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another sip of Tea

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Yesterday’s Phenology: The days are all blending together, a long gray line. Cloudy skies and slightly above freezing again yesterday. Just like the day before, and the day before, and the day before.

Song of the Day: Jack Teagarden, What Did I Do to Be So Black and Blue

yellow maple

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Yesterday’s Phenology: Again, gray, wet (perhaps a little less wet) and chilly, (perhaps a bit chillier.) However it didn’t get below freezing, and so all our precipitation was in liquid form.

Song of the day: Keith Michell, Valse Milieu

black-capped chickadee-dee-dee

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Yesterday’s Phenology: A damp gray chill, temps in the mid to lower upper thirties (?). I don’t believe it rained or snowed today, but it looked like it planned to. A quiet day.

Song of the day: Howard Tate/Jerry Ragavoy, Get it While You Can

autumn reflections

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Yesterday’s Phenology: A pretty unusual day for late November. 52 degrees when I woke up, went out with Flynn. Got up to 55 during the day. (MPR Weather maven Paul Huttner says this November is 10 degrees warmer than usual. He also says that Waseca has set a new Minnesota record for highest annual precipitation, at 53.78 inches. Go Waseca!) Along with the balmy temperatures, we had dark cloudy skies, and thunderstorms that lasted much of the morning and dumped quite a lot of rain, almost an inch. Some places got some hail as well. Odd indeed.

Song of the Day: Ana Vidovic, Asturias

hidden moon

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Yesterday’s Phenology: A chilly breeze, and cloudy. In the morning, fog, and frost on the grass and the bushes. The winter sky is owned by crows. This morning they were flying west to east, tree to tree, branch to branch, a crow parade, yakking it up the whole way. Out for a lengthy dog walk in the afternoon, the path a wet mat of brown leaves. Tonight it rains.

Song of the day: Gustav Holst, Neptune, the Mystic

bald eagle over the mississippi

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Yesterday’s Phenology: 45 degrees; a perfect day for doing yard work, garage work, and walking the dog. Especially that last part. Gangs of crows are seen in the skies. (Technically I guess you’d call them a murder of crows, if you want to be persnickety about it.) What do you call a whole lot of sparrows? A host.  A host of sparrows gathered around our bird feeder, and bickered through out the day. A bicker of sparrows. A new term is born. Anyway, 45 degrees, a scrap of snow, here and there on the grass, a whole lotta drippin going on.

Song of the day: Los Lobos, That Train Don’t Stop Here Anymore

moon with fast moving clouds

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Yesterday’s Phenology: a gray day. A little slushy snow lingers on. A good day for walking the dog, says Flynn, as he says everyday. Temp in the mid 30s. Damp.

Song of the day: Buena Vista Social Club, Chan Chan