Weeds and mulch....

... and no, I am not doing either.  As I type, Handyman #2 is outside working in the flowerbeds around the house. He's been working here off and on for the past few weeks, giving us time when he's not scheduled at his regular job with the plumbing company. He's been here a lot lately, on the weekdays, so we're wondering if he still works for that company. (We haven't asked.)

My husband hasn't called Handyman #3 back here since the day he took it upon himself to trim the pecan trees in the backyard. We hadn't asked him to do that, the trees didn't need it, and even if they did need trimming, this is not the right time of the year to be messing around with those particular trees.  Lesson learned: Tell Handyman #3 what to do, then check him in ten minutes to make sure he's doing what you asked him to do. (Or, just call Handyman #2, and don't call Handyman #3 unless you're desperate.)

This particular handyman goes through the buckets of mulch as fast as my husband can haul them back from the tree-recycle place in town.  It would be much simpler for us to get a truck-bed filled with mulch. The only problem is that we don't own a truck, city-people that we are.  I don't even know if my husband still qualifies as a city-person, given the number of buckets of mulch he has shoveled up since we've owned this property.  My husband has taken it upon himself to do a lot of un-city-like chores since we moved out here. For someone who hardly ever got his hands dirty, he's used an awful lot of hand-cleaner since we bought this house.

And goodness knows, I am no help out here. I started out with good intentions.... weeding flowerbeds and putting down mulch and planting flowers. The flowerbeds in the backyard looked quite good, considering I am by no means a gardener.  But then the rains came, and the weeds grew, and the flowerbeds were suddenly populated with little green lizards and thin black snakes who liked to hide amongst the weeds.  The flowerbeds looked like I hadn't ever done anything to them at all.

Time is precious. Time spent pulling up weeds and putting down mulch is time one will never get back. Is that how I want to spend my time?  No.  Hence... the handymen.

Wildlife adventures...

There is just always, always, always something...

Last night, I had a small dish of food on the porch for Orange Cat, which I usually take inside before dark.  Well... I forgot.... and the Meow Mix was out there right by the door and a raccoon came up and started eating it, while Orange Cat sat there on the doormat and just watched him. What happened to the days when that orange cat chased away the raccoons?  Is he getting too soft and too pudgy now that he's being fed on a regular basis?

My husband happened to hear noise on the porch and opened the door... and found the raccoon right there...... so he grabbed an umbrella, opened the door and pointed my very pretty pink umbrella at the raccoon as if it were a gun. The raccoon went running for the hills, and Orange Cat just sat there on the doormat, wide-eyed and stunned and wondering what on earth was happening. That cat just stared at my husband and couldn't take his eyes off of the umbrella. (Maybe pink is the cat's favorite color.)

As all of that was happening, I was in the kitchen and just watching from a distance. When my husband came back inside and started to close the door, I noticed a scorpion on the molding around the inside of the door frame. I handed the Dust-Buster-thing to my husband and asked him to use it to get the scorpion. Well, he tried that, but it just didn't work on the recessed molding. The scorpion just sat there looking at him.

"Get me the hammer," said my husband.......... and that's what he used (one good whack) to squash the scorpion into the next life, and then into the trash.

My husband said he'd never seen a scorpion up so high before... usually they're on the floor. I reminded my husband that when we first moved here, scorpions were falling out of the air-conditioning vents on the ceiling. That doesn't happen anymore because my husband put fine mesh netting in those ducts, so now the scorpions have to find other paths to find a way down from the depths of the attic. And they do, I've no doubt.

Another day in this country bubble.

Not exactly a cat named Bob...

It had to happen sooner or later.... neighbors have told us about seeing bobcats on their properties, but until last night, we hadn't had the pleasure.

Just after dinner-time yesterday... not dark at all... and my husband happened to look out of the kitchen window over the sink. And there by the gazebo was the bobcat.  My husband called me to come quick and look, saying "What on earth is that?"  Lots of spots, walking slowly, short stubby tail.... I saw the animal as it left the side lawn and went underneath the iron fence and out into the pasture. I told my husband that was a bobcat and he said "No way!"                                              

Yes. Way indeed. That animal was definitely not a dog (walking too slowly), definitely not a cat (tail not long enough nor even short enough to be a Manx), and most definitely not a fox (not quick enough).

This morning I spoke to friend C, who described what a bobcat looked like, and exactly what she said was exactly what was out on our lawn yesterday. Then I looked up 'Texas bobcat' on Google and found the same spotted stubbed-tailed cat that was out by our gazebo. Oh goodie.

Well, I guess we've really arrived in the Hill Country. Our first bobcat. At least the first one we've seen on the property... I'm sure there must have been a whole bunch more that we never did see. Friend C told me that the bobcats will travel quite far... they don't just stay in one area.  She didn't think the bobcats would bother our cats... she said they usually hunt for birds and chickens.

Just one more thing to add to our list of unwanted critters and creatures on the property here. As I said.... Oh goodie.

Birds of a feather...

As I type, we have a handyman out in the garden pulling up weeds and putting down fresh mulch on top of old newspapers. According to the Pinterest gardening gods, the newspapers should last for two years before they start to break down and become one with the earth.

While the handyman was working, he found a baby bird trying to walk in the grass. Clearly, the tiny bird was either tossed out of its nest or fell out.  We couldn't find the nest out in that part of the yard, but we had a nest of baby barn swallows on the porch that seemed to be about the same size. My husband got out the ladder and put the lost baby bird into the nest on the porch.

I thought it was such a great idea, but apparently, the mama barn swallow of that nest didn't agree. Between the mama bird and her mate, they managed to drag that baby bird out of its adopted nest and they let it fall to the porch. I don't know how long the baby bird was on the porch, but when I saw the poor thing, it was surrounded by two of the outside cats--- Gatsby and Orange Cat. Neither cat bothered the tiny bird, but they were so intent on watching it that they hardly noticed me as I came along and scooped up that baby bird before either cat could claim it as a snack.

The poor little bird didn't last too long anyway.... as I was trying to feed it some warm water with an eye-dropper, it took its last gasping breath and that was that.  Baby birds just never make it when they've left the nest before they've been fed enough and are ready to fly. We've tried (and failed) with other baby birds since we've been out here.

What really amazed me is that the mama bird knew right away that there was an impostor in her nest.  I guess we won't be messing around with any of the nests in the future. It's just a shame that once those baby birds leave their nests, they're on their own whether they're ready or not.

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.

The peacock has been on our porch since early this morning. Actually, he was here last night just before dark and I think he slept up in our mesquite tree because he was here bright and early looking for his breakfast. (Meow Mix. Recommended by 4 out of 5 peacocks in the Hill Country.)

This peacock (Mr. Carson by name) has been very vocal all day long. I don't know if it's because of the rain today or maybe this is a particularly lonesome time for him and he's searching desperately for a mate.  His constant honking (which sounds like an air horn) reverberates throughout the house and I'm sure can be heard all over the hills here.  About half an hour ago, our across-the-road neighbor proved the fact of the peacock's ability to broadcast his love songs.

The across-the-road and down-the-hill neighbor is the one with the goats and the cows... those goats are the same ones who either jump over his fence or crawl under it and come across the road and onto our property. When that happens, I go out there with an air horn to scare them back into their own pastures and away from our wildflowers and our pond. (Our property is also fenced, but these fences just cannot stop those goats when they're determined to travel.)  When I'm outside with the air horn, that neighbor comes out to gather up his goats, he apologizes to me that they got out, and I always resist the urge to ask him why he just doesn't fix the fence so the goats can't escape.

With the honking of the peacock today, both my husband and I said that Mr. Carson sounded just like the air horn. Well, the neighbor with the goats must have thought the same thing because he did what he always does when he hears me out there with the air horn.... he came down his hill in his truck, and then up our hill, looking for his wayward goats with the intention of herding them up with the truck and getting them into their own pasture.

So here came the neighbor.... driving slowly and looking for his goats (which were indeed still in their own field)...... and the peacock kept up his honking... but because Mr. Carson was on the back of our porch, I'm sure the neighbor didn't see him.  Up and down our road went the neighbor, looking for stray goats while Mr. Carson honked out his mating calls that probably could wake up the dead.  I saw what was happening through my kitchen window, and thought about going out there to explain to the neighbor that the noises he was hearing was the peacock, not the air horn.

But then.... I thought of all the senseless neglect that the neighbor has for his pets and his livestock.... and I decided in a split second not to go out there and tell him about the honking of the peacock.  So I just stayed in the kitchen and watched through the window.

Up and down the road went the neighbor.... and because his goats heard the rattles and puffs of his old truck, they all came towards the perimeter of that field... towards the road... and jumped the fence. So there was the neighbor now.... trying to get that old truck of his to pick up speed so he could round up his goats and get them back over the fence and into his pasture.  And there I was.... laughing at this country comedy.... feeling sorry for those goats (as I always do) and silently applauding Mr. Carson and his lovesick honking that got the neighbor searching for his goats who were right where they belonged until they heard his truck going back and forth on the road.

As I type, the neighbor is still out there in the road with his truck, and he's trying to make some sort of repairs on the corner of his fence, probably hoping to restrain the goats.  And the peacock.... he's still outside on our back porch, looking through the window of our TV room and making googly-eyes at our cat Sweet Pea.

Peacocks and scorpions...

From the sublime to the ridiculous.... which is the way of life here in this country bubble.

As I type, the neighbor's peacock (whom I have named Mr. Carson) is out on our porch gobbling up what's left in the bowl of Meow Mix that's out there for the cats.  Actually, I shouldn't say 'gobbling up' in reference to that beautiful bird because he eats quite delicately for a bird of his size. (Is that comment politically correct? Probably not, but nothing seems to be 'politically correct' these days anyway.)

Mr. Carson will eat up the Meow Mix, then walk across the porch and into the yard, and then fly up into the mesquite tree by our backyard deck. And there he will sleep till morning, high up in those branches where (hopefully) he is safe from night-time predators like coyotes, bob-cats, snakes, and huge raccoons.

Earlier today, my husband was out in the garage intending to mow the grass by the barn inbetween the bursts of rain-showers that we've been having.  Taking either the push-mower or the riding mower out of the garage means opening up the garage door, and as he was doing that, he got stung by a scorpion. He came into the house saying "I guess you didn't hear me scream out there?" -- which sounded funny to me because that's my line.  I've said those very words thousands upon thousands of times when I've seen something out on the property that these mascara-ed eyes were just not meant to see.

The scorpion sting was very clearly on his hand, and we put Neosporin on it before covering it up with a bandaid.  (I resisted the urge to tell my husband that I didn't have any Spiderman bandaids.) Then my husband decided to check the Internet for information on scorpion stings instead of mowing the lawn. Which happened to be a good decision because the pouring-down rain started about ten minutes after the scorpion got him.  Since moving out here to the Hill Country six years ago, we've seen hundreds of scorpions but this is the first time either one of us has been stung. (Our neighbors would call that "beginner's luck.")

It's getting dark outside now, which means I have to go out on the porch and take up the bowl of cat food. If I leave it out there and a raccoon comes up on the porch for a midnight snack, he will take that bowl and turn it upside-down or toss it to the other end of the porch. Either the raccoons don't much care for Meow Mix or they're dissatisfied because there's not enough of it in the bowl.  You never know with raccoons... they're very judgmental and usually very destructive. Just another blip in the country bubble.

Welcome to my world....

There are mornings when I shake my head in wonder.  (And wonder what we're doing out here.)

On the porch first thing this morning:

1. The orange cat, waiting for his Meow Mix.
2. Mr. Carson (the neighbor's peacock), waiting for the orange cat's Meow Mix.
3. A tarantula, waiting for heaven only knows what.


The orange cat has had his breakfast and is now sleeping on the picnic table on the back deck.   Carson has had his own bowl of Meow Mix and is right now staring into the breakfast room windows and watching me as I type.
The tarantula has had a blast of wasp spray and was last seen crawling underneath the red-bud bushes by the back porch. (I chose to spray that tarantula because the last time I saw one on the porch, my husband captured him in a plastic container and tossed him out into the pasture.... my guess is he either found his way back or there are more tarantulas than we can count out there.)


Life in the country. Glorious. Oh well.

Must. Change. Attitude.

Picking peaches....

We've gone to the peach orchard twice this season, and hand-picked so many beautiful fresh peaches. How much fresher can they be?  Picked right from the trees, very early in the morning before the bees and wasps come out to play.  Never let it be said that a good pair of boots doesn't help with peach-picking.... you don't have to worry about where you're stepping because the leather boots will protect you from just about anything that's under those trees. (Well, I guess they wouldn't protect you from a rattlesnake, but let's not put that thought out into the universe or I'll never again go to that peach farm.)

The days have been glorious since the rains stopped.... we might get thundershowers this weekend, but for now, the weather is beautiful, with sunny blue skies and just enough heat to let you know that summer is here but hasn't been set up to broiling yet.  That will come.... probably in just a couple of weeks.

The neighbor's goats.... they continue to get out of the fence over there. If they're not on our property, I just ignore them. When the neighbor notices that his livestock have either jumped over or crawled under his fence, he comes driving down his hill and then up our hill, intending to scare the goats back into their own pasture.  That neighbor used to have two dogs who helped him herd the goats, but no one has seen the dogs in a couple of months now. Heaven only knows what happened to them... both of the dogs were loyal to their owner, but that particular neighbor isn't exactly animal-friendly, whether it be to his dogs or his livestock.  Up here, one has to just turn around and not look, especially when a property owner like that is raising goats for the meat, not for companionship.  And there are days when I hear a baby goat crying for all he's worth over there across the hill, and I just know that the neighbor has selected his dinner.

Those are the days when I cannot, just cannot, sit out on the porch.  I've said it before, and I'll say it again... sometimes it hurts my heart to live up here.

Got spiders?

No, of course not. We don't have itsy-bitsy spiders here, we have tarantulas. Literally.  And that's exactly what I found on the floor when I walked into the garage this morning: one huge black tarantula. Oh goodie.

Thankfully, my husband was home, and he was right in the kitchen, so I called out across the breezeway and asked him to come outside and take care of our visitor. My husband managed to capture the tarantula in a plastic container which had a lid. I don't know where he brought it.... out back by the barn, probably.  And I hope he tossed the tarantula out into the field so it would crawl off away from the house, not towards the house.  Just what I don't need is a tarantula who is able to find his way back into the garage.

That's one of my (many) fears out here... finding something crawling inside my car when I get into it. With the black interior of my car, I'd have a hard time seeing a fuzzy black tarantula or a dark brown snake in that car.  How would that be on a tombstone: "Death occurred when driver was surprised by an unknown visitor in her vehicle."

Give me a blessed break.  But on the bright side... the sunflowers that have popped up in the backyard are just gloriously beautiful, and the Orange Cat (still here, of course) has been learning some good manners.  And today is a beautiful day. So there. I guess that's something.

Bits and pieces...

The peacock.... 'Mr. Carson' is still here, waiting by the back door on most mornings (along with the orange cat).  When I open the door, Carson gets up from his resting spot and walks a few feet away from the door. He watches me put down a bowl of cat food for him and a separate one for the orange cat, and then after Orange Cat starts eating, Carson begins. (That peacock is so polite, just like Mr. Carson of 'Downton Abbey.') I can hear the bird's beak hitting the bowl each time he pulls up a piece of the Meow Mix.  I've tried giving the peacock bits of fruits and vegetables, but he prefers the cat food.  Maybe that's what they feed him down the hill at his 'real' home.

The orange cat.... still here. Of course he's still here... he likes the company of our two outside cats (Mickey and Gatsby) and now he has his very own peacock (Mr. Carson).  What more could a stray cat possibly want?  Orange Cat isn't as aggressive as he used to be, but every once in a while, he forgets his manners and either myself or my husband gets a scratch on our wrists as we put the food down on the porch.  We happened to catch a program called "My Cat From Hell" on the Animal Planet channel, and there was a similar situation with a cat who became aggressive at feeding time.  The cat expert on that show says that cats who are born outside and spend most of their younger lives as strays, they most likely have to fight for their food.  That must be the problem with Orange Cat, who found his way here as an adult, not a kitten.  After all this time (over a year) he still hasn't learned that no one on our porch is going to steal his Meow Mix, and when he finishes what's in the bowl, there's an entire bag of cat food in the house for him. (That cat still wears down my patience.)

The sunflowers.... they're growing taller and taller each day, and forming hundreds, if not thousands, of seeds in the center of the blooms. Gorgeous... and I can hardly believe how thick their stalks are... indeed a very sturdy plant. And to think we have them in the flowerbeds because the birds were dropping seeds from the feeders.  I've told my husband that next time we want to be surprised with flowers, we should just take a handful of birdseed and toss it into the flowerbeds.

The handyman.... our 'old' handyman is no longer here.... not living in the apartment above the barn and not working here. (Too remote out here, and he didn't have a car.) Back to square one.  We found a gem of a handyman, who happens to work for the plumbing company that was here to replace our water heaters a few months back. Problem is, he works all day as a plumber, so he can only be here in the evenings, and Saturdays or Sundays. When he's here, he works quickly and very well, so we have no complaints. So far, so good.  Only problem we had was all the recent rain.... of course he couldn't do outside work on those days, but we've had three days now without a raindrop, so he's back here working whenever he can.

The goats.... still getting out of the neighbor's fence.... still coming onto our property and munching on the wildflowers and the grass, and if we didn't chase them back down the hill (with an air-horn) those goats would probably be up on the porch eating the cat food along with Orange Cat and Carson.

The wasps.... zillions of them. We're buying wasp spray by the case.  My husband says that every time I kill one wasp, it's costing him between three and five dollars. (I tend to just about empty out an entire can... to make sure the wasp is deader than dead because I'm allergic to their sting.)

I eMailed a friend of mine some photos of the peacock... she lives in North Carolina, and she told me she has "peacock-envy for Mr. Carson" because they only get "run-of-the-mill wildlife" where she lives. Well, I sent an eMail right back to her, listing all the extraordinary wildlife we get out here.... and told her that I'd gladly give up that glorious peacock for some 'run-of-the-mill-anything' out here. My husband told me that I need to quit telling people about all the outdoor surprises that we see here on a daily basis..... he said possibly no one visits us because I have scared the living daylights out of them.