Carpenter bees continue to arrive to nest

Time to seal and caulk your siding on cool mornings.

May 15 – 21, 2020

The foolish fears of what might pass

I cast them all away Among the clover-scented grass,

Among the new mown hay,

Among the hushing of the corn

Where drowsy poppies nod,

Where ill thoughts die and good are born

Out in the fields with God. — William Wordsworth THE THIRD WEEK OF LATE SPRING

Astronomical data and lore

The Cows Switching Their Tails Moon wanes all week, reaching gentle apogee, its position farthest from Earth, on

May 18 at 2:46 am. Rising before dawn and setting in the afternoon, this moon passes overhead in the middle of the day, making before-lunch the most promising lunar times for fishing. Cool fronts arriving near May 21 and 24 are expected to cause the barometer to fall before they reach this area, and the lower barometric pressure usually enhances the power of the moon to influence activity in al creatures. Lunar planting conditions are ideal in the fields and gardens, especially for root crops and transplants.

Weather trends

The May 15 front and the next two are often followed by the “Strawberry Rains,” the wettest time of May in the Lower Midwest and the Mid-Atlantic states. Clearly, May 15 is a good target date for having fields planted in order to avoid a serious delay in seeding.

The days surrounding the May 20 cold front are historically some of the most turbulent of May, often marked by rain, tornadoes and high winds. The May 20 system also brings the threat of frost to the northern tier of states, but it typically spares tomatoes and eggplant below the 40th Parallel.

Countdown to spring

Just one week until the high canopy begins shades the garden.

Two weeks until mulberries are sweet and cottonwood cotton drifts in the wind.

Notes on the progress of the year

Along the eastern seaboard, horseshoe crabs are mating, their numbers especially great when the moon is either new or full and the tide is high. In the lower Midwest, some touch-me-nots have six leaves, some eight. Knotweed is chin high, hops eight feet. The most precocious poppies have opened. Poplars are well leafed now, and the rest of the tree line is a pale, glowing green.

This is the best time of all for blue forget-me-not, watercress, wild geranium, swamp buttercup, late winter cress, white spring cress and the wild purple phlox.

Mayflies are out along the water. Bullfrogs call. Minnows and chubs have turned a reddish-gold for their mating seasons. Crappie fishing peaks in the shallows as the sun nears three-fourths of the way to summer solstice.

Mountain maples, lilacs and wild cherries flower. Poison ivy—like the Virginia creeper and wild grapes— develops to a third of its June size. Rose of Sharon and the green ash finally begin to leaf.

When azaleas lose their petals, daisies, clematis, and the first cinquefoil open all the way, the first strawberry ripens, and swallowtail butterflies visit the star of Bethlehem and bleeding hearts. The last quince flowers fall, and lilacs decay. Locust flowers open as the high canopy slowly closes in.

In the field and garden

Spitbugs grow in the shelter of swamp parsnips, announcing that the first cut of hay will soon be underway.

Flea time has begun for pets, a sign that insect activity is nearing the economic threshold on the farm.

Corn is almost half planted in a typical year, and a fourth of the crop has emerged.

Carpenter bees continue to arrive, looking for nesting sites; seal and caulk your siding on cool mornings.

Red clover is usually flowering in the pasture. Alfalfa is budding; some farmers are cutting it to control weevils. Migrant workers move north.

As conditions permit, plant every summer seed you have. Even the most tender flowers and vegetables can be put in within the next week.

Remove seedpods from daffodils and tulips. Begin commercial sunflower planting.

Pasture plants may have an unusually high water content in May, and livestock may not get enough nutrition from this forage. Silage and hay supplements could take up the feeding slack.

Journal

The air is heavy and sweet with the scent of honeysuckles, mock orange, and locusts. Poppies, clematis, spiderwort, daisies and the first roses are open. Peonies have unraveled. Lupines pace the iris. Yellow poplars and catalpas are ready to bloom.

In the woods near my house, ragwort and watercress hold over from early May. Sweet Cicely has replaced the wild geraniums. Columbine, waterleaf, and parsnips are strong. Wild grapes are blossoming. Tall hemlock is budding.

This is what I wait for every year, the completion of the promises that began in January with the days lengthening and the cardinals starting to call. My emotions always follow the seasons. This week they tell me it is time for things to be coming together. All of the delays of this long cold spring are over. All the seeds purchased in February can be planted. There is no chance of frost. All of my expectations have materialized, and all of the projects saved for these warm afternoons are waiting.

Still, part of me balks at action. I have heard the voice of self-sufficiency, the call to work, the call to build. I have also heard a conflicting voice, one more ancient, that says it is time to enjoy each moment, to wander the paths of summer, to take things as they come. It’s almost berry time. The river is warm, the fish are biting, and the shade is cool.

On the one hand, summer calls my bluff. It says: “This is what you’ve always wanted. This is the top of the tide. Life is short. This June, these furrows, and these chances will never come again. Redeem your April ambitions.”

On the other hand, summer seduces me to a sensuous lethargy: “There is more time than you can ever imagine,” it tells me. “The leaves will never fall. June will never end. There can be no true self-reliance without joy, without abandon. The world is beautiful beyond your wildest winter longing. Give in to its careless magic. Lie in its arms.”

Bill Felker’s latest book, “Deep Time Is in the Garden: New Almanac Essays of Time and Place and Spirit,” is available on Amazon. Or, for your autographed copy, send $17.00 to Bill Felker, P.O. Box 431, Yellow Springs, Ohio 45387