Walking With A Toddler

Walking around the base with a 23 month old gives me plenty of time to stand around and wait while she explores the heavy ant traffic streaming across the sidewalk or the bird caca lying there.  I took a picture of this bird of paradise flower.

I am still waiting ten minutes later ten feet away from the first flower.  I stare up at this for a long time before I see that the flowers are shaped very much like the first flower.  Could this be a white bird of paradise?

And here we are back at the first bush again.  Her views are usually closer to the ground.  I look up at the volcano and the flowers and the trees.  She looks down at the ground.  She bends over, rests her hands on her knees, content to look as long as the ants don't start crawling up her legs.  Ants crawling up her legs is something she definitely does not like.

Waiting

Here is Sicily I am waiting for my second grandchild to appear.  It has been almost two years so I almost forgot what it is like waiting in hope for a loved one to suffer pain.  So far she feels no pain and I feel good and bad about that.  The end of pregnancy is not a time where a parent has much control - a huge warning sign that parents don't ever have much control over their children.  We sit, we walk, we wait and eat great food. My granddaughter plays and calls out "Grandma?" as I wash the dishes.  I reply, "Yes, dear?"  She repeats "Grandma?" 25 times.  Twenty five is a lot of repeats but the sound of her little voice does not get old. We wait.  Sometimes, well, more than sometimes, every time we leave the Navy base we drive over bumpy roads.  The roads to the base are extremely bumpy.  We go to a dinner party at a friend's house. I meet people from China, Hawaii, Romania, and Brazil.  We sit outside eating in the yard while ash from Mount Etna settles on our hair, clothes and food.Waiting is good. Waiting can be fun.

Schipol

You give up a lot when you travel.  You give up money, comfort, privacy, control, food, drinks, and even the time of day.  Finding my way through the airport in the Netherlands has not been too difficult so far.  At first the Dutch language reminded me of the German or Polish I heard as a kid.  Now that I am waiting for the next connection, the language has shifted to more Italian. I prepared for this trip by watching a collection of Sicilian movies. I still can't understand the language but it feels familiar.   I had a long wait in the security line for non-European passports.  On a giant two story window was a huge clock with a diameter of about 15 feet.  The hour hand was dark brown.  A figure of a man behind frosted glass painted the minute hand very carefully.  When the minute was up he wiped off the paint with a rag and proceeded to paint the next minute hand.  He paints and cleans up paint every minute around the clock. He has to bend down because he keeps his supplies on the floor by his feet, down by the 6. If you have to stand in line for a long time, this unusual clock certainly helped pass the time.

Proposals

Today at lunch we were talking about proms.  That lead us to proposals to go to prom which are now known as promposals.  One coworker's daughter was invited to prom by a huge banner held aloft by the ladder on a local fire truck.  One coworker felt that the elaborate proposals to go to prom will lead to higher expectations for marriage proposals.  We talked about marriage proposals.  One woman at the table told her future husband that they were getting married.  That marriage is still on.  Another woman at the table was asked for her hand in marriage but responded by saying, "Let me see the ring first."  That marriage is still on.  Another woman at the table said, "You're kidding, right?"  That marriage is still on.  An older man is at the table and he isn't saying much. He is quietly munching on his sandwich and staying out of the conversation.  So I ask him, "How did your proposal go?"  He swallows his sandwich and says, "I just knelt down to tie my shoe. It was untied.  I was totally innocent but she said 'Yes' and now we've been married for 53 years."  His story was voted the best.

A Dictionary of Mutual Understanding

You can learn about history by studying history books and memorizing dates. To know history you have to hear the stories of the real people involved. A Dictionary of Mutual Understanding gave me an understanding of world war two that I did not have before and greatly appreciate now.  At the beginning of each chapter Jackie Copleton gives the definition of a Japanese concept which I think was an extraordinary way of introducing what comes next.  This books covers difficult and uncomfortable ideas in a gentle and healing way.

One Hundred Years of Solitude

I picked up this book from the library because I saw it on a list of best novels somewhere. I had no idea it had been translated into 37 languages.  The story takes place in Columbia, South America and covers 100 years and seven generations of the Jose' Arcardio Buendiaz and his wife Ursula.  This couple founds the town of Macando.  Some of the stories involve magic and some involve actual events in Columbia.  Many things happen in 100 years including civil wars and American fruit companies taking advantage of the country folk.  The railroad comes to town. The male heirs of Jose' and Ursula tend to be reckless and impulsive and the females are strong and successful.  I liked this book because it is so different from those I usually read.

Minnesota Valley Wildlife Refuge

Today a sibling and I visited the refuge across from the Minneapolis airport for a marshbird training.  Like last year a male turkey was positively vibrating in self-approval at the window almost the entire time.

After our training we went for a walk and saw all these violets blooming.  This picture doesn't do it justice because it was literally a carpet of  purple, light purple, and white blooms. We walked all the way down to the river bottoms in search of the Dutchman's Breeches we saw last year. No luck there but ironically we heard a sora rail and a Virginia rail calling!.

 

We hike back up the hill and what does my sibling spot?  Dutchman's breeches!

What the H?

As I get out of the car at the gym I notice mud on my tires.  I see mud on the rubber and mud on the hubcap. I see mud on the driver side tires way beyond the rubber up into the metal parts.  Then I remember that I drove on the left side of the road.  The worst road involved the passenger tires.  Wowser!  I see mud all the way to the H!  Granted, newer tires are not as wide as older tires but that was some very deep ruts I drove through!  I'm sincerely glad I didn't know this last night.  Let this only be the beginning of the shenanigans this vehicle will get into!

Frog and Toad Survey #1

Last night was a fine night to be out listening for frogs. We had no wind and no moon. The stars were big and bright.  The conditions were just perfect for the loudest wood frog symphony that I have ever heard.  The spring peepers were also calling and the boreal chorus frogs too and that is all well and good. To me the wood frog noise is more special because they call for a shorter span of time than other frogs.  We were out there listening when in the distance a car would start coming toward us. We can hear the tires rolling on the pavement for more than a mile away.  The sound of tires on a road completely covers the sound of the wood frog.  I can hear the spring peepers and the chorus frogs as the car rolls past but not the wood frogs. As soon as the sound of the car is gone the sound of the wood frog rushes back at us and we wonder how we could not hear that! Do wood frogs and tires have the same low frequency? We heard a winnowing snipe. We heard a pair of barred owls calling back and forth at probably half of our ten stops.  We heard a great horned owl too and after that the barred owls quit talking.  We heard a loon call.  We saw a lot of rain in the ditches on the way up there.  The roads weren't too bad until we got to Teal Road - the same spot where we got stuck in a frost boil many years ago.  That road was soft.  Other vehicles left deep tire ruts.  From my low vantage point in my Honda Fit, I tried to avoid the deepest ruts as much as I could by sticking to the left side of the road. There were times where the road scraped the bottom of my car.  There was just no way to avoid all the ruts.  The road conditions made me anxious.  I do not want to get stuck in the swamp in the dark again.  To relieve my anxiety I start making noises like a robot as we traverse the worst spots. "Ooh!  Awk! Eeek! Yike!"  The noises help.  Not being alone out here helps even more. We make it through and I am happy to be on pavement once again.  By that time I wasn't feeling too good.  I knew I had a cold and I tried to time the use of Dayquil so that I would be at my best all evening but I must have gotten that wrong.  By the eighth stop this cold had, in the words of Pat Benatar, hit me with it's best shot.  I was sneezing and coughing and my eyes were watering.  Wow. But even with cold symptoms, being out here in the dark was an amazing experience. In a big hurry to get home, nature forced me to slow down.  As I headed east off Highway 169 towards Nowthen, the sky lit up. Green northern lights shimmered in the sky in crazy patterns.  Half of my brain wanted me to pull over and enjoy this spectacle. But it was midnight and I was ill. The other half wanted me to go home, swallow some Nyquil, and go to bed. Ever the diplomat to my own internal struggles, I drove slow until the forest blocked my view of the northern lights.

Romanian Easter Bread

A friend of mine gave me a piece on authentic Romanian Easter bread.  This delicious dessert has rolled layers of dark dough and light dough.  The dark dough has cocoa and nuts and sugar and flour. The light layer has flower and eggs and lots of lemon zest.  The combination of layers is as beautiful as it is delicious.  Tradition says that if you make a wish as you eat your Romanian Easter bread, your wish will come true in the coming year. I made a wish.  I could have wished for magnanimous things such as ending world hunger or stopping global warming or peace on earth.  Peace on earth would have been a good one.  I wished for something totally selfish.  So if you hear that a certain actor is moving to Minnesota to settle, you will know that that was one hell of an effective piece of Romanian Easter Bread.  Which actor?  (Rhymes with Bonnie Koep). I don't want to say.  He's way too young for me.  Out of my league.  Probably high maintenance too. 

Requiem by Fire

After reading Wayne Caldwell's book Requiem by Fire I want to visit the Great Smokey Mountain National Park that is so large it straddles Tennessee and North Carolina.  This story talks about the people dispossessed by the government. The home owners were given the option of a low ball price on their property or they could get less money and still live there but under oppressive conditions.  The conditions for staying on their land where their ancestors were buried were they could not harvest any wood that wasn't laying flat on the ground, couldn't hunt, couldn't manufacture moonshine, couldn't have alcohol on their premises, could not graze their livestock or expand their cultivated fields. They also were not allowed to bury anyone or take fish from the river.  I know people who have had their property taken from them by the city or the state or for a federal organization and it is not easy.  Hard feelings linger for decades and over generations.  I can see why.  Some people adapt to change better than others.  Witnessing the heartache makes me want to visit that park. My enjoyment won't justify the pain they experienced but I still want to go.

Lets Explore Diabetes With Owls

This book will make you laugh out loud at the most unexpected times.  David Sedaris is a hilarious writer and the funny parts sneak up on you when you least expect it.  He can make just about any experience funny - even a colonoscopy.  Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls is not a novel about owls or diabetes.  It is a series of skits and essays.  At the very, very end he adds a dozen short poems about various breeds of dogs that I had to read three times because it was that funny.  Sedaris is disrespectful AND respectful at the same time.  He is a little bit different and very much the same as most people. He has lived in England and in France.  The differences of living in the European countryside are fascinating.  I'm a big Sedaris fan.

Finished!

I started this baby blanket in early January.  I was determined to get it done before I saw the new baby.  Last time i knitted a baby blanket I was casting off the last stitches while in the hospital sitting in the maternity waiting room.  This time my plan was finish one skein a month.

By February I had two skeins complete so I thought I was way ahead.

My pace slowed down in March but now it is done.  I may have overdone it.  I tend to overdo things sometimes. This baby blanket is big. I believe it could cover a dozen babies.  This blanket is so big that if this baby grows to a tall height of six foot two inches, the blanket will still cover them up to the chin. And it's not perfect. I dropped a few stitches.  The knitting isn't completely even.  It's full of mistakes.  But that is acceptable because I am the kind of Grandma who is used to making mistakes, adjusting my course and moving on.  I'd rather be that kind of Grandma than the kind who knits a perfect blanket.

Gobble Gobble Whichity Whichity Whichity

Today I have heard more birds singing.  A flock of seven turkeys came around to visit my chickens in the coop and to scrounge up sunflower seeds from the ground under the bird feeders.  This afternoon, with the windows open, I heard the unmistakable sound of a common yellow throat which normally I hear only by marshes and wetlands.  They're not that common and they're hard to see because they hide in the weeds.  I must be hearing the sounds of a migrating common yellow throat.  I can't ever remember hearing one at home before! 

Trying!

I am trying to cut down on the amount of plastic that I purchase.  In my efforts to help the environment by monitoring Coon Creek and the Rum River, I have ironically lost a plastic bucket into the very streams I have been trying to help.  So no more buying plastic buckets for me.  I also lost a metal bucket and would buy another one of those if I could find one which I can't.  Last year I took a vitamin water bottle that someone else threw away at work.  I cut holes in the top of the 20 ounce bottle and brought the water up onto the bridge with that. That bottle worked so-so.  I found it difficult to get the bottle filled my manipulating the rope and I needed it filled three times to get enough for my secchi tube. Water kept coming out of the holes on the side and made my shoes wet. I couldn't fit my thermometer inside the bottle to get an accurate reading of the temperature.  I recycled the vitamin water bottle and this time repurposed a bigger bottle that held ginger ale.  I cut the bottom off this time.  This bottle fills up easily and I need to fill it only once or twice to get all the stream water I need.  My shoes stay dry. My thermometer fits in there just fine. As I pour the water out I notice that the plastic is thin and I wonder how long this will last.  Even if it lasts only a single season, I still win because I didn't buy more plastic.

The Little Paris Bookshop

A good book will take you away and I traveled to France while I read The Little Paris Bookshop by Nina George.  I traveled on a boat that doubled as a literary apothecary as it traveled from Paris, down rivers, through various canals until it reached the sea.  The book seller, Jean Perdu said that each book is written for one person.  When a customer comes in he can read their emotional needs and prescribe a book.  Having a book drug store sounds like a lovely idea to me and it takes me some times to realize that Jean (sounds like John) Perdu is a ghost of a man.  His heart was broken and he punishes himself without mercy.  Healing begins the day he unties his library boat but like a deep infection, healing can be very painful.  I totally loved reading this story by a German author who now lives in France.

Time To Purge

Yesterday it became apparent that it is time to purge some files in my brain and make room for important stuff, you know, stuff, like the date, my to do list, and where I put my keys.  I had no idea the lyrics to this failed sit-com were in my head until someone said, "It's about time."  If my brain has file drawers, this file must be labeled "Worst sci-fi/comedy sitcoms ever on television."

The Dante Club

If you like hell and layers of hell and maggots and blowflies and death and the gruesome details of autopsies for victims of horrific crimes then you will like The Dante Club by Matthew Pearl.  The first page made my retch but I kept plugging along because my book club chose this.  It was hard.  Very. Hard.  I couldn't do the whole thing.  When I saw the second chapter coming and realized it was more gruesomeness ahead, I skipped to the last chapter and read that next. For me reading this book was like swallowing the prep prior to a colonoscopy.  I hold my breath and use a straw so I don't have to taste the whole flavor. This wasn't my favorite book.  I have to say, this mystery wasn't as annoying overtly formulaic as most mysteries. The entire story wasn't built on fake leads, red herrings, and convoluted hints.  This story was more about the history of famous authors such as Longfellow and Oliver Wendell Holmes and their participation in a secret Harvard club that translated the work of Dante from Italian to English.  No doubt a person who enjoys literary history and can take some gruesomeness would probably enjoy this story.

Fugitive Remanded to Custody

The writer Willa Cather wrote "Success is never so interesting as struggle."  While that is true, I am glad this runaway chicken is back in custody. Frankly I was getting tired of walking around the yard failing to capture this chicken.  Every day of freedom made her a little more wily.  I was pretty sure I would catch her tonight.  I got home at 9:15 pm and looked for her in her usual roosting spot - near the trunk of a blue spruce tree surrounded by poky sharp branches.  She wasn't there!  So I searched the neighboring trees, the wood pile, the deck, the driveway, the coop, and the entire yard making a large circle back to the same spruce tree.  The full moon helped me see better. Coming from the other side, I saw her eye reflect the light from my flashlight.  She was perched close to the trunk on the other side of the spruce and 5 feet higher than before.  Now she was higher than my head.  This wasn't going to be easy.  I turned off my flashlight and stuck it in the waist band of my pants.  I moved closer.  Her branch swayed a little. She stood up.  I was ready for this.  I had my knee boots on, a raincoat to protect me from the sharp stabs, my hood up to protect my hair from getting tangled. and gardening gloves on.  Safety glasses would have come in handy but I didn't have those. She was too close to the trunk for me to get one hand on either side of her so I grabbed her back and her breast and hung on tight.  She squawked and flapped her wings.  I held her tight.  She was mine.  As I carried her across the yard back to her home I gave her a talking to out loud and with much emphasis.  The guilt?  I laid it on as thick as I could.  I told her, "All I ever wanted for you is to give you a safe home with clean water, good food and companionship.  Why did you give me so much trouble?  You acted like I was trying to kill you when all I have ever done is care for you.  Is this the thanks I deserve? All I ask in return is to come home and lay an occasional egg.  I'm a vegetarian for Pete's sake!"

Most Wanted List

This chicken is still a fugitive.  I've laid one hand on her three times but never both hands.  I've never had this much trouble catching or guiding a chicken before. It's hard when she roosts in the spruce tree.  The branches cover her and I keep missing even though I have twigs in my hair and on my back.  Frankly, I am getting a little tired of chasing this chicken.  She doesn't even know where home is. She keeps hanging around the nasty spot where the coop used to be not knowing that I moved the coop to the east side of the house.  She never goes east.  West and north seem to be her favorite directions.  Today I got a text from a panicked neighbor who spied her in the driveway. The neighbor approached her and could tell right away this chicken wasn't having any of that.  I won't get home until late tonight so I'm banking on the effect total darkness has had on my other chickens.  The other chickens become oblivious in the dark.  I could dress them in spandex and video them and they would never even know.  My plan is to nab her tonight and put her in the coop with the other gals where she can have plenty of food and fresh water.  My neighbors said they would help me tonight.  I don't know.  If this doesn't work, I will be in the market for a extra long fishing net.

Container Gardening

My last two classes at the garden fair were on container gardening. The first one involved soil in the containers.  What I learned from that was I need to use a lot more fertilizer than I have been using in the past.  The design tip was thrill, fill, and spill.  Have one taller plant in the center or against a wall to thrill, other plants to fill in the space, and a vining plant to spill over the sides.  The second class was on hydroponic gardening.  I think hydroponic gardening fits my body well.  I didn't get this body that I inhabit by eating right and staying healthy.  I had two kids and I ate plenty of pizza and chocolate.  My joints are stiff. Getting down to weed the soil isn't so hard but getting up again is the problem. With hydroponic gardening, I have no weeding.  I can use a table so I don't have to bend over or kneel on the ground.  I won't need my hoe.  There are a lot of advantages to hydroponic gardening.  As you can see as part of the class we got a starter kit. We drilled 2 inch holes in the top of a tote.  We got 10 little baskets to go in each hole and the perlite and peat go plant with plus fertilizer.  In here I can start romaine, kale, spinach, herbs and other plants.  Beets and kohlrabi can be grown in these little baskets because the bulb forms above the basket.  The basket is too small for a tomato plant. For tomatoes I need a bigger basket and a 5 gallon food grade pail.  In the summer I can garden outside.  In the winter I would need florescent lighting.  We talked quite a while about micro-greens.  I hadn't heard of it before but the tiny little leaves on the outside of some plants such as kale or romaine can be harvested with a scissors and they provide a larger amount of nutrients and flavor than full grown leaves.  I wonder if there is a difference in taste between soil gardening and hydroponic gardening.  I think I will give it a try and find out.  Another option mentioned, if you have a garden pond, is to use a foot square sheet of 2 inch thick Styrofoam, cut 2 inch holes in that, and float your garden outside.

Moving Chicken HQ

Today I decided to move the chickens, the chicken coop and the chicken run to the summer prairie.  As I shooed the chickens into the coop for the move, one Cuckoo Maran turned fugitive. Here she is on the loose.  Look at her excellent form as she runs away in a poultry panic. She was out all day Sunday.  I offered her the chance to join her flock, to enjoy food and water but she wasn't having it.  At sunset she roosted in the lower branches of a spruce tree.  When we tried to catch her she flew off into the woods.  This morning, at 0600 I found her in the same spruce tree.  I got one hand on her and she took off again.  As of now she is still on the loose.  And I have spruce twigs in my hair.  I will have to get up earlier tomorrow.

As you can see, plenty of droppings accumulated since November.  It was nasty.

The manure carpet was four feet long, 2 feet wide, and in varying thickness up to 5 inches thick.  Nasty. The texture was like cake.  I could stick a pitchfork in it and lift five pound chunks of it.  This was some deep s**t. So nasty but it makes for good compost.  As I worked I spied a first of the year turkey vulture overhead, checking out the odor no doubt.



After the move all the captive chickens loved digging in the fresh soil and taking dust baths.



As I shoveled into the compost I remembered when I was a kid and I would ask my mother for something.  Suppose I wanted a certain lunch box or item of clothing.  Culottes for example. Culottes were all the rage back then. She would say, "If the other kids were jumping off a bridge would you jump off the bridge too?" Well, no. I would not jump off a bridge.  That would be too scary. How jumping off a bridge was equivalent to a popular lunch box I did not know.  Other requests of mine were answered with, "If the other kids ate chicken scheisse would you eat chicken scheisse too?"  See scheisse is the German equivalent of what I was shoveling today.  Does saying it in German make it any less nasty?  I don't think so but I was never confident in my answer because, to my knowledge, I had never eaten chicken scheisse and I wasn't 100% confident on what exactly it was.  I was pretty sure it had to be something terrible because of the nature of our conversation. After today, after shoveling 3 full blue boxes of manure, I feel I could answer that question with more confidence than ever before in my life.  I doubt anyone will ever ask me that any more.

I found a deep hole in my yard.  The opening is at least 4 inches and it goes straight down at least a foot.  Who is living here?

The winter headquarters looks a lot better now than it did!

Love Those Gnarly Oaks!

This particularly gnarly one lives behind the Bunker Hills Activity Center in Coon Rapids.

Nefarious!

My second speaker at the garden fair was a young guy named Alex Eits.  He thanked us for coming for coming to hear about a type of plant most people disregard - carnivorous plants.  As a kid I had a Venus fly trap and I thought it was an amazing plant until it died.  You can see hundreds of beautiful looking Venus fly traps for sale at the big box stores in the spring. They all look beautiful but they're all going to die. All those plants are planted in dirt.  The soil is going to kill them.  Carnivorous plants adapted to be carnivorous because they were located in nutrient poor places such as bogs or rocks.  The rich soil will kill them with too many nutrients.  Take that Venus fly trap you bought at Home Depot home and pull it out of the soil.Rinse the soil off the roots.  Plant it in perlite and you might have a chance with it.  Venus fly trap plants are native to only a few counties on the border of southern North Carolina and northern South Carolina so they need to winter.  And here our fluent, talented speaker really showed his talents.  He had the words, he had the moves, he had the facial expressions.  Seriously, he could be on stage he was that good.  He turned to his side to show us his profile.  He bowed his head. He clenched his fist in front of his chest.  Like a television evangelist he told us, "You need to BELIEVE in the power of dormancy!"  He was hysterically funny  I laughed out loud. In the fall he advised us to take that Venus fly trap downstairs to a north window of the lower level and let it get cold (down to 50) and dry out some.  The leaves will wither and turn black.  As long as there is some green at the base of the plant it will come back.  This speaker was so good I could listen to him all day.  We learned about pitcher plants and bladderworts and sun dews.  He even went into taxonomy and it wasn't boring. I very much enjoyed my talk on the nefarious ways of carnivorous plants. 

Garden Fair

A friend and I went to the garden fair today.  I think I have gone to this fair 5 or 6 times before and I think this one was the best one yet. Our first speaker was about rock gardening by the owner of Rice Creek Gardens.  A quiet woman, not the greatest speaker, but very knowledgeable and very much in the moment.  Such poise, I wish I had it.  Technology problems didn't bother her very much at all. She just talked off the cuff while others figured it out.  She had many slides of beautiful rock gardens and the natural spaces that inspired her to create such rock gardens.  Scenes from mountainous regions of our country as well as Scotland and Portugal.  She had lots of beautiful pictures of miniature plants.  Sometimes I wonder about importing a flower from the high hills of Slovenia - is that really a good idea? How do we know this isn't the next invasive problem we have to face?  But if I plant with only native plants I would not have the pop of some of these imports.  I see a pretty pink flower.  Our speaker says, "See the blue eye?"  I didn't see the blue eye until she pointed it out. She notices things that I don't.  She has the eye of an artist.  And although she is speaking quietly and without much outward enthusiasm, I am hooked by the beauty of her words. At the end we have a question and answer period.  Someone asks exactly what I am thinking, "How did you learn so much?"  She answers, and could any instructor of any subject come up with a better, more inspiring answer than what she said, "I made a lot of mistakes."  Rice Creek Gardens is a place I must visit this growing season. 

I Got Smudged

Today was a good day. I got smudged.  Smudging is a Native American way to start a meeting. Burn a braided section of sage in a clam shell. Use your hands to bring to smoke over your head to thank your Creator for being here, on this day, at this place.  At a meeting today I brought the sage smoke over my head four times.  I had a part in this awesome ceremony - a first for us at work as far as I know.  I checked with my supervisor.  I checked with the property management of my building.  He said it would be fine and got transferred soon after that.  So I asked the next property management guy and he said it would be OK because there is no smoke detector in that room and if we kept the door shut and the smudging short, everything would be fine. I informed our receptionist and office manager. Good thing I did that because our receptionist said 27 people came to her and said, "I smell pot!" I was glad to be a part of this ceremony. We might have done it earlier but this person's mother was taken out of her home as a young girl in South Dakota and taken to an Indian boarding school, to be indoctrinated in American culture. I learned today, and this tops my ironic thermometer, she was taught by nuns who spoke only French. I got smudged. Today was awesome!

Who Writes This Stuff?

Last week two siblings and I completed our owl survey.  The forms changed  this year slightly but at each of the ten stops I read this message: [Please remember that surveys should not be conducted under cloudy or windy conditions, or when there is persistent rain.  If such conditions manifest after a route is started, and persist for more than three points, please abort the survey and try again under better conditions.]  Who writes this stuff?  Have you ever, ever seen the words manifest and abort in the same sentence?  Have you ever seen the words manifest and abort in separate sentences?  At every owl stop that sentence kept blowing my mind but I couldn't mention it because I was supposed to be quiet and listening for owls. I read them ten times. As soon as I got back in the vehicle I forgot all about it.  I am impressed with the language used in these instructions.  I want to meet the person who uses such forceful words. If a chance to meet the author of these words manifests, I would welcome the opportunity unless things got creepy in which case I would abort the meeting and go home.

Spring Music

Have you been to the orchestra?   Listened to classical music?  If you pay attention you realize that not all instruments play all the time.  Violins carry the melody but they don't play all the time. The bass keeps the beat but they don't play all the time.  Certain instruments, like the gong or the cymbals play very seldom.  We wouldn't want to hear them all the time.  Trombones and French horns come in to make the music more impressive. Sometimes it's hard to know when the song is over or if there is just a long rest period between segments.  You sure look like a rookie if you clap during a long rest.  I never clap first at the orchestra.  I wait to be sure it's the right time to clap.  When the instruments come in  and go out they improve the sound in ways that can be subtle and overt.  Together it makes for beautiful music.  The coordination of sounds is pleasurable.  Just like an orchestra, so is our natural world. All winter I hear the chickdees saying chickadee deee deee deee.  Some times a blue jay would add a raucous alarm call.  Cardinals add to the chickadees but things in winter are subdued.  In spring other instruments come in.  I heard a song sparrow singing as I walked into the library the other day and to me, that was a violin. What a melodious call the song sparrow makes.  Red winged blackbirds, on the other hand, are not as melodious.  Some of their sounds seem to be percussive and others are repeated short melodies like a viola might play.  The boreal chorus frogs is percussive like a snare drum.  Today I heard a wood frog call only once.  They remind me of the wood blocks.  Meadowlarks are violins. When I drive by with my window open and hear a meadowlark sing to me from a fence post I get the feeling they are singing strictly for my benefit alone.  The woodcock is a clarinet.  A veery is an alto saxophone.  The green frog is a bassoon.  I am not sure about a pheasant - clash cymbals maybe?  Mosquitoes can be a snare drum. Chipmunks calling "munk munk munk munk" are the bass drum.  Eastern bluebirds are cellos.  Together, each creature, bird, reptile, mammal make up the outdoor orchestra of our lives.  Listen.  Pay attention. Figure it out. Hearing is a sensory input not guaranteed to all of us for all of our lives.

My Pal, Migwe

I thought it was ten years this year but I guess I've had my canary, Migwe, for only 9 years.  I received the gift of a canary in 2007 but I didn't pick him up from the Robbinsdale Farm and Garden until late winter in 2008.  My Russian canary named Migwe.  What a pal he has been.  Every morning I say, "Have a good day Migwe" as I leave.  In the evening I say, "Hi. I am home.  Anybody call?"  He doesn't answer me but he does listen.  To celebrate our anniversary I searched my yard for the new dandelion plants.  First of the year dandelion leaves?  Migwe thinks they are delicious.  He's a good bird, that Migwe.  To be honest, he is also messy.  Have you ever tries to sweep up feathers?  Sweeping up feathers is a sisphean task.  I realize that when I eat I drop a few crumbs and spill a few drops.  I think Migwe throws his food out of the cage on purpose and since he eats a lot of round seeds, they roll all over the kitchen.  I sweep up the seeds with a broom and they travel much farther than I wish they would. To help in the clean up task I bought a hand vacuum.  That helps such up the feathers and the round seeds.  But the vacuum also sends a burst of air out the back end and can really send those feathers and round seeds around.  I complain but I love my Migwe.  Does he love me back?  It's hard to tell.  Sometimes I play a you-tube video of a Russian canary singing and Migwe comes alert but he doesn't say thank you.  On the other hand, every time I fill his food dish with fresh food and his water dish with warm water (warm because he always takes a bath first) Migwe looks me in the eye, bends his head down, and opens his wings.  Like a bow to the queen, I take this as a Russian canary version of Thanks!

I'm On A Lucky Streak

Much to my surprise, a sibling picks up the tab for a cheese quesadilla I ate in Pierz Saturday night.  And much to my surprise, another sibling picks up the tab for a mushroom quesadilla I ate on Monday night.  I'm on a streak of quesadilla good luck!

I Know!

I went to bed last night in fine (mostly fine)condition and I woke up this morning with a fat upper lip! What the heck? I look as if I took a blow to the kisser. Violent dreams maybe? I hope the other guy looks worse.  That made me feel old.  On top of that at work I oriented a new employee who happened to be in my Girl Scout troop which also made me feel old.

Skunked Again!

Last night three siblings took to the road to listen for owls near the town of Pierz.  It was April 1st and the weather was unseasonably warm. The sky was mostly clear and as the night wore on more and more stars appeared.  The wind was non-existent which would have made for good owl listening if there were any owls talking.  Another thing that the lack of wind was good for was fires.  Bon fires, ditch fires, field fires, prescribed burns - there were a lot of big a$$ fires going up there in Morrison County last night.  So, we didn't hear any owls but we did hear a woodcock peenting, Canadian geese honking, sand hill cranes bugling, boreal chorus frogs chorusing, cows mooing, dogs barking, radios playing, farm machinery, and even a few bugs buzzing by.  At one point I thought I heard a hoot of an owl but maybe that was just wishful listening because the sound wasn't repeated.  We'll try again next year.