Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Garden Lesson
Of all the things we have learned in our first year of growing a produce garden, one discovery is standing out larger than all the others, literally.
Cyndie was thinking of the reputation zucchini has for growing like crazy and producing more squash than home gardeners can find uses for. Instead, she naively opted for an alternative that sounded more petite: Cupcake squash.
OOPS!
There is nothing petite about the beast that we ended up with. It quickly climbed up and over her perimeter fencing and continues to sprawl unconstrained with some of the largest leaves we’ve ever seen. At first, all this incredible growth wasn’t producing any squash, so Cyndie did some research and discovered she needed to pollinate them herself. The bees weren’t getting it done naturally. After reading how to identify the male and female flowers, she armed herself with a cotton swab and set about giving nature an assist.
The results were soon evident.
They may be small like cupcakes, but it appears this alternate squash can be just as prolific as the prodigious abundance of the more common zucchini.
Cyndie’s looking up a recipe for cupcake squash bread right now.
I’m looking forward to her taming this cupcake monster that is taking over such a large swath of our garden and surroundings.
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Even Jim
I don’t know how obvious it comes across to those of you who regularly stop by my daily dose of “things and experiences” but it is generally my habit to avoid overtly naming targets of my discontent. That is primarily a result of my house of glass being particularly vulnerable to thrown stones. Not that I ever strive to completely conceal my true opinion, however.
I tend to avoid getting into a fray that involves two directly opposing views whose participants are unlikely to waver from each of their own stances. Few, if any, issues are clearly and precisely “either one or the other” due to the reality that inequality and the reserve energy stored within is naturally inclined to move toward equilibrium and a static state.
The world is much more a mixture than it is a stash of separated ingredients.
Still, there are people who want not to perceive it as a mixture. They find ways to cope with the hypocrisy and cognitive dissonance of their views in ways I struggle to comprehend.
In the United States of America, too many have allowed themselves to accept outlandish, bizarre manipulations of reality by Donald Trump and the mysterious cadre of sycophants who enable his narcissistic kleptocracy that is wreaking havoc on this nation.
For four years I have wondered who could stop this. Each protection woven into the threads of our democracy appeared to unravel as abuses were pressed into it. At one time in my life, I perceived impeachment as an incredibly significant event. These days, it seems like a discarded tissue after wiping a nose.
Now it has come to this. Even famously apolitical comedian Jim Gaffigan has thrown in the towel on appearing immune to the spectacle of destruction. He tweeted the f-word!
If Jim can take the risk to stand up against the idiocracy, I can, too.
People responded to Jim’s outburst, complaining that as a comedian, he shouldn’t be making a statement about politics. But the same people want a failed businessman who hosted a reality tv show where he fired people to be their political leader.
Some Trump supporters defend their choice as a quest for morality and law and order. How do they fail to see the dissonance between their goals and the person they elected to get them there? How’s that working for them? Do they believe any of the lies spoken by their President?
Enough is enough, I say. Too much, even.
I’m with Jim.
One responder to Jim’s tweeted rant commented, “…couldn’t disagree with you more. Wish you saw the truth.”
In the face of two such completely opposing views of what constitutes truth, me thinks someone is failing to mix all the ingredients.
Personally, I see Donald Trump as a blatant liar.
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Quick Learners
Tuesday night, Cyndie was crawling in the dirt and chicken shit underneath the coop to wrangle chickens back into the coop after their second day romping in their fenced front yard.
Last evening, I couldn’t leave the bedtime chore exclusively to her for the third night in a row, so I volunteered my help. When we arrived, Cyndie assumed they were all cuddled in the darkness beneath the coop. I stooped for a closer look and couldn’t find a single bird.
After only their third day out of the coop, they let their instinct guide them to return to their house as darkness approached. All twelve had put themselves to bed.
I picked the right day to offer my help.
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Timid Start
Given how bold the chicks seemed to have become since gaining familiarity with their coop, we half expected them to leap at the chance to escape and explore once we opened the door for them.
They “chickened” out. Despite plenty of gentle coaxing from their chick-momma, it took manual transferring to finally get their feet on real ground.
Even with that, we only got 10-of-12 to come out and explore the fenced run we installed for them. That was good enough for us on their first day under the open sky.
More time was actually spent under the safe cover of the coop itself. The three adult hens wandered nearby, showing occasional mild interest in the new feathered chirpers. I got an impression from the Australorp that she was looking for an opportunity to give a few of them a piece of her mind, as she stalked in close a couple of times to see what the young ones were up to on the other side of the netting.
One of the Light Brahmas decided to sprint back up the ramp shortly after the excursion began, but other than that, just as I suspected, none of the others made it easy to get them to return indoors for the night.
We’ll increase the time they can be outside a little each day for a few days to a point where the door can stay open during daylight hours and they can come and go as they please. Based on how voraciously they chomped grass blades and green leaves in the short time they were out, I suspect they will eliminate anything growing green within the run in a matter of a few days.
I don’t expect they will be timid about coming out of the coop for more than another day or two.
I’m as eager as ever to get them melded as equals with the three adults so we can remove the barriers splitting the coop and give them the full space to share. It will make a lot of things easier about cleaning and feeding when we get back to our normal way of doing things. But with an interest in avoiding a failed attempt, we are going to be very patient about waiting for obvious signs the time has arrived.
It’s still our first time dealing will all the intricacies of introducing new chicks to existing adult hens and we want to give all parties involved the best chance of having the introductions proceed without any “unnecessary-roughness” penalties needing to be flagged.
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Summer Growth
We’ve got beans and peppers coming in from Cyndie’s first produce garden ever!
Last night for dinner we ate cauliflower from the garden, too. We’ve eaten some beets, potatoes, and carrots. Cyndie has used celery from her garden in a stir-fry and sandwich spreads.
We are enjoying bountiful summer growth.
Meanwhile, the fledgling chickens are growing into their half of the coop with ease. They wasted no time making their way to the two main roost branches where they happily perch on the same level with the three adult hens who come inside every night.
Last night we finished securing a fenced run that will allow the younger chickens to venture outside for the first time. This afternoon we will begin the exercise of establishing their pattern of being outside during the day and returning to the coop at dusk.
Based on previous experience, it involves a fair amount of chicken-wrangling the first few times that I’m not very excited about. Here’s hoping they figure out the drill as quickly and easily as they have mastered everything they’ve achieved thus far.
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Two Shots
Two views of wildflowers to compare and contrast.
It happens.
I captured these two shots on the hill behind the beach up at the lake. The combination speaks to me of the impending end of the summer season.
Or, of someone pulling petals to recite, “loves me, loves me not.”
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Happy Place
We’ve had a pretty good few days of lake-place pleasure, despite yesterday’s doses of thunderstorms that disrupted most activities except for the napping. Unfortunately, on this most gorgeous of mornings with a promising-looking day of lake weather ahead, we are going to venture home to tend to the landscaping chores there before the work-week begins again.
Grass and garden are growing wild. The lawn is tall and tomato plants are heavy with fruit. Our getaway weekends need to be brief. (In case you didn’t notice, I took an extra day off work last week and we hustled up here on Thursday, so ignore my comment about it having been “brief.”)
I strolled down to the beach moments ago to absorb a good dose of the lake view in the early light and found a squirrel busy in the oak tree branches overhead, trimming and nibbling acorns that were then unceremoniously raining down on the sand.
We may be leaving, but I have soaked up the view to take with me for a balm against the onslaught of the daily grind that lies ahead.
It’s our happy place.
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Not Suffering
Just a little rain up here at the lake yesterday afternoon, but we are living the life of luxury, regardless.
Breakfast on the deck.
But earning it by taking care of that too-long neglected task of tending to the gutters on the backside of the house. Out of sight, out of mind, you know.
After I dug for long enough, I actually found a gutter underneath all that mess.
More family arrived yesterday afternoon and we dined like royalty and stayed up too late playing cards.
It’s another classic summer weekend ‘at the lake.’
Aahhhhh.
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Brick Fix
Okay, it was a paver, not a brick. We are up at the lake for the weekend! It’s the first time I’ve been up here all summer and the first thing I noticed was a gaping hole in the front steps.
After opening windows, adding water to the pond, and then cleaning out the gutter on the backside of the house (don’t ask), I decided that the busted paver deserved immediate attention. The only problem was, I had no idea how the steps were built. I didn’t know if cement was involved and if it would even be possible to remove just one “brick.”
So, I just started slow. Perseverance paid off and the paver eventually started to come loose. Once I had it out, it was time to hunt for a replacement.
Oh, yeah, that might have been a smart thing to figure out before tearing into the top, center step in front of the door.
With Cyndie’s help, we came up with a replacement paver and set about devising a process to install it.
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We are both quite proud of the result.
After that, it was time for a swim. Oh what a divine treat that was.
Topped off with a pizza from our favorite local restaurant, it was a wonderfully satisfying day for us.
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Always Hope
It is a time of speeches for democracy in the US this week and hearing the intelligent oration of our previous (44th) President last night was incredibly refreshing. After enduring years of the undoing of countless protections to our environment, the destruction of our country’s reputation across the globe, disrespecting our allies and coddling our adversaries, and repeatedly trashing our precious freedom of the press, the campaign for an alternative is finally stirring hope for a better future.
I sure hope our youngest eligible voters will show up like never before to exercise their right to have a say in who our lawmakers and policymakers and leaders will be for the next term, all the way down the ballot.
If our chickens could vote, I think the twelve young ones would choose to have the net removed so they could take over the whole coop.
The three adult hens might not be ready to accept the kids yet, though. Tuesday night, I think they thought the kids had locked them out of the house. When I arrived to close the chicken door for the night, to my surprise, the hens came running to meet me.
“What are you guys doing up still?!” I asked in amazement. “You’re supposed to be in bed already!”
Then I noticed their access door was already closed. Poor things couldn’t get in.
It was as if they were running toward me to tell me all about their dilemma.
When Cyndie got home later in the evening, I asked if she knew any reason why the door might have been closed. The realization flashed and she moaned in woe. She had closed it earlier in the day, in case any of the young ones hopped over a barrier while she was pulling out the poop board to clean it, and forgot to slide the door back open.
The young chicks have quickly gained full confidence for climbing to the big roosts and will make big leaps and flap wings to reach places we’d rather they didn’t, like the slanted surface above the nest boxes.
But their confidence and aggressiveness give me hope they will be up to every challenge that lies ahead while maturing into adulthood.
It feels good to experience a little boost in hope. For our chicks, yes, but more importantly, for our country.
It’s been a really long stretch of little to none in the hope department.
This serves to remind me to always hope, regardless of how gloomy the prospects might ever appear.
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Relative Something 