First of all, I like dogs. I do not, however, like the neighbors' dog in our yard. Namely, Herbie.
This dog belongs to neighbors further on up the hill who moved here just a couple of years ago and decided not to be very neighborly. They wave as they drive by, but they don't stop to say hello. They have been invited to neighborhood get-togethers but never chose to attend, and never even Rsvp'd to say they couldn't (or wouldn't) come. Fine. Some people are like that. We all stopped inviting them, and we just wave as they drive down the hill.
However, these un-friendly neighbors have a very friendly dog. A beagle named Herbie. Within months of moving to his new home, Herbie decided to go exploring.... and of course got lost. Neighbor J found Herbie and drove him around looking for his owners..... and thought he'd found the owners and left Herbie with 'his people.'
The next day, signs went up on our road...... "Lost Dog: Beagle named Herbie. Please call...." And who did Herbie belong to? The new and un-neighborly neighbors. Oh my. Neighbor J had left Herbie with the wrong people.
So J made signs for Herbie..... putting his own number on the sign and offering a reward. J did indeed find Herbie... and paid the reward.... and delivered Herbie to his rightful owners--- the new and not-so-friendly neighbors. Even after a reward was paid and their dog was returned, those neighbors still remained un-neighborly.
For the past year or so, Herbie has been managing to escape from his own yard while his people are in town or at work. Herbie goes exploring... down the hill to romp and play with the dogs of other neighbors. Herbie has been returned to his own property many times by many neighbors.
Today was my turn. I went outside to give the cats their lunch and there was Herbie, sitting in the courtyard with Gatsby on one side of him and Mickey on the other side. Each cat had their tails up and fluffed-out like Halloween cats, and Herbie was too scared to move. That dog sat there in the middle of the courtyard and looked at me, with an expression that said "Please save me."
I went right back into the house and got the leash that once belonged to our dog Gracie. I also got my cell phone from the house.... went outside and clipped that leash to Herbie's collar, and off we went towards Herbie's home. On the way up the hill, I called Herbie's people.... told them I had Herbie and I was headed their way. The owner wasn't at home... asked me to leave Herbie in the yard.
I resisted the urge to tell that neighbor that my schedule today did not include walking his dog back to his house. I did, however, suggest to Herbie's owner that he might want to find a way to keep Herbie on his own property because he was going all over everyone else's property, in their gardens, on their porches, and, worst of all, Herbie was walking by himself all over the road at times and one of these days, he's going to end up underneath a car.
The worst insult today... seconds before I could get the leash on Herbie, he committed the ultimate act of disrespect. That dog peed on my "Bird Girl" statue.... my Savannah girl which is similar to the statue made famous by the book "In The Garden of Good and Evil."
Honestly.... Herbie's people need to teach that dog some manners.
Friday, October 31, 2014
Plop... plop.... rumble... roll....
Those are now the sounds we hear when the pecans drop from the trees and fall on the new metal roof of the gazebo.
First you will hear that plop sound when the pecan first thuds onto that roof. Then, as it rolls down the copper metal, you can distinctly hear a rummmble sound as it rolls towards the edge. When the pecan goes into a free-fall from the edge of the roof line, and if it's very quiet outside (which it usually is) you can actually hear the pecan as it lands on the grass.
I'm surprised that an army of squirrels haven't arrived in our yard en masse, being that the pecan sounds are now signalling the bounty of fresh nuts that surrounds that gazebo.
First you will hear that plop sound when the pecan first thuds onto that roof. Then, as it rolls down the copper metal, you can distinctly hear a rummmble sound as it rolls towards the edge. When the pecan goes into a free-fall from the edge of the roof line, and if it's very quiet outside (which it usually is) you can actually hear the pecan as it lands on the grass.
I'm surprised that an army of squirrels haven't arrived in our yard en masse, being that the pecan sounds are now signalling the bounty of fresh nuts that surrounds that gazebo.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
As October goes....
This month has flown by... totally disappeared while I wasn't looking. I've spent most of the month picking pecans from our trees, then shelling them..... piles of nuts here, piles of shells there. I wear very thin latex gloves for both the picking and the shelling. The fresh nuts are covered with a sheer layer of brown dust that will discolor your hands for a few days. Not exactly a must-have for the latest nail polish color.
When you buy pecans in the store, those shells have been cleaned and waxed and they're perfectly clean and shining... not so when you pick the nuts right from the trees. Sometimes the green pods are open, sometimes the pods have turned brown and brittle... but inside each of those pods is a perfectly shelled pecan. Every pecan I pick from those trees reminds me of the fresh eggs that I used to get from my hens... little miracles, just in nut form instead of an egg.
Today while I was picking the last of the pecans that I could reach, Pumpkin Kitty was sitting in the sun by the barn, just watching me. When I got to the trees closest to the barn, I started talking to him, telling him it was okay for me to be in 'his' yard. (When you have a male cat, they tend to take over whatever part of the yard or the house they're in at the moment.) Pumpkin Kitty sat there watching me, and when he got tired of sitting, he stretched out in the grass and looked at me upside-down. Gatsby was on the other side of the yard, close to the pecans trees, just watching Pumpkin.... both of them are male. Both of them want to dominate the yard. Same goes for all males of any species, I would imagine.
Tomorrow is our Halloween party.... I've been getting everything ready so I will have precious little to do for the party tomorrow night, except read, put food into the oven, and get dressed in costume. Between watching the work on the gazebo and tending to the pecans, my reading time has been cut short for the past couple of weeks.
The gazebo... it looks even prettier than it did with the old shingled roof. The copper-colored metal roof was just what this gazebo needed..... it looks like a horse-less carousel has been planted in our yard. We'll be looking for some sort of lighting to put in the gazebo... something that works on a timer so the structure can be lit up for a while every evening. Something else for the to-do list or the look-for list. No matter how much you do, there's always something else to add to those lists. Sure does keep life interesting.
When you buy pecans in the store, those shells have been cleaned and waxed and they're perfectly clean and shining... not so when you pick the nuts right from the trees. Sometimes the green pods are open, sometimes the pods have turned brown and brittle... but inside each of those pods is a perfectly shelled pecan. Every pecan I pick from those trees reminds me of the fresh eggs that I used to get from my hens... little miracles, just in nut form instead of an egg.
Today while I was picking the last of the pecans that I could reach, Pumpkin Kitty was sitting in the sun by the barn, just watching me. When I got to the trees closest to the barn, I started talking to him, telling him it was okay for me to be in 'his' yard. (When you have a male cat, they tend to take over whatever part of the yard or the house they're in at the moment.) Pumpkin Kitty sat there watching me, and when he got tired of sitting, he stretched out in the grass and looked at me upside-down. Gatsby was on the other side of the yard, close to the pecans trees, just watching Pumpkin.... both of them are male. Both of them want to dominate the yard. Same goes for all males of any species, I would imagine.
Tomorrow is our Halloween party.... I've been getting everything ready so I will have precious little to do for the party tomorrow night, except read, put food into the oven, and get dressed in costume. Between watching the work on the gazebo and tending to the pecans, my reading time has been cut short for the past couple of weeks.
The gazebo... it looks even prettier than it did with the old shingled roof. The copper-colored metal roof was just what this gazebo needed..... it looks like a horse-less carousel has been planted in our yard. We'll be looking for some sort of lighting to put in the gazebo... something that works on a timer so the structure can be lit up for a while every evening. Something else for the to-do list or the look-for list. No matter how much you do, there's always something else to add to those lists. Sure does keep life interesting.
Monday, October 27, 2014
The Prodigal Cat
And there he was last night.... that orange cat. Sleeping on his favorite chair on the back porch. My guess is that he had spent the last bunch of days out in the fields catching the mice that were re-located when the hay was cut this past week. That orange cat probably spent his nights feasting on mice in the back of our barn, so he didn't need Meow Mix when he had warm mouse-meat for his lunch and dinner.
I went out there to say hello to him last night and he stayed on that chair, rolled over on his back so his belly was up towards the porch ceiling, and he looked at me in that upside-down way that all cats seem to instinctively have mastered. Quite possibly, people may look better in the eyes of a cat when we're viewed upside-down. That orange cat meowed soft sounds and started to purr.
As he purred, I put my hand out and gave him a few gentle rubs on the top of his head... he kept purring. He didn't try to scratch me, didn't move from the chair... he just laid there, quite content.
"Welcome back," said I.
"Meow, meow," said he.
My husband has been calling that orange cat Pumpkin Kitty ever since we first saw him, which is nearly eleven months ago.
So that's his name, I guess. Pumpkin Kitty. Or just plain Pumpkin.
Sounds better than That Orange Cat or Orange Kitty.
The name 'Pumpkin' seems to fit that orange and white cat..... he can stay out in those fields for days and days.... plus he's a hard-headed cat who wants to do things his own way, no questions asked. He has all the resiliency and stubbornness of a field pumpkin. He found his way to our property during last year's pumpkin season, and he's still here for this season's pumpkin-picking time. That cat has resisted every effort of ours to catch him and bring him to the shelter, and he has the patience and fortitude of those slow-growing pumpkins. So, Pumpkin it is, and I guess he's here to stay until he wants to take his cat-self elsewhere.
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange you glad you finally gave me a real name?
I went out there to say hello to him last night and he stayed on that chair, rolled over on his back so his belly was up towards the porch ceiling, and he looked at me in that upside-down way that all cats seem to instinctively have mastered. Quite possibly, people may look better in the eyes of a cat when we're viewed upside-down. That orange cat meowed soft sounds and started to purr.
As he purred, I put my hand out and gave him a few gentle rubs on the top of his head... he kept purring. He didn't try to scratch me, didn't move from the chair... he just laid there, quite content.
"Welcome back," said I.
"Meow, meow," said he.
My husband has been calling that orange cat Pumpkin Kitty ever since we first saw him, which is nearly eleven months ago.
So that's his name, I guess. Pumpkin Kitty. Or just plain Pumpkin.
Sounds better than That Orange Cat or Orange Kitty.
The name 'Pumpkin' seems to fit that orange and white cat..... he can stay out in those fields for days and days.... plus he's a hard-headed cat who wants to do things his own way, no questions asked. He has all the resiliency and stubbornness of a field pumpkin. He found his way to our property during last year's pumpkin season, and he's still here for this season's pumpkin-picking time. That cat has resisted every effort of ours to catch him and bring him to the shelter, and he has the patience and fortitude of those slow-growing pumpkins. So, Pumpkin it is, and I guess he's here to stay until he wants to take his cat-self elsewhere.
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange you glad you finally gave me a real name?
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Four days gone...
We haven't seen the orange cat in four days now. The last time he was here, our outside cat Gatsby howled and screeched and plowed into that stray cat something fierce... I'd never seen Gatsby fight like that before, and when it was all over, I saw the orange cat walking slowly towards the barn.
I didn't go after the orange cat to see if he had been hurt... after all, he's a stray cat, isn't he? And haven't I wanted him gone for the past ten months? And hasn't he been unfriendly and unpredictable for all of those months? If I could have caught him, I'd have brought him to the local animal shelter.... I did not, and do not, want another cat.
I have to admit that it's nice to just walk out the back door without even thinking that the orange cat might scratch my legs as I walk by. (He was very quick on the fast-swipes with his claws.) Neighbor L had suggested that I use a spray-bottle with that orange cat..... and it worked... as I walked, I sprayed that water right in front of the cat and that kept him away from my legs.
Very quiet on the porch these past few days.... no howling from Gatsby, no hissing from Mickey. All is quiet on the porch with just our own two outside cats. Still, I hope the orange cat just found another barn to call his own, I hope the coyotes didn't get him, and I do hope he doesn't come back to our porch.
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange you missing me now that I'm gone?
I didn't go after the orange cat to see if he had been hurt... after all, he's a stray cat, isn't he? And haven't I wanted him gone for the past ten months? And hasn't he been unfriendly and unpredictable for all of those months? If I could have caught him, I'd have brought him to the local animal shelter.... I did not, and do not, want another cat.
I have to admit that it's nice to just walk out the back door without even thinking that the orange cat might scratch my legs as I walk by. (He was very quick on the fast-swipes with his claws.) Neighbor L had suggested that I use a spray-bottle with that orange cat..... and it worked... as I walked, I sprayed that water right in front of the cat and that kept him away from my legs.
Very quiet on the porch these past few days.... no howling from Gatsby, no hissing from Mickey. All is quiet on the porch with just our own two outside cats. Still, I hope the orange cat just found another barn to call his own, I hope the coyotes didn't get him, and I do hope he doesn't come back to our porch.
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Orange.
Orange who?
Orange you missing me now that I'm gone?
Thursday, October 23, 2014
Making hay...
As I type, the "hay guy" is mowing down the pastures... he's been doing that since early this morning. As a result of that, flocks of crows and vultures have been circling in the sky, looking for mice who have left the tall grass and are running around the fields looking for a safe haven. Between the hay guy on the tractor-thing, and those huge birds flying circles in the sky, I don't think there's any place that's exactly safe for the mice.
Add into that equation our three outside cats... Gatsby and Mickey and (still) that orange cat. Each of them had hiding spots around the house and under the bushes all day today, with one eye on the tractor's progress and the other eye on whatever is scampering along in the grass running in the opposite direction of the tractor. Mickey caught two lizards, the smaller of which (yuck) he ate. I don't think Gatsby has caught anything at all... he likes to look and watch, but doesn't often chase anything (unless it's holding a dish of Meow Mix). My guess is that the orange cat did indeed catch (and eat) at least one mouse because he didn't come up on the porch at lunch-time today.
The orange cat, however, could be just staying away from Gatsby as much as possible today. Early this morning, before the sun came up, Gatsby decided he didn't want to share the porch with the orange cat. I was barely awake when I heard Gatsby howling and screeching at the orange cat, and then I heard both of them running across the porch. Actually, I just heard Gatsby's heavy-set self running on the porch..... he's so big that he sounds like a small dog out there (or a very tiny baby hippo).
The neighbor's dogs heard Gatsby howling as well, and they started barking before six o'clock this morning, which set off the other neighbor's roosters and they started crowing. With just one twitch of Gatsby's whiskers as he looked at the orange cat in the dark of the morning and decided to prove who owns the porch, all the neighbors on our side of these hills were probably waking up at 5:30 this morning saying "What the....?!"
Add into that equation our three outside cats... Gatsby and Mickey and (still) that orange cat. Each of them had hiding spots around the house and under the bushes all day today, with one eye on the tractor's progress and the other eye on whatever is scampering along in the grass running in the opposite direction of the tractor. Mickey caught two lizards, the smaller of which (yuck) he ate. I don't think Gatsby has caught anything at all... he likes to look and watch, but doesn't often chase anything (unless it's holding a dish of Meow Mix). My guess is that the orange cat did indeed catch (and eat) at least one mouse because he didn't come up on the porch at lunch-time today.
The orange cat, however, could be just staying away from Gatsby as much as possible today. Early this morning, before the sun came up, Gatsby decided he didn't want to share the porch with the orange cat. I was barely awake when I heard Gatsby howling and screeching at the orange cat, and then I heard both of them running across the porch. Actually, I just heard Gatsby's heavy-set self running on the porch..... he's so big that he sounds like a small dog out there (or a very tiny baby hippo).
The neighbor's dogs heard Gatsby howling as well, and they started barking before six o'clock this morning, which set off the other neighbor's roosters and they started crowing. With just one twitch of Gatsby's whiskers as he looked at the orange cat in the dark of the morning and decided to prove who owns the porch, all the neighbors on our side of these hills were probably waking up at 5:30 this morning saying "What the....?!"
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Saturday stuff....
As I type, the contractor is putting the finishing touches on the gazebo... the roof is complete, the trim is up, and he's painting the railings, posts, and spindles. With any luck (and if he can stay off his cell phone for a while) he'll be finished today. The gazebo looks great, even better than it did before with the old shingled roof.
The orange cat..... L's suggestion about using a water spray-bottle has been working wonders with that cat. I've been spraying the water not on the cat, but just in front of him, and that keeps him away from my legs when I go out into the yard. I've been scratched (and bitten) by that stupid cat so I've been trying everything to keep him at a distance. I still refuse to give him a real name... and I'd still give anything to have him caught and taken to the shelter. No matter how I try with this stray cat, I just don't feel as if I can fully trust him.
I've been picking pecans for days and days now.... and yesterday was just a perfect weather day... when I was out there under the trees, I thought of our dog Gracie.... she used to watch us pick pecans when we first moved here. Every time there's an exceptionally clear and warm day outside (not broiling hot and not humid) we think of Gracie and wonder if her spirit is still on the property with us. This week's clear and perfect weather was Gracie's favorite sort of day for just walking around the yard. I was really missing that dog yesterday, and I caught myself talking to her as I picked those pecans. Sometimes it feels as if she's right next to me.... and I could just kick myself for all those times I used to tell her "Gracie! We've got 23 acres here and you're always right under my feet!!"
The orange cat..... L's suggestion about using a water spray-bottle has been working wonders with that cat. I've been spraying the water not on the cat, but just in front of him, and that keeps him away from my legs when I go out into the yard. I've been scratched (and bitten) by that stupid cat so I've been trying everything to keep him at a distance. I still refuse to give him a real name... and I'd still give anything to have him caught and taken to the shelter. No matter how I try with this stray cat, I just don't feel as if I can fully trust him.
I've been picking pecans for days and days now.... and yesterday was just a perfect weather day... when I was out there under the trees, I thought of our dog Gracie.... she used to watch us pick pecans when we first moved here. Every time there's an exceptionally clear and warm day outside (not broiling hot and not humid) we think of Gracie and wonder if her spirit is still on the property with us. This week's clear and perfect weather was Gracie's favorite sort of day for just walking around the yard. I was really missing that dog yesterday, and I caught myself talking to her as I picked those pecans. Sometimes it feels as if she's right next to me.... and I could just kick myself for all those times I used to tell her "Gracie! We've got 23 acres here and you're always right under my feet!!"
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
After the rains...
Haven't seen one wasp all weekend. Happy day!
We had rain over the weekend, with high winds that blew away all the muggy air that had been hanging around the hills here. Temperatures have dropped a little bit, but the weather wizards tell us that we'll have temperatures in the 80s for the rest of this week. Once again: Happy day! (I am not ready for the temperatures to drop down into the 70s just yet.)
The gazebo roof is taking on a life of its own as I type. The contractor (minus his helper) has been cutting the metal roofing since eight o'clock this morning. The sawing of that copper metal is bone-tingling loud... Gatsby is out on the porch, seemingly oblivious to the sounds of the power-saw, but Mickey is hiding under the bushes.
There are two tiers on that gazebo roof, and I have to wonder why the contractor didn't cut the metal for the smaller roof first, before cutting the larger pieces for the second tier. Somehow it makes more sense to me to work from the top down, rather than the bottom up. My husband thinks that the contractor will use the leftover smaller pieces for the upper tier of the roof.
So far, the roof of the gazebo is looking just fine, so we're having faith that the contractor/Ken doll knows what he's doing out there.
We had rain over the weekend, with high winds that blew away all the muggy air that had been hanging around the hills here. Temperatures have dropped a little bit, but the weather wizards tell us that we'll have temperatures in the 80s for the rest of this week. Once again: Happy day! (I am not ready for the temperatures to drop down into the 70s just yet.)
The gazebo roof is taking on a life of its own as I type. The contractor (minus his helper) has been cutting the metal roofing since eight o'clock this morning. The sawing of that copper metal is bone-tingling loud... Gatsby is out on the porch, seemingly oblivious to the sounds of the power-saw, but Mickey is hiding under the bushes.
There are two tiers on that gazebo roof, and I have to wonder why the contractor didn't cut the metal for the smaller roof first, before cutting the larger pieces for the second tier. Somehow it makes more sense to me to work from the top down, rather than the bottom up. My husband thinks that the contractor will use the leftover smaller pieces for the upper tier of the roof.
So far, the roof of the gazebo is looking just fine, so we're having faith that the contractor/Ken doll knows what he's doing out there.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Picking pecans...
If you want to know when the pecans on your trees are ready to be picked, just listen for the crows. And we've had crows here for over a week, so I really should have known why. Those birds will take a ripe pecan right out of the husk, fly it over to the road, and use the hard surface of that road to help crack open the pecan shell. By the time the crows have filled up their bird-bellies, there is quite a pile of pecan shells in the road.
We have two huge pecan trees in the side yard, and half a dozen smaller pecan trees in the backyard. Funny thing is that the smaller trees have the largest and tastiest pecans. When we first moved here, we were picking every blessed pecan that we could find out there. We had so many pecans that I was sending them to my cousins up north... "These pecans are from our own trees! I picked them myself!" When friends from Clear Lake came up to visit, I made cute little take-away bags of "our very own pecans!" for each of them. So proud was I.... but I stopped doing that after the first pecan season in this house.
Now we know better... we don't pick the zillions of pecans that fall from the largest trees... those pecans aren't that tasty (sort of dry) and they're so small that it's hard to get the nuts out of their shells. The smaller trees have huge pecans, and they're delicious, like the finest pecans you can buy at specialty stores. I store them in the fridge, and don't crack them open till I'm ready to use them.
For the rest of this month, I'll have to make sure to get out there in the yard every day and check for pecan husks that have opened up to reveal the shelled nuts inside. It's a balancing act at best... holding the little plastic bucket, looking up into the trees for the nuts (while watching for spiders) and looking down at the ground (being careful of fire ant mounds). And you have to wear thin plastic gloves when picking the nuts because your hands will turn green and yellow from the husks, and brown from the shells.
Very different from those Clear Lake days when all I had to do was drive to Kroger and pick a bag of shelled pecans from a shelf. No gloves, no spiders, no fire ants.
We have two huge pecan trees in the side yard, and half a dozen smaller pecan trees in the backyard. Funny thing is that the smaller trees have the largest and tastiest pecans. When we first moved here, we were picking every blessed pecan that we could find out there. We had so many pecans that I was sending them to my cousins up north... "These pecans are from our own trees! I picked them myself!" When friends from Clear Lake came up to visit, I made cute little take-away bags of "our very own pecans!" for each of them. So proud was I.... but I stopped doing that after the first pecan season in this house.
Now we know better... we don't pick the zillions of pecans that fall from the largest trees... those pecans aren't that tasty (sort of dry) and they're so small that it's hard to get the nuts out of their shells. The smaller trees have huge pecans, and they're delicious, like the finest pecans you can buy at specialty stores. I store them in the fridge, and don't crack them open till I'm ready to use them.
For the rest of this month, I'll have to make sure to get out there in the yard every day and check for pecan husks that have opened up to reveal the shelled nuts inside. It's a balancing act at best... holding the little plastic bucket, looking up into the trees for the nuts (while watching for spiders) and looking down at the ground (being careful of fire ant mounds). And you have to wear thin plastic gloves when picking the nuts because your hands will turn green and yellow from the husks, and brown from the shells.
Very different from those Clear Lake days when all I had to do was drive to Kroger and pick a bag of shelled pecans from a shelf. No gloves, no spiders, no fire ants.
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Cricket, anyone?
Hundreds of crickets, clicking and clacking their way all over the yards here this week. I can barely walk from the house to the coop without being side-swiped and attacked by crickets. Alright, maybe it's not really an attack, and I know that crickets don't bite, but that doesn't mean I want them on me or my clothes, and that is exactly what's happening here. Every blessed day.
This is when I really miss having chickens.... those hens ate up every cricket in sight... and the few crickets I did see back then were very small ones, not steroid-laced mega-crickets with a jumping capability of thirty feet.
At this week's Waldorf Wednesday, a few of the ladies were talking about going on 'an adventure' to walk around the woods and the creek that meanders through all of our properties here. "Wear boots," one of them said.... "because of the poison ivy and the snakes."
And then this particular neighbor asked me if I would like to join them. Me?
I assured all the ladies that none of them would enjoy their walk in the woods if I were along with them. I can't even deal with one spider or one cricket or one scorpion on my own property, so why on this blessed bug-filled earth would I want to go trekking in the blessed woods looking to see what's growing and living back there?
I already know what's growing..... flowering trees, pretty wildflowers, small streams coming from the creek-bed, and musical waterfalls (when we have enough rain) filtering down through the hills. As for what's living back in those woods...... take your pick: raccoons, possums, armadillos, coyotes, deer, bob-cats, birds (from bluebirds to vultures), foxes, snakes.... and everything else that goes bump in the blessed night.
This is when I really miss having chickens.... those hens ate up every cricket in sight... and the few crickets I did see back then were very small ones, not steroid-laced mega-crickets with a jumping capability of thirty feet.
At this week's Waldorf Wednesday, a few of the ladies were talking about going on 'an adventure' to walk around the woods and the creek that meanders through all of our properties here. "Wear boots," one of them said.... "because of the poison ivy and the snakes."
And then this particular neighbor asked me if I would like to join them. Me?
I assured all the ladies that none of them would enjoy their walk in the woods if I were along with them. I can't even deal with one spider or one cricket or one scorpion on my own property, so why on this blessed bug-filled earth would I want to go trekking in the blessed woods looking to see what's growing and living back there?
I already know what's growing..... flowering trees, pretty wildflowers, small streams coming from the creek-bed, and musical waterfalls (when we have enough rain) filtering down through the hills. As for what's living back in those woods...... take your pick: raccoons, possums, armadillos, coyotes, deer, bob-cats, birds (from bluebirds to vultures), foxes, snakes.... and everything else that goes bump in the blessed night.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
It was a dark and stormy afternoon...
The contractor and his helper started work on the gazebo yesterday. When they got here (before eight o'clock in the morning) the sun was out and it looked like a perfect day for working outside. Within a couple of hours, it started to get cloudy, then it started to get dark and the wind kicked up so badly that one of the chairs on the porch went flying. The contractor kept working, with one eye on the sky and one eye on the gazebo, and even in all of that wind, they were out there trying to beat the rain that we were sure was just a heart-beat away.
As dark as the sky got, and as fierce as the wind was, we never did get one drop of rain. And, thankfully, because we had the trees trimmed not too long ago, the branches weren't dropping from the pecan trees which are right over that gazebo.
When you're out in the middle of so much land, you can see for miles away, and in weather like yesterday's, the change in the sky is so evident, and can be very frightening. Mother Nature makes one humble, to say the least.... when she's in a temper, there's no stopping her.
That dark sky yesterday morning lightened up into a bright and sunny day within half an hour's time. We could see the dark clouds off in the distance, and some of the little towns around here may have been battered with the rain that we never got.
When the contractor and his helper left, the new posts were up on the gazebo decking... they used concrete as a filler so they're not working today, giving the posts in the concrete time to 'just set and be happy.' They will be back tomorrow, with the material for the roof.
Yesterday morning, we were hearing the cows from the other side of the hills... they had been crying for three days, probably because their calves were taken to market. The sad sounds of those cows are just heart-breaking and I don't think I'll ever get used to those poignant cries. When the sky darkened yesterday, the cows went quiet... and when the sun came out again in the afternoon, the cows were still silent.
And today... the cows are silent still. So quiet that it's nearly un-nerving.
As dark as the sky got, and as fierce as the wind was, we never did get one drop of rain. And, thankfully, because we had the trees trimmed not too long ago, the branches weren't dropping from the pecan trees which are right over that gazebo.
When you're out in the middle of so much land, you can see for miles away, and in weather like yesterday's, the change in the sky is so evident, and can be very frightening. Mother Nature makes one humble, to say the least.... when she's in a temper, there's no stopping her.
That dark sky yesterday morning lightened up into a bright and sunny day within half an hour's time. We could see the dark clouds off in the distance, and some of the little towns around here may have been battered with the rain that we never got.
When the contractor and his helper left, the new posts were up on the gazebo decking... they used concrete as a filler so they're not working today, giving the posts in the concrete time to 'just set and be happy.' They will be back tomorrow, with the material for the roof.
Yesterday morning, we were hearing the cows from the other side of the hills... they had been crying for three days, probably because their calves were taken to market. The sad sounds of those cows are just heart-breaking and I don't think I'll ever get used to those poignant cries. When the sky darkened yesterday, the cows went quiet... and when the sun came out again in the afternoon, the cows were still silent.
And today... the cows are silent still. So quiet that it's nearly un-nerving.
Friday, October 3, 2014
Friday stuff.....
We had pouring rain last night... and a good deal of lightning that was off in the distance. Looking out from the back porch, I could see all the lightning strikes above the trees. I was standing there with a flashlight in my hands, thinking that the power would go off, but it never did.
I was also standing there and calling for Gatsby to come into the house. He wouldn't stay inside last night and wanted to sleep on the porch, but he must have run underneath the back steps or under the cottage when the rain started. For whatever reason, that cat likes his hiding spots outside when a storm comes along, rather than being inside the house. Probably because he can't fit his plump cat-self underneath the sofa in the TV room. So that's where he was last night... hiding from the rain... and when I opened the back door this morning, he had his nose pressed up against the screen door.
Lots of little green frogs outside this morning... which always happens after a good rain. The frogs were perched on the porch columns, just hanging there like little green ornaments. If you go up to them for a closer look, they don't even move unless you try to touch them. (I don't mind looking at frogs, but touching is out.)
The barn swallows have been sleeping in their old nests at night.... and I'm sure they're the same little birds because they don't move from those nests when they see me on the porch. All the little baby birds that were born in those back porch nests got to recognize me and probably even my voice because I would talk to them as I went up and down the porch steps. They would rest their little heads on the ridge of those nests and just watch me going back and forth. As they got closer to the point of leaving the nests, they would sit there on the edge and just watch me, not moving a feather. So now they're back... still watching me... and I'm still talking to them every time I see them. (My friend V used to talk to the squirrels back in the park in Clear Lake.... and here I am, talking to baby birds.)
I haven't seen too many wasps this week, but I surely have heard the bees. When I was in the upstairs rooms of the barn a few days ago, I could hear buzzing that sounded like it was coming from underneath the floor. My friend C told me that it sounded like bees were down in the barn. "Want to go down there and have a look?" she asked. Absolutely not. If the bees are there, let them stay there... and I'll send my husband down there with a can of the wasp spray.
A bubble-shaped dome........ a huge see-through, breathe-through bubble.... that's what I need surrounding this entire property.... and I'd be perfectly content. But I guess not even a bubble would keep out the fire ants.
I was also standing there and calling for Gatsby to come into the house. He wouldn't stay inside last night and wanted to sleep on the porch, but he must have run underneath the back steps or under the cottage when the rain started. For whatever reason, that cat likes his hiding spots outside when a storm comes along, rather than being inside the house. Probably because he can't fit his plump cat-self underneath the sofa in the TV room. So that's where he was last night... hiding from the rain... and when I opened the back door this morning, he had his nose pressed up against the screen door.
Lots of little green frogs outside this morning... which always happens after a good rain. The frogs were perched on the porch columns, just hanging there like little green ornaments. If you go up to them for a closer look, they don't even move unless you try to touch them. (I don't mind looking at frogs, but touching is out.)
The barn swallows have been sleeping in their old nests at night.... and I'm sure they're the same little birds because they don't move from those nests when they see me on the porch. All the little baby birds that were born in those back porch nests got to recognize me and probably even my voice because I would talk to them as I went up and down the porch steps. They would rest their little heads on the ridge of those nests and just watch me going back and forth. As they got closer to the point of leaving the nests, they would sit there on the edge and just watch me, not moving a feather. So now they're back... still watching me... and I'm still talking to them every time I see them. (My friend V used to talk to the squirrels back in the park in Clear Lake.... and here I am, talking to baby birds.)
I haven't seen too many wasps this week, but I surely have heard the bees. When I was in the upstairs rooms of the barn a few days ago, I could hear buzzing that sounded like it was coming from underneath the floor. My friend C told me that it sounded like bees were down in the barn. "Want to go down there and have a look?" she asked. Absolutely not. If the bees are there, let them stay there... and I'll send my husband down there with a can of the wasp spray.
A bubble-shaped dome........ a huge see-through, breathe-through bubble.... that's what I need surrounding this entire property.... and I'd be perfectly content. But I guess not even a bubble would keep out the fire ants.
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