It's March now and I had hoped to have my greenhouse full of planted flats and eagerly checking them each day to see if anything came up yet. The temps have been reasonably warm out there when the sun is shining, but with another arctic blast in the forecast, I'm leery of making too much effort in that direction just yet. It snowed again yesterday and we still have 19 inches on the ground and solid ice in the driveway and on the shady walkways. This is just ridiculous! We've lived here since 1992 and I've never seen this much snow on the ground in March.
We're a bit concerned about the spring run-off, with the mountain snow pack being so high this winter. We have a meeting with someone from the Yakama tribe next month to discuss the river bank erosion issues. I'm hoping they can do something soon, otherwise we will have to dump some rip-rap. We lost a lot more bank last year, and I'm not going to wait for the fish people to come up with a plan while the river starts running through the front yard. If the cottonwoods look they're going to fall down, we're dumping rock. I'm encouraged that the Yakamas are involved because they seem to have more money than God, when it comes to fish.
The cougar saga continues, with Sam startling one of the cubs on her back porch a week or so ago, when she let the dogs out after dark. I saw fresh tracks from their barn to the driveway on my walk around that time. I continue to limit my walks to our two driveways. I did brave a trip to the mailbox one day, but Ruby was so nervous and on edge, that it gave me the heebie-jeebies. I heard in town that another one had been shot on our road down by Carlton a few weeks ago when it came at an armed man who was walking his dog. He thinks the lack of deer is driving the males down lower, which upsets the whole territory for everyone. I kind of wish I owned a hand gun right now.
We have a Merlin falcon hanging around, terrorizing the bird feeders. The thing is a little bigger than a pigeon and can take down a quail in mid-flight. The other morning there was a small ruckus on the front porch and I saw a quail on the windowsill, like it was trying to get in the house. Down on the porch deck is the little falcon, having quail for breakfast. When I made a sound and startled it, it picked up that quail, which has to weigh about the same as itself, and flew off about 20 feet before landing and finishing its breakfast. Tough little bugger.
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