That Awkward Teenage Stage

This cuckoo Maran is at the stage where it is not a chick and not a chicken.  Peach fuzz in being replaced with grown up feathers. Golly, she is so cute I can hardly stand it.  Her wings are black and white striated.

Check out that white eye ring and those bluish-green legs.Add that to the Mohawk hair style?  This is the cutest chicken you ever saw.  She peeps at about 100 decibels though so, yeah, there is that.  She's a peeper!

Grunt

Mary Roach writes non-fiction books about science that are also humorous.  Her trick is to state the obvious. Stating the obvious can be funny and that is what she does in Grunt.  I have also read Bonk (about sex), Stiff (about death) and Gulp (about digestion). This book is about the injuries of war.  I learned so much from her.  All along the book I get more and more really incredible scientific information while being entertained; it's like taking vitamins that taste like chocolate. She had chapters on uniforms, vehicles, hearing loss, injuries from bombs, war medics, how the body handles heat, diarrhea, maggots, shark repellant, and sleep deprivation.  She had a chapter on stink bombs.  Did you know research was being done on using smells to disperse people at the same time research was being done on the atom bomb?  Why don't we try stink bombs to calmly disperse unruly crowds? She brings up ideas I have never thought of before.  Some of the discussion is about the Army and some about Marines but I'd say most of it is about the Navy.  I liked it so much I'd like to buy a copy for the two people in my family who are in the armed forces. 

"You're Gonna Get A ticket!"

WheneverS I encounter a speeder or a law breaker while driving, I sing a little song entitiled,"Youre Gonna Get a Ticket."  If I see you speed, I sing it. If I see you break a traffic law, I sing it. If you annoy me with your aggressive driving, I sing it.  Tonight, Karma rewarded me big time.  At the corner of Ferry Street and Bunker Lake Blvd,  I stopped at a red light.  A man biking had a nice orange bike (my favorite color).  The oncoming traffic had the right to make a left hand turn.  I wasn't sure if this man on the orange bike was going to go half-way across or not so I hesitated.  Excuse me, but I don't want to drive over a biker on an orange bile. The driver of a Cadillac with tinted windows  and out of state license plates beeped his (or possibly her but I doubt it) annoying Cadillac horn behind me.  I looked up. I say aloud, (yes, I talk when I drive), "Excuuuuse me!" (Steve Martin style).  I wait until I'm sure the orange bike rider isn't going to go.  Then I pause and make a right turn. I accelerate gradually.The Cadillac driver rolls through the red light (offense #1).  I don't accelerate unusually slow but with a car that gives me constant feedback on my miles per gallon, perhaps a little slower than I used to.  This Cadillac with tinted windows in offended and uses the right turn lane to pass me (Offense #2!) .  I sing my song, "You're Gonna Get A Ticket" out loud along with the words, "Seriously?  You think this is being a good driver?"  (Sarcasm is my second language). When, lo, and behold, red lights shine in my rear view mirror.  I pull over to let the police get by immediately.  Oh, karma, it feels so good, this driver IS going to get a ticket.  He (or she-I can't tell with these illegally tinted windows) tries to innocently buy gas at the Holiday Station Store) but BUSTED buddy.  You ARE going to get a ticket.  I obey all traffic laws all the way home.

Three Weeks To Say Goodbye

Do you like mysteries?  If so, you will probably like Three Weeks To Say Goodbye by C.J. Box.  It's not as if I didn't like this tale or that the writing wasn't good, it's just that when I read a mystery or a thriller, I feel so dang manipulated by the writing.  I don't like it when the author decides what I feel, what I think, and what I am surprised by.  I don't like how everything wraps up in the end in a tidy "you never saw it coming" package.  I don't watch crime shows on television either. I'd rather the author just told a story. When I read a mystery I disengage from the suspense because it feels forced instead of real.  If I know the book I am about to read is a mystery, I will read the last chapter first and then start at the beginning.  Sherlock Holmes?  Sherlock Holmes is different.  I love Sherlock Holmes stories and I can't explain why. I did enjoy reading an adoptive father's perspective on the joy of adopting and how much pleasure he saw the baby gave to his wife in this story though.

The Ultimate Dinner - LT Sandwich

Take two slices of marble rye bread and toast them lightly. Spread one slice of marble rye with a thin lay of mayonnaise.  Add two slices or organic red leaf lettuce.  Take a one pound tomato with a six inch diameter from a local organic farm and cut a one inch thick slice from the widest part.  Sprinkle with salt and, holy summer delight, Batman, you got a sandwich to beat all sandwiches.

We Chicks Like To Relax Outside After A Hard Day of Work

Here are the chicks in their temporary recycling box home. I move them outside at the end of the day spent in a hot, smelly garage.  Fresh Air!  They had a hard day of eating, sleeping, peeping and pooping.  I had to do those four thing on top of more difficult tasks like lifting weights at the gym, mowing the lawn paying bills and general adulting.  It's exhausting.  I had to put a window screen on top of the box because the chicks have grown and are pretty good at jumping.  I'm afraid they'll jump out of the box.

I had to do more work than the chickens. That is why I get to enjoy a small cup of Cabernet savagnion and they don't.  Yes, it is in a Peanuts jelly jar.  Don't judge. It's dishwasher safe.

I invented this chickmobile.  You might have thought a chickmobile was a 65 Red Ford Mustang, a 69 Dodge Charger, an El Camino or a 1974 Oldsmobile Toranado (which says more about the guys I dated than maybe I want to let on) but no, a chickmobile is a recycling box atop an antique Radio Flyer.  From now on it is smooth sailing for these 9 chicks and less bending and lifting for this old chicken farmer's arthritic joints.

Game of Chicken

Canadian Geese and Honda Fit engage in a game of chicken at the Anoka County Library.  Geese win.

Decisions! Decisions!

I know dandelions are weeds but I am more tempted to applaud than pull this one growing in the crack of my sidewalk.

Drama on 164th Lane

Once upon a time Mr. and Mrs. House Wren decided to raise their brood in a blue bird house.  The owner of the property purchased and placed that house specifically for blue birds because of their attractive appearance, beautiful song, and need for housing.  The owner was not as fond of house wrens because of their plain brown color, their tendency to make their less than pleasant noises for 2 hours prior to her clock radio alarm, their tendency to fill every bird house in the neighborhood with 2 inch sticks just so others can't use it, and their very healthy population.  Nonetheless, the property owner decided to leave this house wren family alone.  

Eventually the eggs hatched.  The baby house wrens grew up healthy, loud and strong. "Fledge," said Mr. House Wren. For a house wren to fledge is equivalent to a teenaged human going to high school and getting a part time job. Some of it's needs are met but not all.  Most of the baby house wrens fledged.  

One baby house wren did not fledge.  "Fledge!" said Mrs. House Wren.  

The last remaining house wren said, "No thanks." 

 "You have to fledge!" said Mr. House Wren.

"Whatevs!" said the last remaining house wren.  As it rested and waited for it's parents to bring it more food the house wren gazed down on the chicken coop 5 yards away.  The last house wren remaining thought about living the life of a chicken.  Plentiful food and fresh water are delivered daily. Some days that chicken got a bite of squash, some organic lettuce or a handful of black sunflower seeds.  This chicken had it made in the shade thought the reluctant-to-fledge house wren.

One day the baby house wren decided to live with the chicken.  Somehow, unbeknownst to anyone, it managed to invade the chicken coop.  The little house wren tasted the chicken feed.  The house wren thought the laying egg mash sold by Anoka Independent Feed & Meal was not as tasty as the mosquitoes, the spiders, the beetles and the caterpillars it was used to eating.  And the water in the black rubber bowl was not as fresh as the water in the puddles in the driveway.  The chicken noticed the house wren inside it's fenced enclosure but was not alarmed or upset.  After a while the house wren changed it's mind.  Rather than live like a chicken, this wren wanted to fledge, to fly free, to soar after mosquitoes and enjoy fresh caterpillars again. The little house wren forgot how it got it.  It panicked and flew around and around the enclosure hitting it's head against the chicken wire.  The house wren's mother noticed the distress and came over to help.  That is when the property owner noticed the drama, put aside her browning onions and zucchini, grabbed her camera, and came outside.

"Oh, great" thought the little house wren as it flew in a panicked motion that makes it hard to be photographed, "she's taking my picture.  I'll be the Lindsey Lohan of the house wren community now."  But once the lid was off the chicken run, the little house wren flew away, now enjoying it's role as a newly fledged house wren.

The End

The Story Of The Lost Child

I got hungry reading this Neopolitan book.  The description of the tomatoes, the olive oil, the pasta and the red wine served in the family homes in Naples were so vivid I could almost taste them.  I wanted to be at those tables slicing the bread and gathering the dishes to wash.  I listened to this book on CD and I loved the way the names were pronounced.  Eleanora, for example, was El-lee-ah-nor-ah.  So beautiful.  What I didn't like was that the beginning of every single disc the title of the book was read and it kept reminding me that one of the children in this story would be lost.  Which one?  Day-day?  Elsa? Oh, I hope it's not them.  There are only four children in the story so it has to be one of them.  The book is split into three segments and it isn't until the beginning of the final segment that I learned who was lost.  The story focuses on the ever evolving friendship of two strong women - Lila and Lenu. There are men in the story, lots of strong, virile, Italian men but they mere moons compared to the planetary status of Lila and Lenu.  One of the women is educated, strong, and famous.  The other is uneducated, strong, and also famous.  How important is fame when living on the street on which your were born in Naples?  Fame can be fleeting and fragile.  The bond between these two woman is strong.  One might die for the other while also wanting to murder her at the same time.  The women are the glue that holds their families together.  I loved The Story of the Lost Child by Eleana Ferrante.  And now I learn that this is the fourth book in a series.  Lucky me! I got 3 great books ahead of me to grab onto.

Crazy, Evil Vegetable

What this evil vegetable can do to you - no one is immune.

Wild Parsley plant

 This week I learned something new.  Wild parsley, a terrible plant that will raise huge blisters on everybody's skin if they touch the plant and are exposed to sunlight, evolved from a vegetable.  I think of vegetables of being innocent. I was wrong.  Unlike most invasive species that I know, evolved from a mistake by nurseries selling ornamental varieties, this evil scourge evolved from, of all innocent places, the vegetable garden.  A vegetable will burn the heck out of your skin and could, potentially, put you out of work for months!  Who would think a humble vegetable could be capable of such murder and mayhem? Poison ivy will bother some people (me!) and leave others alone.  Wild parsley will blister all of us without discrimination.  I've seen it too.  I've seen entire fields of wild parsley and ditches up to your eyeballs of this dangerous plant.  Crazy, evil vegetable!  What is next?  Killer carrots?  Murderous mushrooms?  Homicidal horseradish?  It makes me rethink being a vegetarian.  As far as I know, there is none by my house.  Let's hope it stays that way.  I can tell you though, if you go to Rice Lake State Park - stay out of the fields and ditches!

Dissolve My What?

Don't Eat Me!

On Wednesday I went to a Master Naturalist gathering where one of our members gave us a talk on mushrooms.  She collects mushrooms. She is a member of the Minnesota Mycological Society and she encouraged us to join as well. That group offers guided mushroom forays twice a month in the summer.  The fall dinner alone is worth the twenty dollars it costs to join.  She knew a lot about mushrooms.  She gave us each a guide book to look through while she talked about the more common mushrooms.  This white one in the photo on the left is quite common in yards and woods.  It will kill you; kill you dead.  It's called the Angel of Death and death comes by, get this, dissolving your liver.  There are a lot of ways to meet my maker but I do not want to dissolve my liver before I go. I am hesitant about eating mushrooms that I pick out of the ground.  I will buy them at grocery stores and coops and I will grow my own, and I'd eat a morel if I was sure it was a morel, but other than that, no, no thank you.  After listening to her engaging and relaxing discussion about mushrooms, I am not more or less likely to eat a mushroom that I found.  I am curious about the Mycological Society though.  Right now I feel like my life is too busy to join another group but I will keep it in mind if my life ever slows down.

Benefits of New Chicks

In this day an age when the news is full of shootings and lives that matter and political opponents who want the opposition "locked up,"  it is helpful to me to have chickens. A mental health professional was shot for helping a client with autism calm themselves.  I have been there, on the sidewalk in the public, calming people with Autism in ways most folks do not understand.  What is the world coming to?  Chickens ground me.  Chickens help me know what matters.  Chickens lower my pulse and lower my blood pressure. With new chicks in my garage, I can call my neighbor and say, "Come over and look at my new chicks."  I can celebrate that I have the kind of neighbor who will come over and admire chicks for a couple hours on a hot summer day.  I see a coworker who is stressed out by an angry phone call. I can relieve her stress just a little bit by talking about my chicks who, when walking around, get tired and fall over and you'd think they were dead but you know they're just so tired they fall asleep while walking around. Once they're  a month old they will loose that funny "fall asleep while walking" behavior.  Those darn chicks, they ground me.  I come home, every day, worried about the temperature of my garage. When I open the garage door with my remote control and see that the temperature of the garage is 90 degrees, I feel a joy I don't normally feel.  My life is changed because of these chickens.  And, by the way,l I have 9 chicks, not 8 like I thought.I missed a pretty important fact and thanks to my neighbor's amazing arithmetic skills, I know better now.  I owe my sibling $5.  Oh, these chicks are so freaking cute I can't stand it.  My neighbor and I talked about names.  I was thinking about the Golden Girls (Dorothy, Blanche, Sophia and Rose).  I think the cuckoo Maran should be named Rose because, of all the Golden Girls, she seems to be on the cuckoo spectrum. For the Polish chickens I though of names like Vladimir and Nicholai. She suggested Little House of the Prairie names such as Laura, Carrie, Mary, Ma Ingalls and Nellie Oleson.  Great ideas my neighbor's have.  What a relief to think about basic things like chicks and survival instead of politics, global warming, and invasive species. I needed a mental break. These chickens provide that for me.  These chicks are just what the doctor ordered.  Oh, and by the way, at lunch today I got suggestions for names for my chicks that include Mildred, Ethyl, Gertrude, Sweet and Sour, Almondine, Kentucky Fried, BBQ, and Fingers.  Also, you might not have known this, in the city of Blaine, a resident needs to apply for a chicken license that costs $45!  What? That really raises the cost of eggs!  Another suggestion was to have a chicken cam so my coworkers can watch my chickens for my while I am at work. Maybe I should start a Go Fund Me page for a Go Pro camera so I can make a live feed for the chicken cam ?  Would you be interested in watching a chicken cam?  Crazy ideas help keep us sane in an world that seems, at times, insane.         

Beer Drinking Birders

Yesterday was an unusual day for me because I drove to a brewery in Stillwater and drank beer.  As part of the appreciation dinner for us crazy birders, the Audubon Society put on an appreciation potluck and we got one free beer.  So I took my token and went up to the bar and was asked what I liked. I asked, "What is the best kind of beer for people who don't like beer?"  I was given a sample. The woman next to me said I should try some kind of beer with the word tropic in the name.  I didn't like the sample so I asked for the tropic beer.  Yeah, I didn't like that either but I could taste a little bit of grapefruit juice behind that nasty beer taste. I drank about 20% of the glass during the evening where we heard about our efforts.  We all got an Audubon calendar and a thank you card.  One woman got a special prize because, twice in her marsh bird surveys, she was stopped by the sheriff and questioned about her suspicious activity.  She can laugh about it now.  There was a trio of older men on one survey and I had met them earlier in May at the training.  They were stopped by an angry and aggressive property owner who spat tobacco at their feet and said he would follow them as they got off of his road.  I always thought public roads were not personal property but I guess not everyone agrees with that.  With good company, good food, and some nasty beer, we all had a great evening together talking about exciting bird sightings and places to go to see wonderful birds.  I was a little nervous all the way home.  I have never driven with beer breath before.

Ee Yi Ee Yi Oh!

Relatively young Orange Sue had a farm.  With a chick chick here.

And a chick chick there.

Here a chick.

There a chick.

Every where a chick chick.

The farm includes 5 silver Polish (because I'm part Polish and the feathers in their eyes will make them easier to catch), 2 Americaunas (green eggs!) and 1 cuckoo maran (who could resist a chicken variety with a natural Mohawk and cuckoo in the name?)

My View

I stayed in a bedroom with this view over the weekend.  As I went to sleep I heard four tree frogs talking, the occasional squawk of a ring necked pheasant, mourning doves cooing and, for some unknown reason, the constant quacking of a mallard duck in the distance.

In the morning I heard and saw a least fly catcher talking.  Robins and grackles added to the chorus. In the distance a sand hill crane bugled. In the naked branches of that dying tree I see a hummingbird perch for a couple minutes waiting for his turn at the sugar water. The rows of soybeans on the hill will improve the soil by capturing and retaining nitrogen. With the soybeans will come Asian ladybugs who will, no doubt, try to climb into this house by the thousands for the winter.

I love staying in this farm house. The rolling hills and green fields have a side effect of making my heart beat a little more slowly and my blood pressure goes down.  My eyes feel comforted with the many shades of green. Yes, I know there is still turmoil in our society but right now, because I am up here, my mind is at ease.  As I left my comfortable room in the morning I was startled to see this hook and eye lock on the outside of the door. I wonder why.

Right Here, Right Now

That moment, when you have lumpy mashed potatoes in your mouth, when you realize how lucky you are to be here, in this room.  In this room where your Grandfather played the spider game, moving his fingers in a menacing way toward your fingers waiting for you to react 55 years ago.  You are back in this very same room wondering how we all fit around the table (positioned between the hand washing sink provided by Sears Robuck catalog and the exceptionally low kitchen sink). You are eating with your 89 year old father, 87 year old uncle and 86 year old aunt (who, single handedly made the stew meat you are not eating because you are a vegetarian) and thinking, "'This is one of the most awesome moments in my entire life."  I am a very lucky woman.

 

The Grapes of Wrath

Never have I had as much reviewing a book as I did with The Grapes of Wrath this week.  I researched the sh heck out of this book.  I read it.  I read another book about why it was banned.  This book was banned for several reasons.  The economic reasons created the most controversy but there is some language and the ending upset; possibly shocked many people.  I watched the movie.  I watched the movie again with commentary by one professor who  specialized in the author, John Steinbeck and another professor who specialized in the director, John Ford.  This story was made into an opera and I checked that out of the library and although I didn't listen to the entire opera, I did find out that the ending went even further than the ending in the book.  By the way, this book has one of THE BEST ENDINGS of any book you've ever read.  There is one lady in our group who is very well read and has been in this book club for over 30 years and is in several other book clubs as well.  When she praised the book, the ending of the book, and the writing of the book, she was so enthusiastic I felt a joy bubble up in me.  If I can select a book that impresses her this much, it's a good book.  The beauty of it is the book is part a great human story but it is also a journalistic report on the migrant workers in California in the 1930's.  When you watch the film and the camera enters a migrant camp, that is an actual migrant camp you are seeing and the thin, ragged people on the screen are actual migrants.  I think John Steinbeck was a brave man to write this novel and to stand up to the publishers who wanted to tone it down.  After this book John Steinbeck traveled with a gun for his own protection and he never rented a hotel room without a companion for fear he would be set up on a rape charge.  He was not a popular man in the agricultural community where he was born.  I wish we had more authors who could write such a great novel about social injustices in our society now.  The disparaging talk about "Okies" reminds me of the way some conservatives talk about Muslims now. This novel didn't solve the migrant crisis but it didn't allow all of us to sweep it under the rug. 

Tired, Old and Not Doing Much Anymore

Yesterday I was in a meeting.  One of the people at the meeting is chronically assertive, loud, and talkative (CALT for short).  She thinks it's appropriate to share every single thought that comes into her head.  I brought a cup of coffee to one guest at the meeting.  They thanked me and said the coffee was good.  I said I was glad to hear it and the coffee was Folgers.  The CALT person said, "Everybody I know grew up with Folgers coffee but not me, my family drank Butternut coffee."  I said, "So (insert name of the person for whom we are meeting here)."  The CALT person said, "Oh, that Sue, she doesn't want me to talk about myself."  And I responded with, "Message received."  I know it was a tad sassy but I have worked with this CALT for 20 years.   I know her.  I know what works and what doesn't work. My comment didn't stop her of course.  She continued to express every thought in her mind and to interrupt other people who are answering questions with her own questions which, if she would just wait a doggone minute, they were going to answer.  I truly believe she thinks these meetings are her chance to engage in performance art.  She is over the top rude and assertive.  After the meeting a coworker said, "Oh, I liked what you said to (insert name of CALT here)!  You got balls."  I was stunned.  Why is an assertive response to rudeness considered masculine?  This was a female coworker telling me this.  I know she meant it as a compliment but I don't have balls.  I have ovaries; tired, old, not doing much anymore ovaries.

In Italy

My granddaughter lives in Italy.  Italy is different than the USA. In Italy, babies are cherished and shared.  In the grocery story an older woman will extend her arms and expect that you will hand your baby over to her and she will hold her while you shop in peace for 10 minutes.  At a restaurant, if your baby is fussy, the waitress will scoop her up and take her on a personal tour of the kitchen for 10 minutes so you can eat in peace.  Hand your most precious possession off to a stranger? In Italy it is accepted practice.  Luckily for all, my offspring and his wife accept and welcome cultural differences. I think that is cool.

A Jealous Little Brother

A friend of mine has a 14 year old son who is jealous of his 17 year old sister.  He's not jealous for reasons you might think. He's not jealous that she is heading off to Mankato State to go to college and the freedom that involves.  He is not jealous that she can drive and get a job.  Born in 2002, he is jealous that she was born in 1999.  She has already lived in two centuries and he hasn't.  She has a chance, if she is lucky, to live in three centuries.  If he is lucky, he will live in two centuries which is something she has already accomplished.  I am impressed with the thinking of this philosophical young man.  I am not as philosophical.  I don't feel accomplished that I have lived in two centuries because I had nothing to do with it.  When we are born is not a choice people can make.  I don't think  like this teen thinks.  The variety of people and the variety of our thoughts are what make this world a beautiful place.

Third and Final Frog & Toad Survey

Last night five of us went on the third and final frog survey in Kroshel.  The sky was mostly clear and the moon was visible as a banana shaped object in the sky almost orange as we left.  The temperature was about 65 degrees and the wind was still.  The air smelled like freshly cut clover. The mosquitoes were ravenous at the first 5 stops but must have went to bed after that.  We heard some tree frogs and several green frogs.  At the fifth stop we heard a very low rumble as we got out of the car.  The rumble was loud and low and ominous.  We also heard a hysterical cow crying. Each inhale and exhale was a scream.  That was disturbing but the low, rumbly baritone growl was worse.  At this stop, on a corner, we have always seen a really high fence.  I questioned what kind of animals needed such a high fence; buffalo, giraffes?  Whatever was behind that fence was not happy with us.  I thought it sounded like a bear.  Seriously, it was a scary sound.  See, this is why I could never do this frog and toad survey on my own.  Without the other four people around me sharing their feelings about this huge beast who was upset by our presence, I would have turned tail, got into my car, and gone home pronto.  The first cow stopped the hysterical screaming.  A calf cried a couple times.  Then another cow to the south of us took up the hysterical screaming  while the rumbling growl continued.  Was the cow giving birth? Was it a bull behind that fence?  That was our best guess.  Not even the dancing fireflies could take my attention off of that scary sound.  Five minutes can last so long sometimes.  I was glad to get away.  At White Lily lake we heard green frogs talking continuously.  A couple times a harsher sound came to us - almost like two stones rattling together or a hammer striking wood.  Mink frogs!  Our third species of the night was mink frogs.  I hoped to hear snipe or owls or loons but no luck on that. We had a good evening. Five people spending time together listening to the sounds of the night and appreciating Mother Nature.  I didn't get home until 1:30 a.m.  I went right to bed glad to be far away from that growling, menacing bull (or whatever it was).

Herbal Hair Rinse

My sibling got me some herbal hair rinse and I liked it. My hair is squeaky clean when I use it. So I thought I'd make some of my own.  I used sage.  I used sage for two reasons.  One is that sage means wisdom and good judgment and I can use all of that I can get.  The second reason is that I got four 18 inch lengths of fresh sage in my CSA (consumer supported agriculture) allotment.  I didn't know what else to do with the sage.  I don't eat turkey and sage has a strong taste on salads. 

Ingredients:  19 ounces of water, 4 18 inch lengths of fresh sage, 2 ounces of white vinegar.  Method:  Remove the sage leaves from the stem and combine with clean water. Heat the water until boiling and simmer for 15 minutes.  Strain through cheesecloth.  Put liquid in a plastic bottle (preferably with a squeeze top if you have one).  Add 2 ounces of vinegar.  I like how my hair feels when I use it plus I feel good about not buying more products containing questionable ingredients in plastic bottles.

The Black Squirrel

Tonight I got home from work.  I thought about mowing the lawn.  So when I got to the kitchen I asked my canary (yes, I talk to my canary) "Do I look capable of mowing the lawn right now?"  Before my canary could answer my eyes caught sight of something in the back yard and I was distracted.  The black Squirrel!  I have heard about this elusive black squirrel.  My neighbors and I talk about things like black squirrels, the occupancy rates of our bat houses (mine is 0% occupied and theirs is full), buckthorn, garlic mustard, turkey sightings, deer sightings, red shouldered hawk sightings, great crested fly catcher sightings and fox sightings.  The black squirrel has hung around their house for six months.  And although I glanced at the black squirrel at their house, I had never really seen it until today in the grass under my bird feeder. I went to get my camera.  When I got back the black squirrel was a foot off the ground hanging onto my basswood tree. I turned on my camera and zoomed my lens.  When I focus on the tree the black squirrel has disappeared.  Oh, the elusive black squirrel. I hope to see you again.  By the time I changed into my mowing clothes, rain had started to fall.  Thank you Mother Nature!  I really didn't want to mow anyway tonight.

I Opened A Package From 2009

2009 was the year that I entered the chicken raising hobby.  And it has been very rewarding in ways I could not imagine.  At that time I ordered a coop and a run from a small company in Michigan.  My shipment came on a big truck.  By mistake they sent me a red coop (like I had ordered) and a green run (like I didn't order).  I emailed them and they sent me another run only this time in red.  I set that 4 foot tall, 3 feet wide carton aside and used the green run since I had already put it together.  Between 2009 and 2016 the run has been moved many times.  During the winter the run stays stationary but during the spring, summer, and fall the run gets moved to a new spot of grass every week. The run is showing wear and tear from being lifted and dragged through the prairie grass or across the entire yard.  This run has been attacked by chipmunks, red fox and gray fox.  It holds together but barely.  Soon I am expecting new chicks.  So now seemed to be the appropriate time to assemble the red run.  As I type that sentence I am reminded that murder spelled backwards is red rum.  These runs come unassembled and without directions.  I can tell you this though - the second time putting one together is easier than the first; even when the first was 7 years ago.

Here is the run after 3 hours of work. All ready for new chicks to arrive in July.

In 2009 I sent an email saying a chunk of wood came off one of the legs of the coop. So they sent me more paint in a water bottle.  This red paint has been frozen and heated in my garage since 2009.  The chunk missing seems insignificant now and I had to laugh at the sight of Aquafina red paint.

These are the parts of the run before assembly.  Just opening the carton took a half hour.  I'm glad to have it now though.  A sturdy run will be good for Chicken Caruso and her new Polish and Americana chicks. I told her she is expecting.  Does she understand?

I Made A Bad Decision

This weekend I purposely made no plans.  A couple people needed help and I could help them without worry because I had no plans. I worked on my yard. I thought I would focus on my driveway.  When leaves enter the top of a low-slung Honda Fit, it's time to trim back the foliage.  Past time, probably.  Plus I found a Fisker's pruning saw that I forgot I asked for on my Amazon wish list.  I found it. And wow, what a saw it was.  I pruned and pruned and pruned.  Now my Honda Fit can navigate down the driveway with a single leaf entering the moonroof and caressing my face.  During this pruning session I realized I had made a bad decision. I have made many bad decisions and we don't have all night so we can't go into all that.  But this decision I took special care to make right (or, in this case, wrong).  I researched.  This is PG (pre Google).  I took a community ed class on landscaping. I asked the instructor,  I asked at various gardening nurseries. I wanted to select the absolute best plant to make a privacy hedge.  I ordered the dam bare-root plants from the Soil and Water Conservation District and you'd think they would know.  I planted a hedge of amur maple.  Bad Decision!  I actually put more time and thought into this hedge decision than the college I attended, my major in college, my career path and my marriage.  And yet I made a  bad decision.  Amur maple!  Now on the list of plants to  be avoided, I planted 25 bare-root amur maples. They all took and thrived.  I pruned them so they'd be full and wholesome. I watered them and tended them. And now the Amur maples are full and wholesome, fifteen feet high and terrifically prolific.  Time wasted there! They are spreading all over like crazy.  Hundreds of helicopter seeds now top their branches.   My city has decided Amur maple are on the list to be avoided.   Criminey!  I even went to the Minnesota Arboreteum in Chanhassen to look over the various hedges in order to make a good decision,  I remember this because on my hike through the  various hedges I dropped my car keys and had the double back. It is now time to face the facts. I made a bad decision.  So with my new Fiskar's pruning saw (which was on my Amazon wish list but I forgot about) I pruned down the Amur Maple that dared to enter the sunroof of my Honda Fit.  It was the one closest to my driveway. Like a wasp, this six legged creature was no match for my Fiskars pruning saw. One Amur maple down.  24 to go. Plus I got defined pipes.  So what does this mean?  Is detailed research and thoughtful planning a waste of time? I can't believe that.  What I can believe is what we know as true could, with research, become known as false.

A pruned driveway does not enter the sunroof of a Honda Fit.

This six legged creature was not match for my Fiskar's pruning saw.  Amazing what a sharp edge  and my amazingly strong biceps can do!

 

I Need To Hire A New Advertising Agency!

Sorry, but I am stuck on the cable series, Mad Men, which is about advertising agencies in the 1960's (a really good series and worth watching).  Be still my heart, Don Draper.  In any case, seeing I had Baltimore Orioles eating my grape jelly, I decided to put a half an orange on deck to attract these beautiful orange birds closer to me and closer to my camera. Here is what I got.

You may have a reddish orange back of the head but you are not a Baltimore oriole.  You are a red bellied woodpecker eating an orange.  Fruity bird!

And you are definitely not a Baltimore Oriole.  You don't even have wings - you, you, you - two fisted orange eating rodent!

Twice in Two Days

Twice in two days now I have been asked about my last name after showing someone my gym card or credit card.  The fellow at the gym shares my last name except his is hyphenated with another name.  He has family near Urbank, MN so we must be related.  Once we figured that out I extended my hand and said, "Nice to meet you cousin."  Last night at a Thai restaurant in NE Minneapolis, our charming waiter asked if I was related to Andra Suchy.  I really don't know. Maybe I am.  I believe she is from North Dakota.

Worth It.

The Baltimore orioles ate all my grape jelly.  So I needed more. I thought I'd stop at the grocery store to buy some cheap, generic grape jelly.  As a child the jelly most available was grape jelly and frankly, I can't stand it.  But I buy it for the orioles.  Orioles like grape jelly and they ate it all gone.  But who wants to walk into Cub and do all that walking on arthritic legs to buy food for the birds?  I stopped at my local gas station/superette and bought some grape jelly.  Yes, I paid more but the sight of those orange birds in my very own yard was well worth the cost.

At The Edge of the Orchard

This book, At The Edge of the Orchard by Tracy Chevalier made me sad.  Sad because when it was over I wasn't ready for it to be over yet.  I listened to it on CD and didn't realize I was on the last one until the person on the CD said, "The End."  I wasn't ready for the end.  I loved this book.  A couple chapters were in the form of letters that never reached their destination.  The first part of the book is about a poor farm family living in a swamp in Ohio trying to grow apple trees.  The farmer and his wife have a volatile relationship.  The second half of the book is about one of their boys, Robert Goodenough, making his way west. Robert is a lot like his father and is also very much into trees.  But it was Robert's mother, Sadie Goodenough that intrigued me.  Sadie was designed to abhor.  She was a terrible person.  She was mean and vengeful.  She drank to excess. She abused her husband and her children.  She was promiscuous, sarcastic, toxic, and selfish.  But her story, and the things she said, made me somehow understand why she acted the way she did. All his life Robert traveled west to get away from his family.  At the end of the book, he journeys east and that is where the story abruptly ends.  I loved this story.  I would have loved it more if it was longer.