Let’s pretend I haven’t been writing my post and just move on. Okay?

So, winter has come to the farm, as you see.

Not snowing, but it’s plenty cold for working outside. Nonetheless, we looked out the kitchen window this morning to see a crew of men planting an allotment of the 6600 trees and shrubs provided with our grant from OWEB. Not sure how the economics of the grant thing work; Benton County does the purchasing and hiring of labor while we stand back and admire. Sweet deal, huh?

Obviously these trees and shrubs are, at the moment, mere twigs, but it is a start.

Anyway, the appearance of the men caused a typical conversation. “Oh, they’re planting along the creek.”

“Which creek.”

“That one.” Accompanied by arm waving and pointing.

“I don’t know which one you mean.”

“That one.”

So we see that our creeks need names. The biggest one was anointed the Little Sometimes, back when. It actually never disappears, so the name has no real meaning. It flows roughly from West to East. Larry said “I just call it the tributary.”

Yes, but that’s not a name, I say.

“Well, that’s just what I call it.”

Fine. But you have to give it capital letters, I say. Always think of it as Tributary Creek, and we’re good. Now, what about the other one?

“How about Winter Creek?” Larry asks. I’m impressed. This isn’t usually his territory, the word thing, but he’s done it. Winter Creek it is, meandering down from roughly South to join the Tributary. Perfect.

In a conversation with Peter, later this morning, he encourages me to go to Google Maps to look at our property. Wow. Hadn’t done that before, and it’s pretty cool. From the satellite, though, we can see that Tributary has forks. So now we have North, Middle, and South Forks of the Tributary. Thanks, Peter!

On with the morning: Larry has said that he needs my help moving some fence poles left over from fencing our road. They’ve been stacked in a pile outside the barn, and need to be moved in. They’ll be useful when we have the new trees and shrubs along the creeks fenced. Not too interested in working outside in what is now sleet, but I bundle up and trudge after Farmer Larry. I’m in the barn looking for work gloves when he announces that he doesn’t need me after all and I can go on up to the house. Whew. Honest, I like driving the tractor, but not in this weather!

Yesterday we had decided to have a look to see if the camas lily bulbs planted in the fall by Fish and Wildlife had shown up. We had seen photos of the men/women working, courtesy of F&W, but couldn’t identify exactly where they were. Well, looking for tiny shoots in fields of grass and weeds proved to be useless. Sure, we saw lots of little shoots, but what they were? Dunno.

Anyway, several weeks ago, sister Martha was staying with us and reported that in the night she’d heard a great crack, surely a tree going down. If we couldn’t find infant camas lilies, maybe we could find a downed tree? The thought of loosing one of the heritage trees sickens us, but we needed to know. Fortunately, no luck there either. But I want you to see the ancient beauty of these trees:

If you can click on the images to enlarge them, this would be a good time. Okay, I have to say that when I see the way my body has changed/is changing with the years that pass, I am humbled and a little ashamed. Not this bad yet, but I sure am getting there!

In a meeting earlier this week with Donna from Benton County, Ryan Cheete, cow guy, Jarod from F & W, and Grant, fence guy, it was determined that we wouldn’t run the cattle on the property this spring, in order to allow the pastures we’d planted to develop. But Ryan would like to see the entire perimeter of the property permanently fenced. And that’s something we can get started on now, depending on Grant’s schedule. The property is fenced, sort of, but trees have fallen across the fences, blackberries grown up over them, etc. A mess. In fact, an earlier owner fenced off a good half acre of what is really our property along Muddy Creek. That piece has been ignored forever, so is a thicket of brambles, riparian trees, poison oak, ugh! But Grant says he’ll just go in there with his dozer, take out the underbrush and reclaim the land. Won’t be a park or anything, but why not?

Now we’re up to today. The sun has decided to emerge for a few minutes and the daffodils which I replanted, into pots again, from last year will bloom very soon. Larry has come in for lunch to say that, with the sun out, he will mow the “lawn.” Except that there are storm clouds looming, so spring may not be here just yet.