Twelve of My Favorite Things (2016)

Are you hopeful for the year ahead?

The 18th century English architect and landscape designer William Kent offered sage advice: "Garden as though you will live forever." Gardens give us hope—for ourselves and for the generations to follow.

In that spirit, I contemplated simple gardening joys of this year that I hope to see again in 2017. For the past several years, I've created lists of favorite garden and nature "things." They help me appreciate each moment and each season in its time.

Here are my reminders for the next 12 months:



Songbirds of many species are common in my winter garden. I hope I'll also see a few rarer visitors, like this fluffy Common Redpoll, who stopped by last January.



If there's a temporary thaw in February, I'll watch for moss stalks and flowers reaching for the sun.



Will the graceful Snowdrops bloom in March? They're always among the first flowers to appear each spring.



April will bring more new life, with unfurling Buckeye foliage and the leaves of other trees.



I do hope a few Indigo Buntings will visit as they migrate north in May.



June should bring bright colors and sunny blooms filled with pollinators.



Butterflies, like this Northern Broken Dash, will be plentiful in July.



August will be golden with blooming Black-Eyed Susans near the lake.



I hope to watch Monarch caterpillars chomping on my Milkweed plants in September.



In October, Sandhill Cranes will migrate south and dance in local prairies and meadows along the way.



Frosty Oaks will form a magical carpet, as November turns its page to winter.



And in December, our avian "forever friends" will entertain with their acrobatics and spunky competitions.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

When I think of these simple pleasures, and many more, the year ahead looks brighter. Each month carries its own unique, simple blessings.

My wish for you in the year ahead is that you'll find many "favorite things" and gifts that will bring you much joy.

Happy New Year!

No FOMO for Me

Female House Finch

Do you ever have a "fear of missing out"? In modern times, this "emotion" has been shortened to the term FOMO, defined by Google's dictionary as, "anxiety that an exciting or interesting event may currently be happening elsewhere, often aroused by posts seen on a social media website."

Lately, with all the embarrassing American political events, I have no FOMO for social media.

But I realized this past growing season that I do have FOMO for gardens and nature. Any time I'm stuck indoors, and especially when I don't have a window, I long to go outside and see what the plants and animals are up to! I don't want to miss out when butterflies are flitting through my garden, when deer are wandering through the woods, or when my favorite plants are about to bloom.

The only exception to this type of FOMO, for me, is winter. I honestly don't care. I don't feel the urge to go outside at all ... especially when the temperatures hover around or below 0F/-18C, and the wind howls around every corner.

On these bitter days, (non-workdays, that is), I'd prefer to curl up with a good book or a crochet project and two cats in my lap.



Yes, on these coldest of days, I occasionally glance out the kitchen window briefly.



I look up into the gnarly, old Oak trees, and realize the scene might as well be black and white.



On the colorful, sunny days the temperatures are often the coldest. Still, no FOMO for me.



I glance at the gazing ball and dream of other seasons.



I contemplate stories surrounding life forms that leave tracks as evidence of their existence.

Dark-Eyed Junco

Usually, there's a tiny Dark-Eyed Junco or two scaling the snowy landscape for bits of seed--even when temperatures are subzero.

Eastern Gray Squirrel

On slightly warmer days, the squirrels and other common songbirds have winter parties in the shrubs and at the feeders.

Male House Finch

Mourning Dove

Cardinal

American Goldfinch

Mourning Dove

Various Finches

House Finch and Black-Capped Chickadee

But not me. I stay inside, briefly watch the show, lower the shades as the sun fades, and dive back into my computer, my book, or my latest project.



How about you? Do you have winter FOMO? If so, enjoy the season!

(Things are looking up! No subzero days are in the foreseeable forecast!)

Orange With Anticipation...and a Giveaway

One of the first Baltimore Orioles in my garden last year in early May.

As I write this, the oriole feeder is up and I'm just about to set out the hummingbird feeders.



What an exciting time!



Last year, the first orioles appeared in my garden on May 6, and the first hummingbirds on May 7.

I know this because of date labels on my photos, and because I reported the sightings to the Journey North citizen science website on those dates. (Anyone can help track the migrations; you don't have to be a teacher, a naturalist, or a scientist.)

Do you think I'm too early with my preparations this year? I'd say "yes," except people elsewhere in northern states have sighted orioles. And hummingbirds have made their way to the Upper Midwest. Don't believe me? Check out the reports here, here, and here.

Indigo Bunting that showed up on the same day last year as the Orioles.

Tawny Emperor butterfly on oriole feeder.

One of last year's first hummingbirds.

The oriole feeder I use is a versatile little tool for attracting, feeding, and observing not just orioles, but also butterflies, chickadees, hummingbirds, and other birds. I wasn't fast enough last year to photograph the hummingbirds checking out the feeder, so it will be a fun challenge for this year.

Handmade oriole/butterfly/hummingbird feeder. Just add oranges! (Oreo kitty not included.)

Want to attract orioles, chickadees, hummingbirds, and butterflies to your garden? This type of feeder is one way to do it. To celebrate the new season of wildlife support and observation, I'm giving away an oriole feeder to a random commenter. This feeder was made by my father, a talented woodworker. (Thanks, Dad!) I'll draw a name on Friday, April 17. Simply leave a comment on this post, or on the PlantPostings Facebook page. (U.S. shipping only. Outside the U.S.: Send me an email if you'd like construction instructions.)

Good luck! And enjoy the unfolding season!

(I'm linking this post to Michelle's Nature Notes at Rambling Woods.)

My tree in April

Garden and nature bloggers from around the world are participating in Loose and Leafy's "tree following" meme. I'm honored to be part of the celebration. As many of you know, I'm following the Shagbark Hickory (Carya ovata).

Changes from March to April are subtle, but springtime is definitely at work. I've included captions with each photo.

I often worry about the "bald spots" on the bark after the winter,
but it's a natural process of shedding each year.

A closer view of a "bald spot."

A healthy crop of moss and lichen.

The peeling bark is even more dramatic from the side.

Indiana bats roost in this bark, although I've never seen one here.

Another dramatic strip of bark.

A cardinal in the neighbor's yard sang to me while I was photographing the trees.

I suppose the cardinal wanted me to move away from his food.

This robin was very tame, taking a bath about four feet away from me and the Shagbarks.

This perch is a common squirrel hangout, although I didn't see one there today.

The buds are starting to swell. They'll look dramatically different next month.

The buds on Shagbark Hickories go through a dramatic transformation during the spring.
Soon they'll look like large, dramatic "candles."

A closer look at a puffy bud.

Soon, this view will be totally different. I'll share it again next month.

Head on over to Loose and Leafy's blog to learn about other fascinating trees.

And just a note that I might be slacking off a little with blogging and blog visits for a couple of weeks. I'm just trying to catch up with work, gardening, family priorities, and some special garden projects, which I'll share with you soon!