Pugnacious House Wren

This morning I walked to the mailbox to get the newspaper. A house wren flew out of the bluebird box by the mailbox and scolded me fiercely. She was joined by her male companion and he scolded me fiercely in a slightly lower and quieter voice. I got a good look at their short flippy tails and pinkish legs. The male house wren had a bug in his beak. Maybe that is why he wasn't scolding me as loudly. His mouth was full of breakfast. I walked closer to their box. Both birds flew to lower branches and got closer to me. I raised my hands in surrender and backed off. Now I can check off another species as breeding on my breeding bird atlas volunteer work. I think this makes either 19 or 20 confirmed breeding species. House wrens are not my favorite. A house wren and a bluebird fought over the house by my kitchen window and at least one bluebird fledged. It's possible that I only got one blue bird to fledge because the house wren was destructive. House wrens will go into another nest and poke holes in the egg shell which kills the bird inside. House wren will also fill up all the other bird houses in the neighborhood with tiny twigs so no one wants to nest in there. I have emptied huge amounts of tiny twigs packed so tight in a bird house that you really have to work to get them all out. So house wrens are not my favorite because they are cruel to other species. Pugnacious little birds!

RIP John Callahan

I was saddened to read in the newspaper that John Callahan, the comic artist, died. I was given several of his books back in the 1980's. I thought he was great. I thought he was terrible. I thought he was hysterical, rude, shocking, terrific, and disgusting. His art told about things I didn't allow myself to think. He poked fun of people with disabilities. He was the very definition of politically incorrect. Here is an example. He had a drawing of a woman standing in a room full of people without arms. The sign on the wall says, "Amputee Support Group." The bubble over the woman's head reads, "I need a hug." That is terrible, just terrible, but funny as heck. There was no one like John Callahan, may he rest in peace.

On The Corner of Bitter and Sweet

Jamie Ford wrote this story about a man with a Chinese heritage who grew up in San Francisco during World War Two. His school age best friend, a girl of Japanese heritage, is moved with her family to an internment camp. Ford describes the racism in society in those days. He also describes in great detail what life in the internment camps was like. I've never talked to anyone who was in a Japanese internment camp but I did know a girl in high school whose parents were in one. I finished this book in one weekend in part because the library only gave me ten days to read it and in part because it was so good I didn't want to put it down.

Hobie Cat

On our canoe trip we saw many boats. I believe there were more kayaks than canoes. One kayak in particular stood out. The owner called it a Hobie Cat. Here is a photo from the Hobie manufacturer. This picture is pretty close to what she had. Her kayak had a rudder. It also had a wheel behind the seat so when the kayak is inverted, it can be wheeled and towed behind a bicycle. She had a double paddle like most kayaks do but she seldom used it. She propelled her kayak with her feet. In the leg compartment she had a pair of pedals much like a exercise stepper. She stepped with her feet moving two paddles beneath the kayak much like a penguin moves when swimming. She maneuvered the rudder with her hands. And let me tell you, she could move in that thing. She was tooting down that river at a very fast pace. There was a space in front of her where she could attach a sail as well. This was the perfect boat for the Mississippi challenge. When her arms tired she could use her feet. When her legs tired, she could use her arms. When both were tired, she could have used her sail. I don't think she used the sail at all on this trip. What a cool contraption! I have never heard of such a thing before.

Closure

Today I had a strange yet satisfying sense of closure. A friend of mine bought my former motorcycle from the repair shop. She got a good deal on it. This friend is interested in riding a motorcycle and she has her permit but does not have her license yet. And she has never driven a motorcycle before. She asked me if I would drive it from the repair shop to her storage facility in Maple Grove. I agreed. As I got on my first motorcycle again, I thought about the last time I drove it. The last time I drove it I was going to work expecting to make it to work and to continue to drive the motorcycle for another couple years. Suddenly there was a very bad, metallic, crunching noise. Next thing I knew, the bike was sold. I went from riding to selling it in a very quick succession. Since then I bought a new bike and I like it very much. So tonight I drove my first bike from Blaine to Maple Grove. We took the long way through Anoka. I put 16 more miles on the little bike. Although I wasn't in a relationship with a motorcycle, this short bike trip felt like closure for me. I felt good driving it for the new owner and parking it in her little storage space. I backed it in so she can get out easily. I put the kickstand down for the very last time. And then I had to hop out of there with my leg in the air because there was no extra room in that storage unit-not an easy feat for an arthritic old lady.

Pictures From The Canoe Trip

This view is from inside my tent looking out the back window at the wall of a fort building.

Here is a view of the tents inside the fort.

We watched the sun set from the tower at Fort Snelling. See the Minneapolis skyline over my friend's left shoulder?

We easily found our canoe on Sunday morning. The ribbons helped. Plus we parked next to the National Park Service boat.

The lotus blossoms.

The view coming into St. Paul was awesome - much prettier than coming into Minneapolis from the north.

The End

Mississippi River Challenge

I'm back from my 44 mile canoe trip - alive and surprisingly not in pain. I have a couple tiny blisters on my left hand but other than that I'm good to go. After leaving my car at Gray Cloud Island, we took a school bus to the Hennepin side of the Coon Rapids Dam. We put holiday ribbons on our canoe because I thought there would be many, many Alumacraft canoes on the trip. Turns out there were only a handful of canoes like ours. We got a lot of comments on our festive look on the trip though and that was fun. Near the end, one of the ribbons fell off the canoe. We had to go back and get it. Everyone would know we were the ones who polluted the river with festive ribbons if we didn't pick it up. Our first stop was at Island of Peace park in Fridley. I met a friend of mine who was paddling with her daughter - what a small world. She took this photo of us in the morning of the second day. Notice how I am all protected? I'm wearing a long sleeved shirt with a spf factor of 15, gloves, and a sun hat. Plus I am all slathered up with sun block. My companion wears no gloves, no spf (until the afternoon), and no hat. I end up with sunburn and blisters. She doesn't. She is a tougher woman than I am. We stopped for lunch at Bassett creek - sub sandwiches and really big cookies! The food and snacks on this trip were wonderful. Just past 694 we saw a pair of osprey fishing. They hover in the air like giant, clumsy hummingbirds and zoom down into the water for the lunch. Next we paddled through downtown Minneapolis. We saw the wake boarding contests. We went through three locks. The locks result in a lot of waiting. We were waiting in our third lock and one female canoeist pulls out a mandolin and together we all sing my favorite dance tune, "Proud Mary." Even I sang and I usually don't sing in church or in public. Some men added the second "rolling" after the first "rolling." I thought we sounded great. It was one of those moments you want to preserve in your mind to bring comfort during the dark days of January. We passed a speed boat with a pirate flag. On board were 5 or 6 men. One of them was brandishing a sword. Several of the men kept yelling, "Aaargh! Aaaargh!" I guess they were pirates. We arrived at Fort Snelling about 4:30 p.m. No one told me I'd have to walk a mile up a steep hill! It's a good thing they didn't tell me, I might not have made it. I was exhausted. We set up my tent inside the fort. We had the option to camp inside or outside the fort. Inside the fort was reportedly for the people who liked to party. Party or not, how often do you get the chance to camp inside a fort? We picked a nice spot. I signed up for a massage. My turn came several hours later. This was a three minute massage. The male masseuse grabbed my right shoulder and squeezed and pinched it hard for a long time. At first it hurt and then I relaxed and almost started to drool. Man, that felt good. Dinner was late so I had a root beer float while I waited. I could still feel the waves even though I was sitting on a wooden platform. My vegetarian dinner was excellent. And then I found out there were bathrooms we could use with running water. Oh, how happy I was to use a sink again. After a day using baby wipes and hand sanitizer, I longed to use clean water on my hands and face. They even had soap! I was in heaven. We listened to the Chris Silver band. The female vocalist sounded a lot like Bonnie Raitt. As we watched the band perform, a bald eagle flew over the fort walls, saw us, and wheeled away to the south. We watched a clogging group clog. My friend and I went to bed early and I fell asleep listening to the Chris Silver band. After breakfast we packed up our tent and loaded our bags onto the truck. We hiked down the path about 8:30 a.m. and paddled past the Minnesota river. Right away the water was less clear and much more silty. We skipped the break at Harriet Island and paddled on through St. Paul. This was an awesome way to come into the city. I'll post photos tomorrow. We saw only a couple barges moving on Sunday. Some boat motorists went by us rather fast. Others slowed down for the canoes and kayaks. We turned our canoe to slice through the wave rather than be rocked side to side. We stayed close to the side of the river to be out of the way. But when we were going past a barge, the waves would ricochet off the barge and come back at us making the water all wicky wacky and hard to paddle through. We had a chipotle lunch at Kaposia landing. We kept paddling south. We went under Highway 494 and through South St. Paul and Newport. We see eagles, hawks, turkey vultures and osprey. Here we had a lot of waves to contend with from other boaters. There are some big boats out there. The bigger boats weren't really the problem. The problem are the speed boats who zoom up the river like they are late for an appointment and come zooming back down again. What is their hurry? Were they trying to see how many of us they could tip over? We stopped in Cottage Grove at the Lions levee park for the last break. We got out of the canoe and our feet sand into the muck. I could barely pick my feet up. I am standing in silt halfway up to my knee. If I stayed there longer I might have sunk completely. I'm glad I had my sandals on tight or I would have lost my shoes for sure. Off we went to finish the trip. We came upon a side channel of the river which was nice because the big boats didn't bother us in here. This section of the river in Cottage Grove on this quiet channel was absolutely beautiful. Limestone walls lined the east side. I have never seen so many arrowhead plants. We were paddling near one of the many safety boats when the safety boat kayaker said, "Oh, the lotus are in bloom!" I didn't know we had lotus in Minnesota. I had never seen these before. We came upon this giant colony of lotus. About 100 lotus were in full bloom and many more had buds. The lotus leaves were almost as big as my arm span and perfectly round. When I splashed water on the leaves, the water beaded up and slid off as if someone had just put Rain-X on them. My friend and I had to get in close. We canoed through the very shallow water so we could both smell the lotus and see them up close. Up close they look plastic and they have a faint soapy smell. I will try and post pictures tomorrow. We kept paddling though this enchanted channel until it ended and we were on the big river again. By now we're getting tired. Our shoulders ache and our rear ends feel dead. We hope to see the end point around each bend in the river and we are disappointed several times. Finally we see a National Park Service boat anchored. We must be close. They send us down a side channel and for once the sun is on our backs instead of our faces. But we still can't see the end. We keep paddling. It feels like we're paddling a little faster now. My friend and I are not fast paddlers. This alumacraft is a dinosaur of a canoe compared to the thin ones we see glide past us. And the kayaks are faster too because they're propelling on both sides with every stroke. Finally we see the white tents that signal the end of this trip. Being the person in the back of the canoe, I've done the steering for 44 miles. I stop paddling to put my sandals on and we get turned around away from our destination. I say to my friend, "Do you want to head right back or should we paddle around in here for a while?" I was kidding. Her reaction was priceless. We made it ashore. My joints creaked loudly as I stood up again. The time is 4 p.m. One of the volunteers said, "We've got hot showers ahead with some wine and beer if you want." He was kidding but that sure sounded good for a moment. They helped us out of the water. I got a shuttle ride to my car. As I drove up the road to load our gear, my car drifted to the left. I thought, "Now I have to paddle on the left to straighten out." Wait, no, I have a steering wheel. I turn the steering wheel a half inch and the car straightens out. It's so easy! I love steering wheels. The volunteers help us load our canoe on top of the car. My friend's cargo straps hold it down securely. Enough with the rope. Next time I move the canoe I'm buying some cargo straps. We drive home from Inver Grove Heights with the canoe on top. We unload and unpack. We had a great weekend. The people were wonderful - not one crabby person in the whole bunch. The food was great. The event was very well organized. But it was a Mississippi River Challenge. 44 miles of canoeing plus all the hiking and lifting was a lot of work. There is a good reason they don't call it the Mississippi River Easy Peasy.

Canoeing this Weekend

I'm just about packed and ready for my canoe trip. Thanks, everybody, for supporting me. I raised more than enough money. I am excited for the trip. I counted how many bridges we'll travel under. Turns out to be 26. Here they are in order: 610, 694, 37 Ave NE, Railroad, Lowry, Broadway, Plymouth, Hennepin, 3rd Ave, (lock), Stone Arch, (lock), 35W, Tenth Ave, unknown, U of M, 94, Franklin, Railroad, Lake Street, Ford Parkway, (Lock), West 7th Street, 35E, Smith, Nebraska, Robert, Lafayette, and 494. How exciting!!!!

Motorcycle Update

In case you were curious, the mechanic called about my old bike. The problem was the clutch plate fell off inside the motor. The bolts that held it on had jiggled loose. A loose bolt jammed the motor. I knew I heard the sound of something falling so now that is explained. The repairs were a couple hundred dollars less than he predicted. He offered me the bike and title back for the cost of the parts and labor plus what he paid me for it. As much as I loved my first bike, I fell in love with the bigger one on the way home from the dealer. I did not want the old one back. He said he would sell it to someone else for $100 more than he offered me because he'd have to transfer the title. A friend of mine is interested in buying it. We shall see how serious she is.

The Art of Racing In The Rain

I got this book because a friend of mine recommended it. The library lent it to me for ten days and I finished it in two. This book is good enough to make you stay up later than you intended because you just can't put it down. I've had bags under my eyes two days this week. Garth Stein writes this book from the point of view of a dog, a mutt, a member of the family, a car race fan, a hero, and a philospher all in one. At times the circumstances in the book feel contrived to pull at my heart strings. But I can forgive that because the story is very moving. Before each chapter that has lots of human drama, the dog tells us about car racing philosophy that foretells the drama ahead. One example is, "Your car goes where your eyes go." The same is true on a motorcycle. If you want to make a turn, look at where you want to end up and your bike will follow your eyes. Likewise, if you keep aiming at a goal in life, you'll get there. The dog's name in Enzo and his master's name is Denny. If you read the book, you will come to love Enzo. He is such a good dog.

River Challenge

This weekend I am participating in the Mississippi River Challenge. This is a 44 mile canoe ride to raise money for the friends of the Mississippi River. I'm a little shy of my $250 goal. If you'd like to donate money, that would be great. You can go to mississippiriverchallenge.org for more information about the organization. To donate in my name, click on support a paddler. You will see a list of people who are participating. My name is on that list. The canoes go in the river near the Coon Rapids Dam on Saturday morning. We camp oven night at Fort Snelling. We finish up Sunday afternoon in Inver Grove Heights at which point I expect I will not want to sit down for a very long time. Thanks for your consideration.

Nash, Moon, and Abe

This afternoon a sibling and I helped a niece celebrate her 13th birthday by taking her horseback riding. Because that is what she wanted to do more than anything else. We met at Bunker Stables. Our trail leader was Amanda. She was excellent. She was slow and steady and we could tell she really enjoyed her job. She rode the horse that I hoped I wouldn't get when I saw the row of horses lined up. He was the biggest horse and he had a very wide back. He was massive and beautiful with a tan body and a white mane. He was a good looking Belgian. My horse was a quarter horse named Nash. He had a nice, narrow back. He was a good boy with a rich, brown body and a darker mane. Amanda thought he would be the most likely to stop and eat grass along the trail (bad behavior). He did try a couple times but he responded well when I turned him away from it. My sibling had Moon who was a small Percheron with a light gray body with a darker gray muzzle. Moon was a good looking horse and he was the only one to eat a grass snack on the trail. My sibling tried to get him back on track but she said he was jack knifed. The birthday girl rode Abe - probably a quarter horse. Being the last in line on a dusty trail, Abe did the most snorting of dust out of his nose. We rode for an hour through prairie, in woods, and past swamps. Bunker has a nice trail system out there. This was my niece's first time on a horse that wasn't being led by someone. She had a good experience. She'd really like to go to horse camp someday. I don't remember my 13th birthday but I'm pretty sure it wasn't as fun as hers.

Wouldn't you know?

Wouldn't you know? The day AFTER I bring home a new motorcycle, the mechanic who bought my old bike calls and leaves a message saying it's fixed and if I don't have one yet, he would be interested in giving me the title back. I'll call him back tomorrow and find out how much the repairs cost. What do I want to hear? Do I want to hear a low figure? Do I want to hear a high figure as that would confirm I made the right decision? Does it even matter what I want to hear? What is, is. I am kinda dying to know now.

A Fortunate Age

I read "A Fortunate Age" by Joanna Smith Rakoff over the weekend. The story is about a group of friends who just graduated from Oberlin College and are now living in New York City. They graduated in the mid 1990's. Some go right to work and others go to graduate school. Some of them make mistakes that are recognized by their friends. Each of the friends get their own chapter. We hear about their jobs, their loves, and their family get-togethers. The story is told about what happened in between the times they see each other. So we don't get the story directly. It took me a while to catch on to this style of writing. I thought the beginning was a little slow but by the last third of the book, I was riveted to each character. One character was a rock musician, one a starving actress, one a semi-successful actor, one a college professor, one an eco-activist, and one a poetess working for a non-profit. The character who tied them all together is Sadie Peregrine. Don't you just love that name? Sadie Peregrine - I can just picture a feisty, little, bird-like woman with a raptor's instinct when it comes to protecting her family. I liked this story. I would not want to go back to those post-graduate years myself but I enjoyed reading about them.

Cruising on Two Wheels Again

What a high feeling I had today cruising north on Hwy. 169 out of Hopkins on my new (to me) motorcycle! Wow. I haven't been this happy in a long time. My new bike is bigger and the same size as my old one. The engine is bigger because it's 650cc compared to 250cc. But the bike is about the same size and weight as the old one. It fits me. The official title is Suzuki Boulevard S40. The speedometer is in a different position. I have to tilt my head down to see it. As I merged onto the highway and caught up to speed, I looked down to see if I was at 45 mph yet. Holy crap! I was traveling at 61 mph. I had no idea I was going that fast. The windshield keeps the wind from pushing at my torso and the larger engine didn't scream at 60 mph like the old one did. The bike is awesome. And with this silver and white color scheme, my silver helmet matches completely. I went about three weeks without a bike and it was hard but I'm back in the saddle again. Wooo Hooo!

Storm Damage

Last night a storm blew through leaving .79 inches of rain, branches and leaves all over the yard, and pulled the corn out of the ground. I think my crop of sweet corn is pretty much done for. I am having a tough year. The deer eat the tomato vines, the pumpkin vines and the squash vines. They seem to be able to move the deer netting aside to eat the leaves off the pepper plants. The carrots and garlic and peas are doing well though.

Northanger Abbey

Jane Austen's book, "Northanger Abbey" was selected by my book club this month. Here is another book I probably would not have read if it wasn't for book club. I think Jane Austen is an adequate writer but I tire of these stories about these dependant young women positioning themselves for marriage. The characters are kinda boring. I wish they would do something. Anything. Austen is clever in describing personalities. I will give her that.

Eloise Butler Wildflower Garden

A friend and I toured the Eloise Wildflower garden in Minneapolis last weekend. The morning zoomed by as we walked through the garden looking at plants. The top photo is a bottle brush plant. To me it looks like a turnstile - like the ones they have when you leave the State Fair at the main Snelling Avenue exit. The lower photo is a false indigo plant. In the prairie section of the garden we found bushes and bushes of these large bean pods. The garden is a very peaceful place with deep woods, a tamarack swamp, a prairie and a little stream. Unfortunately my friend made contact with some poison ivy. For once I wasn't the one to get it. Or maybe I didn't react because I was still on steroids from my previous encounter. The garden has a visitor center that looks like a little log cabin in the woods and smells like woodsmoke inside. If you leave your keys they will let you borrow a book that tells you what you are looking at each numbered station. Many plants are non-native. I haven't been there in almost 30 years. I would like to go more often. I would guess the garden looks different each week as the season progresses.

Please, Sir, May I Have Some More?

Last night some friends and I went to see Oliver. What a perfect evening for an outdoor play. We got there early to visit and run the paddle boat around Lake Como. The play was in the lakeside pavilion. Como Park is a city park and it brings back lots of memories for this St. Paul girl. My nephew played the role of Mr. Sowerberry. Mr. Sowerberry runs a funeral business and he buys Oliver from the orphanage director. Mr. Sowerberry had a singing role. How awesome to have the guts to get up on stage and sing and act and pour your heart out like that. I think it would be fun. Two thumbs up for the performance of Mr. Sowerberry! Besides my nephew, my friend's eight year old son played one of the orphans. He did a nice job too. The man who played Fagin was very impressive. A young woman played the violin while walking around with Fagin during one of his numbers. She was amazing. She played so well and looked so relaxed up there. It can't be easy to walk around the stage while playing a solo. The performance had many orphans. One particular orphan caught our eye because he was the youngest. He couldn't have been more than five. He had a round head with blond hair and was wearing a red cap with a feather in it. He looked like a little elf. We could see his mind was wandering once in a while but then he would come back to the performance and sing along and make the movements with the rest of the group. He was as cute as a button. I really enjoyed the performance of Oliver. Going to see it cements another pleasant outdoor summer event for me.

Hot Air Balloon Ride

On Monday night I went on a hot air balloon ride. This was not MY idea. My sister had it on her bucket list. I think an opportunity to help someone accomplish a bucket list item is a spiritual gift. So I put aside my fear of heights (or is it really a fear of shaky ladders?) We lifted off from Lakeland, Minnesota. During the process of filling the balloon with hot air, three holes were burned in the balloon. Our pilot said the bottom of the balloon is purely ornamental so these holes, while not attractive, were not a safety risk. Thinking back now, I think it'd odd I wasn't more nervous. Eleven passengers and one pilot fit into the basket. The basket was wicker with steel cable reinforcements and a leather bottom. We had 5 compartments. We had three people in our compartment. With a solid floor and walls up to my shoulders, I didn't feel at all nervous as we lifted up. It was just like in the "Wizard of Oz." I saw my car parked down there with the others and I waved to the people watching. We drifted west. Balloons have no steering wheels. We can go up and down and twist a little but we cannot steer. Our trip lasted 90 minutes and we landed at the Lake Elmo airport. We went over our pilot's house. He had a nice house with a swimming pool and kids in the yard. We could hear, "Hi Dad!" He yelled back, "Get in the house and do your chores!" We drifted low over a soccer field. We could see the game wasn't on yet so we went extra low and totally distracted the athletes. We were so low we could talk back and forth with the kids. As we flew over Highway 94 we could see the bridge over the St. Croix into Wisconsin. At this point we were really high. One gauge read 2,300 and I think that meant feet of altitude. When we went up the pilot would open the propane valve for a sudden burst of flame that was so loud you couldn't hear the person talking right next to you. The trees look so luscious from above. The fields of alfalfa look like a thick green velvet. Corn fields looked like giant pieces of knitted green yarn - purled. We saw buffalo grazing in one field and cows in others. I saw a few birds - tree swallows, killdeer, crows, and one pair of raptors - hawks I was guessing. I'm not used to identifying birds from above. I enjoyed watching our balloon shadow cross the landscape. All too soon we were coming in for a landing at the airport. The pilot's older children composed his flight crew. He talked to them on the phone giving them directions on where to meet us. We all watched as they turned their van and trailer around when they went the wrong way. They jack knifed the trailer. I cannot imagine what it must be like to have your Dad watch you jack knife a trailer from above. I'm so glad that wasn't me. Another passenger asked what to expect during the landing. We were told to grab the ropes and bend our knees. We touched down, paused, and then dragged across the tarmac for 5 or 6 feet before coming to a rest. He had some nimble passengers get out and hang onto the basket. One guy got out to do that and his girlfriend said, "Okay, hang onto the side and look really scared while I take your picture." He did look scared. I saw the photo. It looked like he was falling from the basket. As the pilot jumped out to unhook something, he said, "I'll be right back but in case you need to know, more gas is up and less gas is down." He was quite the kidder, our pilot. Traditionally the passengers enjoy champagne at the end of each flight. This custom started in France when angry farmers destroyed balloons because of the crop damage caused by landing. The farmers were treated with champagne to protect the balloons. We each got a keepsake flute to take home. I had a blast on the balloon ride. I want to do it again.

Guess What We Did Last Night?

Full details will follow!

The Year of the Flood

Margaret Atwood (author of the Handmaid's Tale) wrote this book. I listened to it on compact disk and I would recommend that over a hard copy. Included with the story are original songs with lyrics written by Atwood. You can enjoy the songs more by listening to the cd. Is Atwood a science fiction writer? A speculative fiction writer? A social science fiction writer? A political activist, feminist, green party, environmentally conscious writer? Maybe she is all of these. In "The Year Of the Flood" she writes about the future. The environment is spent. Many species are extinct. Scientists have spliced genes together creating rachunks (raccoon/skunk) and liolambs (lion/lamb) and other strange species. A moth developed to eradicate the kudzu vines has been genetically engineered for pretty pink wings and a human face. Pandemics kill most of the people. Human society has crumbled. This is a bleak place. Wren and Toby are the two main characters. With a handful of other people they do their best to survive on a planet that humans have nearly destroyed. I enjoyed every word of this book. Absolutely riveting.

Brown is a white White

Greg Brown's concert at the zoo last night was awesome. The amphitheater seats are not the most comfortable because there is no back support but I compensated by moving to the music. Brown's voice is a baritone, growly, manly, sexy voice. He's like a white Barry White. But not urban like Barry, more of a country boy personality with lanky limbs and a self-deprecating style. He puts emotion into his music and a listener can tell that he has and has not been happily in love. My favorite song was "I Love You Like a Dog." His message was that he was loyal and loving even though all he got in return was a pat on the head and a "Good boy!" At the end he howls in complaint and he suggests the audience get all their howls out. So they did. The audience all howled. One of his guitar players is Bo Ramsey. Bo can really play that guitar. He plays with every muscle in his body. His head bobs so much to the music he sometimes looks like a bobble head and you gotta know he has a stiff neck the next morning. We had wildlife entertainment during the show. Swallows, grackles, herons and bats flew over the stage. A Cope's gray tree frog joined in the chorus on the second to the last song. What a perfect way to spend a summer evening!

Garden Scenes From This Morning

Here is the bluebird house I won at the purple martin festival. A sibling provided the re bar and conduit pole that squirrels and raccoons should not be able to climb.

My rain barrel is a lovely addition. I love how it looks. I love using the water for the chickens, the potted plants, or rinsing off sandy feet, tools and hands before going in the house.

The grape vines are smothering my cherry bushes. I went to pull them off and got yelled at by the chipping sparrows.

Chipping Sparrow nest is found inside the grape vines covering the cherry bush. The chipping sparrows yells at me when I get near even though the nest is empty. I guess I can leave the grape vines alone a little longer.

Here is the garden. Tomatoes in the front. Brussels sprouts and peppers on the left. Carrots on the right. Onions and garlic going across about half way down. Straight rows on corn and squash on the left farthest away. Two very crooked rows of peas and sunflowers on the right farthest away. New garden post (scene of left thumb accident) on the far right close to the wooden compost bin. The deer have eaten all the sunflowers not covered by the deer netting.

Perennials by the garden wall.

I like the sepia tone on this one because it emphasizes the sun shining on the basswood tree.

Sudden Onset Left Thumb Awareness

Yesterday I spent part of the morning mending fences. My gate post had rotted. I dug it out and got the gate supports out of the wood (no easy task). I drilled holes in the new gate post for the supports. By the way, if anyone needs a super long 5/8 inch drill bit, let me know because it would be nice to get more than one use out of it. The process was going smoothly. I love it when a chore goes just right. I got the post back in and buried to the right level. The gate was swinging nicely right where I wanted it. The final step was nailing the fence staples to attach the chicken wire to the gate post. I started at the bottom of the post. I was just finishing up the last staple when BLAMMO! I struck my thumbnail with the hammer really hard. I stumbled around the apple tree with my hands between my knees saying, "Crap! Crap! Crap!" I have a personal goal not to swear. Each oath costs me a dollar to donate to charity. In this instance, crap just wasn't cutting it. I let out the f-bomb. Totally worth the dollar. Offspring #2 told me that the television show "Myth Busters" explored the pain relief benefits of swearing and there is truth to it. I believe it. In this case, I made a conscious decision to swear instead of just letting it slide out. In any case, my thumb does not look the same. I was advised that the pressure of a bandage on the thumb can relieve some of the pain so I tried it. The band aid helps some. Plus I don't have to look at the injury. At first the band aid covered all the discoloration but now purple and blue is showing. After 24 hours, the thumb has stopped throbbing and is now a steady pain. I have a sudden awareness of my left thumb. Here are things I cannot do easily: open the package on a band aid, pull up my pants zipper, open a button, open or close a window, take anything out of my left pants pocket, hammer nails or staples, use a screwdriver, pull weeds, pull a can of pop out of a case, put library materials into the drive-up return conveyor belt, put groceries in the car, tie my shoes, floss my teeth and put on underwear. Here are things I can do relatively easy without bothering my left thumb: use a computer, drive a car, swim laps, take care of chickens, and brush my teeth.

The Audacity of Squirrels

I took today off work to catch up on some chores in the yard. It's morning and I'm sitting at my computer, just three feet from the kitchen deck door. I set my canary, Migwe, outside on the deck to get some fresh air and some face time with his goldfinch friends. I hear his cage door rattling extra loudly. I turn my head to see a squirrel opening the canary cage to eat the canary food inside. How dare he?

A Fearsome Quartet

Today I worked six hours on my capstone project again from my latest Master Naturalist Class. Three women and I drove to Richfield for the free mulch. We're getting almost all free things to spruce up the entry garden at the Wildlife Science Center. We planted free native wild plants. Lets see how many plants I can remember: anise hyssop (see photo), false lily of the valley, Solomon's seal, lady fern, sensitive fern, pagoda dogwood, violets, zigzag goldenrod, Pennsylvania sedge, jack-in-the-pulpit, large leafed aster, wild sunflower, and I know we had more, I just can't remember the names. We laid down three ply of newspapers, wet it down, and shoveled mulch on top. A veery (bird from the thrush family) sang it's pretty flute -like sound while we worked. I just learned that bird song and was happy to share it with the others. The veery sang and sang until we all learned the sound. We labeled the plants with pretty rocks one woman found. We wrote the names of the wild plants on the rocks with a paint pen and sprayed them with a clear sealer. The garden really turned out pretty. We have more to do. We might paint the propane tank brown or hunter green. We might make some wolf cutouts to disguise the fence. We might work more on the other side of the path. We might make a sign explaining the garden. We will probably bring in another load of mulch too. It is so fun to garden with other women. One of us would have a question. We'd offer our opinions and solve it as a group. We make a fearsome quartet! One woman took pictures. I'll try to get one to post here.

Third and Final Frog Survey

Last night a sibling, a niece and I went on the third and final frog survey in Kannebec County. There we were, standing on a country road in the dark, listening for frogs. The temperature between 9:30 and 11 p.m. varied between 82 and 84 degrees. It was HOT! In some spots the breeze kept the mosquitoes away but not all. The mosquitoes were relentless. For the first minute after we got out of the car it wasn't so bad. After a minute, all neighboring mosquitoes honed in our scent and used a blitzkrieg attack. We had to listen for frogs at each of the ten spots for five minutes. Five minutes under mosquito attack can feel like a half hour. The biting is bad but their constant brushing against you and whining in your ears can drive a person buggy. These state birds were so hungry they would bite us through blue jean material. We used repellent and it helped some. When the five minutes were up, three people and 78 mosquitoes would jump into the car and drive to the next spot. The mosquitoes were so thick in the car I could hardly see to drive. Did I mention the mosquitoes were bad? Well, they were. On the last survey on May 15. we were positively deafened by the croaking of the frogs. We heard frogs at every stop and sometimes 5 species at the same stop. On this survey we heard frogs at only 4 of the 10 stops and only one species at a time. We heard gray tree frogs and mink frogs. I had not heard mink frogs before (see photo). They make a sharp rapping sound like the sound of horses hooves on cobblestone. Why were the frogs so quiet? Is mating season over for most of them? Was it too hot to think of love? Was the noise of fireworks scaring them? Maybe they were quiet so the mosquitoes would leave them alone. By the tenth stop I was more than ready to be done. The mosquitoes, the heat, and my itchy face rash had put me over the top. Driving out of there we saw something ahead on the dark country road. Was it a deer? A coyote? It was gray in color and large in size. As the driver I was trying to predict it's direction as it took off and as I slammed on the brakes. Would it go right or left? To my surprise, and the surprise on my passengers, it went up, straight up into the sky and disappeared into the blackness. We saw the huge wingspan and the large dangling legs of an owl. We saw the back of it's rounded head so I would guess a great gray owl. How ironic to see an owl on our frog survey. We saw and heard no owls on our owl survey. Despite the discomfort and the mosquitoes, I think we'll sign up again to do it next year.

Curses!

I started getting a rash on Friday. The rash started around my mouth and spread to my chin and forehead. I thought I got too much sun but it wasn't that. I toughed it out at first. It spread to my neck, my left arm, and right leg. This morning the rash was near my right eye so I went to urgent care. I was so glad they were open today. "Contact dermatitis," he said, "Probably poison ivy." I cannot believe I got poison ivy on my face. What was I doing? Eating it? It's all around my mouth! Was I grazing in the weeds? What. The. Heck. I am prone to poison ivy and have been since I was in elementary school. Usually I get it on the legs, not the face, although this is not the first time I've gotten it on my face. And I am very careful to avoid it. I know what it looks like. My eyes are peeled for that stuff. I've been really lucky avoiding it ever since Ruby, my golden retriever passed away. She would walk through it and then rub herself against me. Now that I know it's poison ivy, it itches worse than before I knew. I have a prescription for prednisone. I'm taking steroids. I've done this before. I know the drill. By the end of the week I'll be anxious and unable to sit still. My leg is already jiggling right now and I just took the first dose. I take allergy pills daily. The doctor said taking Claritan is like "Spitting in the wind." What does that mean? If I spit in the wind (which I wouldn't do, this is just hypothetical), I'd probably get spit on my face. Claritan is like spitting on yourself? Maybe he means it won't help much. He suggested zyrtec. He said it will make me sleepy and to take it at night. Cripes. I gotta say, this has not been the finest week for me.

To Infinity and Beyond!

Last night a friend of mine and I went to see Toy Story Three. We needed to lighten our moods. With this friend, I get a little inappropriate. We go too far on some subjects. Before the show, we're sitting in the theater with our classy 3D glasses on, debating whether Woody or Buzz Lightyear would be better in the sack. See what I mean about inappropriate? Woody seemed to be the likely choice and not just because of his name. He has a warmer personality and seems more interactive. Buzz Lightyear is all business and perfectionistic. I mean think of it. Infinity and beyond? Who could keep up with that? Midway through the show, some evil toys adjust the switch on Buzz Lightyear's back. His friends try to help him. They get the manual and they don't follow the directions very carefully. I won't give too much of the movie away when I tell you that Buzz starts speaking Spanish and acting differently. He starts dancing the flamenco with Jesse. And he's a really good dancer. And his Spanish is so, how do I put this, so Antonia Banderas like. The scales on who would be better in the sack start tipping toward Buzz all of a sudden. We enjoyed the movie. We laughed. We cried. We lusted after animated characters on the big screen. Barbie and Ken were hilarious. The rolling telephone with the eyes that go up and down was a tortured character. The barrels of monkeys were evil. Ken and his gambling pals used a "See and Say" like a roulette table. Watch it for yourself. Buzz or Woody?

Some Days Don't Go As You Had Planned

This morning I was the owner of a motorcycle. This afternoon, on the carpet where the motorcycle rested, lies a helmet, a jacket and a pair of saddlebags. Pitiful. It all started on the way to work. I was tooling along a quiet road to avoid the heavy traffic on Bunker and the detour on Main Street. I hear a sound. Did I drop something? Did I run over something? I didn't see anything in the road. My motor sounds louder. As I approach a stoplight I hear a heavy, metallic, ka-chunk. My heart cringes. This does not sound good. The sound came from between my feet - the motor. At the red light the motor dies. There is no starting it. I wait until traffic clears and run it over to the corner and onto the sidewalk. I try to start it again. Nothing. I get off and look at the motor. I look at the other side. I don't see anything missing or dangling or different. I try a couple more times. My headlight is on so I know I have battery power. The gas tank is nearly full. The oil level is good. It still won't start. I could look at it all day long and not know what is wrong. The time is 7:10 a.m. I call my work. The office manager says she will come and get me. She helps me push the bike across Hanson and into a parking lot. I get permission from the store owner to leave the bike there a while. As we walk into work I meet a friend, Ed. Ed has helped me with my motorcycle problems. He says we'll look at it at 9:30. At 9:30 we look at it. Doesn't look good. He rocks it back and forth, back and forth. We talk about how much money is worth putting into this old bike. We discuss where to get it fixed. Suddenly it starts. I drive it to the repair shop and he follows me. I leave it running while the mechanic comes out to look at it. He guns the engine. We can all hear the crunching noise in the motor. It's not safe to drive. The repair estimate is almost half the cost of the bike when I bought it two years ago. I could trailer it home and sell it on Craig's list. I do not want the hassle of a dead motorcycle and dealing with Craig's list. Ed talks the mechanic into buying it from me. I don't own a motorcycle right now and I'm sad about that. But I am grateful the motor didn't seize up when I was going at a high speed. I'm grateful this happened at work where my wonderful friends could easily come to my aid and rescue me. I'm grateful the bike didn't nickle and dime me to death. The Suzuki worked fine until it didn't work at all. I'm grateful it started at 9:30 and I could get an instant mechanical prognosis instead of trailering it to a shop and waiting for two weeks before hearing the bad news. Ed gave me a ride home to pick up my car. I immediately get into the car and go back to work. Before I get to work, he has another motorcycle picked out for me to look at. I will get another but not today. Right now I'm still adjusting to this day that did not go as I had planned.