Tutoring Mother Nature: A lesson in futility

I stand patiently, hose in hand.  I gently point out examples of what happens when plants don’t get water.  See?  See the wilted petals?  See the brown edges on leaves?  They underscore the importance of regular watering.  Plants need water, I stress to her.

I turn on the hose and show her how much water is enough, and how to apply it – gently so it doesn’t beat  down the plants. As I water, I glance back over my shoulder  to see if she’s paying attention.  Her countenance is a bit dark and scowled, but suddenly the downcast look gives way to a cheerful spark of understanding. She’s got it!  I think.  I hope.

As I wrap up the watering, I prompt her one last time:  she needs to do what I just showed her, all over our property, at least once a week.  Twice if she gets all hot and bothered, as she’s prone to doing this time of year.

I really hope my lesson has sunk in this time around.

I return indoors.

The next morning, I peek outside to see how she’s doing.  Nothing so far.  I’ll give her time – maybe tomorrow she’ll do as I’ve asked.

A day, and then two days pass.  Still no sign that our time together had any effect on her.

By the fourth or fifth day, I have to assume she has once again forgotten my admonitions.  It’s hard to stay angry with her when she has such a sunny disposition. But when it comes to doing her chores, she’s a real slacker this time of year.

Happy gardening,
Terry

Read Full Post »

There’s never a good time to be a curious dog

After replanting a container the grandpuppy recently mistreated, I thought I could breathe easy.

Not so fast.

Last Thursday, “big dog” was out doing her nightly business and spotted an animal moving in the shadows.  She – being the nosy Nellie type – decided to check it out.  The animal was a pole cat, of course.  You would think that white stripe and odor would tickle a memory somewhere in her dog brain, but apparently dogs have little recall and even less discretion.  So she got skunked for the second time in as many years.

I distinctly recall her first encounter with a skunk.  It was on my birthday two years ago. The spray caught her full in the face.  Happy birthday to me.

That time, I followed conventional wisdom and trotted to the store and bought gallons of tomato juice and doused her.  Then I tried hosing her down outside, followed by a warm bath inside. By the time I called the groomer, the bathroom was a wreckage of water and wet towels, and we were both cold, wet, traumatized and we stunk to high heavens.

At least this time around, I knew better.  (Note to the uninitiated:  tomato juice might work on humans or on a pet with dark fur.  But not on a white dog.  It stains their fur and makes them look like a pink punk-rocker dog.  And it did nothing for her “aura.”)

Fast forward to last week.  After she spent the night outside (there was a lot of whimpering and whining out there), the groomers gamely took her on first thing in the morning.  God bless ‘em – that is a thankless task.  I had them go ahead and clip her down while she was there…might as well get off most of the stinky fur while we’re at it.

So now her head  appears about three times too big for her body, and she looks a little alien-esque. But the smell is dissipating quicker this time and neither of us is suffering any long-lasting trauma from another bathing ordeal.

Let’s hope there isn’t a “Close Encounters of the Third Kind Time” in her future.

Happy tales & tails,

Read Full Post »

This is for the birds

While I admire the tenacity, fortitude and strength of ants, I don’t appreciate them when they march nonstop to our hummingbird feeder. I have no idea how much nectar they consume, but they’re a nuisance I’d like to avoid if possible.

A few years ago I bought this thingamajigger that suspends between the feeder and the hook; it holds water and since ants can’t swim, they can’t cross it and get to the feeder.

My old one broke down from overexposure to sunlight, so I went back to buy another one. Over a two-week period I visited our local hardware store three times. Each time, the spot on the wall where these whodiwhatzits should be was empty. Their staff was sympathetic and encouraged me to order it site-to-store from their hardware supplier, but  when I searched the website, it appears the supplier is out, too.

But their website did give me a helpful tidbit of information.

These whatchamacallits have a name.

And the name makes sense, if you think about it.

They are called “ant moats.”

Shut my mouth and call me silly – I had no idea these things had a name until now.

Armed with that bit of information, I went shopping and found several places with the plastic cup like I had before.

But then I found this super-cute little upside down metal umbrella. (Some people have a genius for taking an idea to a whole-new level. This is one of them.)

And so once again, my hummingbird feeder is free from the ant brigade, and it looks cute to boot. Let’s just hope the ants don’t figure out how to build a bridge or a raft.

If you want to make your own ant moat (I was tempted until I found the metal umbrella), here’s a quick and frugal idea to MacGyver your own with a cast-off spray paint cap, a piece of wire and a hot glue gun.

Or if you want your own umbrella, they’re available from a few places, but I purchased mine from the really nice folks at CreekTree USA, down in Red Oak, Texas. They had it to me in less than a week, for far less shipping and handling than most other places.

It’s almost time or the hummers to head south.  But rumor has it we may have bluebirds setting up residence in the cedar nestbox I bought on my first trip to Lowes after we closed on this house.  (The way to Mr. Official’s heart can take a few routes, including appealing to his songbird-lover heart.) Maybe we’ll have some sweet little baby bluebirds showing up before first frost.

Happy birding!

Read Full Post »

It’s not just a job, it’s an adventure

I don’t know how true that slogan is for the U.S. Navy, but it is definitely true for defrosting my upright freezer.

Conventional wisdom says frost-free freezers don’t keep stuff as long as a traditional freezer, because they cycle through defrost periods, so the temperatures don’t stay consistently cold. That makes sense, but defrosting must take place from time to time, regardless. So with a non-frost-free model, it’s a manual (or in my case, WOmanual) task to occasionally remove all the contents of the freezer and try to keep them frozen while heating up the interior enough to melt the ice off the coils and shelves.

Defrosting isn’t all bad; it forces me to take inventory of the freezer’s contents, dump out anything that is getting of a certain age, and organize the remaining contents so I can see and remember what I have, and use it up before defrosting time rolls around again.

This defrosting was hastened by a sticky mess on the door. Apparently a fruit pop – strawberry or cherry – melted enough to dribble down the door. (Why is it always the red stuff that makes the worst messes?) Since our freezer is in our laundry room, it was also a good time to pull it out and mop behind and under it, vacuum the coils, and sanitize the inside. In the past I’ve risked frostbit fingers to hasten the defrosting process. I’m either getting wiser or lazier, but I’ve found a heater blowing into the cavity works just as well and fast, and all I have to do is sop up the water and melting ice out of the bottom.

Two turkeys of undetermined age were chucked into the empty lot behind us for the coyotes and other wild critters to feast on. It’ll take ‘em a while to thaw out, but I suspect it won’t take the “wild beasts of the field” long to devour the carcasses.

P.S. In the category of “adventures,” I’d like to add my own special,heartfelt wish for Mr. & Mrs. Lane Kiffin to have a great adventure as they head back to California – don’t let the door hit y’all on the way out, ya hear? Your return to the golden state is just one more reason we can all wish that Las Vegas will someday become an oceanfront town.

Read Full Post »

Taking a cue from nature

After the fun and frenzy of December, it’s time to return to everyday living and routine. I think I’m ready to do that, even though that means no more staying up late or sleeping in.

This morning was the transition back to workweek routine and schedule, although our plans to rise and shine and hit the YMCA were hampered by a very warm and cozy bed, and temps in the teens outside. (Tomorrow will be a different story, and the warm bed will not win out.) As I stumbled to the kitchen and poured a cup of steaming coffee, I looked outside and realized snow was gently falling. Some big flakes, mostly small ones, drifted down silently…I guess someone forgot to tell them it’s too cold to snow.

My eyes then caught movement toward the back of the property where several deer were slowly making their way across, nibbling on anything they could find to eat. That’s always bad news for my young trees and shrubs, but it’s still a very peaceful sight.

My first thought was pure whimsy: maybe nature was also struggling to get back in the workday routine. My second thought was an appreciation for the slower pace that is nature’s routine. We humans would be well advised to emulate that slower pace instead of hurrying and scurrying about all day. My reverie was cut short when the dog tried to chase the deer and the cat tried to chase the dog. Fortunately, our “Milo and Otis” look out for one another, and the dog penned the cat in the greenhouse until she could be caught and brought back inside.

Yesterday I made runzas and a loaf of cinnamon-swirl bread. With a forecast showing nothing but cold temperatures for at least a week, I think a hearty pot of stick-to-your-ribs chicken soup will be on tonight’s menu, with grilled cheese or runzas on the side. And I think I’ll try moving at a steady – but slightly slower – pace today. And maybe even take a stroll across the yard while the snow is gently falling.

Read Full Post »