Monthly Archives: June 2010

Florida Pretty Much Screwed

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Lego Tourists: The Only Ones in Florida Soon?

Florida is pretty much screwed. The Gulf coast is going to be covered in oil. All those hundreds of thousands of barrels of oil spilling into the Gulf since April 20 are going to start sifting onto the sandy beaches before long. It is only a matter of time. I was on that coast in March and it was lovely. We have planned to return, to visit family again, this fall. Maybe so. Maybe not.

I once took a charter boat out to fish off the reefs in the keys. It was a good time. We caught barracuda, among other fish. I can’t imagine that industry will not be hit. All those condominiums and hotels won’t be full. All those flights to Sarasota will have spare seats. Those beaches will have plenty of space to spread a blanket.

The New York Times reports today that tourism is already taking a hit, with reservations at a serious low for sport fishing and other pursuits. The article quotes a fisherman who see the Florida keys “emptying out like an abandoned mining town.” Oil towns have booms and busts, such as is happening in North Dakota right now. Florida may have its own bust cycle due to oil–not because the state decided to allow drilling but despite it. The state could be slammed and not rebound for decades.

Granted, Louisiana and other Gulf coast states are getting hit harder by this disaster, but Louisiana chose to drill for oil. Florida chose not to. The whole situation is insane. If we have to seek oil a mile below the surface of the ocean, doesn’t that say something about our addiction? I am as complicit as the next United States citizen, so I am part of the problem, yes. I am lucky not to live where this will affect me so directly. It will, I am sure, effect all of us in ways we cannot anticipate, however.

Eventually, unless we face up to our addiction, we might all be screwed.

About Night

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Crickets call. Fireflies twinkle across the field. Children asleep. It is just about dark.

Peonies and roses still let their scents sneak out into the dark air. Fresh cut grass lingers under the dew. Pineapple plants and dirt.

A small breeze. Peepers singing in the pond and the ditch. The air cools. A few cars hush past. The solstice prepares its visit.

In winter it would have been dark for hours by now. The green world grays. Later, the moon will rise. Quiet.

Quiet.

Snapper

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Laying Eggs

This snapping turtle was laying eggs a few days ago. Good for you, turtle. Procreate! I’m all for those cute little buggers popping out of the sand and wiggling their way toward a new life trying to avoid things like raccoons and crows, who only want to eat them for breakfast.  This turtle, however, was depositing its potential offspring right on the side of the road.  Cars are whizzing by and its just hanging out there, popping out unformed youngsters.

Honestly, I’m not sure why turtles have been around for millions of years, or why they live to be, like, 100. Granted, we have pretty much destroyed any hope of any other creatures, aside from the ones we eat, surviving at all on this mess of a planet, but come on, turtle, how about my driveway at least? Those speeding high schoolers won’t slow down for you if they don’t slow down for the rain soaked muddy turn. That most humans don’t live to be 100 makes sense to me.

I’ll have to watch out for those little guys in however long it takes for snapping turtle eggs to hatch. I’ll even move them to safer locales, too, as long as it isn’t when school gets out.

Another Batch of Ice Cream

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Recently my wife has been craving chocolate ice cream. One day last week she went to four stores in search of Ben and Jerry’s chocolate ice cream. Chocolate ice cream is pretty much found anywhere one might find ice cream but we like to eat locally. Truth: Ben and Jerry’s is hard to beat. Chocolate ice cream is one thing. Good chocolate ice cream is another.

So I decided to make some good chocolate ice cream. After some delicious trial and error I think I’ve got it. Not too rich, not too meak. Plenty of creaminess and just sweet enough.

Here is the recipe for one quart wicked good chocolate ice cream:

Melt 1 ounce unsweetened baking chocolate in a double boiler or in a sauce pan over low heat.

Stir in 1/4 cup baking chocolate. It will get clumpy but have no fear.

Stir in 1/2 cup skim milk and 1 cup cream, a little a time. Whisk until smooth. Let cool.

In a bowl, whisk two eggs until light and fluffy, a couple of minutes. Add 3/4 cup sugar, a little at a time, until blended. Whisk in 1 teaspoon vanilla and 1 cup cream.

Mix all the ingredients together until well blended. Let cool for at least one hour in a refrigerator. Use an ice cream maker to turn it into ice cream.

Try not to eat it all once.

Next up: mint chocolate ice cream made with fresh mint. I’m salivating already.

Critters, No Pics

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Yesterday afternoon I was out for a run. On my way towards home, on a narrow stretch of class IV road (dirt, minimally maintained, for those of you with only pavement around you), I was startled by a loud blast of noise. It was a fluttering, blustery, croaking flapping.  It was a turkey. Some think turkeys can’t fly, but that ain’t so. This turkey flew from the field next to the road up into a maple tree. It sat there hiding, as if I couldn’t see it, although I clearly could. People are called turkeys for nothing.

Out where it came from in the field there was… something. That something was a coyote. Its head was poking out of the tall grass, ears pointing up and listening. It looked at me. I looked at it. It had flushed the turkey, the one that got away. The thing is, there was another turkey there. It was meandering through the grass slowly, just its head above the grass, a short distance from the coyote. The coyote eyed it, followed it a little, but the jig was up. There was a human in the picture, and the turkey still on the ground knew it was being pursued. So the canine turned around and headed into the woods on the field’s far side.

I have to admit I was a little elated to see such an event. Nothing happened, but still, these charismatic fauna were playing out the ancient game of predator and prey.  One doesn’t see that every day, and I certainly wasn’t expecting it on one of my usual runs. But there it was. I watched it. I’ll take it.

Waiting for the Bus

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And There It Is

ZZ Top has this song, Waitin’ for the Bus, that comes into my head pretty frequently. Whenever I walk to the end of the driveway to wait for my daughter to get off the school bus the guitar riff that starts things off and the opening line, “Have mercy, been waitin’ for the bus all day,” zips through the old brain. I thought I would share it (with a bonus song, also a good ‘un) so you might get it going on in your own head. I happen to really like this tune, so hearing it over and over inside my skull is OK with me.

I haven’t actually been waiting all day, I know, and I am not a sunglassed rock guitar artist with a long beard, and I really look forward to the bus coming and my daughter running out its door, happy to be home, so I don’t exactly need any mercy, if you know what I mean. Nonetheless, I sing it while I wait. Sometimes quite loud.

Jammie Day

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Rain in Hinesburg

Rain today. I had considered heading out early to try to find some high elevation birds but thought better of it. It is the time of year for Mountain Birdwatch surveys, and I would need to be on top of a mountain by 4:00 AM. Birds won’t be out if the weather is too poor, so getting up in time to be at the start point by 4:00 AM isn’t what I’m talking about if it’s raining. I am glad I put it off. It was raining hard at 5:00 when I woke (briefly) this morning.

The children are still in pajamas. They are not in the same pajamas with which they started the day. They changed into cozier ones as the day has been damp and chilly. Current temperature, high for the day so far: 57 degrees.

I have been inside most of the day. I could have planted those late spring bulbs, but I called it on account of rain. Too wussy. My wife is out for a run at the moment. It wasn’t raining much at all when she left. She will be soaked when she gets back, however. Pouring, that is how you might describe the weather at the moment.

Soggy, soggy. I should put on some jammies myself. And brew up some decaf. And maybe make some popcorn. And read a book. I’m not getting to many projects today, in any case. I’m good with that.

Rain on the Deck

Grow, Baby, Grow

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I planted potatoes for the first time this spring. This is what they looked like last weekend, six days ago:

Potatoes, May 30

I was pretty excited that they were growing at all. I mean, I’ve never grown these tubers before. Here is what they looked like today:

Potatoes, June 5

The popcorn appeared today. This morning the green shoots were popping out of the dirt.

Popcorn Reaching for the Sky

I knew I had to get something to scare the birds or they would pull it all as it sprouts. When I first planted popcorn, the birds ate every kernal. So I replanted and hung some reflectors. That did the trick. I wanted to wait this time until the shoots were just coming up so the birds would not get accustomed to my little scare tactic. So late in the morning I rigged my reflectors. Between the time I discovered the seeds sprouting and the time I carried stakes and string out to the garden beds, one of those flying bastards had pulled half a dozen seeds. I hope that is all they manage to get.

I save CD’s over the year so I have a few to hang to keep the birds away. That they are reflective, and that they spin in even a slight breeze, seems to be enough of a deterrent. I add some flagging tape in there just to make things really wiggy. I need the birds to stay away long enough so they no longer want the just-bursting seeds. In past years, once the plants have become established they have done fine, and I am looking to repeat that pattern this year.

Better Than a Scarecrow

And that’s how things are growing these days. Most everything is coming up, although lettuce seems to be slow. I’m thinking it has been too hot. That is what you get for waiting. We have had some hot days and some rain so growing conditions are right on for most things. Although the basil isn’t doing well, which surprises me. But you can’t have everything. If the cucumber beetles are less of a nuisance this year then I will be happy. Cucumbers and melons instead of basil. Not ideal, but not a bad trade.

And speaking of nuisances, I haven’t seen the damn bunnies in a few days now. Maybe my chasing them around in old clogs was enough to scare them? Or maybe my wife watching me chase them, through the upstairs window, and laughing through the screen, was what really made them flee. Either way, I am glad they have decided to snack on more wild fare for the time being.

Too many critters to deal with, I tell you. Too many critters.

Tractors Getting the Job Done

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My son and I took a walk this afternoon to see if we could spot any interesting critters, like we did yesterday. No dice. Too sunny and too hot. The critters were all holed up. We did, however, see a neighbor plowing his fields, ready to plant corn.

Digging Things Up

Then another neighbor came by to ask if he could cut our field. He wants to cut it for hay but it needs some work before that can happen. There isn’t much grass but there is a lot of other plant life. I took a walk while he went to get his tractor to see if there were any ground nests. My hesitation with cutting the field this early is nesting bobolinks. They seem to like the adjacent fields better than ours, however, and we are clear of bobolink nests for the time being.  I did see a couple of the warbling birds just beyond our field but none were hanging out in ours.

Bobolink in the Shrubbery

So he mowed. With the big honking tractor, unlike the one we used ourselves to mow in the past, the one that now seems what one might call wee, it took less than two hours. It took us eight to ten hours with the smaller tractor. He got the job done before we knew it, waved and headed back up the road.

Upper Part of the Field

Lower Part of the Field

The gulls had a time with it, picking up the mice that tried to run away. Poor mice. This is the first of perhaps three cuts for the summer. Eventually, we hope, grass will outcompete the “weeds” and will fill in the meadow. Then, bail it and feed it to the cows over the hill.

It looks all right, and it smells great. And I can’t say I will miss the wild parsnip that was starting to get way too tall. That stuff is trouble, and I am happy to see the fat stems of that invasive plant get chopped. Let’s see some timothy take its place. That will feed some animals. Even better than the mice fed the gulls.

Like I said, poor mice.

What’s With the Geese?

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Two days ago, early morning, maybe 6:00, I saw a flock of geese flying north. It was a sizable flock and I said aloud to them, “Kind of late, aren’t you kids?”  They ignored me and kept flying.

Maybe 20 minutes later I saw another flock. Within an hour I saw a total of four vees of geese on their way to cooler climes. What gives, I thought that morning.

And I keep seeing them. I saw more yesterday morning, and again this morning. Plus I have seen others later in the day. Today is June 3rd. It seems late for geese to be flying north, at least over the Champlain Valley.

I don’t remember seeing so many geese flying north so late. Aberration? Or poor observation by me in the past? Or both?

Speaking of wildlife, my son and I walked down to the river this afternoon and we got a good look at a green heron. That was a treat. And he learned to recognize a red-winged blackbird today. On my morning runs the past three days I saw a deer who almost, I kid you not, ran into me in the fog as it ran away from other pedestrians; a painted turtle crossing the road; and about 795 rabbits who all of a sudden decided to come out of the woods. Maybe the geese told them to do it.

Whenever I see those rabbits I fear they will find my garden and decide to snack. I sometimes run after them and make monster-like noises. I want them to be afraid of me so they stay away from my precious vegetables. I feel like Farmer McGregor. Hand me my sack, will you?

Damn bunnies. I wish the geese would call them north. Or just eat them. Either way, I’d be good.