The dearth of birds

I shouldn't say there is a dearth of birds, but most of those at the feeders are sparrows, sparrows, and more sparrows. And they eat almost everything: sunflower seeds, peanut splits, niger, even the suet which is designated by the label as for woodpeckers. It's like a feeding frenzy out there.

The only thing they leave alone are the whole peanuts, which the blue jays ravage. After years of corvid shortage caused by the West Nile virus, I am happy to see the jays. Sparrows, not so much.

The only winter birds I have seen so far are a few juncos. No titmice, no chickadees, no nothing. Did they decide not to come this far south? Maybe that means the winter will be mild. Or did they pass by and just keep on going? Is that what happened to the finches? What do they know that we don't?

Before I retired, I worked from home as much as I could get away with. I'd sit in the West Wing and rest my eyes by gazing out the windows. Consequently, I was more aware of what species were visiting. I no longer spend as much time in that room, but when I do, I rarely see something like this guy.

Even when the feeders are birdless, I enjoy the big bluestem behind them. It is especially pretty this year.

What's outside your windows these days?

Chores

This past week, I managed to get the garlic planted and mulched, one day before we received a dusting of snow. I thought I was late, but my not-very-exact notes reveal that last year I planted garlic on November 19. Previously, I planted nine cloves per square foot, but this year I gave them a little more room, in hopes of getting larger bulbs.

Today I spent about two hours outside doing this and that: putting away the lawn furniture, mulching the strawberries and asparagus with straw (note to self: one bale is not quite enough), transferring leaves donated by my neighbor from one side of the yard to the other, cartload by cartload, to build up the garden beds. My method is not very efficient, but all those trips added about 3000 steps to my Fitbit.

Sometimes I imagine my neighbors looking out their windows and wondering why in the world I spend so much time doing yardwork. Except for mowing, THEY certainly don't and don't want to. I could try to come up with some deep philosophical explanation, but the truth is much simpler: I just like it.

A new toy

Several months ago, I got a bug up my butt about being able to chip and shred yard detritus. I did not want to deal with another combustion engine, so purchased a LawnMaster FD1501 Electric Chipper Shredder from Amazon. Then the thing sat in its box for months. (In all fairness to me, I was distracted by major home remodeling.)

Several weeks ago, I finally pulled the thing out and actually *used* it. Fortunately, there was very little assembly involved, so it was up and running in minutes. I put it to work on the remainders of the lilac bush I whacked not that long ago.

It did okay. Some chipping occurred and some shredding. The branches were still rather green, so with the small stuff there was more shredding than chipping. And the shreds were rather long and stringy, and periodically had to be cleared from the chute. I haven't tried it on anything thoroughly dead and dry, but I expect it will do fine. Tim "The Toolman" Taylor would be unimpressed, but this machine suits my needs and skill level.

Not too clean

Last week I wandered around the yard, clipping and yanking the thoroughly dead, no possible winter interest leftovers from summer. Things like dry stalks from daylilies and hostas, entire blackened coleus (good thing I dug one up to serve as next year's mother plant) and frosted marigolds, done in zinnias, etc. You know the drill. The so-called experts exhort us to clean, clean, clean up the garden and flower beds each fall. I do some, especially in the front of the house, but not too much. There are living things that depend on leaf litter and dead plants, plus after a long winter, I am usually antsy to be outside before it is safe to do any digging or planting, so leave some clean up for early spring.

Even the yucca stalks can wait.