The goldfinches and pine siskins have arrived. We’ve taken in the big seed feeder, since the chickadees aren’t visiting much any more, but left the little ones for them. And the hummingbirds are back – I hung out their feeders yesterday.

In the sunroom, the tomatoes are all transplanted into their second pot. All three calla lilies have sprouted, and five of the seven canna lilies. The morning glories and scarlet runner beans look like they well soon take over the room – I will have to untwine them from each other in order to transplant into the beds in front of the little cabin (and remember, next year, to start them later!) The pumpkins, squash, and cucumbers have sprouted, as have the violas. The four o’clocks are doing well; I am curious to see what they’re like because I haven’t grown them before. They get their name from their habit of flowering and producing fragrance late in the afternoon. The hollyhocks are hanging in there but not growing much, and most have a dead leaf or two; I am keeping my fingers crossed (and will also plant seed in the ground at the end of the month).

It’s now been a year since I started this journal, and we’ve completed a cycle of the seasons. I have no idea whether anyone is reading it – I do realize that the kind of “news” I provide is not the kind to engender much in the way of comments. So – I will let it lie fallow for now. If anyone out there likes to read it, please leave me a comment saying so, and I will continue! But for now – signing off from Kenabeek.

In the sunroom, the calla lilies have yet to sprout. It may be that their sojourn below freezing in the sunroom in February has discouraged them. I won’t be too disappointed if they don’t, because they’re very tender, so if I plant them outside I have to dig them up every fall. I prefer tougher plants, true perennials. But they were given to me and I’ll give it a shot. I established last summer that they don’t like being in containers – lots of leaves but no flowers. The violas appear to be sprouting at last, and everything else is doing fine. I still haven’t heard the tree frogs so spring isn’t all the way here yet – but it’s close!

Yesterday I raked the leaves off the flower beds. The first year we were here, I actually raked leaves onto them, but I’ve found since that the trees do an excellent job of it without any help from me. Under the leaves were daylilies and daffodils sprouting, and some crocuses already out! I would love to start weeding but the ground is still frozen not that far down, so you can’t get the roots out. I will try to be patient.

Last week we had snow, and today there are butterflies. And today I finally saw the robin I’ve been hearing. We are still getting some chickadees and nuthatches at the feeder, but seed consumption is back to normal, so I’m wondering if the spring migration is already over. If so, there were definitely fewer birds passing through (or coming to nest) than in past years. Of course, it may be a lull – I can’t remember when the spring rush is generally over. Not all the regulars are back – no thrushes yet except for the robin. It won’t be long before I take in the seed feeder and put out the hummingbird feeder. (If it’s not up when they arrive, they hang in the air, right where the feeder is supposed to be, until someone notices!)

In the sunroom, the tomatoes are several inches tall – before long I will have to transplant them. Two of the three calla lilies are sprouting, but none of the cannas so far. The hollyhocks are all up, and there are sprouts in the morning glory/scarlet runner bean pots, and this morning one of the four o’clocks was just emerging. No violas yet but it hasn’t been that long. Next weekend I will start the pumpkins and squash. And I’m thinking I could soon put some Icelandic poppy seeds in the ground.

The old folks around here say the frogs (tree toads) have to be “froze out” several times before spring is really here, and I haven’t even heard them yet, so I know I’m rushing the season. But It is definitely on the way!

On the other hand, the birds are convinced it’s spring. I have no idea how many of them we get – I can only count as many as a can at a given moment at the feeders, but I don’t know how often they come back, and how many are first-timers. I know we have at least 6 or 8 chickadees, a pair each of red-breasted and white-breasted nuthatches, at least 8 purple finches (half female), two to four sparrows, and several pine siskins. There must be more, because last week they had almost emptied the feeder in less than a week, and our normal winter birds only go through about half of it in a week. (This feeder is, I guesstimate, about 10″ by 7″ x 4″ and holds a lot of sunflower seeds.)

The female purple finches are definitely the most aggressive at the feeder, but it seems to be temporary. Initially they spend more time chasing other birds, and each other, off the feeder than they do actual eating, but with time they seem to settle down and will share. Then there will be some more squabbling – I wonder if it’s because new birds arrive, and they have to get acquainted and slotted into the pecking order. I’m sure the “regulars” like the chickadees, who are here all year long, must raise their bird equivalent of eyebrows and snort “tourists!” from time to time.

My sunroom is almost full now – tomatoes and hollyhocks sprouting; four o’clocks, violas (aka Johnny-jump-ups), morning glories and scarlet runner beans all planted in their little pots, and my tender bulbs, canna and calla lilies, back in dirt to see if they survived the winter (I forgot they were there while the sunroom was closed up January-March so they were exposed to below-freezing weather without much protection.) One of the callas is sprouting so they may be tougher than I think! If all goes well, by the time I need to put the tomatoes into the big containers all the annuals will be in the dirt outside – right now all but one container is full of little pots of stuff.

And outside my window, the spruce and fir are already wearing a brighter green.

Indoors spring is already here. In the sunroom my tomatoes have all sprouted, and the hollyhocks I’m starting early have begun to sprout. And my hibiscus continues to blossom madly. There was a point a week or so ago when I thought it had stopped setting new buds, but apparently that was just a breather. Today there are four blossoms out, and 40 buds still to go. This plant has never blossomed like this before, and I’ve had it for years and years. It’s true I repotted it last year, once the cotton scale was truly gone, but I’ve done that before without such a dramatic result. It must be that I cut back the root ball fairly extensively, so there’s more room for dirt. But since the plant is at least four feet tall (and a lot more in the summer) I am reluctant to undertake such a strenuous job every year. I’ll see what it does next year before I decided. It has certainly been a treat – blossoms almost daily since late January.

Next weekend I will start my violas, four o’clocks, and canna lilies. If I have everything right, by the time I need the big pots to transplant the tomatoes into, the flowers will have all been transplanted outdoors. Gardening is truly addictive.

On a more mundane note, we didn’t get that much snow, maybe half an inch so far. The weather reports were, as usual, needlessly dramatic. And this was supposed to be the bad day, followed by a few more days with flurries on and off.

And I’m pleased to report seeing juncoes at the feeder today — I don’t feel spring is really coming until I see them. Actually, not at but under the feeder. Also, two tree sparrows have showed up, skirmishing with the chickadees for possession of the feeder. They fluttered at each other a few times, then resigned themselves to sharing. What with the birds, and the longer days, and more intense light, I can deal with a little snow. Just an ordinary April!

I’ve started my tomatoes in the sun room. This year I’m trying three different kinds – cherry tomatoes, an indeterminate beefsteak and a determinate beefsteak. According to one source I ran across, the indeterminates (which flower and bear fruit over an extended period) are more productive for indoor gardening than determinates (which flower and bear fruit over a shorter, more specific time frame). We’ll see. I think I will wait until next year to try peppers again – they seem to be really fussy, dropping their buds if it’s too hot or too cold.

Soon I will bring in my outdoor containers and see if I can’t get a head start on some annuals, so I don’t have to buy them. I’ve been buying seeds like a madwoman and just can’t wait to get out there. We are expecting several days of on-and-off rain which will leave things muddy but should get rid of most of the remaining snow … on the other hand, it’s supposed to get really cold again once the rain stops! It’s always hard to tell at this time of year. Not long after we moved here, there was a stretch of beautiful, balmy spring days, and I of course went out to the garden to start weeding. Imagine my surprise, as I knelt in the sun in T-shirt and jeans, to find that the ground was still frozen except for the top inch or so, so it was impossible to pull anything up by the roots!

Indoors, the hybiscus is still blooming, almost daily. There are still about 30 more buds so there will be blossoms for a long time yet!

It is interesting to see the ways different birds approach the feeders. The woodpeckers are very frequent visitors but always approach from several yards away, hopping along the railing until they’re under the suet feeder, then fly up to it. Because their legs are attached at a slant, to help brace them when on a tree trunk, they look like they’re bouncing along on their bellies. Although we see both male and female, there’s only one at a time on the feeder. They are very wary and fly off on the least provocation. The other birds always give way to them, though, as they are the second biggest bird that uses the suet feeder; the chickadees and nuthatches are much smaller.

The biggest bird using it is the whiskeyjack (aka grey jay or Canada jay, but I prefer “whiskeyjack”, which is based on the Ojibway name for them). They always visit in pairs, and despite being quite large, a bit bigger than a robin, both of them use it at once, one on each side. The bird book says they’re quite bold but I have yet to have one approach when I’m out on the balcony with a handful of seed. Unlike the chickadees, who will eat out of your hand if you hold still long enough.

We have two pairs of nuthatches, white-breasted and red-breasted (actually more peach-breasted – and I haven’t figured out a funny explanation for that yet). With both, the two will visit the suet feeder together, perching on different sides, or even one on the bottom. Nuthatches are famous for being quite comfortable upside down, and can often be seen coming down a tree trunk head first. The red-breasteds are smaller than the white-breasteds, and will leave the feeder if the whites approach. On one occasion, a white-breasted on the feeder dropped a crumb of suet into the beak of its mate, waiting underneath! Both will also eat seeds, despite being described as insect eaters in the bird book, but the white-breasteds like them more and will sometimes go for seed instead of suet.

The chickadees are our main visitors and they are very interesting. Although there’s room for three or four of them on the seed feeder, even more on the suet feeder, they take turns. You will occasionally see two of them feeding at once, one at each end of the perch, with a good six inches between them. They usually take their seed and fly with it to a nearby tree, where they peck off the shell, eat the seed, and return for more. They seem to do this in some kind of pecking order, because sometimes one arrives and chases off one already there. Since we often have six or eight visiting at the same time, the others wait until the one (or two) at the feeder leave. They’re quite organized and there are extended periods when they take turns nicely. Once in a while a chickadee will actually sit on the perch the feeder to peck off the shell, and chase (by hopping at it and peeping loudly) any which tries to join in. This I assume must be the boss chickadee. And since we see them so often, I’ve identified four or five other calls they make besides the traditional “chickadee” they’re named for. Despite seeing them so often, though, I can’t tell them apart, except for one, this year, with a dark patch on his side.

Who else? Oh, yes, redpolls. We hardly had any this year, I guess due to the mild winter – they’re probably all further north. They descend in a disorganized mob and spend as much time chasing each other away as they do eating, making a kind of silvery chirping all the while. Goldfinches are much the same when they show up in the spring – they go to the small seed feeder, which has perches for six birds, but they apparently can’t stand to eat when they can see another goldfinch nearby, so they spend a lot of time chasing each other off. Occasionally they get arranged facing away from each other and you will actually see six of them on the feeder at once. They do make a lovely noise while they’re at it.