Never Too Old

Zucchini

I was going to make another little post about my garden but, as usual, the zucchini took over.

What's wrong with this picture?

a. The guy is sleeping on a hard floor in the middle of the day.

b. He's using a running shoe for a pillow, for Pete's sake!!!


c. Stress.



d. All of the above.

Garden Time

Every morning at 6:30 we have garden time. Well, OK......a few mornings a week, at 6:40 or so, some of us have garden time. It was Audrey's idea, and it is a grand one. Usually, by August, I am ready to mow off or plow under; a neglected garden is not a pretty sight, and ours curses or blesses me from right outside the kitchen window. But this year, thanks to garden time, the garden is not only produtive, but also lovely.

Audrey's first job at garden time is to search for squash bug eggs. She usually finds them. If you don't pick them off, they will hatch into a thousand squash bug nymphs. Nymphs suck the juices out of the vines, killing them. Worse, they grow into adults who provide the next set of eggs and nymphs

These are sqaush bug eggs, and the mature bug who probably laid them. I should have taken another shot of the bug, since this one is slightly out of focus, but I was in too big of a hurry to kill it.

Merrill's sunflowers are thriving. Her photo, on the right, won a purple ribbon (that's the best!) at the county fair last week.

I'm not sure Merrill was completely thrilled about weeding her sunflowers or being in front of a camera this morning at dawn, but she was a very good sport!

See you tomorrow at 6:30 a.m.!

G and G

Perhaps "Grandmother and Grandfather" was too much of a mouthful for little ones, so my parents came to be known as "G and G" or, sometimes, just "the Gs."

We like to welcome these two native Texans to our northern abode with a front-porch tribute to their heritage.

G, aka my dad, knows how to take apart a clock and make it work again. Since my clock wasn't ticking, he gave me a tour of its vital organs, including a mathematical discussion of pendulum length---note his scribbled algebraic formulas on the newspaper.

When I was in high school, I might ask Dad for help solving for x, and wind up with a dissection of the Second Law of Thermodynamics. My dad can turn a watermelon seed into a calculus problem and then show you fifteen ways to solve it. This is not a useless skill; he might decide to write you a computer program, fix your broken step or rewire your basement, all because he sees every practical problem as a series of fascinating mathematical relationships. Each one is a siren song to his numerical brain.

The other G doesn't see everything through an algabraic eye. She and I turned a lug of apricots into jam one evening. We gave an absent-minded nod to ratios, temperatures, heat conductivity of metals, and the properties of a vacuum, but were more focused on the senses....taste, smell, color.

I think we'll get Dad on our team when we open the first jar.

Cell Phones

This man is fifteen feet in the air. He was pulling a tarp over a load of hay when his cell phone rang.

Cell phones never sleep.

Here's some Total Momsense

Have you seen this? If you're a mom, you've probably said this. Anita Renfro, a Christian comedienne, puts it all together in song. Time to laugh at ourselves.

Rachel Jumps In

Thanks to Rachel for this lovely photo, carelessly recorded on a sleepy Saturday morning in my living room.

Leaf Casting

The Extension office was looking for adult help at a leaf-casting workshop for 4Hers; it looked like so much fun that I signed up. Once I got started, I didn't quit very easily. Here are just three of the sculptures I made from rhubarb leaves and a little cement.

This project is not difficult, but it does take a couple of hours, and then a little more time to paint and seal after the castings are dry. It is a great one to do with middle-sized or big-sized kids. Two warnings: wear rubber gloves when working with wet cement, or the next day your hands will shed skin like snakes. And don't breathe in concrete dust when you're mixing---lungs don't like it.

For complete instructions on how to make these birdbaths/yard art/indoor centerpieces, go to:
http://www.gardengatemagazine.com/extras/53birdbath1.php

Sphinx Moth

Remember that colorful caterpillar that Audrey was babysitting on my kitchen counter in May? It grew up into one of these - a sphinx moth. Because moths don't make very good housepets, Audrey released hers into the wide world after its change. I used to imagine that this one sipping a petunia julep on my back patio was the very one Audrey let fly, but she informs me that hers was a white-lined sphinx moth, while my visitor is clearly a different variety. Well, duh!

Poor Audrey

Poor Miss Audrey has been demoted to sixth grade. She THOUGHT she was going to graduate this coming spring, but her teacher has decided that Audrey needs to spend a little more time in the home school. A lot more time, actually.














The reason for Audrey's step backward has nothing to do with the fact that she does the grocery shopping every week, nor the fact that she cooks supper most nights. Not just beans and sloppy joes, mind you, but things like Garlic Alfredo Chicken Pizza; Homemade Spinach Tortillas with Roasted Red Peppers and Onions; Fresh Plum Upside Down Cake. At the rate of four or five nights a week, her repertoire of gourmet menus is quite extensive--we eat like kings.

But I digress. That has nothing at all to do with why I might want her to stick around home for another six or seven years. She's completely free to go, obviously, as soon as she finishes her high school course of study. It's just that we've decided to look into some things that weren't previously on the syllabus. Like nuclear physics. And nanocrystals, and ancient Arabic literature. DNA mutations in South American parasitic wasps. Stuff like that. A lot of stuff like that. And if she needs a little stress-busting session in the kitchen while she mulls it all over, well, that's OK too.

SBF Plays Pool

His real name is Micah, but he gets called SBF around here. Sister's Boy Friend. We were blessed to have a short visit with him last week. He's working with autistic adults and children at a camp in North Carolina this summer, and had a few days off. He pitched right in to help us with the cattle/train rodeo. Afterwards, Rachel, Merrill and I tried to keep up with him at the pool table. I think he's had a little more practice than we have, and it showed.

Who's in Control?

Ours is a nice little town with no stop lights and not much traffic. However, there is reason to hit the brake on Main Street, and many folks do. They stop right in the middle of the road, pausing to read the news on our new Time and Temperature Scrolling Message Marquee. Some days it's a birthday, or an anniversary, or maybe a meeting of the fire department or village board.

Today's news was a little more shocking.

When dogs are in control of the owner, I think our sleepy little town may wake in a hurry.

Get Along

The cows are out of grass again. Moving them started innocently enough, with a gathering of horses, four-wheelers, and people. Here we sit, listening to John's instructions and waiting for a couple of helpful friends to show up with their horses. Nothing ominous in this picture, is there? We didn't think so.









Get along, little dogies. Stay off the tracks and out of the corn. Nothing ominous about that.......until.........

This is very ominous. The cows heard it before I did. They bolted into a dead run. Then the train split the rodeo and blocked the view.

Time stood still while one hundred cars of grain barreled past, one loud clackety-clack at a time. With nothing to do but wait, it seemed a very long train.

The last car slipped away, the view opened up. Everything was still and quiet: John, girls, four-wheelers, friends, horses......and no cows. When the train passed them, they barged into an adjacent corn field and disappeared into a sea of tall green.

Nothing to do but go fish them out.

An hour later, we were back where we started, trying to keep cows out of corn as we moved them to new pasture.

Only this time, we were all tired.......

With the cattle finally where they belonged, we waited for John to return with the trailer.













Time to load up and go get a drink.


Here are the cows, safely at rest in new, tall grass. Do you see anything ominous about this picture?