have
replaced the ones we dealt with at seeding time. The hole is still there, still
a mystery; its even shape suggests that some shaft – a well, maybe? – had been
there a long time ago and caved in after the winter. At least we are aware of
it now, and filling it up again will be part of the ‘to do’ list –eventually. Farm
life certainly has its challenges, and during the busy times of the year there
is sometimes little opportunity for musings.
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| Western Canada Violet |
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| Marsh Marigolds |
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| Not as showy as its bigger cousins, but an orchid nevertheless: the Northern Green Bog Orchid |
Now, however, the slower pace has returned, and I am
spending as much time as possible in the garden. By now the clumps of lettuce
and spinach have been harvested several times, supplementing the greens I
seeded this spring. Peas are starting to wrap their tendrils around the fence
we put up last week, beans and cucumbers, scraggly for the longest time because
of the still cool nights, are spreading out healthy leaves now, red and white
cabbage, cauliflower, kohlrabi and radish plants are lifting up the net
protecting them from hungry caterpillars.
Sour cherries and apples have discarded their blossoms, tiny
green fruit swelling in their place, and the bees have moved from the lilac
hedge, almost at the end of its blooming, to the raspberry patch. Robins and
song sparrows are taking their baths in the pond, stocked with goldfish for the
first time, and soon the rose buds on the bed beside the deck will open,
fragrant blossoms joining their wild cousins already in bloom at the edge of
the bush.
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In a few days we will embark on a six day bicycle trip with
our niece Trina and a big group of other cyclists that will take us from west
of Slave Lake to Barrhead, about 290 km altogether. We will enjoy Alberta’s
beautiful summer landscape, staying in campgrounds along the way and stopping
at a few points of interest. I hope to report on this in my next blog posting.
The sun setting on the first day of summer: 10:25 pm
