Clara and Mr. Tiffany

What a great book Susan Vreeland wrote about the under appreciated Clara Driscoll.  I loved every stinking sentence of Clara and Mr. Tiffany.  This is historical fiction about the life of a woman living in New York City at the turn of the century.  She works for Louis Comfort Tiffany cutting glass and designing stained glass windows, mosaics and lamps.  The lamps were her idea although Tiffany took all the credit for the idea and the designs. She designed lamps to look like daffodils, wisteria, dragonflies and peonies.  Since I dig glass and mosaics I really appreciated the details about choosing pieces of glass and incorporating nature into her designs.  Tiffany would not allow married women to work in his glass. He only wanted to take advantage of unmarried women.  Clara was an artist and she submitted to his unfair treatment because he gave her the opportunity to practice her art. She lived in a boarding house with other artists and had many friends.  I enjoyed reading about the first subway in New York City and Clara's first ride on a bicycle.  Clara's involvement in the design of the Tiffany lamps has only recently come to light because the New York Historical Society found two boxes of Clara's letters.  This story outlines the plight of women in general and female artists in particular.   

What A Show!

A bonus of having the last four days off work and spending more time at home is the show put on by my local wildlife.  The birds put on a show for Thanksgiving. I had a flock of crab apple eating robins, downy woodpeckers, hairy woodpeckers, red bellied woodpeckers, pileated woodpeckers, and Northern flickers.  This is the first year I have seen Northern flickers eating suet but they have been back every day.  I had chickadees and goldfinches and white breasted nuthatches and cedar waxwings and juncos and blue jays and cardinals.  A flock of turkeys strolled through the yard on Thanksgiving putting on quite a holiday show.  Male and female white tailed deer visited along with my resident chipmunk and a bunch of grey squirrels.  Flocks of Canadian geese can be seen more clearly now that the leaves are off of the trees.  What a show!  I sure enjoyed being home during daylight hours for a change.

Moving Robin Crusoe to Her Winter HQ

 Today was the day to move my remaining chicken to her winter headquarters.  She moved off the prairie and closer to the house where she will be warm and snug all winter.  Today was her first day out of the chicken run since July.  She enjoyed being out.

She was scratching on the ground and pecking and eating seeds and walking around.

You can see she has been molting.  She doesn't look so good.  She reminds me of someone undergoing chemotherapy.

After hauling her house and her run across the yard I put fresh wood chips in the house for her with a full container of food and a heat lamp.  I wanted her to go back into her house.  She didn't want to go back in yet.  I chased her. It was ridiculous.  She hid under the deck which is smart because I can't move very fast while ducking my head under there.  Then she hid under the black spruce tree.  That was a very good hiding place. I gave up on chasing.  I tried to lure her with black sunflower seeds.  See the pile there on the air conditioner?  She's looking at the seeds but not falling for my master plan.  I ended up chasing her in the direction of the winter headquarters and she went in willingly.  This took a long time though.

Here she is checking out her new abode and thinking about curtains.

Turkey Art Contest

I was really impressed with the hard work my guests put into the art contest this year.  Some entries reflected current events.

Others reflected events in their lives such as school

or retirement.

Get it?  Re tire?

Some entries included movie stars.

Or personal practices

and eating habits.

Some were political.

Others were scientific. (Don't eat me. I'm endangered).

This one is a Vladimir Putin turkey standing on the planet earth with the Turkish flag in the background.

This one was a tad violent.

Another Trump turkey.  (Chickens Go Home!)

Another movie reference.

And a Frozen turkey (Let me Go!  Let me Go)!  Everybody should get an award this year.  The actual winner was a non-traditional sculptural rendition of a turkey that involved an entire pineapple, a pear, grapes, and strawberries.  I forgot to get a picture of it before we ate it.  Every year we seem to have a big discussion about what is allowed and what should be allowed.  Strong opinions are voiced and flung recklessly around the room.  And that is how I know we have created real art because only real art invokes such passion.

Happy Thanksgiving! What Are We Grateful For in 2015?

I had to capture this photo of the moment of taking the turkey out of the pan.  Somehow the white meat and the dark meat separated easily.  Sometimes in life moments happen and I just have to enjoy them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In alphabetical order we are grateful for "A" names, beds, blankets, cheese, cats, doctors, exercise, electronics, food, furnace, giraffes, home cooked meals, intelligence, just kidding, kayaks, kazoo, long underwear, lakes, monkeys with cymbals, nature, no school, onomotopeoia, peace, paychecks, rocking around the Christmas tree, Sue science, school, telephone, Unicorns!, vacation, wool socks, xerox machine, yougurt and zippers.  No offense to you questioners out there but when I made the alphabetical list for people to fill in, I forgot the letter Q.  I can not explain why.

Is It Just Me?

Is it just me or would you hesitate if you were introduced to a new doctor and he said his name was Faust?  Is it any different than meeting a dentist who said, "I'm Dr. Payne?"  How about meeting a lawyer with the last name of Cheatem?  How about a banker named Fraud?  Maybe a butcher named Esther Coli?  I shouldn't make fun of people's names. A person is given a name and sometimes, as in my case, things develop that make their name funny. 

Can't Not Hear Them

At the gym the other day I headed over to the exercise bicycles.  I prefer the old fashioned style over the recumbent bikes because I work harder on those.  My gym has 4 of those style.  Two guys were using two of them already and they looked like they were talking to each other so I didn't want to get between them.  I chose the last one outside of the two talking guys.  I got on and started pedaling figuring I'd do this about 10 minutes before going to use the weight machines.  I had just come off of the stair master so my heart rate was up there already at about 120.  I like to stay between 120 and 140 during the cardio section of my workout. I started pedaling and regretted not having a book to read this time to help pass the time.  The guys were talking loudly and laughing.  We're in front of a long bank of television sets and the guys were talking about football.  I tuned them out pretty well.  When the newscaster got back to local news these two guys were commenting on that as well.  I'm booking along happily on my bike until the news station showed film of Highway 94 being blocked by the black lives matter protest.  I know that I live in a conservative part of town; the part of town that repeatedly elected Michelle Bachman.  I accept my lonely life as a liberal feminist in Anoka County. I live in the part of town where people are fearful and uses fear mongering for political gain.  They talk about political correctness as if it were a bad thing.  So when these two bloviating cyclists started talking about black lives matter, I started biking faster.  They throw out a couple racist comments.  I can't not hear them because they're yelling over 5 empty bikes. I bike faster.  By the time one of them says, "They should take a fire hose on those protesters and wash them down the drain," my Exercycle tells me that my heart rate is at 146.  I get off my bike even though I have four minutes left.  I wash down the handles of the Exercycle and walk away.  I can't not hear them.  I don't know the whole story.  I wasn't there and I don't listen to the television media's sensationalist renditions.  I don't care who they are or what they did, no one deserves to be washed down a drain.  A better person might have used this opportunity for education.  I just walked away and used the anger they incited to me to lift heavier weights with more energy than usual.

Presentation

I went to a party yesterday and was so impressed with the presentation.  Don't get me wrong.  The people at the party were kind and friendly and very interesting. But the table was set so beautifully!  Much of the food followed the pink theme including strawberry cream cheese for the croissants, raspberry chipotle glaze over cream cheese for the pita chips, pomegranate seeds, pink cookies and pink grapes.  A mixture of raspberries and blue berries with small squares of pound cake were put in martini glasses covered with cool whip and a few raspberries on top. We had tiny little spoons with stones in a wire ball at the top to eat them with. For sure the fancy glass and fancy spoon made it taste even more delicious.  We could have pink lemonade in wine glasses once we took the pink curly ribbon out. The food came prepared except for the chicken salad which she made herself.  This hostess spent her time and energy on presentation.  I tend to do the opposite.  I spend my time making the food and to hell with the presentation.  My glasses don't match and I don't have tiny spoons that are not dishwasher safe.  I could focus on presentation because I see how nicely it comes across but I won't.  I like good food too much.  

Veil of Roses

With a good Irish name like Laura Fitzgerald I was not expecting such an Iranian cultural book as Veil Of Roses.  The plot was a predictable and boring romance but mixed in with that was a struggle for freedom.  Being able to feel the sun on your neck is a freedom not available to women in Iran.  Having the option to walk alone to school is a freedom not available to women in Iran.  Socializing with friends of the opposite gender is a freedom not available to women in Iran.  I was able to look past the silly romance plot and really enjoy the other parts of this story.  My favorite part was the description of the first walk in public by Tami, a 27 year old woman just off the plane from Tehran.  She walks from her sister's home in Tuscon past several miles of stores to a college campus where she is enrolled in an  English class with other immigrants.  A police officer walks by her at Starbucks and asks if she needs help.  She assumes the worst and is sure she will be deported immediately.  The way the author wrote it made it feel real to me.  I think of immigrants as brave souls but sometimes they have to leave their homes because staying while remaining sane is impossible.

Pollinators

On Wednesday evening my Master Naturalist group invited Dave Crawford to talk to us about pollinators.  He made a new presentation just for us.  We're his guinea pigs.  He makes new presentations and tries them out on us before presenting them to other groups. He made observations about pollinators in his city yard and at Wild River State Park.  He had marvelous pictures and he presents his observations in a wry and witty way.  I love listening to him talk but as he spoke I wondered what makes a man fascinated by pollinators while other men are fascinated by fantasy football or college basketball scores?  How is his mind wired differently from the average sports fan?  When he showed us his video of a bee inside a gentian flower and how the bee buzzes to sonically shake the pollen loose, his enthusiasm was infectious.  The best video he showed was the exciting romp of a monarch caterpillar booking it off one milkweed plant and traveling cross country across the prairie.  Caterpillars can really move when they want to.  The caterpillar moved along through the tall grasses when it came upon a friend - another monarch caterpillar.  The caterpillars stopped, touched heads together, and both took off to their respective destinations.  There is so much drama to be seen if we just stop and observe and appreciate.

A Moment

Today I had a moment. I had one of those moments you want to capture and relive when I'm old and decrepit and possibly on my death bed.  Today was the annual Years of service ceremony at work.  Which I love.  Because it's my favorite day at work. And it went great.  I didn't forget anybody (like I did last year and had to write a speech last minute) and things were planned out well ahead of time. And the people who help me are dependable and helpful and competent and awesome.  When it was all over and I said into the microphone, "Time for cake!"  My boss said, "Wait a minute."  He had a bouquet of orange flowers in his hands.  A couple people looked at me and I looked back at them with widened eyes because I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve despite my efforts to suppress that impulse.  He thanked me in front of the crowd for coordinating the ceremony for so many years.  And everyone clapped.  Wow.  Not being an orchestra person or a play person or a sports person or any kind of performing person, applause is AWESOME!  Like the cowardly lion I said, "Aw Shucks."  I felt like a queen.  No, better than the queen because I wasn't born into this job.  I asked for it and got it and loved it and did my best.  I had a moment today; a great moment.; a moment I plan to remember.  Plus, the flowers are orange.  Did I mention that?

Can't Watch

People at work are talking about football.  So much time and energy are spent talking about football and planning their days around the games.  I can not relate.  I can't watch football.  Knowing more about concussions now than I used to, I can not stand to see people being paid to hurt each other like that knowing some of those injuries will be permanent.  No amount of money is worth a concussion to me.  I know I can't spare any IQ points.  I am not the only one who thinks this way.  A fellow I work with said watching football now is like the Romans watching the gladiators in the coliseum.  He thinks the end of the game is near.  He wonders what we will do with the huge stadiums paid for by tax payers.  I hope he is right but what activity will fill the vacuum of time and money spent on this barbaric sport?

Locks For Love (or not!)

I learned something new and unpleasant yesterday.  The hair donated to Locks of Love is not going where we were led to believe it is going.  Several articles (Forbes and Huffington Post) on this outfit portray a negative image of this non profit business.  Both my children and many of my friends have donated their hair to this organization who cannot account for 80% of their donations.  Wow, profiting from kindness intended for children and cancer survivors.  How low can  you go?  There are more reputable organizations who do take donations of hair and use it to actually help others in need though.  I always research my charities because I value my money and want to see it used wisely.

House of Wong

Maybe it's a small restaurant tucked into an older strip mall or maybe it's a local wonder.  Walking through the beautifully carved wooden doors of the House of Wong brings me back and actually makes a committed vegetarian consider ordering chicken chow mein so she can have a meal that tastes exactly like a meal she had many times as a child.  Not much about the House of Wong has changed in the past 50 years.  The food portions are generous and tastes delicious.  I had Tofu Pad Thai and I don't think they offered tofu when I was a kid but that might be the only change. I think many of the customers are loyal fans.  How do I know this?  Because when I sit in there I see many of the people greet others by name, visit for a few minutes and then return to their own table.  Good food, good service, memories of good times - wish there were restaurants like this in my part of town.

My Cold Hardy Geranium

This geranium keeps growing and growing and growing despite numerous frosts that have taken out all my other annuals.  Here it is mid-November and this red geranium is still blooming.  I sure got my money's worth on this plant.

Blue Bottles

On my daily noon walks I go by a house in Blaine with an arrangement of blue bottles.  This home owner has three bottles stuck on spikes near a peony bush.  Above the bush there is a shepherd hook with a blue glass bird feeder dangling from it.  I thought that looked nice.  The cobalt blue bottles look nice in the sun shine.  I thought I could do that.  I didn't drink wine but that is the kind of sacrifice I am willing to make for yard art out of reusable items.  I went into the liquor part of Trader Joe's.  A woman asked if I needed help.  I said I need a bottle of wine in a blue bottle.  She said she liked this kind of challenge.  She helped me find two.  I drank those two bottles over the next month and cleaned the labels off.  I stuck them on spikes.  Two bottles didn't look good.  You need an odd number to look artistically right.  So I bought another bottle of wine.  I drank that.  Three blue bottles looked better. Someone gave me an empty blue bottle.  Well, shoot.  Four didn't look good.  I bought another blue bottle.  Five blue bottles looked just right.  I thought I was done.  Someone else gave me a blue bottle.  You can see the six bottles in the pictures above.  Wrong.  Six is wrong.  So guess what?  Yes, strictly for artistic reasons I made the sacrifice and drank another bottle of wine.  Now I have seven.  Seven is enough.  Any more and I'll look like the neighborhood blue bottle wino.

Wish

To make a wish come true, blow on a dandelion globe after you make your wish.  What do you wish for?

Certified!

For the past five weeks I've been taking an Autims certification course with a couple other people.  We travel to Saint Paul on Friday mornings and spend time learning from professionals and from people on the Autism spectrum.  We students (or neurotypicals as we are sometimes called) ask questions, participate in discussions and give presentations.  Some of us work with children, some with adults, some provide vocational services and some of us provide residential services.  One of our instructors is on the spectrum and he was very helpful.  I have worked with people who have Autism for more than 30 years but now I can say I have a greater appreciation of what is like to have the condition.  And sometimes I have a lot in common with people on the spectrum.  Preference for routine?  Who has been eating the same breakfast for 15 months at a stretch?  Me.  Difficulty transitioning from one activity to the next?  I have a very hard time transitioning from bed in the morning to work but no trouble at all transitioning from work to home.  Overwhelmed by sensory stimulation?  I swear, at the end of some days I can't stand to hear anything and must travel home in silence.  I also can't hardly wait to get out of my work clothes into shorts or pajama pants as soon as I walk in the door.  I have to say this has been the best training I have attended in many years.

Mistaken Again

A most upsetting thing has happened to me again this week.  I was mistaken for an older woman.  This time a nurse mistook me for my sister's mother.  She apologized as she left the room.  "No problem," I said as she shut the door.  I add, "It's an easy mistake to make if kids had kids when they were TEN YEARS OLD!"   I'm real sassy out of earshot.  In the past I've been mistaken for my brother's mother and my daughter's grandmother.  I complained about it to a coworker.  She came back with, "Today I was asked if I am pregnant."  She won that round.  I have come to the conclusion that I look older than I am.  Well, so what?  I have earned every wrinkle on my face, neck, arms, butt and legs.  And feet.    

 

The Martian

Andy Weir's book, The Martian, is one of the best books I have ever read.  I was hooked from the first sentence.  I admit there were a lot of F bombs in the story but that doesn't bother me if they fit the story.  This adventure/survival story had some science in it.  Some people in my book club thought the science was too much.  They skimmed those parts but liked the story.  I am not a scientist. Also, I'm not an engineer.  But I didn't think the science was too much.  I thought it was just about right.  I really enjoyed the creative problem solving and ingenuity involved in surviving being left for dead alone on the planet Mars.  Myself, I think I would have died.  Or maybe I would have gotten into the medical supplies and committed suicide.  There is a reason NASA hasn't asked me to go into space.  I don't think I have what it takes to be an astronaut.  This particular astronaut was an engineer and a botanist.  The botanist part saved his life because he would have starved to death without his farming talents.  This was a great book.  I could hardly put it down.  Now I want to see the movie.

Lightbulb Was Slow To Come On

My motorcycle would not start for two weeks now.  I tried everything.  Not everything.  Almost everything.  I changed the oil.  I added Stabil to the gas.  I charged the battery because the battery wore down from all my attempts to get it started.  The motorcycle worked fine the last time I had it out.  I couldn't figure it out.  A friend and I looked it over.  Nothing we tried worked.  I waited for a warmer day and tried again.  Nothing.  I thought it was a problem with the gas.  The battery seemed fine and the starter seemed fine.  All electrical systems were working.  I thought about sweet talking a friend of mine into hauling my bike on his trailer to a repair shop. I thought about which repair shop to take it. I was thinking about it last night as I went to sleep and an idea came to me.  Why not try to move the gas switch to the reserve tank just in case there is something blocking the gas from flowing out of the tank?  So today I switched the fuel switch to reserve and gave it a try. I was pretty sure this wasn't going to work. The bike started right up and ran just fine.  OMG!  The light bulb slowly came on.  I was out of gas!  What are the chances of running out of gas parked in the garage?  Pretty good I guess.  Every other time I ran out of gas I was on the road; never in the garage. I took the bike out and filled up the tank at the gas station.  I rode around the local neighborhoods to get circulate the stabil and the new oil around inside the machine. Instead of focusing on how slow I was to solve this problem, I am going to focus on the fact that I did figure it out before I had the bike towed in for repair.  Could have been worse.

Woke Up This Morning And What Did I See?

Turkey on the Wall!

Turkey by the owl.

Turkey by the pond.  Eleven turkeys vising the yard.  Do they come by every day and I miss it because I'm at work?

Rise to Rebellion

Jeff Shaara's book, Rise to Rebellion made me realize my country had a revolution.  Yes, I had heard of the American Revolution.  I knew facts about the revolution. I was forced to memorize dates about the revolution.  But this story helped me take the words "American Revolution" and really understand what they meant.  We revolted. We rebelled.  We fought against King George because he was being unfair, pompous, arrogant, and insufferable. King George acted in ways that made the colonies want to revolt in order to survive.  Dumping the tea into the Boston harbor was a creative way to get around the King's impossible edicts.  This story focuses on John and Abigail Adams, Ben Franklin, George Washington, Thomas Gage and Thomas Hutchinson.  But I also learned about John Hancock, Paul Revere, Thomas Payne, and John Warren. I was upset to read about Benjamin Franklin enjoying a roast one rainy night in England because I heard he was a vegetarian. In this book he was a carnivore, a witty writer prone to sarcasm, an old man with aching joints, a father estranged from his son, and a guy who liked to parade around naked at home.  American history makes more sense to me now.  I only wish the history classes I took in school were half as interesting as Rise to Rebellion.

My Little Bindi

At lunch we talked about things that we fear.  Some of us fear spiders.  Others fear snakes or mice or skunks.  I have some fears too but none of mine are debilitating.  Yes, I will sometimes (usually) scream when I see a snake but that is my amygdilla kicking in and acting out before my frontal cortex takes over and calms me down. In other words, I don't want to scream.  It just happens. I really don't mind snakes in my yard.  I just don't want them in or under my house.  Mice are fine in the yard too but not in the house.  Many years ago I opened my dishwasher and found a tiny, six inch garter snake on the rack inside.  I screamed.  I shut the dishwasher door.  And I stood on a chair next to the dishwasher.  I don't know how the little snake got inside a closed dishwasher.  Offspring #2 came to the rescue. She opened the dishwasher and picked up the little snake.  She kissed it on the mouth and took it out the deck, down the steps and set it down right next to the house.  Was I grateful?  Eventually I was grateful but initially I was upset that she didn't carry that snake farther away from the house before setting it down.  I remembered another time when a friend and I plus my two offspring traveled to Twin Lakes in Elk River for a little swimming expedition.  We swam.  We sat on towels on the sandy beach to rest and warm up.  Offspring #1 had a big bug on his towel and he shied away from it.  Offspring #2, about 3 years old at the time, stood up, said "I'll handle this!"  She walked (confidently and with elbows pumping) around us two older folk, marched over to his towel, picked up the bug and tossed it away in the sand.  She marched back around to her towel and laid down.  My friend and I stared at her in amazement.  From where did this bravery come from?  She is a little Bindi Irwin!  When I took her fishing she would kiss the minnows on the mouth too before she rammed a hook under their chin and out through the top of their heads.    Where did she get such confidence?  Why doesn't her amygdilla react the way mine does?  I don't know but she is an offspring to be proud of!  

Not An Old Dog

Today I replaced the oil filter and changed the oil on my motorcycle.  I needed some tools.  I have Allen wrenches and  screwdrivers and a good light.  I find I have to scold myself sometimes.  I tend to use whatever is handy and not take the time to find the right tool for the right job.  If I have the correct sized tool the job goes much easier.  Taking the time to go and get the correct tool saves time in the long run.  Yes, sometimes a butter knife will work but why not go and get the screwdriver?  I know where it is.  And if a screwdriver will work, won't the cordless drill work even better?  I paid money for the tool so I may as well make use of it.  It's time I took more pride in my work.  It's time I dump this habit of grabbing what ever is handy.  I have decided.  I'm not too old of a dog to learn new tricks.

Altruism

Every time I hear about another school shooting, I think about altruism.  I think about the lack of altruism.  Is there even such a thing as altruism in the human species?  If it's a case of "I'll be good to you and you be good to me" is that altruism or simply reciprocity?  Some of the bees in a hive will stand guard and actually loose their lives to defend the hive.  What is that if not altruism? What about our military members?  If they give up their very lives for our country, is that altruism?  I believe that example comes closer to what I think of as altruism.  How about volunteering?  Is that altruism?  I volunteer to be Smokey the Bear at the fair but, honestly, that is not altruism.  I'm in it for the glory.  Yes I give up some time and I sweat a lot but I dig the role of nature's rock star.  I would actually pay to be Smokey the Bear so that is not altruism.  My volunteer work as an observer of owls and frogs is also not altruism.  I like how the job forces me to learn and to get out in nature and to have some adventure.  Plus I get rewarded as a Master naturalist so that is not altruism.  If altruism is rare and hard to pin down, why do people decide to take a gun and shoot innocent people?  Are they in it for the glory?  So their name can be in Wikipedia?  Are people inherently good?  Or evil?  Are we all victims or winners of our brain chemistry?  Do our thoughts and actions matter at all or is our moral character predestined by our genetic makeup and upbringing?  I do not know the answers to my questions but I do know this.  I am a lucky person.  I do not suffer as much as other people suffer.  I know people with anxiety or mental illness and I see how it tears up their lives and cuts into their enjoyment of life.  I know people with addiction issues and I see how it tears up their lives and cuts into their enjoyment of life.  I see people with disabilities and disease and terrible circumstances and I see how it tears up their lives and cuts into their enjoyment of life.  I am lucky and I know I am lucky and that alone is a good place to be.   

Mighty Hunter

I went hunting yesterday with great success.  Wearing my trusty overalls I filled my pockets with my weapons; a hand pruner, a pruning saw, a loppers, and a bottle of brush killing herbicide.  I focused on the area by my driveway which is an area I have worked over previously.  Cutting the buck thorn and spraying the stump with brush killer is about 70% effective.  Sunday I focused on the 30% where my previous treatment was not effective.  I noticed I had regrowth on stumps I had cut maybe 3 inches from the ground level.  The poison goes down about two inches.  At the bottom inch, right above the ground level, the buck thorn grows new shoots.  Some plants had 5 or 6 shoots from the original stump.  Some of the evil shoots grow horizontally, along the ground like a vine, for 12 inches before they start growing vertically.  That darn buck thorn is so sneaky and so bent on survival.  I bent over carefully because of the sharp objects in my pockets.  I snipped the buck thorn regrowth. I snipped off 3 or 4 segments before reaching for the poison that dangled from my pocket by the spray handle.  If I cut more than 3 or 4 I could not remember where the stumps were among the leaf litter. And if I just cut the stumps without spraying the herbicide the buck thorn will grow thicker and healthier. Many times a leaf would cover the stump I was trying to spray forcing me to bend over again and remove the leaf.  Between leaves covering the buck thorn stumps and sticks poking me in the head, I felt the tricks of my prey trying to foil my hunt.  Newer buck thorn plants less than 5 inches tall pulled out of the ground easily after all the rain yesterday.  My hamstrings are reminding me today of all the bending over I did yesterday.  I see by the glossy green leaves in various other parts of my yard that I have more buck thorn hunting to do.  Tomorrow is another day.

Fresh Produce From Florida

I watched my neighbor's cat, Joey, while they traveled for a month.  I never see Joey but I know he's there because he eats his food, drinks his water, and makes deposits in the cat box.  They're back now and they brought me some produce from their niece's yard.  I got two star fruit and a huge avocado. The avocado is the size of 4 avocados that I usually buy at the store.  The avocado is not ready yet.  I'll watch it carefully because avocado is tricky (not ready, not ready, not ready, not ready, not ready, not ready, not ready, not ready, ready, too late).

I had to ask how to eat the star fruit.  I was told to trim off the green parts of the fruit and slice it and eat it raw.  Star fruit tastes good.  The taste is like pineapple but not pineapple; like melon but not melon; unlike any fruit I've eaten before.