Wildlife - 9/24/2019

It's pretty near 9 p.m., and I am sitting on the back porch de-compressing from a long, tiring day.  It's quiet, except for the crickets and the frogs, and there's just a little whiff of fall in the air.

A few mornings ago, I woke up early and came out here with laptop and my first cup of coffee about 4:30.  It wasn't quite daylight yet; the birds were still asleep.  All of a sudden, I heard the growl of what sounded like a very large cat.  VERY LARGE.  I'm talking jungle movie large.  It was also very close, sounded like it was coming from the pond at the bottom of the hill.  It make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.  Local folks claim to have sighted a panther in the vicinity.  I even saw one, myself, a year or two ago, and a few miles from here.  I gathered up my stuff and went inside.

I don't think it was really a panther.  I think it was a bobcat.  Still . . . .

Seems like we're over-run with critters these days.  Coyotes are yipping down in the bottom every night.  An armadillo is digging up the entire yard.  There's a bunny living under the shed, some chipmunks under the porch, and several skinks living ON the porch (they pooped on my settee!). 

The insects are thriving, too.  A couple of weeks ago, The Husband and I were weeding a flower bed by the porch, and a bumble-bee got after me.  I moved back, and the bee kept coming.  Chased me right onto the porch, and when I closed the screen door between him and me, he hovered right outside the door, like he was daring me to come out.  The next morning, I noticed the buzz of several bees around a four-o'-clock plant by the porch.  The next day, when the four-o'-clocks were still closed up, I noticed the bees still humming around it.  After watching them for a while, I realized that they weren't working on the flowers, they were going UNDER the porch.  This porch is built right on the ground, and there was no way I could see what they were doing under there, but I could hear a fairly constant, muffled, mini-chainsaw sound.

A bumble-bee nest under the porch concerned me a little.  I called the County Extension Service.  The agent told me that I ought to get some bug poison and spray it under the porch, but I don't think he understood that this porch is literally right on the ground.  I'd be shooting poison blindly (and I might accidentally squirt the chipmunks).  Besides that, I hated to kill the bees.  The world needs bees.  So I decided to leave them alone.

But then one got INSIDE the porch.  And then another.  And then another.  And one of them swooped my head.  I almost broke my neck stumbling over furniture, trying to get away from him.  I picked up a board that I'd been painting, and swung it like a baseball bat.  Knocked the bee into the screen, and he fell onto the floor, but before I could off him, he shook himself, got up and flew up into the rafters where I couldn't get him.  He sat up there for hours, contemplating my death. 

That did it.  I called the exterminator.  He sprinkled some powder around the place where they were going under the porch, but they are still under there, chain-sawing.

We had to call him again last weekend to rid us of some yellow-jackets that appeared to have nested under the roof.

And now a bobcat. 

From the back porch - 7/31/2019 - Summer shenanigans

When I typed the date in the subject line of this post, I could hardly believe the month is almost over.  School will be starting next week.  Where has this year gone?

Our granddaughters from across the state were able to come "home" a couple of times this summer, and we've enjoyed their visit.  Two weekends ago, we had a birthday party for the Middle Granddaughter, who is turning 9.  It was a pool party, and hot as blue blazes.  My job for the party was to provide the birthday cake.  When I asked the birthday girl whether she wanted a fancy store-bought cake or a home-made cake, she asked for an Orange Crush Cake like I'd made for her a couple of years ago.  "With sprinkles!" she said.  Can do.  She and her sisters were eager to assist with the baking, and we whipped up the cake on Friday afternoon for the Saturday party:  Orange Crush Cake with a thick layer of Cream Cheese Frosting.  Mmmmm!  We decorated it with those sugar "Happy Birthday" letters that you get in the grocery store, the kind that you peel off of paper sheets.  Worried that  sprinkles would fade or dissolve overnight, we decided to put them on at the party.   

We put the cake in my vintage cake cover - one of those metal ones that has a little lever that operates clamps that hold the top and bottom together - and stuck it in the refrigerator.  The next morning, I transferred the cake to a large cooler filled with ice in hopes of keeping the frosting from melting in the heat.

We arrived at the party about an hour early to help set up.  Granddaughter #1, age 14, met us at the car to help unload the lawn chairs and other things we'd brought.  When it was time to unload the cooler, I decided to take the cake out of the cooler to avoid jostling it on the trip to the table.  We set the cooler on the ground, and I picked the cake cover up by its handle.  I'd no sooner lifted the cake cover out of the cooler than the clamps let go.  The bottom fell off, and the cake dumped upside down on the grass, with me standing there in shock with the top in my hand.

My heart dropped to my feet.  Before the cake even hit the ground, I pictured myself buying a birthday cake from the grocery store, but I also pictured my granddaughter's disappointment.  She had stirred the batter and licked the spoon.  She was looking forward to putting on the sprinkles.  That was HER cake I'd wrecked.

Then, some crazy instinct took over, and I grabbed the cake off the ground and slapped it back onto the cake cover base.  To my utter surprise, the cake had stayed intact (mostly).  And it had been on the ground less than 5 seconds.  ;)

We set the cake on the tailgate to inspect the damage.  The frosting had nearly frozen in the cooler, and it had held the layers together as if they were hermetically sealed.  Only a few blades of grass had stuck to it.  Except for the ragged ring of cake crumbs around the bottom of the cake, it looked just like it looked when we'd put it in the refrigerator the day before.  This disaster could be salvaged. 

I glanced around.  Everyone else was going about their business.  Nobody had witnessed the tragedy.

I looked at Granddaughter #1 and said, "OK, we can fix this.  DON'T YOU SAY A WORD!" 

She giggled and said, "I won't." 

Right there on the tailgate, we snatched the "Happy Birthday" letters off the cake, picked off the grass, and skinned a micro-thin layer off the frosting.  With the letters back on, and a dusting of sparkly sugar and sprinkles, one would hardly know the cake had been wrecked. 

Granddaughter #1 and I looked at each other with mischief in our eyes and proudly delivered the cake to the table. 

She did not say a word about it.  Neither did I.  But we grinned at each other every time someone took a piece of cake. 

The birthday girl was a little disappointed that she had not been asked to do the sprinkles.  I forget how we explained that away.  ;)

After the party, I brought home what was left of the birthday cake and put it back in the refrigerator. 

Two days later, I texted Granddaughter #1:  "Want some birthday cake?"

She said, "Sure!" 

I took the rest of the cake to her other grandmother's house, where they were staying.  Everyone was milling about in the yard.  While Granddaughter #1 took the cake inside, I sat down on the lawn swing to chat with her "Nanny."  The former birthday girl and sister #3 were playing at a nearby mudhole. 

I had been silently debating about whether to spill the secret, myself, now that it was all over with.  On the one hand, I did not want to sully the birthday girl's memory of her cake.  On the other, from Granddaughter #1's perspective, what good is knowing that your little sister's birthday cake got dumped on the ground and served, anyway, if your little sister doesn't know it?  Or is it even better if she DOESN'T know it?

When #1 came out of the house, within earshot of Nanny and the little sisters, I asked her, "Did you tell the secret, yet?"  She grinned and replied, "Nope."

Naturally, the birthday girl and #3 (age 5) yelled, "WHAT SECRET?"

In the end, we spilled it.  As I had hoped, birthday girl took the news with her usual grace and good humor.  #1 laughed and laughed.  #3, who, only moments earlier had been building fake dog turds out of mud, said, "EWWWWWWW!"

From the back porch - 4/19/19 - Moles and other rodents

It's really too chilly to be doing computer work on the back porch today, but here I am, looking out across a yard that's more like a meadow than a "lawn."  In my field of vision (but maybe not in the pic) is a mole trap.  Not a trap, actually.  More like an executioner.  I'd love to see it snap while I'm sitting here.  Moles have turned my yard into a sponge.

I caught one a couple of weeks ago.  For a solid week before that, I'd spent every afternoon stomping down mole trails, trying to locate an active run (they'll dig it back up if they're in there), and moving the trap to a more promising spot.  But it was cold at the time, and the mole wasn't moving if he was in there.  Then, one afternoon when I came home from work, there was a brand new trail blazed across the yard.  I ran out there, yanked up the trap, and re-set it in the active run.  Less than an hour had passed before I got his ass.

He was a big old fat joker, with beaver-like teeth, a pink nose and feet and tail.  His fur was absolutely beautiful.

I work with an older lady with whom I talk about gardening, and she'd been hearing about my MoleQuest, so when I went to work the next day, I told her about catching the mole.  When I told her how beautiful his fur was, it sparked a memory in her.  She said, "My mother told me that they used to make powder puffs out of mole skins."

My mouth dropped open for a second or two.  I'd wasted a perfectly good powder puff.

I have no such plans for the mice we're catching.  In the 30+ years we've lived in this house, we've seen TWO mice, both sighted within the past couple of years.  One was just a few weeks ago.  Little devil ran out from under one bathroom closet door and under another.  We put out two traps, both baited with peanut butter, but the mouse evidently wasn't interested.  When I saw the mouse again a few nights ago, The Husband re-baited the trap with feta cheese.  Within the hour, we got him.

Later that evening, while I was sitting here on the porch, I heard something move in the cabinet behind me.  Two summers ago, I sat out here every evening hearing something move in that cabinet.  I figured it was a mouse and put out some bait.  Kept hearing the noise, though.  It didn't really sound like scampering.  It was more like a thump.  I came out here one night to get something off a table, and there was a SNAKE on this cabinet.  I nearly had a come-apart.  Since then, I do not mess around if I hear something in this cabinet; I get right on it.  So I came inside the other night and announced to The Husband, "THERE'S SOMETHING MOVING IN THE CABINET."  This did sound like scampering, though.  We set another feta cheese trap.  From inside the house, I heard it snap moments later.  Every day since then, we've caught a mouse on the back porch.  I am beginning to wonder if we're now LURING mice to the back porch.

In any case, take note:  Mice cannot resist feta cheese.

A Grand(s) Day - November 9, 2018

I had the nicest weekend.  My 3 granddaughters (ages 4 - 13), who moved 400+ miles away earlier this year, made a surprise visit.  They spent Friday night and all day Saturday with us.  Their boy cousin (age 11) came over on Saturday morning.  We went to a harvest festival, rode horses, went to a movie.  The girls moved to the other grandparents' house Saturday evening, and headed home Monday.  The boy stayed on with us until Sunday evening.

The baby girl's feet were the first to hit the floor Saturday morning.  She found me in my office, drinking my first cup of coffee and reading my email, and she climbed up in my lap.  We snuggled and talked for a few minutes.  When I asked her if she was hungry, she nodded sleepily, but when I said I would go start breakfast, she perked up and asked, "Can I help?"  My plan was to let her cut out the biscuits, but when I reached into the mixing bowl and started "scratching" the dough, she said, "I want to do THAT!"  So I let her.  She did a fine job.

All of my grandchildren are the most creative children in the world.  ;)  They like spending time at my house because I have paint and brushes and fabric and beads and ribbon and yarn and clay.  By now, they've learned how to properly wash a paintbrush, and they've learned to ask, "Can I use these scissors to cut paper?"  See?  I told you they are brilliant.  ;)

Quilting is dangerous work! 8/18/18

About a month ago, I decided that it was time - way past time, in fact - to finish a quilt that had been languishing in my quilt frame for about 2 years.  The problem was that my machine had been acting crazy - skipping stitches, making bird nests under the bottom, breaking the thread every few inches, and just generally acting a fool.  I threatened to sell it, and even took pictures to post on the local sell/swap site; whilst I deliberated, I took the partially-completed quilt off the frame and took it to a quilt shop where I rented a quilting machine to finish it.  Had to spend $20 for a lesson on how to use the danged thing, then $50 for a day's rental.

This rented machine was a doozie.  I put the quilt in the frame, threaded the machine, and sat down in a rolling chair to begin the work.  There was a thick rubber mat in front of the machine - 3 feet wide and as long as the quilt frame - and my chair would not roll on it.  I pushed sideways with my feet several times but the chair would not budge.  The shop lady helped me move the mat, and I went back to work.

The next morning, my right knee was swollen and tight, seemingly for no reason.  It hurt to put weight on it, and I limped around all weekend.  Monday, at work, when I needed to push sideways at my desk, my knee exploded with pain, and I realized what had caused the injury: pushing too hard, sideways, on the mat at the quilt store.  Since my work often involves climbing stairs, the knee gave me a few rough days, but it gradually got better.

At the rented quilting machine, I learned that the thread breakage part of my machine's problem wasn't the machine, it was the thread (it broke almost as badly on the rented machine).  And later, after doing a little research, I learned that if the quilt frame is not level and square, it can cause the machine to sew badly.  I decided to give my old machine another chance.  I had a half-finished quilt top in a box in my sewing room, and I dragged it out and finished it.  The Husband helped me level and square-up the quilt frame.  I cleaned the machine, loaded the quilt, and started the quilting.

The one thing that our leveling and squaring didn't fix was the "bump" in the center of the quilt frame where it joins together.  There must be a way to fix this, but I haven't found it.  It's just a tiny bump, but the sewing machine, gliding smoothly along on rails, hits that bump like it's a concrete wall.  Since there are wheels on both sides of the machine, it hits the wall again when the second set of wheels goes over it.  It causes bobbles in the sewing - all of my quilts have twin sets of bobbles smack down the center.  Today, hitting that bump caused me to SEW THROUGH MY LITTLE FINGER.  TWICE, it happened so fast.

When I finally disentangled myself from the sewing machine, there were 3 inches of thread hanging out of both sides (top and bottom) of my finger.  I came about as close to fainting as I have ever come.


  

Garden Report - 8/4/2018

You know what I think?

I think that gardens ought to be planted in the spring, when juices are flowing and plants are in the mood.

I say this because my last two late-planted gardens (this year's garden was rain-delayed until the end of May) have sucked.

For the plants, it must be like arriving at a party after the guest of honor has gone. 

The squash has managed to struggle, sunburned, through last month's ferocious heat, and they are loaded with blooms, but the plants pop out only a squash or two every few days.  Considering the number of "hills" I planted, I should be giving away squash if they were making properly. 

Same deal with the cucumbers. 

The tomatoes don't seem interested in ripening.  I saw one half-ripe tomato earlier in the week.  Some critter got it before I did.  Some other critter is nibbling at the green tomatoes and dropping them in the ground.  Oh, and a deer (or something of an equivalent size) bedded down ON two of the vines; there's a big "wallow" in the row.

The green beans are blooming half-heartedly.  Maybe they're waiting on cooler weather, like they did one other year. 

Bass-ackwards - 7/25/18

This morning on social media, I saw a post that said something like, "If there's a way to do something wrong, I'll find it."  It made me think about the quilt on my sewing table right now.

There's going to be a wedding in our family in a couple of months.  As I pondered what wedding present to get the couple, I remembered a partially-completed quilt top in a box in my sewing room.  I started this quilt several years ago.  The design is called "Brilliant Cut," referring to the cut of a diamond, which I thought was a mighty appropriate pattern for a wedding gift quilt.  It may be the most complex pattern I've ever attempted.  I worked on it, hot and heavy, for a time, way back when,  then some other project caught my interest, and I put the quilt away.  Monday afternoon I dragged the box out to see how far I'd gotten and whether it would be possible to finish the quilt by the wedding date.

Digging through the box, I found that I'd completed eight of the 16" Brilliant Cut blocks.  Four more blocks just needed one final seam to set the round blocks into their background squares, and these were already pinned and ready to sew.  I finished those in nothing flat.

However....

(There's always a "however.")

It will take more than twelve of the 16" blocks to make a good-sized quilt.  Way back when I was originally working on this quilt, I had already decided that there was no way I'd ever finish enough of those blocks to make a big quilt.  I had found a simpler pattern - some type of star pattern - to make blocks to combine with the Brilliant Cut blocks to create a king-sized quilt.  The star blocks included  four-patch blocks situated in the corners in such a way as to create an Irish Chain pattern between the stars and the diamonds.  In the box, there were four completed star blocks and enough already-cut triangles, squares, and polygons to make 9 more.  I went to work.

The problem was that I'd not saved the instructions for assembling the star blocks.  I'd saved a picture of the block and could refer to the the already-completed blocks, but it still took a good bit of guess-work to figure out which way to turn the triangles, and on which side of the polygons they should be sewn.  I made a lot of bad guesses and had to un-sew a lot of seams.  In the process, some of the little triangles and polygons became distorted, and I had to cut new ones.  In short (too late for that?), this project was not nearly as far along as I'd thought, and finishing this quilt top is not going to be the piece of cake I thought it would be.

And then it'll need quilting.

Anyone want to place bets on whether there'll be a finished quilt in time for a September wedding?  ;)