I know I should be all grown up and whatnot, but let’s face it, flatulence is funny. A friend once called it “cosmic humor” since it would be funny to any intelligent life form. That was years ago and I still believe it. Then I discovered this:
With this stuff so easily accessible, I am not sure I will ever be able to grow up.
Phoebe Chick
A little too long ago our garage door busted. One of the cables snapped so only one side gets pulled when it operates. I say “a little too long ago” because we still haven’t fixed it. We just leave it up or down for a while. Often the car isn’t in the bay. I also say “a little too long ago” since the door busted because it froze to the floor. We haven’t had ice in a while.
But whatevs. This is about critters. The ones in the garage. The reason they get in is because the door is open. A squirrel managed to find a home in there. I don’t know it is actually living in the garage, but it sure likes hanging out in there. It has recently discovered how wonderful the garbage bags are. “Get a load of these things,” I imagine it pondered. “They are filled with plastic packaging, some of which has slight amounts of food residue stuck to it; I think I’ll gnaw large holes in the bag so I can lick the salsa jar lid.” Our food waste goes into the compost so there isn’t much for a squirrel to snack upon. But that doesn’t stop it.
Yesterday I started moving our wood from one wall to another. This seems to bother the squirrel. Hey, squirrel, chill. This isn’t your wood. Clean up the mess you made with the garbage and maybe I’ll let you hang around. Until then, you can find a tree. And by the way, stop licking the grill. Just because I’m lazy doesn’t give you license to lick that either. I think that once I move the wood, the squirrel will just move into that pile. We need to get that door fixed.
Once spring began we also had a phoebe family move in. It made a nest in the rafters. This meant we had to leave the door open so it could get out. And in. Then it had some chicks. The other day, the chicks fledged. One of the chicks was hanging out on the garage floor. It left the nest but hadn’t quite figured out how to fly yet. It was there for a while. After dark it was gone. I hope it didn’t get snacked upon by some noctural predator. Especially after leaving the door open that whole time. It was cute, that baby bird. I guess that made up for its parents crapping all over the cars and the lawnmower and firewood. And the garbage bags.
The phoebes have left, now that the chicks are off to better things. Now they hang out in the birch tree outside my son’s window, keeping him up late and waking him up early. At least they are out of the garage. Now I just need to convince the squirrel to take a hike. Once I stop being lazy, and decide that paying for someone to fix the door is a priority, it will be easier to keep out the critters. I guess I’ll have to live with the squirrel until then. At least it isn’t in the house. With my record of door fixing procrastination, let’s hope the front door stays intact.
Yesterday was a hot one and we didn’t linger at home. We visited a bunch of friends on the lake, swimming and eating outside and generally making a time of it. So I didn’t get much done on my first day off for the summer. Today I did manage to get a bunch accomplished. The sun shone and the day was warm. It was a good one for getting things done.
The first thing I managed to do, after making a couple of perfect over easy eggs for my daughter, was to go for a run. I haven’t run in far too long and I am finally sans pain. I only put in four miles, but I felt just great. If I can keep that up I will be golden. I managed to sweat only lightly while on the road, but when I got back home I headed straight to the garden. I discovered that something has been yanking up our corn again. I thought that problem was solved but it looks like it will require some more trickery. I also ate a few ripe strawberries. And pulled some weeds.
I took a shower a little later but was still sweating when I was done with that small task. So I headed to the garage to stack firewood. We need to move what we have closer to the door to make room for the new stuff we will get later. We need to wood that is most dry to be most available. Plus, once it all gets consolidated there is more room for the lawnmower. We need to be crafty to fit it all in. I did what I could but left a bunch for later. Then it was lunch time.
Since I had only two chocolate chip cookies and two cups of coffee (hey, it had cream in it) for breakfast, I was hungry. We have tons for lettuce from our share at the farm so I stacked six big fat leaves of it under a veggie burger. I also added some mayo. That did the trick. Oh, and pickle. And a handful of dilly potato chips. And another cookie.
My son and I took a trip to town for some errands. I needed to get a few tools and supplies to get started on scraping paint from the house, and I had this lid to a compost bin that I had purchased way back in November. It was the wrong size and I figured out I didn’t need it anyway. So I finally brought it back. I even managed to save the receipt the whole time so it was a quick transaction. Then the kid wanted to play on the play structure. I can’t blame him. The thing is pretty impressive. After sailing on a couple of ships, swimming in the shallow water and avoiding a bunch of sharks, I picked out a ceramic pot and we hit it.
I used the pot to repot a plant. Duh. We got this plant almost seven years ago. It was in a plastic pot inside a wicker basket. It looked good for a while, but we overfilled the pot so many times that the basket was wet all the time. Eventually the bottom rotted out. Since the plastic pot just fit inside the basket, I had a bumbling time extracting it. The extraction involved flying dirt, rotted basket smear on the white T-shirt, and a pinched finger. After the struggle, however, the new pot served its purpose. The plant is still a little hurting, but I am hoping it will recover with the fresh dirt and some room to grow.
I managed to get a few other random tasks accomplished as well (cleaned those seedling pots finally) and made up a good dinner. The dinner used up a good pile of produce from the farm–bok choy, kale, mini turnips–and some other veggies. All that spiced and flavored with vinegar over brown rice–it was a winner. My daughter even ate it, although my son pointed to the steaming bowl of vegetables and declared “I don’t like that” as soon as he sat down. At least he ate the rice.
More projects tomorrow. And maybe some reading. I need to yank some weeds from the garden, and maybe plant another round of greens. If it’s hot, however, swimming (somewhere) will be in order. We’ll see about the weather.
I have the good fortune of a ten-month contract, which means I get a couple months off during the summer. My spouse has the same good fortune. So we are double fortunate. Last summer was my first no tworking since I was a pretty young. I even had a paper route before I was a teenager. Since my wife did some tutoring last summer, this will be our first where we both don’t have to work. Today was my last day of work.
Really, it was an easy day. I was on call to take phone calls. I never got any. I did need to wrap up a few things but overall it was cake. I had to run some errands–post office, motor vehicle department, garden supply store–and I got a few things done to boot. It was a busy day in toto. I even busted out the weedwhacker and finished just before the thunderstorm hit. Not bad.
So now I have lots to tend to. I hope to do some exterior painting and take care of lots of odds and ends. If I can get cracking, I will feel good about getting some things done before I can relax and play. We have a couple of trips planned–not too far but far enough–but mostly just hope to take advantage of what comes our way.
Summer. You can’t beat it. I look forward to a bunch of days with my family, with time to take care of projects, time to read, time to eat creemies. Time to do whatever. Mostly I look forward to having no schedule, to taking the days as they come. I look forward to enjoying where I live. People come here for vacations, after all. I plan to get some work done but, let’s face it, I need to take some vacation time as well.
Triptych
After Han-shan
1.
This farmhouse—my home at field’s edge.
Sometimes cars pass on the dusty road.
The woods so quiet, turkeys roost at night.
In the river’s shadowed pools, trout rising.
My daughter and I pick pears from a lonely tree.
My wife tugs carrots from the garden.
And in my house what would you see?
Walls of shelves filled with books.
2.
My father and mother taught me to be content;
I need not envy how others make their living.
Click, click—my wife knits by the window.
Zoom, zoom—my son with his trucks.
Apple blossoms swirl around my raised arms.
Hands in pockets, I listen to warblers high in the oak.
Who might notice how I pass my days?
Well, the mail carrier stops each afternoon.
3.
Walking, I pause at the collapsing barn.
The barn, slowly folding, fills the still mind—
Mornings milking despite drifting snow,
Afternoons stacking the loft with hay.
Where sumac tumbles from the window hole,
And gray walls tremble from swallows’ shadows.
In the old cemetery, the bones of those who built this place—
Their names fading, but written in stone.
I hung up a bunch of old CD’s recently over some garden beds, to keep out the birds. This morning I looked out the window to see a robin pecking at the dirt at the edge of one of those beds. Then it hopped right over the bed. It nearly got clocked by the spinning disk. It worked last time.
Our dishwasher has a whole slew of adjustable bars and rods, the better to efficiently stack all one’s dishware and cutlery. One of them seemed to have lost its adjustability recently. It flopped. I removed it today to find that it had rusted right through. The little rod was pointy, yet crumbly, with rust. I took out one half and wrestled with the second for a while before deciding to leave it for tomorrow. I figured a dishwasher is for lazy people anyway so I had good reason to be lazy with that task.
Our neighbors have a small pond, just over our property line. What its intended use what I can’t say. It doesn’t seem to get much human use at all–no swimming, no irrigation, no livestock watering. It just sits there, leaking onto our side, home for ducks and frogs. The bullfrogs are especially loud these days. The groan and croak at all hours, but seem to especially like the hours just after dark. All of us pretend to respond to them now and again. Cracks us right up.
For Father’s Day I got a book of crossword puzzles. I am pretty hooked on crossword puzzles and have been working my way through a book of 200 of them from the New York Times. This new book is a little different. One of the clues was this: Royal mistake maker. The answer? Dumbshit. Cracked me right up.
We have been watching old science fiction movies lately. You know, the classics. The Day the Earth Stood Still, for example. Last night we watched the original 1950’s version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. It was pretty well done, eerie and even a little scary, but not gore-filled. All of these movies have the year listed on the sleeve from Netflix. Last night’s said 1956, but when the film opened it said 1955. The other films have had this same one year discrpancy. My guess is the the film posts the copyright date and Netflix notes the date the film actually was released. I guess they used to do things a little slower back then.
We went up the road this afternoon to pick up our share of produce. This was given to us as a gift again at Christmas. Great gift. As we walked out to the field to pick strawberries, the children found a mud puddle. Well, maybe puddle isn’t quite right. It was a mud puddle and had become a thick bowl of muddy paste. The children were wearing mud boots so of course they slopped about in it until their footwear was gray and wet. They had a blast. Then they sat in their dirty boots and ate all the strawberries we picked while I picked some daisies to bring home.
The cucumber beetles are starting to hatch. I have been slow to attend to them. I hope to get some Neem and see what that does. I have heard good things about it, that it makes the beetles go away. I want them to go away. I picked one off a pumpkin plant today and slayed it. They are beautiful little bugs. And I want them to live far away from here. I want some cucumbers this year, dammit.
Ready for Planting
We started our garden at the house in which we now live in 2007. That garden was limited. We dug up some lawn and gathered some compost and got going. We planted tomatoes and carrots and lettuce, pumpkins and strawberries. Last year we expanded, adding more compost and digging more beds. This is year three. That first summer we had no problems at all. Everything grew like gangbusters. Now the troubles have started.
One mistake was getting compost from a new source last year. It was filled with weeds and contained the larvae of cucumber beetles. Cucumber beetles eat the roots of young plants and then, after they hatch, eat the leaves of the same plants. I have had to replant zucchini and yellow squash and cucumbers, and the melons are pretty much bumming. I have done nothing yet to get rid of them this spring so our problems persist. I thought turning the soil late in the fall would help. I turned it all again early in the spring. No dice with that simple plan.
I planted peas for the first time this year. They started off well but now the rabbit that hangs out in the woods has discovered the plants. It keeps whittling them down to nubbins. The pea plants are no taller than they were six weeks ago. Then our cuddly friend discovered the carrots and the lettuce. The little pecker is nibbling down our salads. And a squirrel is eating our strawberries. These critters are killing me.
I planted popcorn today. Last year I had to plant corn three times. The first time the turkeys ate the sprouts just as they emerged. Then the crows did the same after I put up a scarecrow (can you say misnomer?). Finally I hung a string across the bed with old CD’s hanging from it. Those spinning reflectors kept the birds away. I hope that this trick will keep them away again. The popcorn was one of our best crops last year.
At this point the onions, at least the ten out of 26 that survived (no idea what was up with that) are healthy. The leeks (except for the handful some crazy bird yanked out but left on the soil) are shooting up, and the pumpkins are spreading. The tomatoes and peppers (planted a few days ago) are still alive but my optimism is wavering. We will have some food out of this endeavor but not as much as we might.
I’m not all that upset, really. I am disappointed, of course, but not upset. This gardening adventure is about persistence over the long term. I planted red zebra tomatoes the first summer. They grew well but were not the sweetest. I may plant them again as sauce tomatoes, or I might consider trying to grow them over a few years to breed sweeter fruit, but I learned that another variety might be better. I also have not had much luck with melons. They need warm weather and lots of it. The beetles snacking on them don’t exactly help. So melons will require much more trial and error (hopefully with diminishing error).
I have had luck with seeds I saved for peppers and pumpkins. I will try more of that this year. I like the idea of keeping the cycle going–planting seeds from plants that grew the previous year, then doing that again. It is amazing that it works at all. Plant a few seeds and they grow into plants that provide food? That is plain old miraculous, really.
So I do what I can to keep things growing. I weed and water and hang old computer discs. I need to get on the cucumber beetles. They haven’t hatched yet, but I know they won’t wait for an invitation to sit down to dinner on my cucumbers. Their social graces, it seems, are less than refined.
View from Burnt Rock Mountain
Looking South-ish
A couple of weeks ago I went up Ricker Peak for my annual volunteer effort to help the Mountain Birdwatch high elevation bird survey. After I had completed that survey route I noticed that several routes were available still. So I signed up to do another one, on Burnt Rock Mountain. I had been up there a couple times before, the first time when hiking the Long Trail from Massachusetts. I love that mountain, so I figured it was time to volunteer for a second route.
Last week I took a day off and did a scouting trip. Since the survey requires observing at specific points, I wanted to make sure I found those points during the day. The survey requires observing birds before the sun rises, so I wouldn’t be able to find them the day I hiked for the real deal. That scouting mission was mostly successful. I found four out of five points, although it took me a while. The first point was “just south of the summit.” I had a description and a photo. The point description sheet noted “all photos looking north,” so busted out the compass to make sure I was looking the right way and tried to match the photo. It was a fine clear day so it should have been no problem. But I couldn’t figure it out.
I hiked all over the top of that mountain looking for point one. I finally gave up and headed down the trail to find point two. Couldn’t find that one either. Point three was an obvious one, with definite landmarks–steep rocky slope, big fat root hanging over it, tall leaning dead tree–and I thought at first that the photo was backwards. No wonder I was having trouble. Then I realized the photo wasn’t looking north. It was looking south. It turns out they all were looking south. After that I found all but point two. That one would have to wait to be found in the wee hours of survey day. I ran out of time that day.
I did a repeat hike this morning, but instead of heading down the trail just behind a group of a dozen women in their sixties, all with hiking poles and long pants and sleeves, I was alone. It was dark, and it was 2:30 AM when I started hiking, so that wasn’t a big surprise or anything. I walked slowly with my headlamp showing me the way. No moonlight hiking on this trip. Aside from the idea that I might meet a sleepy and therefore grumpy bear, I was afraid only of slipping and hurting myself. It would be a long wait before someone might come to help.
And it was slippery. It had rained more since my first hike so the streams were higher, the trail had more water on it, the rocks were wetter. I slipped more than once, drawing blood on my hand in almost the same spot I had on the scouting hike. I got to the top of the mountain about 4:00. Right on time. The survey needs to happen between 4:00 and 6:00 so I sat down, drank some water, pulled out my notebook, and waited.
I had to wait a while. It was foggy, socked in in fact, so the birds rose later than they might have on a clear morning. I lay back on my pack, looking into the wet dark air, feeling the drops on my face and reaching out into the morning for any sound. It was peaceful. I was afraid I might fall asleep. And then hermit thrushes started to sing. Lots of hermit thrushes.
I started my ten-minute observation at that first point at 4:30. I was lucky. I heard a Bicknell’s thrush, which is one of the major reasons for the survey. No matter how many times I hear it, it fills me with joy and gives me hope that the world still is filled with wonders. It is. We humans are working hard, it sometimes seems, to trash the place. But the world is resilient and powerful and beautiful and downright amazing. I felt that deeply again this morning.
I did find point two, and the rest of them, and I completed the survey on time. I got to spend a good chunk of time up on a mountain by myself. That was a treat. Back at the summit, after my notebook was stowed in my pack, I sat and looked and listened for what I might discover. There was nothing new, and that was what I sought. Back at the car, after a slidey hike down, I donned some dry clothes. I stopped for gas (the low fuel light was on and I was afraid I might not make it; not only did I get gas but free coffee with a fill up) and headed up the twisting road through the gap on Route 17. I was home by 9:00.
I did take a short nap this afternoon, but I will need to retire early this evening. It was great experience and I hope to do it again next year. At the moment, however, I am a bit tuckered. That is fine with me. I know that up high, Bicknell’s thrushes still sing.
Visual of the Elusive Critter
Last weekend I drove down to New Hampshire. When I left on Friday I grabbed two things to pop into a mailbox, one of which was a DVD from Netflix to be returned. I figured I would pass a mailbox at some point. I picked up a friend to ride together and, once we got conversing, I totally forgot about the mail. We arrived at our destination and I had to leave a random object (in this case a tin of mints) in front of the steering wheel to remind me to find a mailbox on the way home.
The tin of mints did its job. It reminded me that I had left the mail under the seat and dutifully took it out to mail on the way home. Since my friend and I rode home together again, however, I repeated my forgetfulness on the return journey. I got home and the mail was still in my possession. I dropped it in the mailbox to be picked up by our carrier the next day. It was Sunday.
We had been watching the Indiana Jones series–four in a row was the plan. We had watched the first three and the most recent, from last year, was on our itinerary for that Sunday. The children fell asleep and I noticed that the disc I thought was the one we wanted was sealed in its return envelope. I figured we had sealed it up by mistake and realized that it was the third movie. I had put the wrong one in the mailbox. At this point I was thinking how glad I was not to have found a mailbox it after all. I would have sent away the film we were hoping to see.
So I headed down our long driveway to the mailbox. It wasn’t dark yet, but it was getting there. My wife had cut the lawn earlier in the day and I noticed a dark smudge on the edge of the driveway where the grass was newly clipped. I wondered if she had run over something–some bark or old leaves or some plastic bag type item. As I got right up to it, however, I realized that it was nothing that the lawnmower had mangled. It was a snipe.
I had never seen a snipe, but I had seen photographs, and I had seen woodcocks, which look similar. It is a small bird with a long thin beak, colored to blend in to the grass and about the size of a robin. I have heard snipes many times and, to be honest, I have seen them in flight, way up against the dim sky. They have a funky mating display in the spring where they make eerie low whistling noises at the tail ends of the day. They are either hiding in the grass or too difficult to see clearly, since they fly typically when the light is low.
So I was pretty ecstatic to see one of these puppies. But it was not alone. It had a mottled chick, fuzzy and still next to it. I walked right up to them and they did not move. Obviously they were working under the camouflage principal–Don’t move and no one will see us since we look just like everything around us. Good theory, but since they were on the nipped grass, it wasn’t working so well. I watched them for a while before continuing to the mailbox.
I assumed they would split when I returned but they were still there. I watched them again for a while and they did not move. I felt like I would stress them out so I split. Then I thought I might get a photo, so I dropped the red envelope, picked up my camera and headed back down the driveway. My spouse was on the phone so she missed out. It was still there, so I took a couple of poor photos, getting as close as I dared and zooming in with our lame zoom lens as close as it would go. I took four photographs, all of which, how to say this simply, suck.
By the time my wife was off the phone and tried to find our avian friends, they had decided to find some taller grass. She was out of luck. I would say at least I had the photos, but they were not much help. So the lessons here:
Father’s Day is coming up. Maybe I will drop some hints about that camera. The movie, by the way–Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull–was pretty good. They managed to bring our hero back as a much older man in a believable and fun way. The story itself may not have been believable but hey, it’s just a movie.
I remember reading once that the best newspapers are ones that feature people. They name names. They contain photographs of those in the community. The stories are about readers’ neighbors and friends and family. People buy the paper because it has direct relevance to them. Recently we have been receiving in the mail, unsolicited, a section of the Burlington Free Press that is about people in the community. It contains stories about everyday people and it contains lots of photos. Normally, I pitch those free papers, but I flip through this one every time.
I check it out because I may see someone I know in those photos. I have seen people I know in its pages. I was in it once, as were my children. USA Today won’t contain pictures of anyone I know personally. This little paper likely will. So I open it up each time and peruse it before adding it to the pile of fire-starting material.
I thought of this little newspaper today. This past weekend I spent some time with David Grant, who is president of the Geraldine R. Dodge Foundation. He just announced he is leaving his position. He wrote about this on the foundation’s blog. I subscribe to the blog through a reader. The foundation hosts a huge poetry festival every couple of years. It is of interest to me. I had not made the connection, however, between David’s association with the foundation, and my own interest in it.
I find that I sometimes do this somewhat dramatically, at least in my own head–I connect two things together in one arena and then connect one of those things with something else in another arena; and then one day a light bulb goes off that all those things are related. I have a Eureka moment–“Hey that is related to that, and that is related that and whoa, everything is connected!” The reason this seems so dramatic to me is that I spend a lot of my mental energy on looking for and finding connections. Discovering how things intertwine brings me real joy. So when I find that I have missed something that, in hindsight, seems so obvious, I stumble a bit.
I had one of those moments this weekend. “Oh, David directs that Dodge Foundation–Duh!” I thought to myself. Today I went back and looked at the foundation’s blog and found the articles that David had written that I had previously just skimmed over. I hadn’t noticed who had written them and so had not made a personal connection to them. This time I read them more thoroughly. They were interesting to me the first time, but they were more interesting to me with another read. I had some context the second time around. I could picture who was doing the writing and I had at least some idea of how he thinks, of what he has experienced in the world. It made the articles more relevant. I had a picture.
The point is, I paid more attention because I knew the author of the article. I suppose, while the writing is of a very different type, I might compare it to a favorite poet or author. If I have enjoyed a poet or author I am likely to pay attention if he or she comes out with a new book. I have some context, some personal history, so I have a link to the new book. That is what happened with David’s blog posts. That is what happens with the local newspaper that comes in the mail. Once I feel that I have a connection, or that I might have a connection, I pay more attention.
I think most of us do this. The captain of the U.S. ship that was recently hijacked by pirates and then released, was from Vermont. Vermonters paid attention. My guess is they paid a lot more attention than Oregonians or Floridians. They had a connection, even if it was not directly personal. It was still personal. We pay more attention when a neighbor is in trouble than when a stranger is.
This is why it is important for me to look closely. When I look closely I notice more, and the more I notice the more I am likely to see connections. Then I pay more attention. Attention feeds attention in a positive feedback loop. The more I pay attention, the more connections I see, and so the more I pay attention. If all of us could stop to look closely, to ask questions, to challenge our assumptions, to simply wonder, we would see that many things are not so strange after all. We would see that we are connected to our world. And we would notice what we do. And we would see how we affect those around us. And we would better understand that all we do has consequences, good and bad. And we would, perhaps, make more conscious and better choices.
Maybe not, but I’ve been doing my best to pay attention to what I see in the people I encounter everywhere I happen to be. I believe if we could slow down and refect a little more, we might just take care of ourselves and our neighbors and our world better. And that would certainly be something to which we all could pay attention.
Mercury on the Move 