Am I Smarter Than An Apple Tree?

This is my secondary compost pile and the "Y" shaped tree trunk in the left background is my apple tree. My scarecrow in on the right. You might be able to see a little cross at the base of the apple tree, a gift from a good friend for Blunder's burial ground. When we bought this property about 17 years ago, I thought this spot would be the best spot for a compost pile because it was next to the apple tree. Many hours I spent as a kid picking up apples and lugging them around the yard. I thought if I put the compost pile right next to the tree, I can just toss them in and save all that carrying. Good idea, right? Well, it was a good idea for about 10 years. Then the apple tree sensed the rich, vitamin packed soil next to it and started sending roots that way. Eventually the roots threaded up through the soil and spread into my compost. The roots divided and separated and hung onto that compost like a baby hangs onto candy. When it came time to empty the compost in the fall, I felt like I was on the loosing side of a tug of war. I'd stick the pitchfork in and and lift up with momentum only to be stuck in mid-lift. It's no wonder I have a bad back. Eventually I'd end up kneeling in the compost and prying the roots loose from the compost and cutting them out of there. Some of the roots were over 4 feet long and too thick to be cut with the blade of a shovel. To prevent the same thing from happening year after year, I dug down a foot around the perimeter of the compost pile and cut the apple tree roots. That helped for a year. Then the apple tree was smart enough to go down deeper before coming up again into the compost. This year, before putting the leaves into the pile, I laid down some metal from an old sign on top of the bare ground and covered that with a triple layer of landscape fabric. Come next fall, we'll see who is smarter - me or the apple tree.

Happy Halloween

Torn Between Work and Fun

"Do you want to go out riding on Thursday?" he asks. "I can get a bike and we could go on a road trip." I am SO TEMPTED! What fun that would be. But an annual Years of Service Ceremony at work prevents me from taking a mental health day. This annual event is my funnest day at work. We hand out awards to people who have worked for 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, and 30 years. Gifts are selected ahead of time. I am the emcee. I read a short paragraph about each person after they get their gift. Everybody claps. Then we have cake and punch and coffee. We usually have a few things that don't go as planned. One new thing happened this year. I am busy reading when out of the corner of my eye I spy a ladybug on the microphone. How close to that do I want to put my mouth? Not very close. That bug might fly into my mouth. But unless the microphone is close, no one can hear me. I could blow it off but people will hear me blowing. I could pop it off with my finger but the sound of the tap on the microphone will resonate throughout the room. It's really hard to think all these things through when you are reading aloud in front of a group. I trust the ladybug won't make any sudden moves in the next minute or so. After the next paragraph I decide to swing that microphone. That should silently fling that bug out of my way. It works! The Years of Service ceremony is really a lot of fun. But Thursday is supposed to be such nice weather! All week I've been hearing about the weather will be so great on Thursday. The open road and the end of nice weather tempts me. And it is nice out today. So, after completing my emcee duties, I leave work early. I don't have much time but I want to fill up the tank on the motorcycle and go to an auto parts dealer to buy some "Sta-Bil" to keep the gas from getting old in the tank. I could buy the gas additive on my way home and take my motorcycle to the nearest gas station. But that would be no fun! I head west to Elk River figuring I'll find an auto parts dealer there. But instead of going right to the many stores that surround the highway, I head into the neighborhoods. I follow a school bus for a while. I take a right because that way looks tempting. I take a tour of the town looking at all the yards and trying to see past the many political lawn signs. Seems like the most affluent houses have McCain signs. I take a road up a ridge. As I top the hill and look down the other side I think I have ventured into another world. This must be the gravel mine on the north side of town because it looks like the surface of the moon. I think it would be fun to climb those huge hills of gravel on foot but I see "No Trespassing" signs all over the place. I turn around and head back to town. Sometimes I think I know where I am and sometimes I don't have a clue. Eventually I find an auto parts dealer and a gas station. I fill up the tank and treat the gas. I want to be home by six so I won't have to ride in the dark. I put the motorcycle away. Is it away for the season? Yes, unless it isn't. Nice weather might bring it out again.

Livid Again

Earlier this afternoon I got livid during a phone call with Park Dental. I was questioning a bill and instead of answering my questions, the person on the phone became argumentative. So I am in the market for a new dental clinic. Later this afternoon it happened again. I got absolutely livid twice in the same day. I don't often get livid but I wonder, does one episode of feeling livid increase your chances of it happening again that same day? Is the emotion of livid similar to a balloon in that you never quite shrink back down to the same size again? My second episode of being livid was when I read about the triple homicide in Moundsview. Again it was domestic violence. Again, a victim who worked in a day program for adults with developmental disabilities. Is murder and domestic abuse an occupational hazard? What the heck? Do me a big favor, if you have any young boys in your household sit them down tonight and explain your high regard for respect of others. And if you have any young girls in your household, sit them down and explain the same thing plus mention that they themselves deserve respect too.

Spooky Music

On Sunday I had the pleasure of attending the Minnetonka Symphony Orchestra concert called "Spooktacular III." I was invited by a friend of mine who plays the cello. Of all instruments, I think I like the cello the best. The sound is low and lovely. I've loved the cello ever since I saw the movie "Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon." Or was it "Crouching Dragon Hidden Tiger?" Listening to Yoyo Ma play the cello in that movie was awe inspiring. Anyway, this was an informal concert with face painting in the back of the room for children. The orchestra conductor and performers wore costumes. They played Rimsky-Korsakov's "Dance of the Tumblers," Anderson's "Chicken Reel," Tschaikovsky's "Waltz from Eugen Onegin," Sousa's "The Golden Star Memorial March," Kopp's "The Scary House," Saint-Saens' "Dance Bacchanale," Straus' "Tritsch Tratsch Polka," and John William's "March from Raiders of the Lost Ark." During the polka, costumed audience members paraded around our chairs to show off their costumes. One song in particular stood out and it was Sousa's Golden Star Memorial March. Sousa composed a lot of marching music and patriotic music but this one was different. This one is a dirge - a slow march. Sousa wrote this song in 1919 and dedicated it to President Theodore Roosevelt's son, Quentin Roosevelt. Quentin died in 1918 in World War One. He was a courageous (some say reckless) pilot who was shot down over France. In the family photo to the right, Quentin is on the far left, the youngest of the famous family. The Golden Star Memorial March is a very sad and moving song.

Photos of The Last Flowers Of The Season

Some white flakey precipitation fell yesterday so I went outside and took photos of the last, die-hard flowers from the garden including a petunia, black eyed Susan, a yellow snapdragon, some purple petunias and a perennial that has purple bell shaped blossoms. I call them bluebells but I'm not sure what the official name is.

Halloween Party

Last night I went to a Halloween party. I didn't see lots of spooks and goblins but I did see a number of princesses, sexy witches, a storm trooper, a burglar, a nerd, and a dragon. There was lots of spooky food including a punch with a hand in it, a foaming cauldron, sloppy joes (oh, the carnage), strawberry and boogers (green fruit dip), baby toes (cocktail wieners that are pretty big for even for adult toes but it's a kid's party and we shouldn't say what they really looked like), bones (bread sticks from a refrigerated roll with the ends gathered to look like bone ends), apples that were bobbed (best to go first), and chips. I brought some eye balls which I made from dried apple slices topped with a half of a dried apricot (sticky side down) and half a raisin (again, sticky side down). I also brought a brain. I peeled a round watermelon. The directions were in the Star Tribune last week and they said to peel it with a vegetable peeler. That didn't work. I had to use a knife and it was a lot of work. I have blisters on my right hand and a couple cuts on my left hand from peeling that watermelon. Once it was peeled I found it was very easy to carve each hemisphere and carve out the frontal lobe so the pink inside showed through. I think the kids liked the brain, inside and out. The kids had fun. One kid, walking through the kitchen was offered strawberries and boogers. "No thanks, " he said, "I don't really have a taste for strawberries."