.... now comes all the fire ant mounds. Oh goodie. I think those ants must start moving the dirt as soon as it starts raining, because when the rain has quit, you can immediately see the mounds popping up all over the lawn. Some are three inches in diameter and only an inch or so high, but others are as big around as a dinner plate and nearly four inches high. It's the very small mounds that are the most dangerous because you can step on them when you're walking in the grass and not even realize it till you get bitten.
And why would one be walking in the grass? Because the pecan trees, which are higher than the house, keep dropping small branches and large limbs, especially when it's either windy or rainy.... and if you don't keep up with the gathering of those pecan branches, then the lawn gets to looking like a war zone. (We visited my cousins near Chicago this past summer. They actually sit on chairs placed on their grass. No fire ants up there. My cousins stared at me in disbelief when I told them that we never put chairs out on the grass here.)
Today's cloudy morning turned into a glorious day..... lots of warm sun, but not too broiling hot. It was so quiet outside this afternoon that I could hear the sounds of the hummingbirds... you can actually hear their wings as they fly from one bloom to another on the Esperanza plant. I love that plant.... bright yellow flowers and dark green leaves........... and it grows so nicely without being pampered. My kind of a plant.... even an idiot-gardener like me make it grow. I definitely do not have a 'green thumb.' Everything that's blooming outside is just sheer luck.
There is an antique bathtub in the back yard, sitting under a mesquite tree.... it was put there by the original owners of this house. The old tub looks very cute and quaint, and it's in just the perfect spot to be country-chic. The previous owner of this house was very near to a master gardener... she had flowers blooming all over the property. In that old tub, she had planted gorgeous yellow flowers... of course, I have no idea what they were. The yellow flowers were trailing over the top and sides of that dark green tub and they looked perfectly beautiful.
When we first moved in here, most of my time was taken up with unpacking hundreds of boxes... finding the perfect places for lamps and porcelain pieces, clocks and mirrors, pictures and books. (And books and books and books.) The furniture had been put into place by the movers, and everything is still in the same place. I had a 'road-map' in my mind the first time I saw this house, and I knew just where every piece of furniture would go. Even the movers were impressed, especially since they didn't have to go up and down the stairs more than one time with the heavy antique furniture. I swear, they were waiting for me to change my mind with every single piece of furniture, but that just never happened.
But all the other stuff...... that's what took up most of my time... and I didn't want to be hanging pictures and mirrors on the walls and then changing my mind because then I would have had walls filled with nail holes. Not good. So I took my time.... and as a result, the beautiful flowers out in the old tub and in the flowerbeds didn't exactly get the attention they needed. I was used to the underground automatic sprinkler system that we had in our other house.... so who was thinking about watering the lawns and the plants when we moved here?
When I came up for air... when every blessed thing was unpacked and in its place..... I went outside and was greeted by sad looking flowerbeds and dead yellow flowers in that old green tub. Wonderful. I have tried planting different things in that old tub.... everything worked for a little while, then once again, whatever was planted in there just up and died. The best flowers so far were the petunias... they seemed to thrive in that tub under the mesquite. Then we went traveling.... and weeds took over and choked the petunias. As I said... there's no green thumb here.
I pulled out what was left of the petunias...... I left the cute little porcelain ducks swimming in the dirt of that old tub and that was about all that was in there. Next thing I knew, these weeds started to grow in the tub... cute little things with long stems that trailed over the sides of the tub and filled up the top of the tub as well. Then... surprise, surprise.... tiny blue and yellow flowers started to bloom on the weeds....... how perfect was that? I had a tub filled with these very pretty weeds that grew whether they were watered or not.
And then...... my husband was outside and decided to do some weeding...... he pulled every last one of those weeds out of the old tub. He was so proud of that weeding job... and I knew it must have taken him quite a while because he got every last little blue weed-flower out of there. I was crushed... the tub looked empty and horrible, except for the two little ducks sitting on top of the dirt. "But they were just weeds," said my husband. My answer to that was "Well, wildflowers are weeds too, but you don't see everyone digging up all the bluebonnets!"
And here we are.... three weeks later..... and we've had rain. Lots of rain. And that old green tub is now filled again with dark green leaves on long stems... and this afternoon I saw the beginnings of those tiny blue flowers. If my husband goes out there to pull weeds again, I'm going to lock him in the garage.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Sunday, September 29, 2013
Wet stuff from the sky....
We went to sleep last night hearing the rain outside, and when we woke up this morning it was still raining. I woke up twice during the night..... just awake enough to hear the rain but not awake enough to care what time it was.
The deeper half of our pond is filled nearly to the brim.... the shallow end has a nice big puddle in the middle of it. I'm guessing our pond is about the size of a football field, but sort of kidney-shaped instead of rectangular. So nice to see water in that pond again... I'm hoping the ducks come back to the pond now that they have water to swim in. At the beginning of last Spring, we had so many ducks and ducklings out there that it was hard to count them. As the water level went down, so did the number of ducks.
After all the bags of mulch I put into the flowerbeds this past week, I was almost afraid to look out into the backyard this morning. I had visions of pine-bark mulch floating in art-deco patterns all over our lawn after all the rain we had. Wonder of wonders, all the mulch was right where I had raked it.... so that was a very nice Happiness moment indeed.
The rain actually started yesterday afternoon... I had just gotten Mickey into the garage before I saw the raindrops on the stone courtyard. That cat sometimes goes under the back steps when it rains--- he's the last of our city-cats, and he doesn't like to get his paws wet. I put Mickey into the garage before dinner-time, and when I went out there with his Fancy Feast before dark, I had to side-step my way around the frogs that were hopping around the lime-stones. Honestly, these frogs aren't afraid of people... they just hop around and look up at you, and if you don't want to create a frog-pancake out there on the pavement, then it's up to you to not step on them.
It's been hard for me to get used to having Mickey as a semi-outside cat. He was such a good house cat for so many years..... then in the last year or so, he developed bad habits that I just wouldn't tolerate in the house. We decided to keep him outside during the day.... then before dark, he gets sequestered in the garage, which has access to an open-air chicken-less chicken coop. He goes back and forth at will between the two protected spaces, so he's safe from night-time visits from raccoons, coyotes, possums, armadillos, and heaven-only-knows what else.
Today has been a rainy drippy cloudy day...... which was very much welcomed.
The deeper half of our pond is filled nearly to the brim.... the shallow end has a nice big puddle in the middle of it. I'm guessing our pond is about the size of a football field, but sort of kidney-shaped instead of rectangular. So nice to see water in that pond again... I'm hoping the ducks come back to the pond now that they have water to swim in. At the beginning of last Spring, we had so many ducks and ducklings out there that it was hard to count them. As the water level went down, so did the number of ducks.
After all the bags of mulch I put into the flowerbeds this past week, I was almost afraid to look out into the backyard this morning. I had visions of pine-bark mulch floating in art-deco patterns all over our lawn after all the rain we had. Wonder of wonders, all the mulch was right where I had raked it.... so that was a very nice Happiness moment indeed.
The rain actually started yesterday afternoon... I had just gotten Mickey into the garage before I saw the raindrops on the stone courtyard. That cat sometimes goes under the back steps when it rains--- he's the last of our city-cats, and he doesn't like to get his paws wet. I put Mickey into the garage before dinner-time, and when I went out there with his Fancy Feast before dark, I had to side-step my way around the frogs that were hopping around the lime-stones. Honestly, these frogs aren't afraid of people... they just hop around and look up at you, and if you don't want to create a frog-pancake out there on the pavement, then it's up to you to not step on them.
It's been hard for me to get used to having Mickey as a semi-outside cat. He was such a good house cat for so many years..... then in the last year or so, he developed bad habits that I just wouldn't tolerate in the house. We decided to keep him outside during the day.... then before dark, he gets sequestered in the garage, which has access to an open-air chicken-less chicken coop. He goes back and forth at will between the two protected spaces, so he's safe from night-time visits from raccoons, coyotes, possums, armadillos, and heaven-only-knows what else.
Today has been a rainy drippy cloudy day...... which was very much welcomed.
Saturday, September 28, 2013
Rain..... and mulch.......
.... but not necessarily in that order. We bought five more bags of mulch yesterday so I could finish off the rest of the flowerbeds. I am determined this time to have at least six or seven inches of mulch in those beds, in the hope of smothering any weeds that decide to make an appearance. We'll see if this method works.
As I spread a bag of mulch in one section of the box garden, my two outside cats were playing in the other section. You would think this mulch had catnip sprinkled all over it, the way Mickey and Gatsby were rolling around in it. I'm sure they were very much entertained, between the new mulch and watching their city-mama wearing old clothes and plastic gloves and lugging bags of mulch around the yard while trying not to break a nail.
Just as I was putting the rake back into the garage, the sky opened up and rain started to come out of the sky.... wonder of wonders.... we're actually having a rainy cloudy day. The cats ran into the garage, and I came into the house, but not before admiring the new mulch in the flowerbeds. The box garden looks pretty again.... not a weed in sight..... and the azaleas are even starting to bloom once more. If this over-the-top mulching doesn't work, then I just don't know what the solution will be... other than to fill up the flowerbeds with concrete and call it a day.
Around the backyard deck, there is a very narrow flowerbed that goes all around that decking. When we first moved here, the original owners had violets planted there.... all purple and green and it looked so pretty against the white railing of the deck. Our first winter in the country was a frigid nightmare, with the Texas temperatures hitting all-time lows and breaking all existing records..... all of the violets froze and the plants looked like cooked spinach. I pulled them all up, and just left the flowerbeds empty for a year. I was determined back then not to put my hands into this fire-ant-filled soil. (So much for determination.)
I planted white petunias all along that narrow flowerbed.... it looked wonderful for a while, and with new mulch and constant weed-pulling, the petunias multiplied. Wonderful. Until we went traveling........... and the weeds smothered the petunias to within an inch of their little blooming lives. I pulled up the petunias, or what was left of them.... added more mulch... and filled that flowerbed with white ceramic ducks from the thrift store. I refuse to pay retail for garden ornaments that will either get faded by the sun or broken by the cats (or raccoons, armadillos, possums, etc).
Being that the narrow flowerbed around the deck doesn't have to be watered now, the weeds aren't growing. The ducks look very cute..... the lack of flowers in that particular flowerbed doesn't matter to me. Fewer flowers, less watering, less work in the yard. And what can be cuter than little white ducks that always look happy?
The box garden is much larger and wider than the narrow bed around the deck. I can't fill up that box garden with cute little white ceramic ducks if those plants die. I would need something much bigger than ducks to fill up that space with non-water-drinking accents. I have my fingers crossed that the plants thrive in the box garden and the deep mulch keeps the weeds at bay. But maybe I should keep an eye out for white ceramic elephants at the thrift store... just in case.
As I spread a bag of mulch in one section of the box garden, my two outside cats were playing in the other section. You would think this mulch had catnip sprinkled all over it, the way Mickey and Gatsby were rolling around in it. I'm sure they were very much entertained, between the new mulch and watching their city-mama wearing old clothes and plastic gloves and lugging bags of mulch around the yard while trying not to break a nail.
Just as I was putting the rake back into the garage, the sky opened up and rain started to come out of the sky.... wonder of wonders.... we're actually having a rainy cloudy day. The cats ran into the garage, and I came into the house, but not before admiring the new mulch in the flowerbeds. The box garden looks pretty again.... not a weed in sight..... and the azaleas are even starting to bloom once more. If this over-the-top mulching doesn't work, then I just don't know what the solution will be... other than to fill up the flowerbeds with concrete and call it a day.
Around the backyard deck, there is a very narrow flowerbed that goes all around that decking. When we first moved here, the original owners had violets planted there.... all purple and green and it looked so pretty against the white railing of the deck. Our first winter in the country was a frigid nightmare, with the Texas temperatures hitting all-time lows and breaking all existing records..... all of the violets froze and the plants looked like cooked spinach. I pulled them all up, and just left the flowerbeds empty for a year. I was determined back then not to put my hands into this fire-ant-filled soil. (So much for determination.)
I planted white petunias all along that narrow flowerbed.... it looked wonderful for a while, and with new mulch and constant weed-pulling, the petunias multiplied. Wonderful. Until we went traveling........... and the weeds smothered the petunias to within an inch of their little blooming lives. I pulled up the petunias, or what was left of them.... added more mulch... and filled that flowerbed with white ceramic ducks from the thrift store. I refuse to pay retail for garden ornaments that will either get faded by the sun or broken by the cats (or raccoons, armadillos, possums, etc).
Being that the narrow flowerbed around the deck doesn't have to be watered now, the weeds aren't growing. The ducks look very cute..... the lack of flowers in that particular flowerbed doesn't matter to me. Fewer flowers, less watering, less work in the yard. And what can be cuter than little white ducks that always look happy?
The box garden is much larger and wider than the narrow bed around the deck. I can't fill up that box garden with cute little white ceramic ducks if those plants die. I would need something much bigger than ducks to fill up that space with non-water-drinking accents. I have my fingers crossed that the plants thrive in the box garden and the deep mulch keeps the weeds at bay. But maybe I should keep an eye out for white ceramic elephants at the thrift store... just in case.
Friday, September 27, 2013
Never walk barefoot.
Never. Ever. Especially not outside with 689 billion fire ants, and not even in the house.
It's barely 9:00 in the morning...... I've been out walking with my two friends down the road, the cats have been fed and the plants and flowers have been watered. And I've killed the first scorpion of the day.
In my dressing room, no less. Right there in the middle of the carpet, plain as day.... stretched out as if were getting a sun-tan. No screams from me.... my husband didn't even know what was happening. I just ran downstairs and got the dust-buster thing and used that to get that blasted scorpion out of there. My, how I have progressed out here in the hills.
When we first moved out here, I could barely look at those things. My husband insisted that I take a good look, so I would know how to recognize one. As if I'd be wanting to get that close and personal with a scorpion? "You've got to know what you're dealing with out here," he told me. (The wrath of the Texas heavens....... that's what I'm dealing with out here.)
You quickly learn, if you're a city girl, not to walk barefoot in your own house. I don't care if you have carpets or wood floors or tile....... the scorpions and spiders don't care, and they will travel across all of the above, and then some. Had I walked into my dressing room this morning without slippers, I could have easily stepped on that blessed thing. The scorpions always seem to be right in your path, not off in a corner of the room.
No matter what room I'm in, my eyes are looking down at the floor and up at the ceiling. Scorpions are like spiders.... they seem to be able to crawl anywhere at all.... and before my husband put mesh screens into the air-conditioning vents, we actually saw scorpions crawling out of them. Give me a blessed break....
We've been in this house over four years now. I used to look under the bed at night before I got into it.... scorpions like hiding under things. I don't do that anymore since we've been using that lethal-weapon strength insect spray, but I do look at the ceilings and walls before I turn out the light. One can never be too careful.
Still..... a scorpion in the dressing room.... which is right next to our bedroom. No matter that he was facing away from our bedroom when I saw him..... that only means he had been in our bedroom before making his way into the dressing room. Right this very second as I type, the scorpion is trapped in the dust-buster. One of our neighbors uses duct-tape on a broom handle to capture scorpions. I tried that.... but it's too disgusting trying to get the duct-tape off of the end of the broom.
The wrath of the Texas heavens, I'm telling you.
It's barely 9:00 in the morning...... I've been out walking with my two friends down the road, the cats have been fed and the plants and flowers have been watered. And I've killed the first scorpion of the day.
In my dressing room, no less. Right there in the middle of the carpet, plain as day.... stretched out as if were getting a sun-tan. No screams from me.... my husband didn't even know what was happening. I just ran downstairs and got the dust-buster thing and used that to get that blasted scorpion out of there. My, how I have progressed out here in the hills.
When we first moved out here, I could barely look at those things. My husband insisted that I take a good look, so I would know how to recognize one. As if I'd be wanting to get that close and personal with a scorpion? "You've got to know what you're dealing with out here," he told me. (The wrath of the Texas heavens....... that's what I'm dealing with out here.)
You quickly learn, if you're a city girl, not to walk barefoot in your own house. I don't care if you have carpets or wood floors or tile....... the scorpions and spiders don't care, and they will travel across all of the above, and then some. Had I walked into my dressing room this morning without slippers, I could have easily stepped on that blessed thing. The scorpions always seem to be right in your path, not off in a corner of the room.
No matter what room I'm in, my eyes are looking down at the floor and up at the ceiling. Scorpions are like spiders.... they seem to be able to crawl anywhere at all.... and before my husband put mesh screens into the air-conditioning vents, we actually saw scorpions crawling out of them. Give me a blessed break....
We've been in this house over four years now. I used to look under the bed at night before I got into it.... scorpions like hiding under things. I don't do that anymore since we've been using that lethal-weapon strength insect spray, but I do look at the ceilings and walls before I turn out the light. One can never be too careful.
Still..... a scorpion in the dressing room.... which is right next to our bedroom. No matter that he was facing away from our bedroom when I saw him..... that only means he had been in our bedroom before making his way into the dressing room. Right this very second as I type, the scorpion is trapped in the dust-buster. One of our neighbors uses duct-tape on a broom handle to capture scorpions. I tried that.... but it's too disgusting trying to get the duct-tape off of the end of the broom.
The wrath of the Texas heavens, I'm telling you.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Cinderella's mice....
The first thing I did this morning was pick up a dead mouse in the garage. Not exactly one of my favorite things to do.... and I don't touch it...... I use a clippy-thing that's about four feet long, with a handle on one end that opens and closes sort of a clipper on the bottom end that lets you pick things up without using your hands. I use that clippy-thing to pick up trash that's on the road.... and it comes in handy for picking up mice that our cat Mickey leaves for me in the garage.
Mickey used to be an inside cat..... he's the last cat from our house in Clear Lake. In his older years, Mickey started doing stupid cat tricks inside the house, which resulted in him being banned from the house. He spends his days out in the yard and on the porch, but at night (when the coyotes come out to play) I keep Mickey in the garage, where he also has access to the fresh air in the old chicken coop. He goes in and out of a little Alice-in-Wonderland-sized doorway to get from his inside space to the outside-but-fenced-in space.
The garage has become his territory, and when Gatsby (our other outside cat) goes into that garage, Mickey's little kitty nose goes up in the air and he's very unhappy. Since the Spring-time, when we decided to keep Mickey outside, both he and Gatsby have had to work things out..... Gatsby is King of The Porch, Mickey is Prince of The Garage. They both seem to be happy with that arrangement.
But..... the mice. Who knew that Mickey would be catching mice? I guess even after being an inside cat for nine years, his instincts kicked in and he's been catching lizards and field mice just about every day. Usually, the mice are outside on the property..... Mickey catches them and brings them underneath the bushes and he doesn't kill them. He lets them go, they run, he chases them and brings them back to the bushes... they run... he chases. And on and on, until Mickey gets tired and goes to sleep. However, in the garage.... Mickey doesn't want visitors, and if mice get in there, I'm sorry to say that Mickey does kill them, and he leaves them by my car or my husband's car..... as a gift.
I'm not a big fan of mice.... but I can tolerate looking at them, and picking them up with that clippy-thing. Cinderella had mice who made her a beautiful gown with pretty bows all over it.... so thinking of that while I'm putting a dead mouse into a trash bag helps somewhat. How's that for a Disney moment?
Mickey used to be an inside cat..... he's the last cat from our house in Clear Lake. In his older years, Mickey started doing stupid cat tricks inside the house, which resulted in him being banned from the house. He spends his days out in the yard and on the porch, but at night (when the coyotes come out to play) I keep Mickey in the garage, where he also has access to the fresh air in the old chicken coop. He goes in and out of a little Alice-in-Wonderland-sized doorway to get from his inside space to the outside-but-fenced-in space.
The garage has become his territory, and when Gatsby (our other outside cat) goes into that garage, Mickey's little kitty nose goes up in the air and he's very unhappy. Since the Spring-time, when we decided to keep Mickey outside, both he and Gatsby have had to work things out..... Gatsby is King of The Porch, Mickey is Prince of The Garage. They both seem to be happy with that arrangement.
But..... the mice. Who knew that Mickey would be catching mice? I guess even after being an inside cat for nine years, his instincts kicked in and he's been catching lizards and field mice just about every day. Usually, the mice are outside on the property..... Mickey catches them and brings them underneath the bushes and he doesn't kill them. He lets them go, they run, he chases them and brings them back to the bushes... they run... he chases. And on and on, until Mickey gets tired and goes to sleep. However, in the garage.... Mickey doesn't want visitors, and if mice get in there, I'm sorry to say that Mickey does kill them, and he leaves them by my car or my husband's car..... as a gift.
I'm not a big fan of mice.... but I can tolerate looking at them, and picking them up with that clippy-thing. Cinderella had mice who made her a beautiful gown with pretty bows all over it.... so thinking of that while I'm putting a dead mouse into a trash bag helps somewhat. How's that for a Disney moment?
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Mulch happens.
I spent part of this morning shoveling mulch. Home Depot had a sale.. 4 bags for $10. Nice mulch.... good and dark and big chunks that stand up to the sun and the rain (it does rain on occasion out here). We had been getting free mulch at the recycle plant in town.... all the free mulch you can shovel into buckets or bags and take home. We were in mulch heaven this past Spring..... but then with the broiling hot days over 100 degrees, and the very few days of pouring-down rain that we had, all that 'free' mulch just settled down into the flowerbeds and it got to looking like brown dirt.
And then came the weeds.......... We had the weeds under control in the Spring. Every time we went out to admire our newly re-planted flowerbeds, we'd pull up three or four weeds... the flowerbeds looked gorgeous. Then came the Summer.... broiling days... much too hot to be working out in the yard unless you started at first light and stopped before 7:30 in the morning. And then add into that weed-mess that we were traveling this Summer.... and the weeds knew we weren't there. Up they came, and they brought all their cousins and best friends with them. Weed City in those flowerbeds.... right on the top of all that 'free' mulch. Give me a blessed break.
It's been a little cooler this week... temperatures in the high 80s and very low 90s...... the thermometer has forgotten about the number 100. I've pulled weeds, little ones and big ones, and some strange new weed that branches out like an umbrella and covers 16" of space but has the teeniest little root. I have no idea what it is..... and I'm not taking the time to find out. Into the trash bucket it went with the others. And yesterday afternoon, and again this morning..... it was mulch time out in the garden. We bought 16 bags of that stuff at Home Depot....... I have just three left now, which will cover the last part of the box garden in the backyard. But that's tomorrow's job...... I have seen enough weeds for one day.... enough weeds for the rest of my life, actually.
I've also seen enough mulch. The tips of my fingernails are tinted brown. (My Aunt Dolly would have a fit if she saw that. She is a stickler for taking care of your hands.) I have garden gloves in the garage...... one pair is made of rubber and they just get too hot out in the sun.... makes your hands feel like fresh baked bread. The other pair of gloves are fabric, with leather on the fingertips. Those were fine at the beginning.... they were comfortable and protected my nails from breaking. However... they are a light brown color. Do you know how hard it is to see a beige garden spider inside those gloves? Nearly impossible, let me tell you. And no matter how hard you whack those gloves against the fence to get the spiders out before you put your hand in, the spiders just hang on for dear life. Then your hand goes in.... the spiders crawl out from the fingertips and make their way to the wrist-opening of the glove..... and while all of that is going on, you're trying not to scream bloody murder, not to fall face-down into the flowerbeds, and also trying not to step on the outside cats who must always, always be right underfoot.
Sometimes, it's just easier to just forget the gloves and get your hands a little dirty.
And then came the weeds.......... We had the weeds under control in the Spring. Every time we went out to admire our newly re-planted flowerbeds, we'd pull up three or four weeds... the flowerbeds looked gorgeous. Then came the Summer.... broiling days... much too hot to be working out in the yard unless you started at first light and stopped before 7:30 in the morning. And then add into that weed-mess that we were traveling this Summer.... and the weeds knew we weren't there. Up they came, and they brought all their cousins and best friends with them. Weed City in those flowerbeds.... right on the top of all that 'free' mulch. Give me a blessed break.
It's been a little cooler this week... temperatures in the high 80s and very low 90s...... the thermometer has forgotten about the number 100. I've pulled weeds, little ones and big ones, and some strange new weed that branches out like an umbrella and covers 16" of space but has the teeniest little root. I have no idea what it is..... and I'm not taking the time to find out. Into the trash bucket it went with the others. And yesterday afternoon, and again this morning..... it was mulch time out in the garden. We bought 16 bags of that stuff at Home Depot....... I have just three left now, which will cover the last part of the box garden in the backyard. But that's tomorrow's job...... I have seen enough weeds for one day.... enough weeds for the rest of my life, actually.
I've also seen enough mulch. The tips of my fingernails are tinted brown. (My Aunt Dolly would have a fit if she saw that. She is a stickler for taking care of your hands.) I have garden gloves in the garage...... one pair is made of rubber and they just get too hot out in the sun.... makes your hands feel like fresh baked bread. The other pair of gloves are fabric, with leather on the fingertips. Those were fine at the beginning.... they were comfortable and protected my nails from breaking. However... they are a light brown color. Do you know how hard it is to see a beige garden spider inside those gloves? Nearly impossible, let me tell you. And no matter how hard you whack those gloves against the fence to get the spiders out before you put your hand in, the spiders just hang on for dear life. Then your hand goes in.... the spiders crawl out from the fingertips and make their way to the wrist-opening of the glove..... and while all of that is going on, you're trying not to scream bloody murder, not to fall face-down into the flowerbeds, and also trying not to step on the outside cats who must always, always be right underfoot.
Sometimes, it's just easier to just forget the gloves and get your hands a little dirty.
Monday, September 23, 2013
If a tree falls on the road....
..... and it doesn't fall on you and your friends, then it's a good morning indeed.
We were out walking this morning... down our hill, up the next, with a short stop to feed three of the neighbors' horses.... and then we continued on. We were chatting about one thing and another (trying to save the world, most likely) and we heard a loud c-r-a-c-k behind us. The three of us turned around, and about 100 yards down the road where we had just passed, a massive Live Oak tree fell over, seemingly in slow motion. The tree was so tall that when it fell, it covered all of the road from one side to the other.
I think all of us said something equivalent to "We were just right there!" And indeed we were. So now, as we walk in the morning, we'll have to be aware of snakes on the side of the road (so we can scream and run), bunnies in the fields (so we can watch them and say "aaaahhhh"), trash along the road (which we pick up and put into a bag), and loud c-r-a-c-k-s that could mean a tree is about to fall over (so we can scream and run).
We stopped at G's house, to let her know about the tree, which she heard from inside her house--- she said the floor shook a little bit when it fell. Then J called her husband and he drove down with a chain-saw to get some of the tree out of the road so cars could pass on by. Then we stopped at B's house, to ask her to call someone, anyone to take care of the tree. B called the sheriff's office, which got in touch with the county road crew, and within an hour, a gun-toting deputy and two prisoners in orange and white stripes were sawing up and moving the tree out of the road. (Actually, the deputy was just holding the gun, the guys in the stripes were doing the work.)
Moral of that story..... walking is very good for one's health, as long as one doesn't get smashed by a Live Oak that hasn't had much rain all Summer long.
Last night's story is about a raccoon on the back porch... and I think this is the same raccoon that has come by from time to time, occasionally with two of her babies. I knew something was going on out there because I heard our outside cat (Gatsby) come running across the porch. When Gatsby runs, he sounds like a baby buffalo... not exactly light on his paws. I have a dish of food and water out there for Gatsby, but I've been taking it inside at night, because I don't think I need to be providing the raccoons with Meow Mix on a nightly basis. (Although, I guess if I did, they wouldn't be raiding the neighbors' vegetable gardens.)
I totally forgot to take in the cat food dish last night, and the raccoon found it. When I opened the back door, Gatsby was pressed up against the screen door and the raccoon was using his paws to daintily take out pieces of the Meow Mix from the bowl. Such good manners. I opened the door and Gatsby ran inside and raced towards the TV room, where his best hiding places happen to be. The raccoon just stood there by the food dish, watching Gatsby come inside, and listening to me saying "Shoo! Shoo!!" (Which I guess doesn't translate into "Get the hell out of here!" in Raccoon-ese.)
That raccoon just sat there by the food dish, watching me. She was not going to leave that bowl of Meow Mix just because I was standing there, but she kept an eye on me as her paw went into the dish to grab the cat food, piece by piece. I considered throwing one of my husband's shoes on the porch to scare her away, but with my luck, the shoe would either have hit the raccoon (which I didn't want to do) or it would have ended up right in the dish of Meow Mix, scattering it all over the porch. Plus, what if the raccoon decided to run off with the shoe?
I opened the screen door and took one of the pillows from the porch chair..... I was flapping that pillow in the direction of the raccoon, telling her to "Go away! Go away!" She moved back about six inches and sat there, watching me with the pillow. I used that pillow as sort of a shield, to put between me and the raccoon, and I was able to grab the food dish and bring it in the house. When I got into the kitchen, I watched the raccoon from the door and she walked all around the spot where that food dish was... walked around in circles looking for that midnight snack.
When she realized the dish was no longer there, she looked up at me with just the saddest, sweetest look on her face. I almost felt guilty enough to put the dish back out there, or at least give her a piece of fruit. But I didn't..... even those sad little eyes couldn't convince me to keep an all-night buffet out on my back porch for the raccoons living in the woods here.
I wonder if the company who makes Meow Mix would want to come out here to the Hill Country to film a commercial for their cat food...... "Nine out of ten cats, and five out of seven raccoons, prefer Meow Mix to the next best-selling brand of cat food." You heard it here first.
We were out walking this morning... down our hill, up the next, with a short stop to feed three of the neighbors' horses.... and then we continued on. We were chatting about one thing and another (trying to save the world, most likely) and we heard a loud c-r-a-c-k behind us. The three of us turned around, and about 100 yards down the road where we had just passed, a massive Live Oak tree fell over, seemingly in slow motion. The tree was so tall that when it fell, it covered all of the road from one side to the other.
I think all of us said something equivalent to "We were just right there!" And indeed we were. So now, as we walk in the morning, we'll have to be aware of snakes on the side of the road (so we can scream and run), bunnies in the fields (so we can watch them and say "aaaahhhh"), trash along the road (which we pick up and put into a bag), and loud c-r-a-c-k-s that could mean a tree is about to fall over (so we can scream and run).
We stopped at G's house, to let her know about the tree, which she heard from inside her house--- she said the floor shook a little bit when it fell. Then J called her husband and he drove down with a chain-saw to get some of the tree out of the road so cars could pass on by. Then we stopped at B's house, to ask her to call someone, anyone to take care of the tree. B called the sheriff's office, which got in touch with the county road crew, and within an hour, a gun-toting deputy and two prisoners in orange and white stripes were sawing up and moving the tree out of the road. (Actually, the deputy was just holding the gun, the guys in the stripes were doing the work.)
Moral of that story..... walking is very good for one's health, as long as one doesn't get smashed by a Live Oak that hasn't had much rain all Summer long.
Last night's story is about a raccoon on the back porch... and I think this is the same raccoon that has come by from time to time, occasionally with two of her babies. I knew something was going on out there because I heard our outside cat (Gatsby) come running across the porch. When Gatsby runs, he sounds like a baby buffalo... not exactly light on his paws. I have a dish of food and water out there for Gatsby, but I've been taking it inside at night, because I don't think I need to be providing the raccoons with Meow Mix on a nightly basis. (Although, I guess if I did, they wouldn't be raiding the neighbors' vegetable gardens.)
I totally forgot to take in the cat food dish last night, and the raccoon found it. When I opened the back door, Gatsby was pressed up against the screen door and the raccoon was using his paws to daintily take out pieces of the Meow Mix from the bowl. Such good manners. I opened the door and Gatsby ran inside and raced towards the TV room, where his best hiding places happen to be. The raccoon just stood there by the food dish, watching Gatsby come inside, and listening to me saying "Shoo! Shoo!!" (Which I guess doesn't translate into "Get the hell out of here!" in Raccoon-ese.)
That raccoon just sat there by the food dish, watching me. She was not going to leave that bowl of Meow Mix just because I was standing there, but she kept an eye on me as her paw went into the dish to grab the cat food, piece by piece. I considered throwing one of my husband's shoes on the porch to scare her away, but with my luck, the shoe would either have hit the raccoon (which I didn't want to do) or it would have ended up right in the dish of Meow Mix, scattering it all over the porch. Plus, what if the raccoon decided to run off with the shoe?
I opened the screen door and took one of the pillows from the porch chair..... I was flapping that pillow in the direction of the raccoon, telling her to "Go away! Go away!" She moved back about six inches and sat there, watching me with the pillow. I used that pillow as sort of a shield, to put between me and the raccoon, and I was able to grab the food dish and bring it in the house. When I got into the kitchen, I watched the raccoon from the door and she walked all around the spot where that food dish was... walked around in circles looking for that midnight snack.
When she realized the dish was no longer there, she looked up at me with just the saddest, sweetest look on her face. I almost felt guilty enough to put the dish back out there, or at least give her a piece of fruit. But I didn't..... even those sad little eyes couldn't convince me to keep an all-night buffet out on my back porch for the raccoons living in the woods here.
I wonder if the company who makes Meow Mix would want to come out here to the Hill Country to film a commercial for their cat food...... "Nine out of ten cats, and five out of seven raccoons, prefer Meow Mix to the next best-selling brand of cat food." You heard it here first.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
A perfect day.
I have no idea what the outside temperature is, but it cannot be even close to 100 degrees. We've had the doors open since this morning, and the clear and crisp breeze has been flowing through the screens and all around the house all day long. The air-conditioning system hasn't kicked on once, and it's very comfortable in here, upstairs and downstairs. Gorgeous day.
The neighbor across the road has all of his livestock in his pasture that can be seen from our porch.... all of his cows and goats, and his one horse. He used to have three horses, but he sold the other two. He also had many more goats, but he raises the goats for their meat, so I think they've eaten more of the goats lately. We haven't seen or heard any baby goats out there for at least a few months. The cries of the baby goats are just like those of a newborn baby. The first time I heard that crying sound, I was frantic because I thought someone had abandoned a baby somewhere on our property. Without anything to buffer noises around here, whatever is heard on one property can also be heard on the surrounding properties as well.
The hummingbirds are still around the yard, and I re-filled their feeder with sugared water and red food coloring. I've never seen a hummingbird that glows in the dark, so all that fuss about red food coloring hasn't bothering those tiny birds. Yet.
It was so comfortable and pleasant outside this morning that I started to pull up weeds from the box-garden. My husband used to plant vegetables in that particular garden, but last year the vegetables we planted didn't exactly do very well (except if you happened to be a raccoon). We put down garden fabric and mulch in that box-garden, and put in flowering plants. We did not, repeat: did not, plant weeds. At the end of last Spring, we had virtually no weeds in that garden. By the end of June, we had more weeds than plants. And they popped up right through the garden fabric, and right up through the mulch. We tried to keep up with the weeding, but the Summer got so hot so quickly and the weeds kept multiplying overnight it seemed....... so we gave up for the most part during July and August when the temperatures were over 100 degrees.
But this morning... the sun was shining but it wasn't broiling....... the breeze was blowing but it was a cool breeze.... and I thought it was the perfect time for pulling up weeds. I filled a large bucket with weeds before I stopped.... and I'll do a little more each morning. I told my husband that we need to buy fresh mulch for that garden.... in the hopes of keeping new weeds from popping up. (Is that even possible? Just how many inches or feet of mulch would one need to accomplish that?)
I have read (and loved!) all of the gardening memoirs of British author Beverley Nichols...... he always had a live-in gardener to plant flowers and pull weeds. Mr. Nichols did the garden designing, his gardener did the actual work. Now isn't that a civilized way to establish a beautiful garden? One would sit there with pencil and paper... map out the locations of plants and flowers and trees... drive to the nursery and pick out everything on that list and have it all delivered. Then you would go home and perhaps have a cup of tea, then speak to the gardener. You would then show your drawings and planting design to the gardener..... and then point to where such-and-such should be planted.... and the gardener would dig and hoe and plant and water.... and voila! One would have a gorgeous garden. Beverley Nichols........... a city-man after my own city-girl heart.
The neighbor across the road has all of his livestock in his pasture that can be seen from our porch.... all of his cows and goats, and his one horse. He used to have three horses, but he sold the other two. He also had many more goats, but he raises the goats for their meat, so I think they've eaten more of the goats lately. We haven't seen or heard any baby goats out there for at least a few months. The cries of the baby goats are just like those of a newborn baby. The first time I heard that crying sound, I was frantic because I thought someone had abandoned a baby somewhere on our property. Without anything to buffer noises around here, whatever is heard on one property can also be heard on the surrounding properties as well.
The hummingbirds are still around the yard, and I re-filled their feeder with sugared water and red food coloring. I've never seen a hummingbird that glows in the dark, so all that fuss about red food coloring hasn't bothering those tiny birds. Yet.
It was so comfortable and pleasant outside this morning that I started to pull up weeds from the box-garden. My husband used to plant vegetables in that particular garden, but last year the vegetables we planted didn't exactly do very well (except if you happened to be a raccoon). We put down garden fabric and mulch in that box-garden, and put in flowering plants. We did not, repeat: did not, plant weeds. At the end of last Spring, we had virtually no weeds in that garden. By the end of June, we had more weeds than plants. And they popped up right through the garden fabric, and right up through the mulch. We tried to keep up with the weeding, but the Summer got so hot so quickly and the weeds kept multiplying overnight it seemed....... so we gave up for the most part during July and August when the temperatures were over 100 degrees.
But this morning... the sun was shining but it wasn't broiling....... the breeze was blowing but it was a cool breeze.... and I thought it was the perfect time for pulling up weeds. I filled a large bucket with weeds before I stopped.... and I'll do a little more each morning. I told my husband that we need to buy fresh mulch for that garden.... in the hopes of keeping new weeds from popping up. (Is that even possible? Just how many inches or feet of mulch would one need to accomplish that?)
I have read (and loved!) all of the gardening memoirs of British author Beverley Nichols...... he always had a live-in gardener to plant flowers and pull weeds. Mr. Nichols did the garden designing, his gardener did the actual work. Now isn't that a civilized way to establish a beautiful garden? One would sit there with pencil and paper... map out the locations of plants and flowers and trees... drive to the nursery and pick out everything on that list and have it all delivered. Then you would go home and perhaps have a cup of tea, then speak to the gardener. You would then show your drawings and planting design to the gardener..... and then point to where such-and-such should be planted.... and the gardener would dig and hoe and plant and water.... and voila! One would have a gorgeous garden. Beverley Nichols........... a city-man after my own city-girl heart.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Two inches of rain....
.... but who's counting.......
Don't kid yourself.... everyone out here has a rain gauge and they're all counting.
With all of that rain yesterday, you would think there would be more than a small puddle in the pond. Not a chance. One lonely puddle was out at the deep end of the pond this morning, but I'm sure it was all dried up by dinner-time, being that the sun was hot and broiling all afternoon. I guess we're going to need days and days of rain before the pond even begins to fill up again.
Last Spring when the pond was filled, we had a flock of wild ducks out there. Started out with half a dozen, which led to more than a dozen, and we kept counting every day as we walked down the hill for our morning walk, and the most we counted was nearly 30. Big ducks, smaller ducks, and even some cute little baby ducks swimming behind the mama ducks. So cute. But as the water in the pond went lower, the ducks all flew off to deeper ponds.
About all I've seen now by the pond is a hawk, perched and un-moving as he watches the ground for small birds and even smaller mice. Those hawks can sit quietly for hours, not moving anything but its head as he swivels it from side to side, just watching for anything that qualifies as lunch or dinner.
One of our neighbors told us that a hawk can fly at incredible speeds as it races towards the ground at its prey..... flying so fast that the hawk can break the back of a chicken or a small animal as it lands on it with its talons ready to capture it and fly off into the woods. When we lost chickens to the hawks, we could easily see the very spot where it was taken.... there would be a cloud of feathers sticking up out of the lawn...... so sad to see that, and it happened so many times.
After the rain we had yesterday, we didn't have to water the plants and flowers this morning. I don't much like dragging those heavy hoses around.... we have faucets and hoses all around the property, so it isn't like I have to carry a hose very far. But every time I turn on one of those outside faucets, I'm reminded of the in-ground sprinkler system that we had in our 'city' house. That house was sitting on just about one-fourth of an acre........ and we had a sprinkler system and never had to think about holding a hose and watering flowers. And if it rained, all I had to do was push a button so the sprinkler system wouldn't come on at all. This house sits on about three acres that has to be watered and maintained, before you get to the larger part of the property which is just pasture-land. The in-ground sprinkler system for this property is on The List Of Things To Do.
It isn't just us with that infamous List Of Things To Do. Seems that all of our neighbors have similar lists.... even those with new houses. Whether the house is two years old or 150 years old, The List is there, always, and growing every day. And when you're this far out in the country, you can't just pick up the phone and call someone to take care of The List. "Y'all live where? All the way out there? I'll have to let y'all know when I can get the time to get out there to y'all." And sometimes they give you a day and a time, and no one shows up. Other times, they pull into your driveway when you don't even know they're coming.
These handyman companies wouldn't get away with this in a city situation.... there would be too much competition and too many other companies to call up. Out here, The Country Rules seem to apply. Translation: I'll be out there on Tuesday, first thing. Unless it rains. Or unless I can get my brother-in-law's boat for some fishin'. Or unless I get a job that's closer into town.
It's the country way. Take it or leave it. When we told our Clear Lake friends that we were moving up to the Hill Country, some of them started singing the theme song to that old television show "Green Acres."
Don't kid yourself.... everyone out here has a rain gauge and they're all counting.
With all of that rain yesterday, you would think there would be more than a small puddle in the pond. Not a chance. One lonely puddle was out at the deep end of the pond this morning, but I'm sure it was all dried up by dinner-time, being that the sun was hot and broiling all afternoon. I guess we're going to need days and days of rain before the pond even begins to fill up again.
Last Spring when the pond was filled, we had a flock of wild ducks out there. Started out with half a dozen, which led to more than a dozen, and we kept counting every day as we walked down the hill for our morning walk, and the most we counted was nearly 30. Big ducks, smaller ducks, and even some cute little baby ducks swimming behind the mama ducks. So cute. But as the water in the pond went lower, the ducks all flew off to deeper ponds.
About all I've seen now by the pond is a hawk, perched and un-moving as he watches the ground for small birds and even smaller mice. Those hawks can sit quietly for hours, not moving anything but its head as he swivels it from side to side, just watching for anything that qualifies as lunch or dinner.
One of our neighbors told us that a hawk can fly at incredible speeds as it races towards the ground at its prey..... flying so fast that the hawk can break the back of a chicken or a small animal as it lands on it with its talons ready to capture it and fly off into the woods. When we lost chickens to the hawks, we could easily see the very spot where it was taken.... there would be a cloud of feathers sticking up out of the lawn...... so sad to see that, and it happened so many times.
After the rain we had yesterday, we didn't have to water the plants and flowers this morning. I don't much like dragging those heavy hoses around.... we have faucets and hoses all around the property, so it isn't like I have to carry a hose very far. But every time I turn on one of those outside faucets, I'm reminded of the in-ground sprinkler system that we had in our 'city' house. That house was sitting on just about one-fourth of an acre........ and we had a sprinkler system and never had to think about holding a hose and watering flowers. And if it rained, all I had to do was push a button so the sprinkler system wouldn't come on at all. This house sits on about three acres that has to be watered and maintained, before you get to the larger part of the property which is just pasture-land. The in-ground sprinkler system for this property is on The List Of Things To Do.
It isn't just us with that infamous List Of Things To Do. Seems that all of our neighbors have similar lists.... even those with new houses. Whether the house is two years old or 150 years old, The List is there, always, and growing every day. And when you're this far out in the country, you can't just pick up the phone and call someone to take care of The List. "Y'all live where? All the way out there? I'll have to let y'all know when I can get the time to get out there to y'all." And sometimes they give you a day and a time, and no one shows up. Other times, they pull into your driveway when you don't even know they're coming.
These handyman companies wouldn't get away with this in a city situation.... there would be too much competition and too many other companies to call up. Out here, The Country Rules seem to apply. Translation: I'll be out there on Tuesday, first thing. Unless it rains. Or unless I can get my brother-in-law's boat for some fishin'. Or unless I get a job that's closer into town.
It's the country way. Take it or leave it. When we told our Clear Lake friends that we were moving up to the Hill Country, some of them started singing the theme song to that old television show "Green Acres."
Friday, September 20, 2013
Wet stuff from the sky....
Woke up this morning to the sound of rain.... enough rain that my friends and I didn't go for our usual morning walk today. I can't even remember the last time we missed walking because of rain. On a normal day, we walk down our road, up the next road and all the way to the main highway, and then back home. Actually, because it's been so blasted hot the past few months, we haven't exactly walked up to the main highway..... we get about halfway to the finish line and then we all turn around because it feels like there's no air to breathe.
The temperatures hovered around the 100 mark all summer long... and of course we had precious little rain to speak of. The ponds are all empty, unless they've been flooded with hoses running from the barns down to the ponds. They call the ponds 'tanks' if they're meant to provide drinking water to livestock. If they're stocked with fish and if kids can swim in them, then the locals call them 'ponds.' Being that our pond hasn't had water in it mostly all summer long, I just call it a great big hole in the ground. We don't have livestock.... we don't have kids..... and even if we did, I wouldn't want any child of mine swimming in a hole in the dirt. Heaven only knows what would be swimming or slithering around in that water.
It's been a lucky summer in that we haven't seen many snakes up near the house. That could be because we don't have chickens anymore. One of our neighbors told me "If y'all have chickens, then y'all are gonna have snakes, no doubt about it." I kind of poo-poohed that statement, until my favorite red chicken, Scarlett, was killed by a snake because she wouldn't get off of her egg in the nesting box. And it wasn't even a real egg, for goodness sake.
Scarlett was such a good hen... so friendly, and always wanting to be picked up and petted. She loved her feathers smoothed back for her as you held her in your arms, and then when you put her down, she would fluff out her feathers and stretch her neck and just blink at you a few times with those yellow eyes of hers. She was also good with her eggs, or the eggs of the other chickens. Scarlett would sit on those eggs, just waiting for them to hatch into baby chicks and she would have probably been a very protective mama hen, if given the chance. Without a rooster, however, none of our chickens were able to produce anything but eggs ready to cook and eat..... no baby chicks without a rooster. Scarlett, however, wasn't aware of that little fact.
That red hen would sit in that nest long after you had taken the eggs out from under her.... and she let me do that, as long as I petted her feathers and told her how pretty she was. Blink, blink went the yellow eyes, and I'd slip my hand underneath her and take the eggs. But Scarlett would just sit there. I replaced the real eggs with an egg made of stone..... she was so determined to sit in that nest, and nothing I did convinced her to go out and scratch in the yard.
The chicken coop was so safe and secure..... raccoons, coyotes, and foxes were never able to get in there. But one night, a snake managed to get himself into the coop.... Scarlett was in her nesting box sitting on the fake egg..... the other hens were up on the roosting bar. That snake wanted whatever was in that nesting box.
When I unlocked the coop gate in the morning, the hens were right at the gate, waiting to get out..... but I quickly saw that Scarlett was still in the nesting box, with her head hanging over the side. Those yellow eyes were staring out at me without blinking. It took about three seconds for me to see the snake curled up in the corner of the coop...... and out I ran..... screaming for my husband all the way.
Apparently, the snake had killed Scarlett, and then got underneath her and swallowed that egg.... the fake egg made of stone. Not easily digested, to say the least, plus the bulge in the snake prevented him from slithering back out of the coop...... so he curled up in the corner.... and he was nearly dead by morning. My husband shot him anyway.... three times. Once would have probably been enough, but we were both so angry at what happened to Scarlett. That afternoon, I called a neighbor and asked him if he wanted the rest of my chickens for his own coop. My husband power-washed the coop..... we've been using it as sort of a screen-porch for the outside cats and they love it.
It's still raining here........ and has been for most of the day. It's been so long since we've had a good stay-at-home rainy day in the hills here. Out pond looks like it has a few puddles in it..... the ground is so dry that all the rain that's falling is being soaked up by the soil. We would need a bunch of rainy days till the ponds are filled up again.
Funny..... the things you think about on rainy days like this. I used to go shoe-shopping on rainy days back in Clear Lake..... now I'm sitting here thinking about a red hen with yellow eyes.
The temperatures hovered around the 100 mark all summer long... and of course we had precious little rain to speak of. The ponds are all empty, unless they've been flooded with hoses running from the barns down to the ponds. They call the ponds 'tanks' if they're meant to provide drinking water to livestock. If they're stocked with fish and if kids can swim in them, then the locals call them 'ponds.' Being that our pond hasn't had water in it mostly all summer long, I just call it a great big hole in the ground. We don't have livestock.... we don't have kids..... and even if we did, I wouldn't want any child of mine swimming in a hole in the dirt. Heaven only knows what would be swimming or slithering around in that water.
It's been a lucky summer in that we haven't seen many snakes up near the house. That could be because we don't have chickens anymore. One of our neighbors told me "If y'all have chickens, then y'all are gonna have snakes, no doubt about it." I kind of poo-poohed that statement, until my favorite red chicken, Scarlett, was killed by a snake because she wouldn't get off of her egg in the nesting box. And it wasn't even a real egg, for goodness sake.
Scarlett was such a good hen... so friendly, and always wanting to be picked up and petted. She loved her feathers smoothed back for her as you held her in your arms, and then when you put her down, she would fluff out her feathers and stretch her neck and just blink at you a few times with those yellow eyes of hers. She was also good with her eggs, or the eggs of the other chickens. Scarlett would sit on those eggs, just waiting for them to hatch into baby chicks and she would have probably been a very protective mama hen, if given the chance. Without a rooster, however, none of our chickens were able to produce anything but eggs ready to cook and eat..... no baby chicks without a rooster. Scarlett, however, wasn't aware of that little fact.
That red hen would sit in that nest long after you had taken the eggs out from under her.... and she let me do that, as long as I petted her feathers and told her how pretty she was. Blink, blink went the yellow eyes, and I'd slip my hand underneath her and take the eggs. But Scarlett would just sit there. I replaced the real eggs with an egg made of stone..... she was so determined to sit in that nest, and nothing I did convinced her to go out and scratch in the yard.
The chicken coop was so safe and secure..... raccoons, coyotes, and foxes were never able to get in there. But one night, a snake managed to get himself into the coop.... Scarlett was in her nesting box sitting on the fake egg..... the other hens were up on the roosting bar. That snake wanted whatever was in that nesting box.
When I unlocked the coop gate in the morning, the hens were right at the gate, waiting to get out..... but I quickly saw that Scarlett was still in the nesting box, with her head hanging over the side. Those yellow eyes were staring out at me without blinking. It took about three seconds for me to see the snake curled up in the corner of the coop...... and out I ran..... screaming for my husband all the way.
Apparently, the snake had killed Scarlett, and then got underneath her and swallowed that egg.... the fake egg made of stone. Not easily digested, to say the least, plus the bulge in the snake prevented him from slithering back out of the coop...... so he curled up in the corner.... and he was nearly dead by morning. My husband shot him anyway.... three times. Once would have probably been enough, but we were both so angry at what happened to Scarlett. That afternoon, I called a neighbor and asked him if he wanted the rest of my chickens for his own coop. My husband power-washed the coop..... we've been using it as sort of a screen-porch for the outside cats and they love it.
It's still raining here........ and has been for most of the day. It's been so long since we've had a good stay-at-home rainy day in the hills here. Out pond looks like it has a few puddles in it..... the ground is so dry that all the rain that's falling is being soaked up by the soil. We would need a bunch of rainy days till the ponds are filled up again.
Funny..... the things you think about on rainy days like this. I used to go shoe-shopping on rainy days back in Clear Lake..... now I'm sitting here thinking about a red hen with yellow eyes.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
Crickets and lizards..... oh my.....
We used to have chickens in our yard..... our attempt to 'save money' by picking fresh eggs out of the nesting boxes every morning. (As if we spent a fortune on eggs in the first place?) We did, however, spend a small fortune on the chicken coop.... between the vintage nesting boxes that we bought at an antique store in Navasota, and the chicken wire, and the food and water dishes for the hens.... plus three weeks of my husband's time as he turned the existing dog kennel into a very safe and raccoon-proof chicken coop. My husband even bought these big wooden letters that spelled out " The Coopacabana" (an homage to Barry Manilow's song) and he hung those letters up on one wall of the coop, above the roosting bar. The letters danced along that wall, in an un-even but very planned line..... if we'd ever bought a rooster, I was going to name him Manilow. (With apologies to Barry.)
The chickens used to catch every cricket on this property and crunch them up like cornflakes. Now that we don't have chickens (because I got tired of losing the hens to the hawks and snakes).... we have some of the biggest crickets in the county. Honestly, some of these crickets are three inches long and about as wide as my pinkie. They fly and jump around the yard as if you're in their way. I used to scream out loud when they landed on me, but I've gotten over that. Now I just flick the fabric of whatever top I'm wearing and the crickets jump off and land somewhere else. These backyard crickets used to be less than an inch long...... they never grew to full size because the chickens ate them up. Now, without chickens, the crickets are growing. And growing.
This afternoon when I tried getting into my car, there was a giant cricket right near the door-handle on the driver's side. Me being the driver, there was no way for me to get into that door without the cricket either jumping on me or (worse still) jumping into my car. I did not want to drive all the way into town with a cricket in the passenger seat. I could have flicked the cricket off with a broom, but I didn't want to smash the cricket all over my clean car window. Cleaning up cricket blood is not exactly my thing. What to do.... what to do..... the cricket was not moving, except for tilting his head from side to side as he watched me watching him.
I finally decided to get into the car from the passenger side. Not an easy thing to do in a car with two bucket seats with a console in the middle, but sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. And that's what I did.... all for the sake of that blasted cricket... who stayed on that car window till I got up to the main highway, and then 'gone with the cricket wind' he went.
When I got home from town, 'Wild Kingdom' was just beginning...... one of our outside cats, Mickey Kitty, had caught a small lizard. He has done this from time to time..... he chases all of the lizards, but he can only catch the smaller ones. As I walked out of the garage, Mickey was standing in the courtyard with his prize dangling from his mouth. I thought he was going to drop it at my feet as a gift, and I was prepared to run in the opposite direction, but Mickey had other plans.
I looked at Mickey and said "What have you got there, Mickey Boy?" And sweet little Mickey looked up at me with wide eyes and then let his jaws chomp down on that lizard. Most of the lizard ended up in Mickey's mouth... and he proceeded to munch and crunch it. The lizard's tail, however, fell to the ground in front of Mickey and the blessed tail continued to twitch and turn and flop over and over and over. I don't know what possesses me at times, but I just stood there, stunned and frozen in place, and I watched that tail moving on the courtyard stones. When Mickey had eaten the lizard, he calmly walked over to the twitching tail and picked that up and gobbled that down into his belly also. He meowed up at me one time, a soft meow no louder than a whisper... and then Mickey started to lick his paws.
I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried......
The chickens used to catch every cricket on this property and crunch them up like cornflakes. Now that we don't have chickens (because I got tired of losing the hens to the hawks and snakes).... we have some of the biggest crickets in the county. Honestly, some of these crickets are three inches long and about as wide as my pinkie. They fly and jump around the yard as if you're in their way. I used to scream out loud when they landed on me, but I've gotten over that. Now I just flick the fabric of whatever top I'm wearing and the crickets jump off and land somewhere else. These backyard crickets used to be less than an inch long...... they never grew to full size because the chickens ate them up. Now, without chickens, the crickets are growing. And growing.
This afternoon when I tried getting into my car, there was a giant cricket right near the door-handle on the driver's side. Me being the driver, there was no way for me to get into that door without the cricket either jumping on me or (worse still) jumping into my car. I did not want to drive all the way into town with a cricket in the passenger seat. I could have flicked the cricket off with a broom, but I didn't want to smash the cricket all over my clean car window. Cleaning up cricket blood is not exactly my thing. What to do.... what to do..... the cricket was not moving, except for tilting his head from side to side as he watched me watching him.
I finally decided to get into the car from the passenger side. Not an easy thing to do in a car with two bucket seats with a console in the middle, but sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. And that's what I did.... all for the sake of that blasted cricket... who stayed on that car window till I got up to the main highway, and then 'gone with the cricket wind' he went.
When I got home from town, 'Wild Kingdom' was just beginning...... one of our outside cats, Mickey Kitty, had caught a small lizard. He has done this from time to time..... he chases all of the lizards, but he can only catch the smaller ones. As I walked out of the garage, Mickey was standing in the courtyard with his prize dangling from his mouth. I thought he was going to drop it at my feet as a gift, and I was prepared to run in the opposite direction, but Mickey had other plans.
I looked at Mickey and said "What have you got there, Mickey Boy?" And sweet little Mickey looked up at me with wide eyes and then let his jaws chomp down on that lizard. Most of the lizard ended up in Mickey's mouth... and he proceeded to munch and crunch it. The lizard's tail, however, fell to the ground in front of Mickey and the blessed tail continued to twitch and turn and flop over and over and over. I don't know what possesses me at times, but I just stood there, stunned and frozen in place, and I watched that tail moving on the courtyard stones. When Mickey had eaten the lizard, he calmly walked over to the twitching tail and picked that up and gobbled that down into his belly also. He meowed up at me one time, a soft meow no louder than a whisper... and then Mickey started to lick his paws.
I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried......
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
From this day forward....
.... I promise to write an entry in this blog every blessed day. However, there may be some days when there is absolutely nothing to write about. (In that case, I promise not to make anything up.)
Country life. That's what we have out here on 23 acres in the Hill Country of Texas.
City wife. That's what my husband has, here on 23 acres in the Hill Country of Texas.
First thing this morning, I swept up a dead scorpion. In my dressing room, of all places. Within the last ten days, this was the sixth scorpion that found its way into the house. All six were dead, or barely moving, thanks to the bug-stuff that my husband mixes up with water and we spray all over the house, inside and outside. It kills the scorpions, but I swear it's making the wasps multiply like rabbits. I cannot even begin to count the number of wasp nests that are scattered like Christmas decorations around the outside of the house. My husband has sprayed and knocked down the nests he could reach, but there are still more (and larger) nests up near the third floor of our house. I don't even want to think about the staggering number of wasp-babies that are safely cocooned in those nests. (That old song "Fly, robin, fly...." comes to mind, with the substitution of "Wasp" for the robin.)
I just re-read that last paragraph.... you would think I'm very calm about finding and sweeping up dead scorpions. And I am, for the most part. (For the other part, no one sees me cringing anymore, and I don't scream bloody murder anymore either.) We've been here on this property for a little over four years now, and I guess I've gotten used to the scorpions. They aren't all that big, and I've never been stung by one of them, but the possibility still exists.... both for finding a scorpion on steroids and for getting stung. In case you are clueless about scorpions, they sting you with their tails..... that long tail goes up in the air and they point it in your direction and unless you can move faster than they can, you're going to get stung. Neighbors tell me it's no worse than a bee sting. Oh goodie. I can hardly wait. I am allergic to wasp stings. I have no idea if I'm allergic to bee or scorpion stings. We are twelve miles from the nearest hospital. Once again: Oh goodie.
Country life..... it's supposed to be tranquil and quiet and serene. No one mentioned scorpions and coyotes. Ditto for armadillos and snakes and bob-cats. And neighbors' cows and goats breaking down their fences and getting into your yard. We had seventeen cows in our front yard last Christmas Eve morning, one of which was standing in the flowerbed around the fountain in our courtyard. When our neighbors were told that their cows were loose, he said "But we're busy here.... it's Christmas Eve." The neighbor was told: "Well, the cows don't know it's Christmas Eve, so go down the road and round up your blasted cows, especially the little one that's eating all the yellow marigolds."
City wife..... we moved here from Clear Lake, which is halfway between Houston and Galveston. We used to drive into Houston all the time, have lunch at one of the ethnic restaurants sprinkled around the city, and then we'd spend the afternoon at one of the museums. And I would wear my 'city' clothes...... dark jeans, high heels, pretty top, cute little jacket, long necklace, good purse. (Right about here is where I let out a long and sustained sigh.) I still have those city clothes, but they haven't seen the light of day in a while. Especially the high heels. I still wear the dark jeans (but not in the summer because it's nearly always over 100 degrees out here in the hills)... and the tops and the jackets aren't so citified...... and the really good purses are in the closet. (Another sigh.)
We were in Houston this past June for a baby-welcoming party given by our friends V and S, for their first grandbaby. Big party.... at one of the big Houston hotels. I got to wear some of my city clothes: black skirt, black and white top, heels, pearls, and a good purse came out of the closet. We hadn't seen most of V's friends since we moved out here, and we all hugged hello in the lobby of the hotel. They were excited to see us.... they asked us how we were liking "country life up in the Hill Country."
I don't know why, but the question took me by surprise. My husband said my eyes puddled up and I let out one big long sigh... and then I started in about the scorpions and the coyotes and the snakes..........
Country life. That's what we have out here on 23 acres in the Hill Country of Texas.
City wife. That's what my husband has, here on 23 acres in the Hill Country of Texas.
First thing this morning, I swept up a dead scorpion. In my dressing room, of all places. Within the last ten days, this was the sixth scorpion that found its way into the house. All six were dead, or barely moving, thanks to the bug-stuff that my husband mixes up with water and we spray all over the house, inside and outside. It kills the scorpions, but I swear it's making the wasps multiply like rabbits. I cannot even begin to count the number of wasp nests that are scattered like Christmas decorations around the outside of the house. My husband has sprayed and knocked down the nests he could reach, but there are still more (and larger) nests up near the third floor of our house. I don't even want to think about the staggering number of wasp-babies that are safely cocooned in those nests. (That old song "Fly, robin, fly...." comes to mind, with the substitution of "Wasp" for the robin.)
I just re-read that last paragraph.... you would think I'm very calm about finding and sweeping up dead scorpions. And I am, for the most part. (For the other part, no one sees me cringing anymore, and I don't scream bloody murder anymore either.) We've been here on this property for a little over four years now, and I guess I've gotten used to the scorpions. They aren't all that big, and I've never been stung by one of them, but the possibility still exists.... both for finding a scorpion on steroids and for getting stung. In case you are clueless about scorpions, they sting you with their tails..... that long tail goes up in the air and they point it in your direction and unless you can move faster than they can, you're going to get stung. Neighbors tell me it's no worse than a bee sting. Oh goodie. I can hardly wait. I am allergic to wasp stings. I have no idea if I'm allergic to bee or scorpion stings. We are twelve miles from the nearest hospital. Once again: Oh goodie.
Country life..... it's supposed to be tranquil and quiet and serene. No one mentioned scorpions and coyotes. Ditto for armadillos and snakes and bob-cats. And neighbors' cows and goats breaking down their fences and getting into your yard. We had seventeen cows in our front yard last Christmas Eve morning, one of which was standing in the flowerbed around the fountain in our courtyard. When our neighbors were told that their cows were loose, he said "But we're busy here.... it's Christmas Eve." The neighbor was told: "Well, the cows don't know it's Christmas Eve, so go down the road and round up your blasted cows, especially the little one that's eating all the yellow marigolds."
City wife..... we moved here from Clear Lake, which is halfway between Houston and Galveston. We used to drive into Houston all the time, have lunch at one of the ethnic restaurants sprinkled around the city, and then we'd spend the afternoon at one of the museums. And I would wear my 'city' clothes...... dark jeans, high heels, pretty top, cute little jacket, long necklace, good purse. (Right about here is where I let out a long and sustained sigh.) I still have those city clothes, but they haven't seen the light of day in a while. Especially the high heels. I still wear the dark jeans (but not in the summer because it's nearly always over 100 degrees out here in the hills)... and the tops and the jackets aren't so citified...... and the really good purses are in the closet. (Another sigh.)
We were in Houston this past June for a baby-welcoming party given by our friends V and S, for their first grandbaby. Big party.... at one of the big Houston hotels. I got to wear some of my city clothes: black skirt, black and white top, heels, pearls, and a good purse came out of the closet. We hadn't seen most of V's friends since we moved out here, and we all hugged hello in the lobby of the hotel. They were excited to see us.... they asked us how we were liking "country life up in the Hill Country."
I don't know why, but the question took me by surprise. My husband said my eyes puddled up and I let out one big long sigh... and then I started in about the scorpions and the coyotes and the snakes..........
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