Rudbeckia - April 2, 2026

My sister, my niece, and I share a running three-way text   The topic is mostly gardening-related.  For example, all of us intend to cut back our garden phlox when they are about yay-high, but we always forget about it until they're about ready to bloom, so we skip it.  Yesterday, I took my clippers on my afternoon walk-about and lit into my phlox - not all of them, just the ones in front.  (I'm shooting for a layered effect.)  Remarkably, I also remembered to text the others that I did it so that they would be reminded to prune theirs.

If their phlox don't get cut back this year, it ain't my fault.  😉

Today's exchange included plant offerings.  Sister has phlox to share (I declined), niece has rudbeckia.  I spoke up for the rudbeckia and picked it up on my way back from the grocery store.

Niece works hard on her yard, and it shows.  

I planted the rudbeckia the minute I finished putting the groceries away.  Put some in the "new" sunny bed, started last year when the tree collapsed and let it some light; some went at the edge of the phlox bed. There is no telling how many times I've bought and planted rudbeckia.  Not one has ever come back or made babies, that I know of (I could've pulled them up, thinking they were weeds).  Niece's rudbeckia has come back bigger and stronger than last year.  Maybe this variety can survive here.

When it was time to water the new plants, I decided to hook up the water hoses.  Last year, I made an effort to rig up enough hoses to water everything that needs watering.  Bought new hoses, and a double-barrel diverter.  The hoses where right where we'd left them last fall, still attached to the diverter.  When I finally got everything connected and turned the water on, it blew a piece off the diverter, and water spewed all over me.  I said some nasty words and turned the water off.  

I was about to get a watering can when I realized that it was sprinkling rain.  It's raining slowly now.  Looks like Mother Nature might take care of the plants today.

Wednesday, April 1, 2026

The back porch is a fine place to be this morning.  The temperature is perfect, the sun is shining, the birds are singing.  Around sunrise, I heard turkeys gobbling in the bottom behind the house.  

About the time I heard the turkeys, I heard some thrashing around in the leaves at the edge of the gulley.  I got up to look.  The light was so dim I couldn't see very well, but I believe it was Jose, the armadillo.

Jose can thank his lucky stars for my intervention a couple of weeks ago.  The Grandson came hurrying into the house and said he'd just seen the armadillo in the yard, and he asked if he could use the shotgun to off it.  I said, "Well, let's think this through."

It was 8 p.m.  The neighbors are accustomed to hearing gunfire after dark, but only after hearing distant hounds bray in pursuit of a raccoon (at which point some will think, Got 'im!).  Nanny would be dialing our number within seconds of a blast from our yard.

"Plus," I said, "I'm not sure I want Jose offed."  I told him about the fire ant nest built last summer against a stump at the edge of the yard, just down the hill from the shed under which the armadillo resides.  The day after I discovered the nest, I discovered that something had dug into it.  I poked it with a stick and didn't see ants boil out of it and concluded that Jose must've had a midnight snack.  I applauded his work.  I had intended to poison the ants but hated to do it because the stump is just up the hill from the pond where the frogs, turtles, and snakes live.

"So maybe we need to let him hang around.  I'd rather have holes than fire ants in the yard and poison in the pond."  

The Grandson whole-heartedly agreed.  Jose lives on.

But I digress.

After such a pleasant early morning, things went downhill when I tried to pay a bill electronically.  This happens EVERY MONTH, and it is NOT ME; it's the outfit's janky web site.  I'm waiting on a voice call to straighten this out.  

While waiting on that call, I accomplished a "round tuit" task.  The Husband and I have agreed that we need to replace our bathroom tub with a big shower that will accommodate old persons with physical or mental issues.  We're not there yet, but it's coming one day.  There are a million things we'd rather do than live through a renovation, and so we haven't been exactly diligent in pursuit of someone to do the work.  Today, I finally called somebody to come give us an estimate.

Go, me.  

I had planned to go to the grocery store today, and maybe scope out the garden center, but I may have talked myself out of it.  

Might make jewelry, instead.  

I got the info for the local farmers market and fall festival.  I'll have to be deciding soon whether to go for it.  As of today, my inventory is such that if I sold every single piece on display, I might make enough to pay for one hobby store trip.  Better get crackin'.

Recharging - March 30, 2026

Mid-morning Saturday, as The Husband was watching videos in his recliner, I said to him, "You should go crank the lawnmower."  

Our yard was getting plumb scary; I'd resorted to watching for snakes as I moved about.  

Note that I did not say to The Husband, "You need to mow the yard."  I just suggested that he crank the lawnmower."  And went back out to watch videos on the porch.  

A regular reader might remember that last year, I vowed to stay off the lawnmower after being driven crazy by Nanny and running over a mole trap in her yard, the same day I also vowed to stay out of the vegetable garden.

Surprisingly, it wasn't long before The Husband came out and said he was going to crank the lawnmower, which lives in the big workshop at Nanny's.  

Despite my vow, I said, "Well, if it cranks, drive it up here, and I'll mow the yard, if you want me to."   

It cranked.  He mowed our yard and then said he was going went to mow Nanny's yard.  

I said, "Good luck!!"  😁

He came home about two hours later, dropped into a chair on the porch, and said, "I wanted to choke Nanny."  

😁😂😄

And I just laughed and laughed.

* * * * * * * * 

The Grandson and his BFF have volunteered to till the vegetable garden plot at Nanny's.  The BFF reportedly wants to try out the Big Black tiller (who can fathom what goes through 18-year-old boys' minds?); The Husband figures The Grandson wants to drive the tractor.

I gave The Grandson a list of obstacles they would face:

1.  The tiller pull crank broke last year, and although I bought a new one, no one has installed it.  However, it has an electric starter, if they can get some electricity to it; 

2.  There is a buttload of cardboard in the garden, which probably could be tilled into the soil, but also a buttload of landscape fabric which must be taken up before any tilling is done;

3.  The t-posts holding up the tomato fence has to be taken down;

4.  The tiller probably has a flat tire; and

5.  There are probably fire ants in the garden, probably some under the cardboard and the landscape fabric.

The longer I talked, the more his face drooped.  

We'll see if any tilling gets done.

* * * * * * * * 

Last week, I made several nice pieces of jewelry, mostly earrings and bracelets, that I deemed worthy enough to sell.  As I finished each piece, I put a tag on it and priced it, in case I get up the nerve to actually try to sell it.  The collection is growing, and I'm feeling motivated to make more, so this morning I made a call to the local park & rec to inquire about vendor booth space at the Saturday market (I'm waiting on a call back).   My BFF says I am pricing things too low, but her demographic market isn't the same as mine.  

Junk Drawers - March 26, 2026

I'm on the back porch, trying to twist up a tulip poplar leaf using 20 and 26 gauge wire.  

There's something about this activity that opens up a little-used chunk of my brain, where fragments of old home movies are stored.  Today, it showed my 5-year-oldish self, sitting in a chair in front of the kitchen junk drawer, twisting wire.  I hadn't seen that movie in quite some time.  ;)

In my recollection, the junk drawer was about a foot deep and very hard to open, and when it did open, it did so with a monstrous squeak.  (One could not sneak into the junk drawer.)  It must have held all sorts of things, but what I remember most are colored wires and nuts/bolts/washers and wire pliers.  Daddy was always working on something; those things lived in the junk drawer.  There was entertainment value in them - a "matching" game and a "make something" game.  Daddy probably didn't mind me putting bolts and washers onto nuts, but he wasn't particularly happy about having his wire twisted up into primitive sculptures.  

End of movie.  :)

But while it was playing, I did manage to make a passable tulip poplar leaf.  There are things I'll do differently the next time around, but it's not bad for a first try.

Speaking of kitchen junk drawers, in ours I recently found a disposable 35mm camera that was labeled "use by April 2009."   All of the film had been shot.  I'm guessing the pictures were from a cruise I'd gone on with my BFF.  I'd run across that camera before and had always said, "I need to take these to be developed."  I finally did that yesterday.  The drug store film counter guy raised his eyebrows when he saw the label.  I said, "Yeah...I know."

Knotted up - March 24, 2026

Time for a break.

I am trying to make a macrame bracelet with leather cord and hemp string that have lived in my craft stash for upwards of 20 years.  The leather has spent all this time wrapped around a 2" wide cardboard spool, and it is somewhat set in its ways.  The hemp is coming from a ball that came unwound in the drawer and attached itself to a bundle of pipe cleaners; it is somewhat frayed.  I should have cut 2 feet off the end before I started weaving, but I didn't, and I frayed it even more taking stitches out.  But I am pressing on with it and calling it "organic" or "rustic."    Heh..."primitive."

Yesterday, I made two other bracelets (no macrame) out of that leather cord.  They came out rather nice.  I then tried another of a different style, but that one got the better of me.  It uses four 8-inch cords.  The leather wanted to curl, and I could not corral the ends long enough to tie the knots.  I finally just walked away.  It is on the kitchen table, mocking me as I walk by.  Maybe I'll give it another shot tomorrow.

But, regardless, I'm done with this leather cord.  With this macrame bracelet, I have used it all up and have several pieces of jewelry to show for it. Check mark in the "win" column.  

Next, I will tackle the roll of suede leather cord, which will be a whole new ballgame.

@*&!&%! Sweetgum Balls - March 23, 2026

This time of year, our back yard is a wildflower field - henbit, chickweed, dead nettle, wild violets, dandelions, and some unidentified tall yellow things.  We let them grow for a while to feed the bees, until the yard gets too shaggy to stand.  We're almost there.  The blooms are beginning to fade.  Saturday morning, I dragged the wagon around the yard, picking up sticks so we could mow.  We never got to the mowing.

The front yard is a minefield of sweet gum balls.  We'd already raked them up earlier in the spring, but recent storms have littered them again.  After hauling a few loads to the gulley, I gave up and made a burn pile.  Right in the front yard.  As older women are prone to saying these days, "I just don't care" if there's a blackened spot in the yard.  It'll disappear soon. Or not.  I don't care either way.

When I gave out from raking, I cranked the weedeater and chopped down the winter-burned monkey grass and the beebalm stalks I'd left standing for the birds.  Raked leaves off flower beds.  While I was doing around, The Husband showed up to clean off the patio, dispose of a fence panel that had collapsed, and.haul away my weedeating debris.  We worked for several hours, but it doesn't look much different around here.  I'm still waiting on the lawnmower, which The Husband will probably have to boost after it has sat un-cranked all winter.

Not long after we quit the yard, Nanny called to report that her water heater was leaking.  The Husband went to see about it.  They ended up calling a plumber (one that we have not previously used) who said the water heater could not be repaired and we'd have to get a new one.  He said it would be Tuesday before he could install it.  The Husband thought the plumber said it would cost $900, which we thought was a tad high.  Yesterday, Nanny called to say that the water heater was still leaking (well, duh) and that she could not afford $1,900 for a new water heater.  The Husband called the plumber to confirm the price.  Nanny was right.  $1,900.  When I heard this price (I was not privy to the original discussion), I nearly had a stroke.  The big box stores sell them for a fraction of that price.  The Husband told the plumber to hold off on ordering the new heater, planning to check with the local hardware store.  Later that afternoon, when I told Son #1 about the problem, he volunteered to install the water heater.  Son #2 dropped by later and also volunteered his help.  It's good to have folks in the family who know how to do stuff.

Sunday evening, Granddaughters 2 and 3 came over here carrying a formal dress to be altered for Granddaughter #1 who is to attend a black-tie gala this coming weekend.  The neckline of the dress is low and closes with hooks and eyes at the back of the neck, like a halter top.  #1 is rather buxom and is worried about compromising herself at the party.  She wanted me to take off about an inch on either side of the closure.  I did the best I could.  She will be advised to wear her hair down, and hide a couple of safety pins on her person just in case.

While moving around the yard this weekend, I noticed that the wild violets have started to bloom. I picked a few blooms, along with some tiny, unidentified star-shaped white flowers, and put them in silica powder to dry. It'll probably take only a couple of days since they're so tiny. I tried drying some creeping myrtle blooms last week. They turned almost black. I tried another batch and only left them for one day, but they still turned almost black. Some redbud tree blooms turned out nice and are perfect for use in resin jewelry. 

I have not been very ambitious - or at least not very productive - in the jewelry-making department for the past few days. Friday, I tried to do a herringbone weave around a resin cabochon, intending to make a bracelet with it. The "stone" kept slipping around, and I bent the wires all to heck trying to put it back in place. Started over several times, then gave up and moved on to the band part of the bracelet. Made a mess out of that, too. I finally came up with a bracelet that is okay (but not 100% satisfactory to me), but it is not close to what I was hoping to make.

Today, I plan to work on some stalled projects.  I've been trying to transfer laser printer images to air-dry clay, but nothing has worked out well so far.  Some new transfer paper came in the mail last week; I want to see how it works.  And there's a half-finished leather bracelet on the worktable that needs finishing.  Time to get to work!

Yesterday, I spent almost the whole day trying to make a pair of earrings like the one in in the tutorial I was watching.  The whole day.  

When I threw in the towel, I'd assembled ONE PAIR of earrings.  One pair.  And that one resulted from the very first attempt, beginner's luck, I reckon.  

They were wire-twisted earrings - three loops at the top leading to a loose spiral on either side - with a tear-drop dangle at the bottom and a tiny accent bead up near the loops.  I used some "junky" beads since this was just a practice piece.  They came out mostly okay, but I'd scratched the coated wire making the spirals.  I tried again.

Here's the thing about a PAIR of earrings:  they should match.  The goal was to produce two earrings of identical size/shape.

It is very hard.

At the end of the day, I had one scratched-up pair of earrings, and a bowl full of wire loops and spirals, no two of which were the same.

I shall try again.  But maybe not today.

The telephone rang about suppertime last night.  The caller wanted to know if I could draw a catfish standing up, wearing a wig, a bikini top, and a skirt.  "He wants it to look like a hooker," the caller said.

I didn't ask too many questions.

But as soon as I hung up, I grabbed a sketch book and a pencil and started drawing.  

The distinguishing thing about a catfish is its head - the wide, flat shape, the permanent malevolent grin, the lethal whiskers.  Putting a wig on it kind of hides its whole persona.  In the end, it looked like an ugly cartoon mermaid.

Thirty minutes later, I texted the sketch to the caller, with the comment, "She needs big hoop earrings and a tattoo."  

No word yet on what the end "customer" thought about it.  

I do not care.  It was a freebie.  You get what you pay for.  ;)  

Plus, it was kind of fun to pick up a pencil and paper after weeks of pliers and wire.  

And now there's a sketch book and a mug full of colored pencils within reach . . . . 

Maybe I'd rather draw that make earrings.  ;)