The new business, Adirondack Safaris, has been keeping me occupied. After the disastrous disappearance of the graphic designer who was working on the logo and brochure, I was pretty despairing at mid-week. But, fortunately, Ann and Pete Hornbeck (of Hornbeck Boats) steered me to Terry Young in Jay, New York, who designed their website. I spoke to him on the phone on Thursday morning, drove up there (160 miles round trip), and met with him for two hours. So far he's designed the brochure cover, and all I can say is, he really gets it. He's also designing a website for me, which I'm creating/writing now.

In wilderness doings, I've been birdwatching all week despite the incredibly miserable weather. Have Muck Boots, will travel. The warbler migration is in full swing now, though I expect it will soon end. Gorgeous, colorful birds! Blackburnian warblers with their brilliant red-orange throats, Magnolia warblers, Nashville warblers, yellowthroats (common but cute nonetheless), ovenbirds (also a warbler, though the name does not suggest it), chestnut-sided warblers, blue-headed vireos, yellow-rumped warblers. It was fun to take Annie out today--she has what it takes to be a birder: patience, stamina, curiosity, and excellent binocular skills. A group I was birding with all noted the song of a scarlet tanager in the distance. I couldn't believe they were going to march on and leave it behind. You mean you're not going to march into this swamp and see this spectacular bird? No, they had seen them before many times and didn't need to. Shucks. I've only seen one once, on Peaks Island, off the coast of Portland, Maine.

I really want to get back to hiking and climbing, but we've had so much rain that the trails are a mess and streams have flooded their banks in places. The black flies and mosquitoes are going to be horrendous. Of course, we're all dying for a sunny day. It's been over ten days.

Forget gardening. The backyard is one gigantic sponge.

View of our house and land from "The Ledge."
The Licensed Guide Exam was over at 10am this morning. I think I probably passed it, although they did some tricky things with those multiple choice questions. I did a little food shopping, came home, went out with Sophie to do an hour of birdwatching (peak warbler migration), and then fell asleep for two hours--the longest nap I've taken in months and months.

Spring has been bursting--the maple leaves have tripled in size over the past two days. Now, with the beech and birch leaves out, the woods are filling up, and all the empty spaces of winter and early spring are disappearing. Dismal weather, though.

I'm eager to write a longer post, but have got to cook the dinner. Tomorrow we are going out with friends to the Black Mountain to celebrate Dogmother's Day, so no kitchen duties for me. Too bad Sophie and our friends' three Newfies can't join us at the table. If only we were in Italy, the pups could lay at our feet, though I don't see how a waiter could serve us, not over those gorgeous hunks of Newfie bodies.

Spring hiking is the top non-work activity these days. Each time I head into the wilderness, I find more and more wildflowers. What's especially exciting is that the majority I've never seen before. Red trillium, a member of the lily family, was the star of yesterday's hike to Fish Ponds. Considered rare in most areas of the Northeast, hundreds of the deep maroon flowers and glossy green foliage can be seen on this trail.

Garden plans are proceeding--The compost bin that Ken built is now in use, full of decaying red maple leaves, pine needles, birch leaves, and pine sawdust. Composted chicken and horse manure will be added next. Good stuff! Ken's almost finished building the cold frame and it is a beauty. The nights are so cold that I'm never going to get a garden going without it. My next task is to locate the topsoil I want to use in the raised beds for the veggie garden. Oh! And I need to get the materials for the electric fence. Then I think we'll be set.

My tomato plants are growing too well, and are way ahead of schedule. This is a huge problem because the best ones need to be transplanted into big pots right now and our climate is nowhere near ready for them. There aren't many at this point and more are on the way, so if disaster strikes all is not lost. The tomatoes are under lights in the furnace room at this point, and I bring them out into the sunroom on warm days. But where do I put them for the next five weeks if they're in large pots? Help!

The biz is moving forward--The photo shoot for the brochure is scheduled for next week and I'm busy writing the text. I'm studying for my exam to become a New York State Licensed Guide in hiking, which will take place on Saturday, May 13. I'll be glad when that's over. I've fulfilled all the other requirements.

Ken and I saw the movie Capote last weekend, and we loved it. I want to see it again and again, there was that much depth to it. I want to read more of Capote's work and am interested in seeking out a biography.

eGlobal warming is constantly on my mind--is it on yours? Perhaps it's all the books I've read lately. The most recent is the new book Chasing Spring by journalist Bruce Stutz, who last year journeyed across America recording his observations, the research of botanists, biologists, meteorologists, and other scientists, on the phenomenon of the spring season and the impact of climate change upon it.