It is caturday and the moon has just turned and is waning. It was the storm moon and last night we could feel one of those storms. Usually our bedroom window is open at night, but ever since the little man arrived, with his surface area to volume ratio, we have it closed. It traps the heat in but traps our connection with the wind and rain. We are insulated by double glazing and we miss the whistling wind. However, last night’s gusts and rain were strong enough to be heard as they battered the cottage.
Either side of this brief little storm the weather is warm. It may not actually be warm in the proper sense but combined with the lengthening days it is fooling us into thinking spring is here. We feel the urge to plant the seeds in the soil and start the beans, the peas, carrots, chard and tomatoes. This is the lie of the Irish spring. It will be long and we may still see harsh cold. The snow will more than likely fall again. Maybe not as epic as the winter but enough to dash all our premature dreams of crops. The moon of winds is still to come, then the moon of planting. Then we can let the seeds fall.
Now would have been a good day to sort out the compost bins. One is full of dark rich soil that I don’t know the age of. Two stand empty and shiny, and one is full of foul smelling waste from the girls. Maybe it should be fowl smelling. I should have, but did not, work this into the soil. The only venture into the garden this morning was to fill the bird feeders at dawn. This was for purely selfish reasons as I wanted to watch them in the brief moments caught in-between making pancakes. It amazes me how many birds we have here. When we moved in I could not believe how many there were. In our old house the wind tore down the hill and rolled into the back of the house. There was little cover for the birds and they were random and rare visitors. Here at the cottage they pour out of every tree, hedge and shrub. I honestly expected the population to crash when our two cats took up residence. The numbers have not dropped a bit (maybe one or two) and the geek in me thinks it is due to there being so many of them. More eyes means more chances to spot the fat black cat or the needy one creep up. However, there may be another explanation that may not be so geeky. This morning I watched the needy one stalk along a path in the garden. She was sneaking up on the birds. The birds seemed to ignore her and I felt like shouting, “Run birds, Run!” I need not have worried. Maybe the birds know the cats too well. They did not panic or fly away (or run). Even the birds hopping on the ground ignored the needy one and simply carried on bouncing about. The needy one took three more stealth stalking paces then…..rolled over and began cleaning herself. I had to laugh out loud. Our cats are a bit strange.