Egg Production

Aside from the giant egg that was laid on Saturday, egg production has been down for the past month.  I used to get 3 eggs a day. Lately I've been collecting one egg every other day.  I wondered why.  Meredith is moulting.  Chickens produce fewer eggs when they moult.  I came home to see a big pile of feathers in the chicken run.  I asked, "Did you girls have a fight?"  I was worried about it until I realized that Meredith is moulting.  But even with one chicken moulting, egg production is way down.  The chickens are 18 months old. Could their fertility be slowing down already?  I was stumped.  This afternoon I got a call from a neighbor. He has chickens too.  He asked if my egg production was down.  I said it was.  His chickens are producing fewer eggs too and he figured out why - min-pin terror.  Two miniature pinchers have been escaping their elderly caregivers and terrorizing the chickens on our street during the day.  One of these min pins terrorized Phyllis last fall and was shaking her by the thigh.  She recovered just fine but she was in shock for many hours.  When I am at work, the chickens are physically protected in their run from these dogs.  But they're not fully protected.  Two barking, aggressive little dogs could be terrorizing my chickens by chasing them up and down the length of the run.  My neighbor said that happened this afternoon.  He was about to come over when the dogs left.  He allows his chickens to free range all day.  He found them on top of the deck - some place they never go. And they would not come down because they were afraid of the dogs.  I said those little dogs have a lot of moxie.  Pound per pound, it's almost an even fight.  "It's a Napoleon thing," he answered.  My chicken owning neighbor is going to talk to the min pin owning neighbors and come up with a solution, possibly including a live-trap.  I'm sure we can come up with something that works for everyone.  It is nice to know why the egg production is down though.

Detective Work

I lost my cell phone again.  The last time I saw it was at the fitness center on Sunday.  Did it fall out of my jean pocket there?  I checked the lost and found and no, it wasn't there.  Did it slip out of my pocket on the motorcycle?  Possible.  Was it in the car?  I looked there and couldn't find it.  I emptied my purse three times.  I looked in my lunch box.  I checked in my motorcycle jacket pockets. I checked the pocket of my jeans.  I checked the pockets of all the clothes I wore all weekend.  I checked the laundry basket.  I checked the bathroom and all the drawers. I checked the kitchen table, counter and the junk drawers.  I checked the couch cushions. I checked my office at work.  I looked everywhere I could think.  I tried to think like a detective.  I thought about the phone all the time; even when I wasn't looking.  I called my cell phone while I brushed my teeth.  I left myself a message.  My message said, "Hello!  I'm looking for you but I can't find you.  Hope to see you soon!  Bye, now."  Because I was brushing my teeth while I left the message, it sounded like, "Hmm! Hm hmming hm uu hm Hm hm hmm uuu.  Hmm hm hee uu huum.  Hmm, hm."  Last night I searched extra hard.  I called my cell phone and listened, wishing I had it programmed to ring instead of vibrate.  I called it in the bedroom and couldn't hear a thing.  I called it in the living room and couldn't hear any vibration.  I called it in the bathroom.  Nothing.  I called it in the garage.  Wait, I think I heard a vibration.  A clue!  How exciting!  I called it again and stood by the motorcycle.  I could hear a vibration.  I looked in my jacket again and inside my helmet and found nothing.  I hit redial again.  I know the cell phone is somewhere in the garage.  Encouragement swells up. I hit redial again and stand by the car.  It doesn't sound any closer.  I hit redial again and open the car door - it sounds a little closer.  I hit redial again and open the back door.  It's in here somewhere.  I look on the seats and the floor - no cell phone is spotted.  I look under the seats and can't find it.  I hit redial again.  The cell phone is close.  It has to be here.  I get down on my knees on the garage floor and hit redial again.  Voila!  Here it is under the driver seat.  I found my cell phone.  I look at it.  Oh, thirteen missed calls.  Oh, right.  That was me calling myself.  I have a voice mail message.  I listen to it.  "Hmmm!  Hm hmmming hm uu!"  That must have been the message I left while brushing my teeth - oh, I sound so cute.  And, oh, here are two text message left by two siblings.  One text was left on Sunday and one on Monday.  I'm so glad I found my phone!  I think I will return these calls.  But where is my house phone?  I can't believe I lost my house phone.  I had it in my hand only a minute ago because I was using it to call my cell phone!  For crying out loud.  Now I have to use my cell phone to call my house phone so I can find that.

She is Giving Me A Bad Name

There is a character on the television show, Glee, named Sue.  She is an evil one, that Sue.  She is a teacher but she is more likely to shove a kid down the stairs or insult them by mocking their physical attributes than teach anything.  Like the Joker in Batman, Sue is nasty.  As if that wasn't bad enough, now the network has a public service announcement called, "Don't Be a Sue."  Seriously, the commercial has in large font, "Don't Be a Sue."  You can see the commercial for yourself by clicking on the title of this blog entry.  If that link doesn't work, just google "Don't Be a Sue" to find it.   Sue (on the show, not me) is selfish, ruthless (oh, suddenly I feel bad for people named Ruth), conniving, and merciless.  One offspring tells me that Sue is a good person underneath.  She says Sue has a sibling with a disability and has a cheerleader with Down Syndrome on her squad.  I must have missed that episode of Glee.  I don't want this popular television show to give me a bad name.  I worry about these things.  Last weekend while traveling to St. Croix State Park, we passed many political yard signs. One person, running for the House of Representatives in District 8, is named Faust.  Now that is unfortunate.  Faust is a character in a German story about an ambitious man who surrenders moral integrity in order to achieve power and success.  He makes a deal with the devil and ends up going to hell.  If my last name was Faust, I would think twice before running for office.

'Glee' Lends A Helping Hand: 'Don't Be A Sue, Do Something Good Instead'

'Glee' Lends A Helping Hand: 'Don't Be A Sue, Do Something Good Instead'

Super Egg!

I found an egg in the chicken coop on Saturday.  Here is a photo.  The egg was big and heavy.  It was bigger than a clothes pin but smaller than a bread box.  The shell felt thin and when I moved it around I felt like there was something heavy inside.   I opened the egg on Sunday. Inside I found a yolk, some egg white, and another whole egg with shell included.  It reminded me of Russian nesting dolls.  The inside egg was normal in size.  I opened that egg and found a single yolk and egg white.  At first I wondered if the egg was safe to eat.  I knew the egg inside the small shell would be good to eat but what about the egg outside the inner shell?  I figured both eggs were probably in the ovary when the outer shell was formed so both should be good to eat.  I made French toast.  The giant egg tasted fine.  I know it was Phyllis or Kelly who constructed this unusual egg.  I observed them both.  They walked normally and acted normally so I guess they are okay. 

Apple Tree 4-Orange-Sue 0

That consarnit Haralson apple tree has beat me again.  I had to admit it but I've been outsmarted by an apple tree repeatedly.  About 18 years ago I thought I was smart to build a permanent compost pile right next to the apple tree. I grew up with apple trees.  I know picking up apples can be a drudgery.  I thought, "Oh, how easy and convenient it will be to toss the apples right from the ground into the compost - it will be fun."  Oh, that was true for the first ten years.  Then the apple tree realized what a wonderful source of water, nutrition, and minerals it could find.  So the apple tree grew its roots up into the compost and lapped it up.  In case you don't know, once an apple tree sends up it's roots into your compost and twirls it's rooty fingers around it, removing the compost is just about impossible.  Pulling up sod with your bare hands would be easier.  The first time I noticed this problem, I pulled up all the roots and dug a trench around the compost bin.  Didn't work.  Apple Tree 1 - Orange Sue 0.  The next year I removed six inches of soil and roots inside the bin.  Also didn't work.  Apple Tree 2 - Orange Sue 0.  Then I put a small piece of tin down.  Didn't work again.  Apple Tree 3 - Orange Sue 0.  After seeking advice from some Master Gardeners, I put four layers of landscaping fabric AND a large piece of metal (3 feet long).  I really thought this would work.  Sadly, I was wrong and that is why I was on my hands and knees pulling compost out of the bin with my bare hands.  Strong and sinewy roots poked through the fabric and wound their way throughout the compost, growing around and above the piece of metal.  For crying out loud!  I couldn't roll up the landscape fabric because the apple tree roots would not let go.  I had to place my shovel over them and JUMP on it to cut them.  By the time I was done sweat was dripping off my face and I felt like I had been in a wrestling match with an apple tree.  OK, what are my options?  I could move the compost pile.  That would be a huge hassle.  I'd have to take all those boards apart, dig out the corner posts, repair the garden fence (because the compost pile makes up part of the fence), move it to a new spot, reassemble the bin, and then open the fence in that spot.  Another option would be to use a tarp, line the bin at least six inches up all three sides, and hope the apple tree roots cannot punch through a tarp.  Would that work?  Any other ideas?

Age Of Innocence

I felt like reading an old classic so I read Edith Wharton's "Age of Innocence."  This book won Edith a Pulitzer Prize - the first such prize ever given to a writer who was a female.  The story is set in 1870 New York high society.  The people have servants but no cars or telephones.  Messages are sent via telegram.  Newland Archer is a man on the brink.  Should he marry his beloved May, continue working at his law firm, and do everything that his very judgemental circle expects of him?  Or should he throw it all aside and follow his heart by loving May's cousin, the mysterious, European, Countess Ellen Olenska?  Wharton does an excellent job describing an implied communication style common in some families.  What is not said is sometimes more important than what is said.  This story was made into a movie with Daniel Day-Lewis as Newland, Michelle Pfeiffer as Countess Oleska and Winona Ryder as May. I liked the story very much so I will have to add this movie to my Netflix queue.

PS Either Phyllis or Kelly laid an egg today that was the size of a baseball.  Ouch, man.  I took a picture and will try to post it on Monday. I know it was Phyllis or Kelly because they were the only two chickens who were compliant in returning to the coop when I left this afternoon for an errand.

Somebody is Having Cake Tonight!

Peanut Butter Chocolate Cake
Ingredients:  1/3 C. butter, 2 1/4 C. flour, 1 1/2 C. sugar, 3 tsp. baking powder, 1 tsp. salt, 1/3 C. creamy peanut butter, 1 C. Milk, 2 eggs, 1 tsp. vanilla
Cream butter.  Add sugar, flour, baking powder and salt.  Add peanut butter and 2/3 cup milk; mix until flour is dampened. Beat thoroughly.  Add 1/3 cup milk, eggs and vanilla.  Beat for two minutes.  Pour into 2 (9 inch) round pans lined with wax paper.  Bake at 375 degrees (preheated) for 25 to 30 minutes.  Cool completely.
PEANUT BUTTER CREAM FILLING (optional but better with it in):  1 small package instant vanilla pudding, 1 C. milk, 1/4 C. peanut butter
Mix pudding with milk.  Beat for one minute.  Add peanut butter.  Mix well.  Put filling between 9 inch layers.  Or do like I did - slice each layer in half.  There is enough filling to put between three layers.
CHOCOLATE PEANUT BUTTER FROSTING:
1/2 C. creamy peanut butter, 1/3 C. unsweetened cocoa, 2 2/3 C. powdered sugar, 1 tsp vanilla, 1/2 C. cream
Cream peanut butter and cocoa.  Add powdered sugar, vanilla and cream.  Beat until smooth.  Frost cake sides and top.
(And then I used a hot, wet spoon to make the s shaped curves in the frosting.  I used M&M's around the sides for decoration and because some birthday person really likes M&M's.  The candy made the bottom look better and covers up any spots that don't look pretty).

St. Croix Pictographs

I read a blog called http://www.twincitiesnaturalist.com  Recently this blogger gave information about Native American pictographs on cliffs on the St. Croix River.  The Twin Cities Naturalist doesn't give the exact location but I think I know the place. Look at the second photo.  Does it look familiar?  Can't you just imagine an island to your immediate right?  Isn't this the spot we enjoy right before we stop for lunch?  I think it is.  The pictographs show a buffalo head and two hand prints. There is some more stuff on the lower left that I can't make out and it looks like the bottom half of the drawing broke off when part of the rock fell into the river.  Next year, when we go canoeing, remind me to look for these pictographs.

St Croix State Park

Last Saturday I went to a Master Naturalist potluck/service project at St. Croix State Park.  Everybody brought food and we ate near the picnic shelter.  The day was warm enough to eat outside.  One guy demonstrated how to make a fire without using a match.  He had a hand drill and a bow drill.  He really got a work out making our fire.  The picnic shelter had an inside fireplace.  We had a fire going inside but the shelter was terribly smoky. Finally someone opened the damper.  Soon enough we saw some bats flying out the top of the chimney.  One bat flew down into the shelter.  What happens to a bat who flies into a Master Naturalist picnic and lands on a ceiling support?  He or she gets his photo taken many times.  After lunch we had a talk about the blow down that happened at St. Croix State Park several years ago.  Many acres of trees were blown down. Because of that natural event, the park, as stewards of the land, decided to replicate the oak savanna and pine barrens that were there over a hundred years ago. They removed all but a handful of trees per acre in the blow down area.  They removed all the fallen trees and are restoring the prairie.  Our service project involved collecting prairie seed to fully restore those prairies.  We collected seven kinds of seed.  I was assigned to carry the bergamot bag of seeds.

Bergamot is in the first picture. The flower was purple earlier in the year but looks like a rounded seed pod now. The leaves smell like tea. We walked along the road finding wild plants and picking seeds.  We had about 25 people collecting seed together.  It was warm enough to walk without a jacket.  Here is a photo of part of our group.

One of the wild plants were were looking for is called harebell and it was blooming right now.  We weren't able to harvest the seeds from the flowers that were in bloom but below the pretty purple bell flowers were dried seedpods that we could use.  Besides bergamot and harebell, we collected seeds from big bluestem, wild sunflowers, and Indian grass.  I wish I had thought to put a few seeds in my pocket for my own yard.

Ugh! Monday Mornings!

Yep, that is my car being towed.  After 7 1/2 years and 137,460 miles, the battery quit with no notice and no warning.  I guess Delco batteries are like that - they work and they work until one day, they don't work.  Next time I'm replacing it after six years even if it's still working.  I spent all the money I saved with such a long-lasting battery on the tow truck.  I gotta say, it was fun riding in the tow truck though.

It Was No Hanging Sword of Damocles

Offspring #1 came by to help me remove a danger from my driveway. For years, a dead branch has been threatening to fall on the parking area.  Every time the wind blows hard I go out there to check if it has come down and it never does. This summer part of it broke off.  A long section of tree dangled in the branches of a different dead tree.  The uppermost part of the trunk pointed at the driveway like a sword of Damocles.  It looked like it was suspended by a single horse hair.  Offspring #1 tied a hammer to a rope, threw it over the branch and pulled and pulled and pulled. He pulled in every direction.  That tree trunk was like the upside-down wooden legs of a virgin with virginal ankles locked together.  It wasn't coming down without a fight.  So he started up the chain saw to take both trees down at once. Trees falling down excite me.  I watched it come crashing down right where he expected.  The entire driveway was covered with limbs.  Then he said, "OK, see ya later."  Like he was going to leave me with this mess?  I knew he was kidding.  We spent hours picking up branches and toting wood.  Isn't he a nice guy? 

Canoeing With The Cree

Eric Sevareid, former CBC news journalist, wrote "Canoeing With the Cree" as a teenager.  He was 17 and his friend was 19 when they canoed from Minneapolis to the Hudson Bay.  They talked the Minneapolis newspaper into sponsoring their trip.  They got $50 to start and another $50 when they finished. They wrote articles about their journey and the newspaper published them.  They left in the middle of June and arrived in the middle of September.  They had to paddle against the current the entire length of the Minnesota River.  They had numerous portages.  They left without really knowing what they were doing.  They weren't prepared to portage.  Their belongings were in containers that were not easy to carry.  Beside the sunburn and the mosquitoes on their 2,250 mile trip, they had to fight discouragement.  Many people told them to turn back. Eric's friend, Walter, got a severe infection in his hand that set them back a few days.  They didn't have very good maps.  They were not experienced canoeists.  They learned the hard way how to handle rapids and the rough waters of Lake Winnipeg.  They were lucky to make it out alive. The book includes some photos of their journey.  This small, easy to read book, was a real pleasure to me.

Breakfast With Buddha

My book club read "Breakfast with Buddha" by Roland Merullo this month.  This is a story about an ordinary guy; a husband, a parent of two teenagers, an editor of cooking books who gets tricked into a cross country trip with a spiritual guru by his kooky little sister.  He travels from the east coast to a small town in North Dakota.  The guy's name is Otto and he is a good guy.  He loves his wife and he loves his children.  He is very close to them.  Once in a while he has tantrums but that is his major flaw.  He is skeptical of eastern religions.  The spiritual guru, Rinpoche, is an unusual traveler.  They spend hours traveling together.  If I was on that trip, I'd buzz across on I-90.  They take side roads.  Otto enjoys fine food so they seek out good food at local restaurants.  Part of the book is like a travelogue and part of it is about meditation and spiritual growth.  The author actually did take a road trip to North Dakota and he describes towns and actual restaurants.  Their road trip brought them into Minnesota at Duluth and out again in Fargo.  One person in the book club traveled to Duluth and checked out the Cedar Creek Cafe (up the hill near the colleges). She said it was a small, non-descript place with excellent food.  She talked to the owner about the book.  He had never heard of "Breakfast with Buddha" and had no idea his establishment was mentioned in it.  I thought the book was okay. The ending left a lot to be desired. I enjoyed the discussion about the book more.

Side Effects

A month ago I went to a George Thorogood concert.  Since then, these lyrics pop into my mind at meetings:

You talk too much, you talk too much



I can't believe the things that you say everyday


If you keep on talking baby


You know you're bound to drive me away
 
I only hear these lyrics when someone is (in my opinion) talking too much. Some people must not feel validated until they say their thoughts three or four times.  This is not good; not helpful. How do I get rid of this song in my head?

White Accent Color in the Yard

Every fall my yard gets pretty white accent colors in the fall. Small plants on the edges of the yard produce white flowers at about waist level. The white color is really noticeable. For years I have always thought it was a pretty touch. This year I decided to figure out what plants were making this white trimming. I had a field guide. It's called "Wildflowers and Weeds - a Field Guide in Full Color" by Booth Courtenay and James M. Zimmerman. Turns out most of the white flowers are white snake root. Naturally I pulled one out to get a look at the roots. The roots don't look like snakes at all. The roots make a ball of short lengths going out in all direction. The plant is also called sanicle or tall boneset. White snake root is a poisonous perrenial that I had read about in two books this year. I read about it (and promptly forgot) in the Gore Vidal novel, "Lincoln." Lincolns' mother, Nancy Gates, died of milk poisoning. When cows eat too much of white snake root, a poison called tremetol can gather in the meat and milk. If they eat enough snake root, the poison in the milk can kill a person. I also read about white snake root (and promptly forgot) in "Wicked Plants-the Weed that Killed Lincoln's Mother and Other Botanical Atrocities." See? This here is why I like nature. You can look outside and appreciate the beauty but there is always more to learn and more to astound you. There is so much I don't know - it's exciting. New frontiers lie in wait if you just take a minute to appreciate and study what is staring you right in the face. The other white flower in my yard is fleabane. It looks like bunches of small daisies. We used to call them dog flowers when we were children.

Hidden Falls

Today both offspring and I went to Northfield to celebrate a birthday. We found it difficult to get around because of "Jesse James Days." It's odd for a city to say, "Yeah! This was the day our bank got robbed many years ago by a famous bandit. Lets remember this crime by having a rodeo, a parade and a carnival!" We saw lots of people wearing western gear. We decided to work up an appetite by visiting the hidden falls at the Big Woods State Park in nearby Nerstrand. I've gotten lost before trying to get there. This time I knew how to get there but couldn't because of the parade. We got lost again. Eventually we always find the place. We had a beautiful day for a hike. We sat on a bench appreciating the falls. I had waded into the pool beneath the falls so my feet were cold and numb. A man and a woman sat on the creek bank, heads together, taking their own picture. From the angle of the camera, we thought we were probably in the background of their photo. So which one of the three of us makes a face and hams it up for the camera? I won't name names but it was the youngest and evidently the less mature one. After our hike we had dinner at Chipati - an Indian restaurant in town. We sat outside on the porch. We had garlic non bread and samosas. We got some chutney to go with that. One chutney was green and spicy. The other was red and had chunks. The red chutney had a strong onion taste. The chunks were crunchy. I could not figure out what the chunks were or even if they were fruit or vegetable. An onion taste was so strong I couldn't taste anything else. So I asked, "What kind of chutney is this?" Our waitress replied, "Onion chutney." Oh, that was obvious once I knew. I'm just not used to onion looking as red as fresh red peppers. I had chana masala - chickpeas in a gravy that was spicy enough to make my nose run and eyes water. Today was a good day.

Nanny McPhee Returns

A friend and I went to see "Nanny McPhee Returns." That is McPhee with a little c and a large P. Gosh, it was such a cute kids movie. Emma Thompson plays Nanny. Both Maggie Smith and Gyllenhaal are in the show. Nanny McPhee and Mary Poppins are both English child care workers who use magic to keep the kids in line. Mary Poppins sings all the time. Nanny doesn't sing. She doesn't even talk very much. Both fly. Mary uses an umbrella. Nanny, more to my style, uses a motorcycle with a sidecar. Mary had a friend who cleaned chimneys. Nanny has a friend who is a crow who belches a lot because he eats window putty. Mary Poppins is attractive throughout her movie. Nanny McPhee gets more attractive as the kids learn each lesson she is trying to teach the. The kids learn to share and boom! Her unibrow is gone. If you like pigs, you should see this movie. The scenes with pigs are very cute. Pigs fly, climb trees, smile, and complete synchronized swimming routines. The scenery is very nice. A field of barley is where a lot of drama happens. The swaying stems of ripe barley looks very lush and makes me want to see a real field of barley now. I loved this movie. And yes, I cried.

Jewels of Opar

A friend of mine from a bird class gave me these annual plants called "Jewels of Opar." Sexy name, no? She said the flowers remind her of fireworks. With a name and description like that, I was glad to get them. I got about six. I put some in the shade and some in the sun. The plants in the sun are doing better than the ones in the shade. The leaves are a beautiful lime green, almost chartreuse. And the flowers are like miniature fireworks. The flowers are tiny round balls that start out pink, turn red, and end up as orange seed pods. I think they are beautiful on a small scale. I plan to bring some inside and nurse them along all winter so I can enjoy them again next summer. By the way, unless you want to see belly dancers, do no go to jewelsofopar.com

Riding the Yellow Limousine

School started this week around here. Traffic is way up in the morning and it takes me longer to get to work. People are talking about their kids or their grand kids going to school. A coworker of mine talked about her son's first day of kindergarten on Tuesday. He marched right onto the bus full of positive energy. Her story reminded me of Offspring #1's first day of school. He jumped right on that bus with his blue corduroy overalls. I was left at the bus stop, camera in hand, wiping the tears from my eyes. I waited until he couldn't see me before I cried. I knew that first trip on the school bus began a journey we could not postpone or delay. After kindergarten comes first grade. After first grade comes second grade. He was marching his way out of the house already. His first day of school was a huge deal for me; a rite of passage for both of us. The first time I had to call the school and tell them he would be absent because he had a fever I was holding my breath. It wasn't until I hung up the phone that I realized I was worried they wouldn't believe me. They did believe me. I was the mother. I had the authority to call him in sick. Wasn't it just yesterday that I was trying to skip school myself? If the school believed me when I said my son was too sick to come to school, I must really be an adult now. So when it came time for Offspring #2 to go to school, I knew from my first experience that this was a very big deal. And I wanted to prolong the event. Again, I took the day off work. Again I waited at the bus stop with the camera. She had the cutest red dress with puffy sleeves. Again, I surreptitiously wiped the tears away. This time I didn't go to work right away. I got in my car and followed the school bus. Big. Mistake. Kids were all over that bus. They weren't sitting quietly in their seats. They were running up and down the aisles and waving limbs out the windows. Items were flying through the air. If that wasn't bad enough, the bus stopped at the wrong school. The older kids got out while the kindergartners stayed on. Offspring #2 went to a school that had only kindergarten classes. I think they had ten or twelve classrooms full of 5 and 6 year old children. Visiting there was surreal - sort of like Dorothy in Munchkin Land. Once the bus stopped at the wrong school, I gave up following it. I didn't warn her not to get off on the first stop because I didn't know that would happen. And if she did get off, there was nothing I could do about it. There were just too many kids, too many buses, and too many cars. I just turned my car around and went to work, hoping she would figure it out. I worried all morning. It wasn't until I took her picture coming off the bus on the first day of school that I could relax. I vowed never to follow a school bus ever again.

Relief

Whew, finally, I can talk about the epic change in my life. Today (finally) my boss officially resigned. I think he's been there for 38 years. He's been my boss longer than Offspring #2 has been eating solid food or 21.5 years. He's been my boss more than half my working years. He's been a good boss. And I always got such good reviews from him. He let me write my own. I've always appreciated his "hands off" approach to supervision. What will happen now? Will I still be able to write my own glowing reviews? Will my new supervisor have the same approach to supervision? Enough about me, how will he adapt to retirement? I hope that when I retire 1.) my coworkers will be happy for me personally and not because they didn't like my work, 2.) my retirement will be a happy occasion to celebrate, and 3.) I will be emotionally ready to give up the daily grind and let a younger person take my place to do a better job.

History

New Trick I Learned

Maybe you already knew this but I didn't. You don't have to go through all the work of boiling a kettle of water if you want to enjoy some corn on the cob. Just pop that unhusked beauty into the microwave and set it for three minutes. Peel back the husk. Pull away the hair which is easily done. Voila! A little butter. Sprinkle some salt. You are good to go.

Spots

I've listened to two people tell me the young white tail deer in their yard still have spots. One lives in East Bethel and the other lives in Roseville. Both people said it is unusual for deer to have spots showing this late in the season. The twin fawns who allow me to use "their yard" also have spots. Is it unusal for deer to have spots this late? I've never paid attention before.

So Cold This Morning

This morning I looked out my kitchen window. I noticed steam rising out of one of the compost bins. I have a round compost bin made out of black plastic. The lid was off the top. Steam rose straight into the air forming curls about three feet high before they dissipated into the air. The air was still so the steam went straight up. It almost looked like a witch's brew out there. Things must really be cooking in there. The contents are leaves from last fall, egg shells, kitchen waste, wood chips, and chicken excrement. The bin comes apart easily. I think tomorrow I will take it apart, move it a few feet, and shovel the contents back in, mixing them up in the process. That compost should be ready to throw on the garden in three weeks. After that, the bin will be ready to fill with fall leaves.

Mowing

Yesterday I helped by mowing a lawn, a large lawn. I had the use of a new, shiny, red Poulan riding lawn mower with an extra large cutting swath. This mower made the chore a pleasure. The mower started with a key. I was able to back it out of the barn without hitting a barn door or any other obstacle. I got it running through the grass before engaging the mowing mechanism. Then I lowered the blade so I could see where I had been. Most of this lawn in on a slope so I tried to plan my work going up and down the slope rather than across. I didn't want to tip. Mowing can make my mind go into a zen state. I focus on lining up the wheels so I don't miss any grass but I don't go over any grass twice. I started out mowing by the barn. If I had mower trouble, I knew I wouldn't be able to push it very far so I wanted to stay close to the barn. Eventually I got more confident. I figured out how fast the mower goes up hill and how fast it goes down hill. I learned how fast I could turn it around and how much space I needed to make each turn. There is a path between the alfalfa and soybean fields towards the school house. The scenery was great. I could see blue sky and white puffy clouds and hills in the distance. I could see field and meadows. I could see cows chewing grass and drinking water. I kinda felt like a farmer only I wasn't harvesting anything useful. I mowed up one side and down the other urging all the grasshoppers to get out of the way. I tried to be efficient. This is a large lawn and would take a long time. I kept repeating the up and down slope as much as I could while completing smaller spots like behind the barn and the field behind the machine shed. Sometimes the motor would falter when I adjusted myself on the seat. Duh! You have to sit on the seat to keep the motor running. Getting off the seat will kill the engine. Took me a while to figure that out. At one point the motor did falter and wouldn't start again. Out of gas. I went to town with ringing ears to get more gas. Everything seemed so quiet. I only bought four gallons because four gallons is about how much I can carry. The gas tank on this mower is huge. I think it takes more gas than my motorcycle. With the motor running again, I got to the lawn around the house. The grass here seemed extra long. I mowed under the apple tree - mulching some apples into sauce. I mowed down the long driveway and back up the other. The only spots I didn't like is mowing next to the electric fence when the left side is lower than the right side. That is when I would lean my upper body WAY to the right. I wasn't in any real danger of tipping but if I did, I would tip into the electric fence and be pinned against it by the mower. Yikes, what a predicament. I had some tricky spots where the trees are close together and I had to do figure eights between them while ducking my head under the clothesline. After five hours I was done. I looked for some missed spots and cleaned up closer to some trees and poles. I disengaged the mower and pulled it into the barn. I was almost sad to be done with the chore. This was the largest lawn I had ever mowed.

One of My Favorite Sounds

Besides the sound of newborn babies crying one of my favorite sounds is the sound of jars sealing after making a batch of peach jam. One by one, the jars make a "PLOP" sound as they seal. Then you know your jam will be safe to give as a gift for Christmas or a birthday. I use no special recipe - only the one that comes inside the box of Sure-jell. The problem is I can't read the recipe until after I buy the box of Sure-jell. Usually I buy the jam ingredients at the same time. I overestimated how many peaches I would need. I bought 8 pounds of peaches. Each batch of jam takes 3 pounds. I ended up making two batches of jam. Let me know if you need some.

Barred Owl Returns

Last night, before the storm, the barred owl was calling near my house again. I think this is the second time I've heard it this summer. I imagine the barred owl will call only if it's sure there are no great horned owls in the neighborhood. I know great horned owls nest in the nearby boy scout camp and that could explain why I'm not hearing the barred owls call as often as I used to. When I heard it call last night, I ran for my owl call. I bought an owl call last March so I could talk with the owl. I used it once before with no success. Before I could blow on my owl caller, I heard another owl in the distance to the south and east (somewhere in Andover) respond. I never heard the closer owl call again. I imagine it flew southeast. I called and called but never got a response. I'll keep trying. If I ever get an owl to respond to my call, I will be very excited.

A Prayer for Owen Meany

John Irving wrote the book, "A Prayer for Owen Meany." He also wrote "Cider House Rules" and "The World According to Garp." I think I'll be reading more of John Irving books in the future because I really, really liked this one. It was long though. The story is about two men, Johnny Wheelwright and Owen Meany, who grow up together in a small town in New Hampshire. Johnny comes from a wealthy, educated, and successful family. Owen is unusually small for his age and his family is working class and less socially accepted. Owen's voice never matures. He always sounds like a little boy with a stuffy nose. Owen is intelligent, charming, motivated, and rock solid in his faith. Johnny is unmotivated, a poor student, and doubtful. Their friendship makes a very touching story. The author rips on Ronald Reagan, the Vietnam War, organized religion, and the Iran-Contra affair. Some very strange things happen in this story. Some parts made me laugh out loud. John Irving can describe situations so clearly I can totally picture it in my mind.