Well. This city girl now has a compost pile in her backyard. Will wonders never cease?
My friend C is helping us get our garden in shape... she began by pulling up weeds (which are never-ending out here) and she will soon be filling the flowerbeds with drought-resistant plants and flowers, giving me an education in annuals and perennials and everything else inbetween.
Lesson Number One was the compost pile. All those weeds we're pulling up--- C says they're gold, and shouldn't be tossed into a Hefty bag and then sent to the local land-fill. "Put them into a compost pile, along with fruit and vegetable scraps and tea bags and coffee grounds... after a good while, you'll have the richest fertilizer to pack around your garden...."
Well. I can certainly pile the weeds up... and saving bits and pieces of fruits and vegetables is easy enough... and used tea bags, and coffee grounds... eggshells and the like. C found the perfect spot out behind the barn for the compost pile... there was already a big indentation in the ground there, and we've filled it up with all the weeds she pulled over the weekend.
I now have a covered canister on my kitchen counter, a very convenient receptacle to hold those food scraps. When it's filled, out to the compost pile I go, armed with a rake so I can just make a little hole in the weeds and dump in the scraps, then cover them up with the weeds--- all of that so night-time animals don't have a feast of fruit and veggie bits out behind the barn under a moonlit sky.
Does having a compost pile make me a country girl now? I don't think so. I may be saving food scraps and eggshells and orange rinds, but when I go out there to bury them in the compost pile, my nails are polished and I'm wearing a bracelet or two and dangling earrings... which I hope I don't lose in that compost pile, by the way.
Monday, February 29, 2016
Saturday, February 27, 2016
Spring... is springing up....
We had a slight cold blast a few nights ago but since then the Spring gods have decided that winter had been here long enough. Bunches of bluebonnets are sprouting up all over the fields, and some are even blooming already down at the corner of our property. There are always some early-birds among the bluebonnets every year who insist on popping up weeks before all the others.
Speaking of birds... the baby birds (now adults) are now back in the nests on the porch. They've been renovating them a bit, making them wider and larger, and some are so deep that I can hear the birds climbing up to the edge before they sit on the rim and look around the porch before flying off into the fields. The nests of those barn swallows aren't the prettiest decorations for the porch, but the birds seem happy there, and they're safe from the winds and the weather because the nests are tucked up along the porch columns and protected by the roof. Only one of the ten nests has fallen down to the porch, and it looked like it wasn't constructed very well in the first place. It's amazing to me how those tiny birds can build those structures... dirt and mud and water and they all look like little brown igloos turned upside-down.
I haven't seen any skunks or raccoons lately, not even an armadillo or a fox... makes me wonder if they've gone elsewhere now because Savannah's scent must be all over the yard and the porch, and I don't think those critters want to mess around with a dog of Savannah's size.
One of the ladies who come for tea every week was telling us that she was able to "lease a bull" in order to "service" her cows. I had no idea that such a thing was even possible. The bull was allowed to roam on her property for a week, with full access to all of her cows. She's hoping that the result will be a new herd of calves before too long. When we asked her if it was difficult for the bull's owner to round him up and get him back into the trailer to be brought home, she said that the bull seemed to be happy to leave... "He was very tired," she told us.
We have been here in the Hills for nearly seven years now... and life in the country is still a lesson every day.
Speaking of birds... the baby birds (now adults) are now back in the nests on the porch. They've been renovating them a bit, making them wider and larger, and some are so deep that I can hear the birds climbing up to the edge before they sit on the rim and look around the porch before flying off into the fields. The nests of those barn swallows aren't the prettiest decorations for the porch, but the birds seem happy there, and they're safe from the winds and the weather because the nests are tucked up along the porch columns and protected by the roof. Only one of the ten nests has fallen down to the porch, and it looked like it wasn't constructed very well in the first place. It's amazing to me how those tiny birds can build those structures... dirt and mud and water and they all look like little brown igloos turned upside-down.
I haven't seen any skunks or raccoons lately, not even an armadillo or a fox... makes me wonder if they've gone elsewhere now because Savannah's scent must be all over the yard and the porch, and I don't think those critters want to mess around with a dog of Savannah's size.
One of the ladies who come for tea every week was telling us that she was able to "lease a bull" in order to "service" her cows. I had no idea that such a thing was even possible. The bull was allowed to roam on her property for a week, with full access to all of her cows. She's hoping that the result will be a new herd of calves before too long. When we asked her if it was difficult for the bull's owner to round him up and get him back into the trailer to be brought home, she said that the bull seemed to be happy to leave... "He was very tired," she told us.
We have been here in the Hills for nearly seven years now... and life in the country is still a lesson every day.
Monday, February 22, 2016
About that stray cat....
....I spoke too soon.
On the very afternoon of the morning when I typed that we hadn't seen the gray/white stray cat for such a long time, he came back. Not only back on the property, but all the way up on our porch. Looking for food, no doubt, but he didn't get anything. Both Mickey and Gatsby chased him off the porch, which had all three of the cats out there screeching. The gray/white cat ran off towards the barn, Gatsby stood guard by the steps of the back deck, and Mickey went into the garage to hide under his little cat-tent.
Inside the house, Sweet Pea ran into the kitchen to look out the screen door to see what the commotion was about, and Savannah ran to the door of the TV room, barking for all she was worth, which I'm hoping scared the gray cat away. For good this time.
It never ends out here with animals... always something out there which either doesn't belong or isn't needed on the property.
On the very afternoon of the morning when I typed that we hadn't seen the gray/white stray cat for such a long time, he came back. Not only back on the property, but all the way up on our porch. Looking for food, no doubt, but he didn't get anything. Both Mickey and Gatsby chased him off the porch, which had all three of the cats out there screeching. The gray/white cat ran off towards the barn, Gatsby stood guard by the steps of the back deck, and Mickey went into the garage to hide under his little cat-tent.
Inside the house, Sweet Pea ran into the kitchen to look out the screen door to see what the commotion was about, and Savannah ran to the door of the TV room, barking for all she was worth, which I'm hoping scared the gray cat away. For good this time.
It never ends out here with animals... always something out there which either doesn't belong or isn't needed on the property.
Sunday, February 21, 2016
They're back...
The barn swallows have returned to their nests on our porch, and I'm sure these are the baby birds who fledged last year because they sit on the edge of the nest and watch me coming and going on the porch. And is it possible that these birds are going on their third season with us? I have no idea how long these birds live, but this isn't the first time that we're had swallows in that nest who seem very comfortable with us and our routine.
Sweet Pea has resumed his favorite spot by the screen door of the TV room. From that vantage point, he can see three nests and he watches them all very closely. The birds aren't bothered by our cats either... they've probably learned that Sweet Pea is inside all the time, Gatsby couldn't be bothered with chasing something he's not likely to catch, and Mickey is too busy catching lizards and flies.
I'm happy to say that the latest stray cat (the gray/white) hasn't been here for weeks now. So I guess it's true--- if you don't feed a stray, they will go elsewhere. I kept my promise and didn't feed that cat, nor did I even feel badly about it. After the problems with the orange/white cat we had out there for so long, I'm cured of the stray-cat syndrome. The rule now is Do Not Feed a Stray Cat Unless You Want To Keep It. We have three cats here... more than enough.
We went into Houston one night this past week (to see Barry Manilow's last concert in our city) and we didn't get home till after midnight... just in time to see about eight or ten deer in the pasture around our pond. My husband has a deer feeder out there in the field, and the deer probably ate their fill and then walked to the pond for a drink. There were so many deer by the pond that night, all babies and females, and as our headlights lit up the grass around the pond, the deer just stood there and watched our car going by.
As we were driving by the deer, my husband looked at them and said "And that's why we live way out here." I will tell him to remind me of that the next time we see a snake instead of a deer.
The stars have been spectacular lately, and I have Savannah to thank for that. In all the years we've lived here, I never made it a point to go outside at night to look at the sky. All that changed when we got Savannah, and her last walk for the night gives me the perfect opportunity to have a look-see at the moon and the stars. The night sky out here does not disappoint.
You just have to make sure to be aware of bats because you don't want them to get caught in your hair if they're flying too close. Just the thought of that makes me cringe. (Is that another reason we're living way out here?)
Sweet Pea has resumed his favorite spot by the screen door of the TV room. From that vantage point, he can see three nests and he watches them all very closely. The birds aren't bothered by our cats either... they've probably learned that Sweet Pea is inside all the time, Gatsby couldn't be bothered with chasing something he's not likely to catch, and Mickey is too busy catching lizards and flies.
I'm happy to say that the latest stray cat (the gray/white) hasn't been here for weeks now. So I guess it's true--- if you don't feed a stray, they will go elsewhere. I kept my promise and didn't feed that cat, nor did I even feel badly about it. After the problems with the orange/white cat we had out there for so long, I'm cured of the stray-cat syndrome. The rule now is Do Not Feed a Stray Cat Unless You Want To Keep It. We have three cats here... more than enough.
We went into Houston one night this past week (to see Barry Manilow's last concert in our city) and we didn't get home till after midnight... just in time to see about eight or ten deer in the pasture around our pond. My husband has a deer feeder out there in the field, and the deer probably ate their fill and then walked to the pond for a drink. There were so many deer by the pond that night, all babies and females, and as our headlights lit up the grass around the pond, the deer just stood there and watched our car going by.
As we were driving by the deer, my husband looked at them and said "And that's why we live way out here." I will tell him to remind me of that the next time we see a snake instead of a deer.
The stars have been spectacular lately, and I have Savannah to thank for that. In all the years we've lived here, I never made it a point to go outside at night to look at the sky. All that changed when we got Savannah, and her last walk for the night gives me the perfect opportunity to have a look-see at the moon and the stars. The night sky out here does not disappoint.
You just have to make sure to be aware of bats because you don't want them to get caught in your hair if they're flying too close. Just the thought of that makes me cringe. (Is that another reason we're living way out here?)
Friday, February 5, 2016
Not exactly Mickey Mouse...
There's always something...
I was going up the stairs this morning with a stack of clean laundry and as I got near to the top of the stairs and the second floor hallway, I smelled something. Not a good something, but a foul-smelling odor that you just couldn't ignore. I asked my husband if he smelled anything weird and he said no... but he was doing work at his computer and he tends to focus on just what's on the screen.
I walked around the rooms on the second floor and when I got to the last room (my husband's office) the smell was intense. How could he not have smelled that? Walking around the room like Nancy Drew, I knew for sure that the smell was coming from one of the ceiling vents for the heating and air-conditioning. And directly below that vent, there were brown spots on the carpeting. I had just vacuumed the second floor yesterday, and I didn't see any spots at all.
As I started to clean the carpet under the vent, the smell of the cleaner mixed with the odor of whatever made those spots really got to stinking quite badly, and finally, my husband asked me what on earth made that awful odor. I pointed up towards the vent, and my husband noticed that the vent itself was soiled with lots of brown spots.
Off went the computer, out came the step-ladder and tool box, and my husband proceeded to unscrew the heating vent... and as soon as he got the vent loose from the ceiling, a dead mouse dropped down to the carpet. I didn't exactly scream, but I came close. I'm not afraid of mice, but I certainly don't want them inside the house, alive or dead. I got a trash bag to put the mouse in (my husband did that part) and then he took the vent outside for a good cleaning. Apparently, the mouse had been up there for quite some time.
Living out in the hills here and surrounded by fields and pastures and woods, there is just no way to keep critters away. You would think that we wouldn't have any mice at all, with one inside cat and two outside cats, but all a mouse needs is a teeny-tiny opening and they can come and go at will. And with a house that's over one hundred years old, I'm sure we don't have a shortage of teeny-tiny openings.
Every once in a while in the middle of the night, we will hear a scurrying sort of noise in one of the walls. We know it's a mouse but in a home this size, how does one go about finding where it is? Usually, the mouse will find its way back outside and off he goes into the pasture, probably to meet his fate with an owl or a hawk. I doubt very much that my well-fed cats even go looking for mice these days, as they're both on the shady side of their nine lives.
Well, the mouse that dropped from our ceiling vent this morning is now encased in a plastic grocery sack and will wait outside in the trash can till pick-up day on Tuesday. I guess I should be thankful that it was only a little mouse because the day a snake drops out of a ceiling vent, I'm out of here.
I was going up the stairs this morning with a stack of clean laundry and as I got near to the top of the stairs and the second floor hallway, I smelled something. Not a good something, but a foul-smelling odor that you just couldn't ignore. I asked my husband if he smelled anything weird and he said no... but he was doing work at his computer and he tends to focus on just what's on the screen.
I walked around the rooms on the second floor and when I got to the last room (my husband's office) the smell was intense. How could he not have smelled that? Walking around the room like Nancy Drew, I knew for sure that the smell was coming from one of the ceiling vents for the heating and air-conditioning. And directly below that vent, there were brown spots on the carpeting. I had just vacuumed the second floor yesterday, and I didn't see any spots at all.
As I started to clean the carpet under the vent, the smell of the cleaner mixed with the odor of whatever made those spots really got to stinking quite badly, and finally, my husband asked me what on earth made that awful odor. I pointed up towards the vent, and my husband noticed that the vent itself was soiled with lots of brown spots.
Off went the computer, out came the step-ladder and tool box, and my husband proceeded to unscrew the heating vent... and as soon as he got the vent loose from the ceiling, a dead mouse dropped down to the carpet. I didn't exactly scream, but I came close. I'm not afraid of mice, but I certainly don't want them inside the house, alive or dead. I got a trash bag to put the mouse in (my husband did that part) and then he took the vent outside for a good cleaning. Apparently, the mouse had been up there for quite some time.
Living out in the hills here and surrounded by fields and pastures and woods, there is just no way to keep critters away. You would think that we wouldn't have any mice at all, with one inside cat and two outside cats, but all a mouse needs is a teeny-tiny opening and they can come and go at will. And with a house that's over one hundred years old, I'm sure we don't have a shortage of teeny-tiny openings.
Every once in a while in the middle of the night, we will hear a scurrying sort of noise in one of the walls. We know it's a mouse but in a home this size, how does one go about finding where it is? Usually, the mouse will find its way back outside and off he goes into the pasture, probably to meet his fate with an owl or a hawk. I doubt very much that my well-fed cats even go looking for mice these days, as they're both on the shady side of their nine lives.
Well, the mouse that dropped from our ceiling vent this morning is now encased in a plastic grocery sack and will wait outside in the trash can till pick-up day on Tuesday. I guess I should be thankful that it was only a little mouse because the day a snake drops out of a ceiling vent, I'm out of here.
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