It is nearly three o'clock in the morning as I type, and I've hardly had anything close to a good night's sleep so far. I've heard my husband snoring from the other side of the bed, and I've also heard three train whistles from the other side of town. Why is it that the later it gets, the louder those train whistles seem to be? (The snoring is not so loud... just constant.)
So, what to do in the middle of the night...... how about a wildlife report:
The baby foxes have moved on into the woods. With the recent mowing of the pastures and the hay baling machines being here, the mama fox decided that our barn wasn't the most quiet of spots for her family, so off they went. And good riddance. The baby foxes were cute, but I wasn't exactly thrilled that there were five of them in the barn.
The bluebirds continue to hatch their eggs in the birdhouses around the property. My husband checks those boxes every other week and keeps a log for the county wildlife association. Along with the bluebirds, wrens and swallows have also taken up residence in some of those birdhouses. We're supposed to evict those birds from the boxes that are set up for the bluebirds, but honestly, how can you really do that? Pooh on that county rule, if you ask me.
Barn swallows continue to nest on our porch columns... the baby birds who have already fledged have started home-improvements on some of the old nests. Layers have been added to the existing nests, making them look like bird condos... some of them are about eight inches high. Makes me wonder how the new baby birds will ever climb out of those skyscraper nests when they're ready to fly off into the yard. The barn swallows must like it here.... they don't fly away when they leave their nests in the morning, they just fly off into our trees, then come back to the house for their afternoon naps and nest-building. As a result, our porch is decorated with bird poop.
I haven't seen any more tarantulas lately.... I think we had three or four at last count, and I haven't seen any all week. And yes, I've been looking. One thing I don't want is to be surprised by something like that as I walk around the house. And no, I don't walk around the outside of the house any more than I have to. All this property... and hardly any of it is wildlife-free or insect-less.
The wasps continue to build their delicate little nests that seem to hang by the merest of threads, no matter how big the construction is. All those little sections within those nests.... unbelievable how fast they can build them, and I believe that they lay eggs into each of those openings. More eggs equals more wasps. Oh goodie. We keep spraying them, and knocking the nests down, but within a day's time, a new nest is being built somewhere else.
Orange Kitty is still around the porch, and trying to be friendly by falling over on his back when he sees me, offering me his white tummy for petting. I fell for that trick of his once, and got scratched for my effort, so no tummy-rubs for that cat. Orange Kitty seems to be good friends with Mickey... they both sleep under the back porch steps during the hottest part of the day. Gatsby stills meows loudly when the orange cat comes into the yard, but he's not chasing him off the porch anymore. I would still like to catch Orange Kitty and bring him to the shelter, but he's too quick, and too smart for that. That cat simply wants to be here, whether he gets Meow Mix or not... and if he doesn't eat here, then he eats at the neighbor's across the road and then comes back here to spend most of his day on or under our porch.
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange you glad I'm still around?
Sunday, June 29, 2014
Monday, June 23, 2014
Yes, we have peaches...
We went to a peach orchard over the weekend and came home with as many peaches as we could pick.... sweet and delicious locally-grown peaches that are just so good. One after the other, without a bad one in the bunch. They don't all get ripe at the same time, thank goodness, so I've been checking them every morning and then again at night, taking the ripe ones and putting them in the fridge, leaving the others in bowls on the dining room table.
I've already looked through a few of my cookbooks..... I've made peach cobbler with a souffle-like topping that was very good... because the peaches are so sweet, I hardly used any sugar at all when I mixed up the batter.
At the local thrift store last year, I had found an old copy of a cookbook from this particular peach orchard.... written years ago by the wife of the orchard's owner. Every recipe imaginable is in that book, all of which call for peaches. There are thousands of peach trees, nectarine trees, and blackberry bushes on that orchard property, and I can only imagine the hours of work that go into such a business. The owner is getting up there in age, and I have to wonder who will take over when he can no longer do such hard work.
We got there early in the morning on Saturday, right when they opened the gates at eight o'clock in the morning... friends J and J drove there, and we all had empty boxes in the back of the car, waiting to be filled up with just-picked peaches. The grass was wet (wearing boots or old shoes is a must) and the bees were still sleeping at that hour of the morning. The temperature wasn't at the broiling point yet, so the four of us had a good hour's worth of peach-picking before the sun started to heat up.
From now till the peaches are gone, we'll be having peaches for breakfast, lunch and dinner.... with a few cobblers and pastries tossed in for good measure.
I've already looked through a few of my cookbooks..... I've made peach cobbler with a souffle-like topping that was very good... because the peaches are so sweet, I hardly used any sugar at all when I mixed up the batter.
At the local thrift store last year, I had found an old copy of a cookbook from this particular peach orchard.... written years ago by the wife of the orchard's owner. Every recipe imaginable is in that book, all of which call for peaches. There are thousands of peach trees, nectarine trees, and blackberry bushes on that orchard property, and I can only imagine the hours of work that go into such a business. The owner is getting up there in age, and I have to wonder who will take over when he can no longer do such hard work.
We got there early in the morning on Saturday, right when they opened the gates at eight o'clock in the morning... friends J and J drove there, and we all had empty boxes in the back of the car, waiting to be filled up with just-picked peaches. The grass was wet (wearing boots or old shoes is a must) and the bees were still sleeping at that hour of the morning. The temperature wasn't at the broiling point yet, so the four of us had a good hour's worth of peach-picking before the sun started to heat up.
From now till the peaches are gone, we'll be having peaches for breakfast, lunch and dinner.... with a few cobblers and pastries tossed in for good measure.
Monday, June 16, 2014
Stuff happens...
One more tarantula... out front near the fountain. That makes three now that I've used the wasp spray on, with full intent to kill them. I don't care what sort of insects the spiders (or tarantulas) eat around the property. Bottom line-- I don't want them here. And heaven only knows how many are out there that I'm not seeing, so I don't intend to go outside anymore without my boots. No more shoes. Boots only. At least if I do step on a tarantula, I won't feel like it's so close to my feet..... the boots seem to give more of a barrier between me and the stuff that's out there.
And another scorpion today.... in the dishwasher of all places. I opened up the dishwasher to empty it and there was the scorpion.... hanging onto the inside of the door. And it had the audacity to curl up its tail at me.... how in the world did it survive the washing? I scooped it up out of there (using the little dust-vac thing) and then turned on the dishwasher and let it go through the cycle all over again. Are these scorpions that resilient that they can come out of a dishwasher cycle without drowning in the process?
Well.... on the bright side.... with all the hay-mowing and grass-cutting and tree-trimming that's been going on around the property, the mama fox has taken her five little fox babies and moved on into the woods. We haven't seen them now for over a week.
The barn swallows are raising their babies in the nests around the porch. Most of the babies have fledged and are now flying around the yard, but they still come back to their nests to sleep. As a consequence, they're leaving piles of bird poop in every corner of the porch. The bird poop will attract snakes...... it's only a matter of time.
The orange cat is still around... eating the Meow Mix every morning, and even spending time on the porch with Mickey and Gatsby. The three cats take their naps within a few feet of one another, without howling or hissing. Orange Kitty is getting along with the outside cats, but I still don't trust him not to scratch or bite, so I keep my distance.
My husband is still spraying the wasp nests around the house.... under all the eaves, by the doors, underneath the railings..... seems that no matter where you look, there's a wasp nest that's either just being constructed or has been long-established and inhabited. It's getting to the point where I don't want to touch anything that's outside around the property. Actually, I don't even want to be outside around the property.
And another scorpion today.... in the dishwasher of all places. I opened up the dishwasher to empty it and there was the scorpion.... hanging onto the inside of the door. And it had the audacity to curl up its tail at me.... how in the world did it survive the washing? I scooped it up out of there (using the little dust-vac thing) and then turned on the dishwasher and let it go through the cycle all over again. Are these scorpions that resilient that they can come out of a dishwasher cycle without drowning in the process?
Well.... on the bright side.... with all the hay-mowing and grass-cutting and tree-trimming that's been going on around the property, the mama fox has taken her five little fox babies and moved on into the woods. We haven't seen them now for over a week.
The barn swallows are raising their babies in the nests around the porch. Most of the babies have fledged and are now flying around the yard, but they still come back to their nests to sleep. As a consequence, they're leaving piles of bird poop in every corner of the porch. The bird poop will attract snakes...... it's only a matter of time.
The orange cat is still around... eating the Meow Mix every morning, and even spending time on the porch with Mickey and Gatsby. The three cats take their naps within a few feet of one another, without howling or hissing. Orange Kitty is getting along with the outside cats, but I still don't trust him not to scratch or bite, so I keep my distance.
My husband is still spraying the wasp nests around the house.... under all the eaves, by the doors, underneath the railings..... seems that no matter where you look, there's a wasp nest that's either just being constructed or has been long-established and inhabited. It's getting to the point where I don't want to touch anything that's outside around the property. Actually, I don't even want to be outside around the property.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
A bug's life....
In the past 24 hours, I've killed three scorpions inside the house, and two tarantulas in the garage. My husband laughs because I'm always the one finding these things. Well, of course I am, because I'm the only one looking for them.
If I'm walking outside, my eyes are moving right to left and up and down.... who knows what's going to be crawling out of the flower beds or dropping down from the trees. And every morning under the arbor that's near the chicken coop, there's a new spider web that was constructed during the night. So my first walk through that courtyard in the morning must be with my 'spider-stick,' which is just a long and sturdy branch that had fallen from one of the pecan trees. It's the perfect size for swatting away the webs.
The tarantulas were just sitting there on the garage floor this morning.... one was right near my car, so of course now I'll be thinking that there could be a tarantula inside my car one day. Is it possible for one of them to crawl up a tire, get underneath the hood, and then find its way into the car's interior? Tarantulas are the darkest velvet-black in color.... the interior of my car is also black. I'm doomed.
And how does one kill a tarantula? I used the wasp spray... you can stand far enough away so that if the tarantula jumps (as they do) they won't land on you. I am certainly not going to squish them with my shoe. I don't squish anything larger than an ant with my shoe, and besides that, tarantulas are big (huge) and wouldn't be easy to squish in the first place.
After the wasp spray killed and demobilized the tarantulas, I couldn't bring myself to sweep them up in the dust-pan or even pick them up with that long clippy-thing...... I left them on the garage floor and when my husband came downstairs I asked him to pick them up and throw them into the trash can.
My husband told me that as soon as he saw the look on my face this morning, he knew something had happened. When he asked me what was wrong, I just looked at him and said: "Two. Not one. Two. Tarantulas. Garage floor. Dead."
I repeat: I'm doomed.
If I'm walking outside, my eyes are moving right to left and up and down.... who knows what's going to be crawling out of the flower beds or dropping down from the trees. And every morning under the arbor that's near the chicken coop, there's a new spider web that was constructed during the night. So my first walk through that courtyard in the morning must be with my 'spider-stick,' which is just a long and sturdy branch that had fallen from one of the pecan trees. It's the perfect size for swatting away the webs.
The tarantulas were just sitting there on the garage floor this morning.... one was right near my car, so of course now I'll be thinking that there could be a tarantula inside my car one day. Is it possible for one of them to crawl up a tire, get underneath the hood, and then find its way into the car's interior? Tarantulas are the darkest velvet-black in color.... the interior of my car is also black. I'm doomed.
And how does one kill a tarantula? I used the wasp spray... you can stand far enough away so that if the tarantula jumps (as they do) they won't land on you. I am certainly not going to squish them with my shoe. I don't squish anything larger than an ant with my shoe, and besides that, tarantulas are big (huge) and wouldn't be easy to squish in the first place.
After the wasp spray killed and demobilized the tarantulas, I couldn't bring myself to sweep them up in the dust-pan or even pick them up with that long clippy-thing...... I left them on the garage floor and when my husband came downstairs I asked him to pick them up and throw them into the trash can.
My husband told me that as soon as he saw the look on my face this morning, he knew something had happened. When he asked me what was wrong, I just looked at him and said: "Two. Not one. Two. Tarantulas. Garage floor. Dead."
I repeat: I'm doomed.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
"It takes a village..."
The latest in the handyman/men saga........ the young handyman who showed up hours late over the weekend has turned out to be a good worker. He just isn't experienced enough to manage his time well, which has his schedule too packed. But when he gets here, he works hard, and works well, and he scraped and painted well enough for my husband to say "He did the job the way I would do it."
The older handyman/painter (who's doing the bigger jobs) has always been reliable, and he showed up at the beginning of the week and has been here since early Monday morning. This particular man is so busy that he has to keep a running schedule of who called him first, and he puts his customers on a waiting list. It took us more than two months to get him here, and we're hoping he can stay here till the big painting jobs outside are done. We don't want to get at the bottom of his waiting list again. (And with the scorching hot summer sun blasting everything outside, will the 'big painting jobs' out there ever really be done?)
The handyman who was supposed to be here last Saturday showed up on Monday, wanting to cut the hay around the pond. Fine. My husband explained to him (for the second time) exactly what needed to be done, and off he went to mow that part of the property. Less than two hours later, he rings the doorbell to announce that he's finished......... my husband goes out to the pond and sees that the whole half of the pond nearest to the property line has not been touched by the man's mower. "The job isn't finished," said my husband. "You don't want to pay?" said the man........... and he gets in his truck and off he goes. What the heck? My husband called the man's wife, explained what happened... told her we'd like to have the job finished and we'll be happy to pay the money. If her husband didn't want to finish the other half of the job, fine......... we'll pay just half of the agreed amount. They never called back, nor did the man come here to pick up half of the money for half of the mowing.
Yesterday, our two lawn guys (father and son) were here to clean up the walkways and the flowerbeds, removing stubborn weeds and growths from around the flowering trees. They worked all afternoon and there isn't a weed in sight along the places they were working. This father-son duo has always been very reliable and they're both hard workers. They used to be here on a more regular basis, but then my husband bought the riding mower so we don't have them here that often.
As I type, there's a new handyman out in the yard.... pulling up weeds. He lives down the road... staying with a friend........ needs the money... he's a ex-soldier who hasn't had a good life since he left the service. So my husband is paying him by the hour to pull up weeds. We have 23 acres... very few spots on this property are weed-free. That man could make a fortune on weed-pulling here and then move to Hawaii.
So my husband walked into the back door this morning, as the front of the barn is being painted and the weeds are being pulled..... and he said "There's only one way to run this property--- it takes a village."
The older handyman/painter (who's doing the bigger jobs) has always been reliable, and he showed up at the beginning of the week and has been here since early Monday morning. This particular man is so busy that he has to keep a running schedule of who called him first, and he puts his customers on a waiting list. It took us more than two months to get him here, and we're hoping he can stay here till the big painting jobs outside are done. We don't want to get at the bottom of his waiting list again. (And with the scorching hot summer sun blasting everything outside, will the 'big painting jobs' out there ever really be done?)
The handyman who was supposed to be here last Saturday showed up on Monday, wanting to cut the hay around the pond. Fine. My husband explained to him (for the second time) exactly what needed to be done, and off he went to mow that part of the property. Less than two hours later, he rings the doorbell to announce that he's finished......... my husband goes out to the pond and sees that the whole half of the pond nearest to the property line has not been touched by the man's mower. "The job isn't finished," said my husband. "You don't want to pay?" said the man........... and he gets in his truck and off he goes. What the heck? My husband called the man's wife, explained what happened... told her we'd like to have the job finished and we'll be happy to pay the money. If her husband didn't want to finish the other half of the job, fine......... we'll pay just half of the agreed amount. They never called back, nor did the man come here to pick up half of the money for half of the mowing.
Yesterday, our two lawn guys (father and son) were here to clean up the walkways and the flowerbeds, removing stubborn weeds and growths from around the flowering trees. They worked all afternoon and there isn't a weed in sight along the places they were working. This father-son duo has always been very reliable and they're both hard workers. They used to be here on a more regular basis, but then my husband bought the riding mower so we don't have them here that often.
As I type, there's a new handyman out in the yard.... pulling up weeds. He lives down the road... staying with a friend........ needs the money... he's a ex-soldier who hasn't had a good life since he left the service. So my husband is paying him by the hour to pull up weeds. We have 23 acres... very few spots on this property are weed-free. That man could make a fortune on weed-pulling here and then move to Hawaii.
So my husband walked into the back door this morning, as the front of the barn is being painted and the weeds are being pulled..... and he said "There's only one way to run this property--- it takes a village."
Sunday, June 8, 2014
As The Handyman Turns....
There used to be a long-running soap opera years ago which I believe started on radio, then switched to television. Its title was "As The World Turns."
When my mind finally turns to applesauce out here in the hills, I will write an epistle entitled "As The Handyman Turns," telling the world at large about the exploits of trying to find a handyman out here in the country. Without a doubt, no one will believe the saga, and it will be classified as 'science fiction.'
As I type, we're waiting for the newest handyman, who was due here at ten o'clock this morning. My husband has already received a text message which said "Looks like I'll be out there more like 11:00 or 11:30."
My husband found this handyman yesterday, who seemed to be happy to be able to earn some extra money on his days off. He asked for directions, asked if he'd be painting on the east side of the house or the west side, and also asked if we could pay in cash.
And here we are...... we didn't make plans for the day because 'The handyman will be here by ten o'clock." My husband has already started on some of the work outside, in preparation for the handyman who would have/should have arrived by 10:00.
Now we're taking bets...... is he really going to show up between 11:00 and 11:30, or will we get another text message saying "Looks like I'll be out there more like 2:00."
To add insult to injury, we also have another handyman scheduled for tomorrow morning.... he was supposed to call me yesterday to confirm tomorrow's work, and to let me know what time he will be here. I haven't heard from that man yet.
If all of this wasn't so blessedly pitiful, I'd be laughing. My husband can tell you that I am far from laughing.
When my mind finally turns to applesauce out here in the hills, I will write an epistle entitled "As The Handyman Turns," telling the world at large about the exploits of trying to find a handyman out here in the country. Without a doubt, no one will believe the saga, and it will be classified as 'science fiction.'
As I type, we're waiting for the newest handyman, who was due here at ten o'clock this morning. My husband has already received a text message which said "Looks like I'll be out there more like 11:00 or 11:30."
My husband found this handyman yesterday, who seemed to be happy to be able to earn some extra money on his days off. He asked for directions, asked if he'd be painting on the east side of the house or the west side, and also asked if we could pay in cash.
And here we are...... we didn't make plans for the day because 'The handyman will be here by ten o'clock." My husband has already started on some of the work outside, in preparation for the handyman who would have/should have arrived by 10:00.
Now we're taking bets...... is he really going to show up between 11:00 and 11:30, or will we get another text message saying "Looks like I'll be out there more like 2:00."
To add insult to injury, we also have another handyman scheduled for tomorrow morning.... he was supposed to call me yesterday to confirm tomorrow's work, and to let me know what time he will be here. I haven't heard from that man yet.
If all of this wasn't so blessedly pitiful, I'd be laughing. My husband can tell you that I am far from laughing.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
A country hissy-fit.....
A quaint expression, that: "hissy-fit." A nice polite southern way of describing a bad mood. And this hissy-fit of mine has been lasting for weeks, on and off, depending on what sort of insect or critter I encounter during any given day. Can a hissy-fit last that long? And could it possibly last for the entire summer, or at least until the last wasp, snake, and scorpion is gone? (Are they ever really gone?)
And let's not even get into the snake situation... which has totally freaked me out since the beginning of May when I found a snake in the guest cottage. Not outside in the grass, but inside the cottage. How uncivilized is that??? I've been having snake dreams on and off ever since, and it's only a matter of time till I find one in the house. In the house..... now that will be a solid gold hissy-fit for sure.
I love this big old house. That's a given. I'm beginning to hate (absolutely hate) its location. And I can chalk that up to my own ignorance of the Hill Country. Who knew that within these beautiful green and wildflower-filled pastures that there would be such an abundance of wildlife and insects and everything else that goes bump in the freaking night.
Raccoons and skunks on the porch, foxes in the barn, armadillos all over the yard, hawks eating mice out in the fields, coyotes howling in the night, scorpions in every crevice and underneath every rock, wasps and bees on all the plants and flowers, spiders hanging from every tree, snakes eating baby birds asleep in their nests, and vultures (huge vultures) eating the remains of every dead thing that ends up in the road or in the pastures.
We've been here for five years..... I have tried to adapt.... tried not to be too city and too timid...... but you are what you are. If you can't bear to even look at a snake on a television screen, then you surely can't bear to look at one as it's curling up in the bath tub of your guest cottage.
I was absolutely thrilled when we made the third floor of this house into a library. It was like the frosting on top of this storybook-cake vintage home. I had visions of sitting up there on the window-seats with a book, and looking out over the property. However, when you do that, be prepared for a flock of vultures to be circling the pasture and then pouncing on the remains of a dead rabbit that was probably killed by coyotes during the night. I've abandoned the window seats in favor of the chairs in the middle of the room.
Just the other day, I measured the library windows for curtains.... to block out the view of the vultures. I will buy the same curtains that I put up in the breakfast room to block out the view of the wasp nests and the black spiders, and the same curtains that are in the kitchen, to block out the view of the snakes trying to get up to the bird nests. I've long ago stopped having lunch on the porch.... there are always bees and wasps underneath the tables and flying around the flowerbeds, vultures and hawks searching the fields, and who knows what's hiding underneath the wicker furniture out there.
My husband says I am letting my imagination control me. He's probably right, but this is the only imagination I've got, and it's all city-born, without one blessed drop of country in it.
And let's not even get into the snake situation... which has totally freaked me out since the beginning of May when I found a snake in the guest cottage. Not outside in the grass, but inside the cottage. How uncivilized is that??? I've been having snake dreams on and off ever since, and it's only a matter of time till I find one in the house. In the house..... now that will be a solid gold hissy-fit for sure.
I love this big old house. That's a given. I'm beginning to hate (absolutely hate) its location. And I can chalk that up to my own ignorance of the Hill Country. Who knew that within these beautiful green and wildflower-filled pastures that there would be such an abundance of wildlife and insects and everything else that goes bump in the freaking night.
Raccoons and skunks on the porch, foxes in the barn, armadillos all over the yard, hawks eating mice out in the fields, coyotes howling in the night, scorpions in every crevice and underneath every rock, wasps and bees on all the plants and flowers, spiders hanging from every tree, snakes eating baby birds asleep in their nests, and vultures (huge vultures) eating the remains of every dead thing that ends up in the road or in the pastures.
We've been here for five years..... I have tried to adapt.... tried not to be too city and too timid...... but you are what you are. If you can't bear to even look at a snake on a television screen, then you surely can't bear to look at one as it's curling up in the bath tub of your guest cottage.
I was absolutely thrilled when we made the third floor of this house into a library. It was like the frosting on top of this storybook-cake vintage home. I had visions of sitting up there on the window-seats with a book, and looking out over the property. However, when you do that, be prepared for a flock of vultures to be circling the pasture and then pouncing on the remains of a dead rabbit that was probably killed by coyotes during the night. I've abandoned the window seats in favor of the chairs in the middle of the room.
Just the other day, I measured the library windows for curtains.... to block out the view of the vultures. I will buy the same curtains that I put up in the breakfast room to block out the view of the wasp nests and the black spiders, and the same curtains that are in the kitchen, to block out the view of the snakes trying to get up to the bird nests. I've long ago stopped having lunch on the porch.... there are always bees and wasps underneath the tables and flying around the flowerbeds, vultures and hawks searching the fields, and who knows what's hiding underneath the wicker furniture out there.
My husband says I am letting my imagination control me. He's probably right, but this is the only imagination I've got, and it's all city-born, without one blessed drop of country in it.
Sunday, June 1, 2014
Wasps R Us
We bought a case (that's not a typo) of Spectracide wasp spray yesterday. I'm sure the guy at Home Depot must have thought we'd lost our minds. My husband spent part of the weekend spraying the wasp nests under the eaves around the house.
The first floor seems to be nest-free; the second floor's nests are sprayed but not knocked down; and the third floor.... ah, the third floor. How in the world do you get way up there to aim a 30-foot spray underneath the eaves without either having the wind blow the spray back at you, or a sense of imbalance sends you tumbling towards the first floor. For now, the wasps have control of the third floor.
My plan was to call one of the pest-control companies... they come with a truck equipped with enough insect spray to eliminate half the bugs in state of Texas, plus the pressure in that long garden hose attached to the spray canister is probably powerful enough to blow the shingles off the roof.
My husband's plan was to just take care of the problem himself. "I can certainly do that," said he. And so he did. The wasps on the first and second floors are deceased; the third floor wasps are searching for a disco ball to hang up underneath the highest pitch of the roof-line.
And still, after all those cans of Spectracide, I can't walk three steps around any part of the property without hearing a wasp buzzing near my ears or getting stuck in my hair or coming within a blessed inch of landing on my nose.
The first floor seems to be nest-free; the second floor's nests are sprayed but not knocked down; and the third floor.... ah, the third floor. How in the world do you get way up there to aim a 30-foot spray underneath the eaves without either having the wind blow the spray back at you, or a sense of imbalance sends you tumbling towards the first floor. For now, the wasps have control of the third floor.
My plan was to call one of the pest-control companies... they come with a truck equipped with enough insect spray to eliminate half the bugs in state of Texas, plus the pressure in that long garden hose attached to the spray canister is probably powerful enough to blow the shingles off the roof.
My husband's plan was to just take care of the problem himself. "I can certainly do that," said he. And so he did. The wasps on the first and second floors are deceased; the third floor wasps are searching for a disco ball to hang up underneath the highest pitch of the roof-line.
And still, after all those cans of Spectracide, I can't walk three steps around any part of the property without hearing a wasp buzzing near my ears or getting stuck in my hair or coming within a blessed inch of landing on my nose.
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