Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Writing is good, it raises little dust and doesn't involve cleaning solutions or rubber gloves.
A rainy day is perfect for writing, it makes me put off the million things to do outside and face the million things inside that I need to do and wish to avoid. Writing is good, it raises little dust and doesn't involve cleaning solutions or rubber gloves.
Most of my final order of plants came in on Friday. The dwarf pie cherries and horseradish will be arriving in next week, but the rest came. The postal delivery person decided that this particular package needed to be stuffed between the black metal mailboxes, out of sight from the house on a warm sunny day. Usually, she will open the car window and drop the boxes on the walk (if you are sending me something delicate, make sure to use Fedex or UPS, because the last few feet of their journey to my house can be pretty rough on a package). A neighbor spotted the package jammed between the searing hot mailboxes and was going to leave it until he saw that it was labelled "PLANTS". He kindly brought it to our door. We'll see how everything fared in the heat in the next few weeks.
I planted the sand cherries right away on Friday, their bed was set up and ready. Then we planted 75 everbearing strawberries on Saturday, it was a little late for them to go in, but I think they will be okay.
The potatoes and the roses will wait until after the rain.
The pepper plants are one by one popping from their seeds many, many weeks after I planted them. I have enough hot pepper plants for the year and may have to buy only one or two sweet pepper plants. One eggplant seed made it. Now I just have to baby the seedlings. I bought some Zambia hot peppers too, just to experiment, they came up the best of all.
I am especially glad that a couple of the Aji Limon and Aji Cito seeds have sprouted. I love the internet, I can find things that I would have never been able to find twenty years ago. I had been given some peppers that I adored from the ethnobotany garden plot at the University of Florida, they had a lemony flavor layer and these two Aji's are my best guesses as to what those peppers were. I found them on a website called Hell Hot Peppers .
I put the tray of the remaining un-sprouted seeds in the cold frame outside, maybe a couple more will germinate.
The really good news is a friend looked at the crab apple tree and said that it looked like sap suckers not woodpeckers doing the damage and again, I verified that on-line and it looks like we are going to be able to keep the beautiful tree!! No bonfire necessary! Yeah! We bought a very small crab apple tree, it is sitting in a pot waiting for its location, hmmmmmmmmmm. This crab apple is supposed to be good for cider making, oh the projects that await us in the next few years!
The book Nature Wars: The Incredible Story of How Wildlife Comebacks Turned Backyards into Battlegrounds was recommended to me after a few of my posts about critters in the yard, luckily the library had it. I just finished reading it. The first part of the book was a synthesis of a few books that I read a few years back when I worked at the EcoTarium in Worcester, MA (Many of them are good reads, I'll put a list at the bottom of this post.), discussing suburban expansion, habitat change, habitat fragmentation and habitat succession--basically what happens to all of the critters that were here in pre-Columbian times when the European settlers chopped every thing down and hunted any food or fur bearing critter out of existence. Then continues about how the abandonment of the farms of the East due to the opening up of better farmland farther west and the beginning of the Industrial Revolution allowed the trees to grow back creating a giant human populated forest.
My favorite quote from that part of the book is from John C. Gordon the former dean of the Yale School of Forestry, " If you looked down on Connecticut from on high in the summer, what you'd see was mostly unbroken forest. If you did the same thing in late fall after the leaves have fallen from those trees, what you'd see was stockbrokers." Yup.
The next step is the reintroduction and legislation that protects all of these critters that are now over-populating many areas. There are no predators to control these animals so there are no checks on the population. Leading to widespread Lyme disease, habitat destruction by over-grazing, beavers flooding streets, bears in the dumpsters, etc.
For example, I know that there is a forest corridor that goes directly behind my house through a ravine leading to a stream, I know that deer and other critters follow that corridor. One more thing I know is that many of these animals do not make it across the street I live on, which has a high speed limit and heavy traffic flow. All too often the scent of dead deer blows into the yard and gawky vultures circle above (Which was disconcerting when I started jogging two years ago after several years of inactivity-I did laps around the yard with the vultures circling above. They seemed to be checking me out a bit too much). When I am leaving the house from dusk to dawn, I am especially vigilant watching the forest edges for movement and the reflective eyes of deer. I know they are there. I see the foot prints in my lawn. I see their eyes in the backyard. I hear them amble through the ravine as I garden (three in the last week). I also know that the three lonely apples on the tree in the backyard were not eaten by any member of my family.
There are also fox, hawks, opossums, squirrels, crows, voles, moles and plenty more that I can't see at night. The voles ate my parsley plant, again. The park nearby has a huge (50+) black and turkey vulture population, they hang out by the dumpsters and sun themselves on the lawn. It's kind of gross.
The book proposes some solutions, most of them are controversial in one way or another, depending upon your vantage point. It was an interesting read.
______________
These are for the vicarious chicken keepers:
Book List:
Most of my final order of plants came in on Friday. The dwarf pie cherries and horseradish will be arriving in next week, but the rest came. The postal delivery person decided that this particular package needed to be stuffed between the black metal mailboxes, out of sight from the house on a warm sunny day. Usually, she will open the car window and drop the boxes on the walk (if you are sending me something delicate, make sure to use Fedex or UPS, because the last few feet of their journey to my house can be pretty rough on a package). A neighbor spotted the package jammed between the searing hot mailboxes and was going to leave it until he saw that it was labelled "PLANTS". He kindly brought it to our door. We'll see how everything fared in the heat in the next few weeks.
I planted the sand cherries right away on Friday, their bed was set up and ready. Then we planted 75 everbearing strawberries on Saturday, it was a little late for them to go in, but I think they will be okay.
The potatoes and the roses will wait until after the rain.
The pepper plants are one by one popping from their seeds many, many weeks after I planted them. I have enough hot pepper plants for the year and may have to buy only one or two sweet pepper plants. One eggplant seed made it. Now I just have to baby the seedlings. I bought some Zambia hot peppers too, just to experiment, they came up the best of all.
 |
| Babies! |
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| Pesto-to-be |
I put the tray of the remaining un-sprouted seeds in the cold frame outside, maybe a couple more will germinate.
The really good news is a friend looked at the crab apple tree and said that it looked like sap suckers not woodpeckers doing the damage and again, I verified that on-line and it looks like we are going to be able to keep the beautiful tree!! No bonfire necessary! Yeah! We bought a very small crab apple tree, it is sitting in a pot waiting for its location, hmmmmmmmmmm. This crab apple is supposed to be good for cider making, oh the projects that await us in the next few years!
The book Nature Wars: The Incredible Story of How Wildlife Comebacks Turned Backyards into Battlegrounds was recommended to me after a few of my posts about critters in the yard, luckily the library had it. I just finished reading it. The first part of the book was a synthesis of a few books that I read a few years back when I worked at the EcoTarium in Worcester, MA (Many of them are good reads, I'll put a list at the bottom of this post.), discussing suburban expansion, habitat change, habitat fragmentation and habitat succession--basically what happens to all of the critters that were here in pre-Columbian times when the European settlers chopped every thing down and hunted any food or fur bearing critter out of existence. Then continues about how the abandonment of the farms of the East due to the opening up of better farmland farther west and the beginning of the Industrial Revolution allowed the trees to grow back creating a giant human populated forest.
My favorite quote from that part of the book is from John C. Gordon the former dean of the Yale School of Forestry, " If you looked down on Connecticut from on high in the summer, what you'd see was mostly unbroken forest. If you did the same thing in late fall after the leaves have fallen from those trees, what you'd see was stockbrokers." Yup.
The next step is the reintroduction and legislation that protects all of these critters that are now over-populating many areas. There are no predators to control these animals so there are no checks on the population. Leading to widespread Lyme disease, habitat destruction by over-grazing, beavers flooding streets, bears in the dumpsters, etc.
For example, I know that there is a forest corridor that goes directly behind my house through a ravine leading to a stream, I know that deer and other critters follow that corridor. One more thing I know is that many of these animals do not make it across the street I live on, which has a high speed limit and heavy traffic flow. All too often the scent of dead deer blows into the yard and gawky vultures circle above (Which was disconcerting when I started jogging two years ago after several years of inactivity-I did laps around the yard with the vultures circling above. They seemed to be checking me out a bit too much). When I am leaving the house from dusk to dawn, I am especially vigilant watching the forest edges for movement and the reflective eyes of deer. I know they are there. I see the foot prints in my lawn. I see their eyes in the backyard. I hear them amble through the ravine as I garden (three in the last week). I also know that the three lonely apples on the tree in the backyard were not eaten by any member of my family.
There are also fox, hawks, opossums, squirrels, crows, voles, moles and plenty more that I can't see at night. The voles ate my parsley plant, again. The park nearby has a huge (50+) black and turkey vulture population, they hang out by the dumpsters and sun themselves on the lawn. It's kind of gross.
The book proposes some solutions, most of them are controversial in one way or another, depending upon your vantage point. It was an interesting read.
______________
These are for the vicarious chicken keepers:
 |
| Athena is getting an attitude, she doesn't like the fence, so she flaps her way over it. |
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| Ursula has become protective of her eggs, in the coop, outside the fence.. |
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| Paisley is the only chick who can't escape the fence, she just can't get the altitude. |
Book List:
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Ready to Start Mowing, Time to Take the Snow Shovel off the Porch
It is supposed to rain over an inch today. I thought it might be a good time to write something, since working in the yard is a rather wet option. I ran out a few minutes ago, knowing the impending storm was due in a few minutes to snap a few photos to illustrate what I am writing about. I cut it a little too close and in my last to photos there is a gray haze of rain coming down and I needed to twist my camera into my shirt to keep it dry as the sky let loose a heavy downpour as I bolted for the house, accompanied by the strange music of chicken throaty noises accusing me of creating this wet stuff that was going to make their day unpleasant.
Here are the last shot that I took as it started to dump.
The peas are just coming up, I probably should have planted them a bit sooner, but there was no transition from snow to gardening weather, it was like a switch flipped. There is still a snow shovel on the front porch.
All of the new plants have broken dormancy except the beach plums and the cherry plum, we will have to wait and see how they do. The next shipment of plants is due near the end of this week, they were supposed to ship yesterday. Of course, I have been getting ready for them.
I have been digging out some of the foundation shrubs in front of the house in preparation for the bush cherries. I have been relocating them (with my husband's help--they are really heavy) to the fenced area with the chickens, since they seemed fond of laying eggs under them when they were (too) close to the house. Digging here is nothing compared to digging in New England, the work goes so much faster when you don't have to work around thousands of rocks the glacier left behind.
The little seedlings under the lights have transformed themselves into garden plants under the floating row cover. I have been picking a few of the outside leaves to go into my sandwiches, it won't be long until I will have enough to cook with.
The left of these two trees I found in the back yard, up against the woods with three very closely planted grape vines---all surrounded by brushy growth. It appears to be a peach or a nectarine. There is another young tree next to it, which appears to be some sort of plum with thorns, so it might be American, Canadian, Chickasaw or Blackthorn (sloe). I'll key the leaves out when they appear. I don't know how the folks who owned this property before us planned their plantings, but shade and three foot spacings are generally not good ideas. They certainly were consistent though. Next winter we will relocate the mystery plants. I relocated the grapes about a week ago, one was labelled as Cabernet Sauvignon, not the best choice for this area, but we'll see what happens.
The right photo is a victory, it is of the diseased old peach tree in the front yard that my husband has been nursing back to health, maybe there will be peaches this year!
Here are the last shot that I took as it started to dump.
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| Peas and onions |
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| April 9, 2014, Front flower garden |
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| April 15, 2014, Front flower garden |
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| The frog surrounded by phlox, instead of snow |
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| Shrubs to move and plan for expansion. |
The little seedlings under the lights have transformed themselves into garden plants under the floating row cover. I have been picking a few of the outside leaves to go into my sandwiches, it won't be long until I will have enough to cook with.
 |
| Peach? |
 | ||||
| Peach! |
The left of these two trees I found in the back yard, up against the woods with three very closely planted grape vines---all surrounded by brushy growth. It appears to be a peach or a nectarine. There is another young tree next to it, which appears to be some sort of plum with thorns, so it might be American, Canadian, Chickasaw or Blackthorn (sloe). I'll key the leaves out when they appear. I don't know how the folks who owned this property before us planned their plantings, but shade and three foot spacings are generally not good ideas. They certainly were consistent though. Next winter we will relocate the mystery plants. I relocated the grapes about a week ago, one was labelled as Cabernet Sauvignon, not the best choice for this area, but we'll see what happens.
The right photo is a victory, it is of the diseased old peach tree in the front yard that my husband has been nursing back to health, maybe there will be peaches this year!
Monday, April 7, 2014
Protection and Growth
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| Front flower garden, just getting started. |
My daughter ate fourths with dinner last night, it seems she has made a full recovery. She went to track practice on Thursday when she returned to school and managed to make the team! I get the feeling she'll be eating fourths more often.
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| Girls inside the fence, for the moment. |
The chickens are fenced, we can't count on the neighbors to keep their dogs in their yards and as a consequence (since we'd rather not have our girls die) we get to foot the bill for a fence. That took a nice little chunk out of this month's budget. We spent part of this weekend erecting it. Within three hours of completion Athena went AWOL, three times, once when the pit bulls were out, sigh. She was determined to lay her egg somewhere else. We've been referring to her as our "special" chickie, because she doesn't seem to have normal chicken sense. The other chickens barely tolerate or bully her. The others dive for the worms in the roots of the weeds I pull up, she will peck my hands, not seeming to figure out that they are not food, even after the tenth attempt. We're going to have to clip a couple of feathers on one of that special girl's wings, so she won't be able to steer herself over the fence and do herself some harm. The others seem pretty content.
I'll be placing some of the shrubs we are removing from the front within the fenced area to give them a little cover, and a neat little spot to lay eggs. They seem to understand the value of thorns, they ran for the quince bush when the pit bulls came into the yard, luckily we were able to turn them around before they got to investigating the chickens and their prickly surroundings. Maybe we'll get the girls something prickly and pretty later in the season.
The garden in going in bit by bit. Leeks, red and yellow onion sets went in as well as all of the little greens seedlings that I have posted pictures of. The greens are under a floating row cover, after the bugs ate six times as many greens as the family ate last year. Right after I put the cover over them I saw a cabbage white moth flutter by and was very glad I spent the time setting it up.
I planted some peas, lettuce, beets, daikon and white radishes in the back garden. My tomato seeds are planted inside and coming up. My mom sent me a few of her seeds for some huge tomatoes and suggested that we have a growing contest, three of the six seeds for that variety are up, so far. The germination for the eggplant and peppers has been horrible. I planted over 100 seeds, knowing that they are a bit persnickety, but only six have come up and I accidentally broke one of them. I may be buying plants this year.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
I'm not hungry
I haven't been to Walmart yet. This past week my family wondered about my electronic disappearance, no facebook postings, no blog, not even a quick call. I can explain.
It all started with, "I'm not hungry.", a sentence that is never uttered by my 25th percentile in weight and 95th in height pre-teen, what I usually hear is, "Can I have seconds? (or thirds?)." It all unravelled from there.
She had a friend coming over to bake something special for a gathering we were attending that evening. After serious deliberation, they baked some amazing oatmeal raisin cookies. We then headed out to "Soup Night", a late winter/early spring tradition of a weekly Saturday evening potluck with board game playing/guitar playing/jigsaw puzzling/video gaming,etc. evening, The hosts provide a giant crock or two of soup and home baked bread, hence the name "Soup Night. The tradition has been on-going for 11 years, we joined in a few weeks ago.
The evening was going well until my daughter took me aside and said her stomach didn't feel all that great, but she wanted to stay. Some ginger ale was found and she went off with the other kids. Later, she tapped me on the shoulder and with one look at her face, I was gathering her friend to go home while handing her a grocery bag, just in case, for the ride home. She just made it home before it all started. My mind started going through all of the things that she had eaten in the past couple of days, and the only thing I came up with was a slice of cake that her dad had bought for her in a bakery near his work. It had cream frosting, had it been refrigerated properly...? It was only thing that she had eaten that no one else had.
She spent early part of the night trying to sleep on the bathroom floor, but then we moved her into the bedroom so that she could get some rest and I set up camp with couch cushions next to her bed. At about 2 AM, as I was cleaning her up, for the fourth time, she turned her wan face to me lifted her head a little and said, "I'm sorry. I know you must be tired and want to go to bed." Then put the great weight of her head down on the pillow. I assured her that this is what moms do, I did get to sleep several hours later when I woke her father, sent him for Gatorade at the gas station and then deputized him as cleaner-upper.
It appears that it was not the cake, after the vomiting ceased (fifteen hours after it had started) she had a high fever, chills and the whole ugly bit. It looked like the flu, but it wasn't. For several days I didn't even leave the house beyond letting the chickens out. One day I took my cell phone with me to the front garden, so that if she needed me she could call me without getting out of bed. Today, Thursday, she is back to school for the first time.
Time to get some fencing, we need to corral the chickens in the evenings when the neighbors take their dogs out after work. One neighbor, who moved in over the winter, has two large and reasonably trained pit bulls who have discovered that we have something interesting over here, but they aren't sure what it is. They are well trained enough that if you tell them , "No." they stop, but we won't always be in the yard. We can also hear Tank barking most pitifully across the ravine in the evenings, I know exactly where he will head one of these days when he gets loose. I'm going to have to train the girls to come around at about 4 PM for snacks inside their soon to be built chickie corral. Time to call around to see who has the best price for fencing materials and get to it.
It all started with, "I'm not hungry.", a sentence that is never uttered by my 25th percentile in weight and 95th in height pre-teen, what I usually hear is, "Can I have seconds? (or thirds?)." It all unravelled from there.
She had a friend coming over to bake something special for a gathering we were attending that evening. After serious deliberation, they baked some amazing oatmeal raisin cookies. We then headed out to "Soup Night", a late winter/early spring tradition of a weekly Saturday evening potluck with board game playing/guitar playing/jigsaw puzzling/video gaming,etc. evening, The hosts provide a giant crock or two of soup and home baked bread, hence the name "Soup Night. The tradition has been on-going for 11 years, we joined in a few weeks ago.
The evening was going well until my daughter took me aside and said her stomach didn't feel all that great, but she wanted to stay. Some ginger ale was found and she went off with the other kids. Later, she tapped me on the shoulder and with one look at her face, I was gathering her friend to go home while handing her a grocery bag, just in case, for the ride home. She just made it home before it all started. My mind started going through all of the things that she had eaten in the past couple of days, and the only thing I came up with was a slice of cake that her dad had bought for her in a bakery near his work. It had cream frosting, had it been refrigerated properly...? It was only thing that she had eaten that no one else had.
She spent early part of the night trying to sleep on the bathroom floor, but then we moved her into the bedroom so that she could get some rest and I set up camp with couch cushions next to her bed. At about 2 AM, as I was cleaning her up, for the fourth time, she turned her wan face to me lifted her head a little and said, "I'm sorry. I know you must be tired and want to go to bed." Then put the great weight of her head down on the pillow. I assured her that this is what moms do, I did get to sleep several hours later when I woke her father, sent him for Gatorade at the gas station and then deputized him as cleaner-upper.
It appears that it was not the cake, after the vomiting ceased (fifteen hours after it had started) she had a high fever, chills and the whole ugly bit. It looked like the flu, but it wasn't. For several days I didn't even leave the house beyond letting the chickens out. One day I took my cell phone with me to the front garden, so that if she needed me she could call me without getting out of bed. Today, Thursday, she is back to school for the first time.
Time to get some fencing, we need to corral the chickens in the evenings when the neighbors take their dogs out after work. One neighbor, who moved in over the winter, has two large and reasonably trained pit bulls who have discovered that we have something interesting over here, but they aren't sure what it is. They are well trained enough that if you tell them , "No." they stop, but we won't always be in the yard. We can also hear Tank barking most pitifully across the ravine in the evenings, I know exactly where he will head one of these days when he gets loose. I'm going to have to train the girls to come around at about 4 PM for snacks inside their soon to be built chickie corral. Time to call around to see who has the best price for fencing materials and get to it.
Monday, March 24, 2014
Thank You for Sharing Your Beauty in Walmart
Bit of a change for everyone today. No chickens, no garden.
This has been bugging me for a while. One of the Walmarts in the area has a older man "greeter", who frequently after he welcomes you to Walmart he thanks the female customers for "sharing ypur beauty with us". Now this can come across different ways, the first time he said it to me he had just asked me to contribute to some charity and I declined. Here's how it went:
-Welcome to Walmart. Would you like to give to QQ charity today?
-Not today.
-Well, thank you for sharing your beauty with us today.
Now tone is everything, the tone of the last line came across as if he was calling me stingy. I stopped in my tracks and did one of those, "Did he really say what I think he said?" moments. I just kept shopping.
Nearly every time since then this man has been near the entrance, sometimes asking for contributions, sometimes not, but invariably he thanks me and every other female who enters the store for sharing their beauty with "us". The tone varies, sometimes it sounds as "Have a nice day!" having been repeated hundreds of times that day--just a meaningless phrase, other days a bit lecherous, other days sarcastic, sometimes it sounds like he actually means it.
I'm not there to share "my beauty" with anyone, especially strange men in Walmart. I'm just there for the Q-tips and the whole wheat pasta for $.99. It feels like walking past a construction site every time I enter that store. I cringe and get a knot in my stomach. Society keeps bludgeoning women with the idea that they are there for the sole purpose of being looked at. We know the truth, but this stupid idea keeps smacking us in the face anyway. It is time to get past that.
I want to ask that man why he doesn't ever say it to the male customers. I would love to be there when he thanks some guys for their rugged good looks and inner beauty. I would, of course, stand ready to call 911 for the ambulance.
If it is not appropriate to say to a man, it is not appropriate to say to a woman.
I think this man would be shocked to find out that some women (well, at least this one) feel that it can be a sexually charged statement (when it is not a snide commentary), but have been taught to ignore people who make inappropriate comments.
I would skip the store altogether just to not encounter this man, except that it is one of the very few places to shop within a 25 minute circle from my house. This last time I went there he was not at the entrance, I felt so relieved. It was this feeling of relief that made me realize how much "sharing my beauty" sounded like a catcall. A few moments later I realized, with that familiar pit in my stomach, that he was sitting by the exit door to check the receipts of the folks with electronics items, etc. as they leave. When I left the store he thanked me for sharing my beauty, as usual, and it will be the last time I will not speak up.
The next time I will head straight to customer service and fill in one of those nasty-grams that gets sent to corporate.
This has been bugging me for a while. One of the Walmarts in the area has a older man "greeter", who frequently after he welcomes you to Walmart he thanks the female customers for "sharing ypur beauty with us". Now this can come across different ways, the first time he said it to me he had just asked me to contribute to some charity and I declined. Here's how it went:
-Welcome to Walmart. Would you like to give to QQ charity today?
-Not today.
-Well, thank you for sharing your beauty with us today.
Now tone is everything, the tone of the last line came across as if he was calling me stingy. I stopped in my tracks and did one of those, "Did he really say what I think he said?" moments. I just kept shopping.
Nearly every time since then this man has been near the entrance, sometimes asking for contributions, sometimes not, but invariably he thanks me and every other female who enters the store for sharing their beauty with "us". The tone varies, sometimes it sounds as "Have a nice day!" having been repeated hundreds of times that day--just a meaningless phrase, other days a bit lecherous, other days sarcastic, sometimes it sounds like he actually means it.
I'm not there to share "my beauty" with anyone, especially strange men in Walmart. I'm just there for the Q-tips and the whole wheat pasta for $.99. It feels like walking past a construction site every time I enter that store. I cringe and get a knot in my stomach. Society keeps bludgeoning women with the idea that they are there for the sole purpose of being looked at. We know the truth, but this stupid idea keeps smacking us in the face anyway. It is time to get past that.
I want to ask that man why he doesn't ever say it to the male customers. I would love to be there when he thanks some guys for their rugged good looks and inner beauty. I would, of course, stand ready to call 911 for the ambulance.
If it is not appropriate to say to a man, it is not appropriate to say to a woman.
I think this man would be shocked to find out that some women (well, at least this one) feel that it can be a sexually charged statement (when it is not a snide commentary), but have been taught to ignore people who make inappropriate comments.
I would skip the store altogether just to not encounter this man, except that it is one of the very few places to shop within a 25 minute circle from my house. This last time I went there he was not at the entrance, I felt so relieved. It was this feeling of relief that made me realize how much "sharing my beauty" sounded like a catcall. A few moments later I realized, with that familiar pit in my stomach, that he was sitting by the exit door to check the receipts of the folks with electronics items, etc. as they leave. When I left the store he thanked me for sharing my beauty, as usual, and it will be the last time I will not speak up.
The next time I will head straight to customer service and fill in one of those nasty-grams that gets sent to corporate.
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
No Neck Dog, Chickens and the Slumber Party
A new development, it was warm for a few days before our weekly six inches of snow, it was enough of a change that as the snow melts it is exposing bright, spring-green grass. A sign that we are headed in the right direction.
I've been too busy with other activities to do things like garden and whine about the weather. My daughter turned 12 this past week, and with the birthday comes the inevitable slumber party. I use the event as a way to kick myself in the behind to get some house cleaning done, despite the fact that I could name a few thousand productive things that I would prefer doing. After a week of mopping, polishing, sorting, organizing, recycling and tossing, I then commenced baking, decorating and other hostess-y things.
About an hour and a half before the first guests were set to arrive and I was frosting the chocolate cake, the chickens made distressing noises by the kitchen window, Paisley flew up past the glass in a panic. I rushed outside to find my neighbor's hugely overweight lab/pit mix, not quite a year old puppy trying to pounce on the girls. Ursula cut out from the rest and he pursued, she found the gap in the garden fence and lost him for a moment, but then found herself cornered. I sprinted out, coated with confectioner's sugar, and threw myself in between the two. Shrieking at the top of my lungs, hoping my neighbor would hear me. I kept telling the dog, "No!" and he would back off a bit, but he seemed mesmerized by what he perceived as giant, fluffy dog toys and seemed compelled to go back. He didn't have a collar on, there was no handle to hold. I tried and tried to hold him, but he kept slipping from my grip. He pounced again and Ursula dodged, I snagged her, kneed the dog and sprinted to the coop. Locked her in and the dog was on to seek out the next chicken. My daughter came out of the house having heard me shouting. "No, Nooooo, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!", wearing socks, but no shoes, and tried to round up the others, but he just followed her and she didn't want to expose them, but we didn't want them out any more. She kept his attention on the back steps while I ran for one of the leashes that groomers use. He let me put it on and didn't seem to mind and then whoosh, it was off and he was off. I chased and caught him again and looped it again, but his neck was just as fat as his head and he slipped it again. I did this several more times, until I decided to tie the leash around his neck. The whole time I was bellowing, "Where the H*ll is your owner?" We got him to his owner when he called him, I was asking him to keep the dog in his yard, as my daughter went back to round up the rest of the chickens, Only to have Tank (the dog) escape again, he wouldn't come when his owner called. He chased Paisley around the house as my daughter gave chase, shrieked and pushed him away--she probably weighs about the same as Tank, about 100lbs. Paisley, smart girl, ran under the quince bush. The dog pursued, but then discovered quince thorns and hopped around the perimeter. In the mean time, I sprinted from the neighbor's yard, through the woods then across our yard to the quince bush, captured the evasive chicken, kneed the dog again and blasted over to the coop with the dog in hot pursuit, I slammed and latched the door right as his nose arrived. He took off to find the other chickens, our neighbor, citing knee surgeries, was just now arriving in our back yard. We finally were able to send Tank home, with a promise that he would either be on a lead or in the fence in the future and that he will wear his collar. We gathered up the Buffs and put everyone in the run, with snacks and water. Then my daughter and I had a good cry,straightened ourselves out and finished the preparations for her party. I felt like I had used ever shred of energy available chasing and fighting off the dog. The dog never seemed vicious, he had a goofy look on his face the entire time, listened to me, sometimes, and leaned up next to me for a pat when I put the leash on him. He just seemed compelled by some force to pounce on the chickens.
Just writing all this has been exhausting, If I hadn't been in reasonable shape, we wouldn't have chickens anymore, there's no way in my old shape I could have done what I did.
An hour or so later, the cake frosted...the girls came, then ran around outside in the dark playing flashlight tag ( I don't know the rules, darkness, flashlights, shrieking and giggling are all required) for a couple of hours waiting for the late comers. After that, they did the annual treasure hunt, per request of the birthday girl. They followed my riddles around the entire yard until they found this year's treasure, matching t-shirts and glow-in-the-dark fabric paint. One was disappointed that it wasn't candy like last year, though the candy was set out on the snack table, I guess it is the joy of discovery. Halfway through the hunt they discovered one can of silly string for each kid, of course, the obvious occurred. My daughter realized the next day why adults have some reservations about silly string, as she picked most of it out of the lawn, so that the chickens wouldn't eat it. (It appears that they don't even sense it, they walk right past, but who knew that?)
A friend lent me all the necessary equipment to turn the living room into the dance party zone: disco balls, lava and glitter lamps, a thing that shines different colored lights on the walls and rotates. My husband's prized 1980's stereo with giant speakers provided the music. At about 9:30 one of the girls reclined in The Red Chair with her root beer and extolled the wonders of this "the best party ever".
Between the cleaning, decorating, baking, dog catching, chaperoning and assorted other chores, I slept a good deal of the next day. I still had time to get in a couple of runs to the horse farm to finish top dressing all of the trees planted in the last two years, just in time for the new ones to arrive, just in time for the weekly six inches of snow. By looking at my photos from last year, our second and final snow was on March 25th and by April 9th the flowers in the garden and yard were starting to bloom. I'm ready.
I've been too busy with other activities to do things like garden and whine about the weather. My daughter turned 12 this past week, and with the birthday comes the inevitable slumber party. I use the event as a way to kick myself in the behind to get some house cleaning done, despite the fact that I could name a few thousand productive things that I would prefer doing. After a week of mopping, polishing, sorting, organizing, recycling and tossing, I then commenced baking, decorating and other hostess-y things.
About an hour and a half before the first guests were set to arrive and I was frosting the chocolate cake, the chickens made distressing noises by the kitchen window, Paisley flew up past the glass in a panic. I rushed outside to find my neighbor's hugely overweight lab/pit mix, not quite a year old puppy trying to pounce on the girls. Ursula cut out from the rest and he pursued, she found the gap in the garden fence and lost him for a moment, but then found herself cornered. I sprinted out, coated with confectioner's sugar, and threw myself in between the two. Shrieking at the top of my lungs, hoping my neighbor would hear me. I kept telling the dog, "No!" and he would back off a bit, but he seemed mesmerized by what he perceived as giant, fluffy dog toys and seemed compelled to go back. He didn't have a collar on, there was no handle to hold. I tried and tried to hold him, but he kept slipping from my grip. He pounced again and Ursula dodged, I snagged her, kneed the dog and sprinted to the coop. Locked her in and the dog was on to seek out the next chicken. My daughter came out of the house having heard me shouting. "No, Nooooo, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!", wearing socks, but no shoes, and tried to round up the others, but he just followed her and she didn't want to expose them, but we didn't want them out any more. She kept his attention on the back steps while I ran for one of the leashes that groomers use. He let me put it on and didn't seem to mind and then whoosh, it was off and he was off. I chased and caught him again and looped it again, but his neck was just as fat as his head and he slipped it again. I did this several more times, until I decided to tie the leash around his neck. The whole time I was bellowing, "Where the H*ll is your owner?" We got him to his owner when he called him, I was asking him to keep the dog in his yard, as my daughter went back to round up the rest of the chickens, Only to have Tank (the dog) escape again, he wouldn't come when his owner called. He chased Paisley around the house as my daughter gave chase, shrieked and pushed him away--she probably weighs about the same as Tank, about 100lbs. Paisley, smart girl, ran under the quince bush. The dog pursued, but then discovered quince thorns and hopped around the perimeter. In the mean time, I sprinted from the neighbor's yard, through the woods then across our yard to the quince bush, captured the evasive chicken, kneed the dog again and blasted over to the coop with the dog in hot pursuit, I slammed and latched the door right as his nose arrived. He took off to find the other chickens, our neighbor, citing knee surgeries, was just now arriving in our back yard. We finally were able to send Tank home, with a promise that he would either be on a lead or in the fence in the future and that he will wear his collar. We gathered up the Buffs and put everyone in the run, with snacks and water. Then my daughter and I had a good cry,straightened ourselves out and finished the preparations for her party. I felt like I had used ever shred of energy available chasing and fighting off the dog. The dog never seemed vicious, he had a goofy look on his face the entire time, listened to me, sometimes, and leaned up next to me for a pat when I put the leash on him. He just seemed compelled by some force to pounce on the chickens.
Just writing all this has been exhausting, If I hadn't been in reasonable shape, we wouldn't have chickens anymore, there's no way in my old shape I could have done what I did.
An hour or so later, the cake frosted...the girls came, then ran around outside in the dark playing flashlight tag ( I don't know the rules, darkness, flashlights, shrieking and giggling are all required) for a couple of hours waiting for the late comers. After that, they did the annual treasure hunt, per request of the birthday girl. They followed my riddles around the entire yard until they found this year's treasure, matching t-shirts and glow-in-the-dark fabric paint. One was disappointed that it wasn't candy like last year, though the candy was set out on the snack table, I guess it is the joy of discovery. Halfway through the hunt they discovered one can of silly string for each kid, of course, the obvious occurred. My daughter realized the next day why adults have some reservations about silly string, as she picked most of it out of the lawn, so that the chickens wouldn't eat it. (It appears that they don't even sense it, they walk right past, but who knew that?)
A friend lent me all the necessary equipment to turn the living room into the dance party zone: disco balls, lava and glitter lamps, a thing that shines different colored lights on the walls and rotates. My husband's prized 1980's stereo with giant speakers provided the music. At about 9:30 one of the girls reclined in The Red Chair with her root beer and extolled the wonders of this "the best party ever".
Between the cleaning, decorating, baking, dog catching, chaperoning and assorted other chores, I slept a good deal of the next day. I still had time to get in a couple of runs to the horse farm to finish top dressing all of the trees planted in the last two years, just in time for the new ones to arrive, just in time for the weekly six inches of snow. By looking at my photos from last year, our second and final snow was on March 25th and by April 9th the flowers in the garden and yard were starting to bloom. I'm ready.
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