Removing the Rodents

The barn has long been a haven for rodents.  Every year I kill them and for a while, I see neither hide nor hair of the filthy animals.  There are woods nearby, so I assume more come out of the woods to re-populate our comfortable barn.  So the work of rate removal is never done.  It is a task that stretches out in perpetuity.  For some strange reason, rat traps don't work too good.  The rats seem to be too smart to be caught.

But they have to be eliminated.  They nest up in the loft on top of the hay.  They roam the barn floor at night, looking for morsels of feed or rice that the cows or chickens have dropped.  When we come in the barn and turn on the lights, the rats scurry up into the rafters and into the hay for cover.  The trouble with the disgusting creatures is that they pee on the hay and then the cows won't eat it.  That won't do.  The rats must be killed.

The best method of rat killin' I've had success with has been with my old Marlin .22 lever action rifle loaded with rat shot - or pest control shot, as it is officially called.  I walked out to the barn at around 10 pm, turned on the lights and watched the rats run.  Go ahead, make my day, night.

Two shots and two juvenile rats take a permanent dirt nap.

You Dirty Rats

I picked them up, skinned them and dressed them out and brought them in to Tricia.  She usually seasons them, dredges them in flour and then pan fries them in a cast iron skillet.  I'm just joking, of course.  I went out again tonight to kill more, but they were still gun-shy from the death of their friend from last night and I didn't see or hear anything.  They stayed hidden.  I know they are there, though, biding their time.  I'll be back in a couple of days to finish what I started.

Employees. Our Greatest Asset - Really

This morning I had an opportunity to meet with a former co-worker who lives way up in Maine.  He was traveling through the area and called me and we met and had a cup of good coffee and about 45 minutes of good conversation.  He invited us up to Maine to visit he and his wife.  I've never been to Maine and think it would be a fun trip.  I'd like to try a lobster roll.  He said it is something similar to a "northern po boy!"

I was telling him that back before we began making our own toothpaste, - Read how by clicking here - our brand was Tom's of Maine.  I still use their deodorant.  I like their products.

Image Credit

But another thing I like about Tom's of Maine is the way they treat their employees. Now, let me preface what I'm about to say by stating that I believe in capitalism. Although imperfect, it is the best economic philosophy that I know of and has lifted many out of poverty and given people better lives. With that being said, sometimes corporations are not good to their employees.  I fully understand that the President and CEO and Board of Directors have a fiduciary responsibility to maximize shareholder value.  What happens too often is that this maximization of profits sometimes takes place on the backs of the workers and this is unfortunate.  Jobs are moved overseas to take advantage of cheaper wages, people are laid off, benefits are cut, etc., putting peoples' livelihoods and families in peril.

Many companies may say "Our employees are our greatest asset," but CLICK HERE to see how Tom's of Maine puts their money where their mouth is (pardon the play on words).  Here's a brief summary of a few of the perks of working for Tom's:

• They have a work out facility for employees with personal trainers,
• They are encouraged to use 5% of their paid work time to volunteer in the community,
• They offer mothers or fathers 4 weeks of additional time off beyond short-term disability following the birth or adoption of a baby,
• Because Maine summers are short, from Memorial Day to Labor Day, employees' have special summer hours, giving them longer weekends,
• Employees are given a $4,000 benefit to purchase a new hybrid vehicle,
• Free coffee, fruit, tea, and spring water,

That's pretty cool!

As I was thinking about that, I was reminded that in our small town of Kinder, I'd like to think that my maternal grandparents, whom we lovingly called Bumby and Poppy, pioneered employee appreciation and community service initiatives similar to Tom's of Maine.  Poppy opened the Kinder Supermarket in 1947 and hired many people - not just people, but friends.  Many of those former employees have gone on to be doctors, teachers, engineers, and successful businessmen and women and fondly remember bagging groceries or ringing up canned goods at the Kinder Supermarket.

Bumby and Poppy were very active in the community and their church, volunteering, sponsoring ball teams, dance recitals, having benefits for those sick in the community.  Around Christmastime, I can remember my grandfather loading up his Ford Bronco with goodies and delivering bags of free groceries to needy folks around our town.  He and Bumby loved their employees and loved the community they served.

As a small boy, I can remember the excitement Bumby had in hosting a Christmas a Christmas Party in their home and inviting everyone over.  Entertaining was Bumby's forte.  She had multitudes of silly games for everyone to play.  One I can remember is she'd separate the employees into 2 groups and give everyone a toothpick to put in their mouths.  They would line up and the first person would be given a livesaver.  They had to pass the lifesaver down the line using no hands - just transferring the livesaver from toothpick to toothpick.  (Some Tom's toothpaste might have come in handy!)  The same general idea but this time with an orange, passed from person to person - using no hands, just holding it between your chin and neck/shoulder.  She'd often read a goofy poem or a silly joke or song.  It sounds so corny, but people really had fun and it built camaraderie, friendship, loyalty and respect.  It built goodwill and trust and was just enjoyable.

Come to think of it, the world needs more 'Supermarket Parties.'  Or more "Bumby and Poppy's!"

Etched in Stone

Yesterday I noticed something that I walk past everyday without paying much attention to.  Like many people do, when we poured the slab for our driveway on August 15, 2002, we had our kids put their handprints, their footprints, and their names into the wet concrete.  Fourteen years later I look at those inscriptions and think about the multitudes of changes that have taken place since then.  Laura has now graduated from college and is teaching third grade at a school.  Russ is a senior at LSU.  Benjamin is now driving!

Etched in Stone

Similar to marking heights with a yardstick and putting dates on the wall as kids grow, marking things in concrete is a way of preserving an event in time and saving it for later.  Times change, we grow up, we have experiences - both good and bad that shape us and mold us, but a reminder of that little 9 year old girl who excitedly put her hands in the concrete is there when I walk out the garage door.

Laura Lee

So is that little 7 year old boy with a big smile and full of happiness, always clowning around.

And so is that little 1 1/2 year old Benjamin who was squirming around so much you can't really tell that the marks are handprints and footprints at all!

We've been doing this for thousands of years.  Yahweh inscribed the 10 commandments in stone and gave them to Moses atop Mount Sinai.  Egyptians carved intricate hieroglyphics in stone.  When we want to honor great figures in history, we carve memorials in stone either etching their names or their likenesses so that we can remember them.

But regardless of the permanence of stone etchings, nothing beats looking at or spending time with the real thing!

Great faces.  Great places.

Aiming for Fresh Green Beans for Thanksgiving

This weekend it finally dried up enough to do a little planting.  It has been a long time in coming.  I'm a month late for the fall garden, but there's not much I could do because of the rain.  So the first thing I'm putting in is the green beans.  I always try to plan it so that we have fresh green beans for Thanksgiving.

Here is the bed where we will plant our beans.  This was where the pumpkins were before all succumbing to the torrential rains.  Sadly they all died and weeds happy took their place.  Early Saturday I got out the weed eater and clipped the weeds down to the dirt.  The area was still covered by the shadows of the live oaks.

Later that afternoon I used a shovel to turn over the soil.  I really didn't want to work it too much - just enough to open the soil up.  In the past this dirt was hard and compacted.  Over the past two years, I've incorporated a lot of leaves into the soil. The rotten leaves have added organic material and definitely loosened the soil.  It is amazing the number of earthworms that reside in the soil now.

A SHOVEL-READY JOB

I opted to plant three varieties of green beans, from both seeds I've saved as well as purchased.  I used the traditional Contender Green bean, Italian Roma Green beans, and Dragon Tongue beans.

Dragon tongue beans on the left in the photo below and Italian Roma and Contender Green beans on the right.

I dug some shallow holes and mixed a tablespoon full of organic fertilizer mixed with some organic potting soil, planted a couple seeds in each hole, covered and watered.

With 55 days to maturity, if things go according to plan, we'll enjoy some fresh picked green beans for Thanksgiving - maybe wrapped in bacon.  That sounds great to me!  As I was planting, I noticed that I had some company in the garden. Some have garden gnomes, but I have a garden toad.  These guys are great for the garden.  They eat over 100 insects each night.  This was a fat little dude and must have been eating his fill of bugs for many nights.

Well, since we're late with the fall garden, I have a lot of work to do in a very short time to try to get everything in.

They're Baa-aack!

Saturday morning started off beautifully.  There was a faint north breeze blowing, just teasing us that fall was on its way.  We got up early and got our chores done and then cleaned up the buckets and started a pot of coffee brewing.  We read a morning devotional and I looked out of the kitchen window admiring the gorgeous day in front of us.

Something caught my eye flying past the window.  I looked toward the column that supports our side entrance and my initial thoughts were immediately confirmed. BEES!  In THIS POST we talked about how our honeybees had left their home and our job of removing the column and cleaning the rotten honeycomb out of the column with bleach and a pressure washer.

I told Tricia, "You won't believe what's outside."  She looked and saw bees flying around the column. She wasn't too happy about their return.  How could this bee? (pardon the play on words).  They left. We cleaned out all of the pheromones that could have attracted them back, I thought.  Tricia said, "I thought you caulked the gap at the top to block their return?"  I then remembered that I had only put one 'bead' of caulk and was going to let it dry before putting another layer on top to completely block the entrance.  I never seemed to get around to putting that second layer.  That teaches me to finish a job!  

The flight of the honeybee (back home).

So the bees have moved back into the column.  I would love to know the story behind this.  Is this the same colony that left?  If so, why did they come back? Where did they go?

Home Sweet Home

Back home after a summer vacation, I presume...  Welcome home, old friends.

Completing a Job

For the last month it has been too wet to garden, so what is there to do?  Well, there's always things on the list that don't require dry weather.  I decided to knock a few things off the to-do list.  Some were indoor jobs and some were outdoors, but not out in the inclement weather.  When we built our home, we opted to go with fiberglass columns on the front porch.  The fiberglass columns were cheaper than the wooden ones or concrete ones and they don't rot.  But there are some negative aspects to them, first and foremost painting them!  Or more precisely, getting paint to stick to them.

I guess the fiberglass columns are so smooth and slick, it is hard for the paint to bind to the surface. Over the course of about four years, the paint begins to peel and flake off and looks ratty and then I know it is past time to get to work.  I think we've repainted them 4 times.  First we took an electric sander and sanded the columns where the paint was flaking, roughing it up so the paint would stick. Even though we were under the porch, the rain still stopped us several times.

We taped newspaper around the base of the columns so as not to get paint on the bricks or cement. Then we primed the columns to give the paint something to stick to.  Finally, we put two coats of paint on each column.  We went through lots of sandpaper, three paintbrushes, two cans of primer and a can of paint.  With the rain-outs we experienced, it took us two weeks to finish up the job, and I was happy to have that done!

Finis

"Give us the tools and we will finish the job." - Winston Churchill

The Best Protection Ever

 He will cover you with His pinions,

And under His wings you may seek refuge;

His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.  - Psalm 91:4

The other night I headed out to the barn to do my nightly chores.  Up until now the momma hen always sat in the corner of the stall with her two little chicks tucked up underneath her.  Tonight however, the momma hen had flown up to the top of the gate to the large stall.  Her wings were pitched at a strange angle.  But where were the little ones?  I hope that another snake hadn't eaten them.  

As I looked a little closer, I realized that one of the little chicks was right beneath her!  She was sitting on her baby to protect her.  She looked at me menacingly.  Is she giving me the evil eye, or what?  But where is the other chick?

I lifted her wing to find out.  Yep, sure enough, just as the verse above says, the chick is seeking protection under the sheltering wings.

Peek-a-boo!

The imagery in that verse is so strong and descriptive.  Just as the chicks seek refuge from danger (like snakes and rats in the barn), we seek the same from Our Creator.  He is indeed our Shield and Bulwark.

That is not the only verse that uses the imagery of protective wings.  In Luke 13:34 Jesus says:

"O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, which killest the prophets and stonest them that are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy children together, as a hen doth gather her brood under her wings, and ye would not!"

It is kind of neat to think about the fact that Jesus, as a boy in Nazareth, may have walked into his father's wood shop and found a momma hen protecting her baby chicks and that example of concern, care, and protection made an indelible mark on Him.  On the other hand, He is God.  He is the Almighty.  He made it all.  He knows how momma hens protect their little ones.  

The imagery of a hen protecting their young was, I'm sure, a familiar sight to those He was teaching in Luke 13 and I'm sure it struck a chord with them.  The tragic part of verse 34 comes at the very end - "and ye would not!"  Like the momma hen, Jesus wanted to gather them and protect them, but they were stiff-necked and would not allow Him to.  It would be a mistake to attribute that folly to the Jews of Jesus' day and not realize that we are guilty of that today.

When we go outside the protection of the Sheltering Arms, we put ourselves in harm's way from him who comes to steal, kill, and destroy.  There is evil in the world today.  There is civil unrest and violence and men kill one another.  As I type this, riots are breaking out in Charlotte, North Carolina. Lord keep us under your protective wings and may we not stray from you.

The Power of Attraction

Ol' Rosie girl's milk production has been coming steadily down lately.  She's making less and less milk and that's really odd.  Daisy only has three teats and she's giving more milk that Rosie.  Rose Ethel has always been our biggest milk producer, while Daisy's milk is richer, with more cream in her milk.  Something's going on with Rosie and we can't quite figure out what it is.  She's eating well and there is still plenty of grass in the pasture for her to graze.  She's not sick or acting strangely.  Heat does seem to affect her more than the other cows and she spends a good part of the day laying in the mud in the shade, but she's always done that. What could it be?

I call Tricia, "Theory Woman" sometimes, because she always has a theory about everything.  Of course she has a theory about Rosie's reduction in milk.  And here it is: Some things are attracted to one another like a magnet to steel.  Some things put together just make a good pair like peanut butter and jelly, rice and gravy, and red beans and rice.  Some attractions are deleterious like that of Samson and Delilah and David and Bathsheba.  While yet other attractions are good and natural, but the timing is not quite right.

Tricia thinks that prior to building our "bull pen" that you see below that cordons off the bull from all the cows, Chuck escaped and bred Rosie.  At that time we were trying (unsuccessfully) to keep them separated by just using an electric fence and that is about as effective as a screen door in a submarine. Chuck got out one night and Tricia saw he and Rosie together while she was in heat.

We are not positive that Rosie is bred, but Chuck did break through the fence at the time when she was in heat and she may have been exposed.  We also haven't seen her go in heat since then.  Finally, a reduction in milk production is a natural occurrence for cows that are bred.  We're going to take a blood test from Rosie and send it off to confirm just to be sure.  Tricia counted back and if she was bred, she'll calf in April.  There's no other bull, so if she's bred, you're looking at the guilty party:

Incarceration

If she is indeed bred, is it the end of the world?  No, it's not, but our goal was to have all of the cows exposed to Chuck in December or January.  In so doing, they would all calve at once.  This, we've learned from experience, is just a lot easier to manage.  It also means that we would dry them off at the same time, giving us a break from milking.  Oh well, we will just have to give Rosie a pregnancy test and if we have an April baby, we'll have an April baby...  And we'll chalk it up to a lesson learned - the power of attraction between a bull and a cow is too much for an electric fence to hold back!

Seeing the Full Cycle

Early Saturday morning I was awakened by loud sounds of rumbling thunder that shook the windows and walls.  It was incredibly loud and its vibrations were powerful.  Later that afternoon I walked around the yard and observed that the thunder must have caused a large rotten limb in one of our live oak trees to fall down to the ground.

The combination of the height from which it fell and the decomposed condition of the limb caused it to shatter once it hit the ground.

There's no telling how old this tree is - well over a hundred years old for sure.  While the tree lives on, limbs die from time to time and fall like this.  Before it falls, however, a metamorphosis is taking place up in the tree.  When the limb dies, it rots and the wood softens.  It becomes a haven for bugs and worms and those attract woodpeckers that come and hammer away at the wood, seeking the tasty morsels contained within.

These holes caused by woodpeckers and exacerbated by continued rot, enlarge and become nesting places for all sort of critters like squirrels, birds, rats and who knows what else.  They poop in the hole in the wood and speed the decay and decomposition of the wood.  Finally, it falls and if I was to kick this limb, it would pretty much turn to sawdust.  Actually, parts of it looks just like soil.

What's interesting to me about this is the cycle that this 'compost' that I'm holding in my hand has taken.  The compost in my hand is primarily rotten wood and (I think) some sort of fecal matter from some animal mixed in.  That's not very pleasant to talk about, I know, but it is nature at work.

This is a handful of fertility that I'll reincorporate into my garden soil.  It is interesting for me to think about the long trip that this handful of compost has traveled.  You see, it's not just people that recycle things.  God has created nature to do the same.

Many, many years ago this live oak tree pulled nutrients and minerals from the soil. This enabled the acorn to grow into a mighty oak, stretching its limbs skyward. Now many years later those nutrients and minerals are returning to the soil, falling downward and are broadcast around the base of the tree.  If I was to leave the remains of the rotten limb where it lies, the compost would create rich topsoil that would continue to nourish the tree from which it fell.  I think I'll move the rotten material into the garden to nourish my garden soil and grow some good vegetables for our table.

Lesson Learned - Pumpkins Don't like Wet Soil

In THIS BLOG POST FROM AUGUST you were able to read about how we planted pumpkins and got to see some beautiful, healthy pumpkin plants with broad green leaves.  The plants were vining and putting out blooms.  I could even see some baby pumpkins.  And then the floodgates opened, figuratively speaking. The rains started and have not let up.  Let's go out and take a look at the pumpkin patch.

Wait just one cotton-picking minute!  Where are the pumpkins?  All I see is a weed patch.  Planting directions for pumpkins say that they must be planted in soil rich in compost and soil that is well drained and not soggy.  The soil in which I planted our pumpkins fit those specifications perfectly. So what happened?  Well, a month of rain almost every single day has the ability to turn the driest of soil into a mudfest.  Our beautiful pumpkin plants turned yellow and died.

As I kicked amongst the dead pumpkin vines, I came across a Jack-Be-Little pumpkin in the weeds that seemed to mock me.  This is our 2016 pumpkin crop! Sad.  Oh well, there's always next year.

But all is not lost.  In the same blog post I linked at the top of this post, I talked about also planting some cowpeas in the northern end of the pumpkin patch.  It was a mixture of some saved seed that included Blackeye peas, Ozark Razorback peas, Purple Hull peas, and Holstein peas.  While pumpkins get sick and die in wet soils, cowpeas can be a lot more forgiving.  Actually, they seem to be almost immune to all the rainfall.  They (along with some weeds, admittedly) have grown nicely.

The peas were tall and had many pods ripe for the picking.  I went inside and got a bucket and spent the next 15 minutes walking around the pea patch, poking around in the canopy and picking cowpeas. The fact that something in the garden was still thriving other than weeds was encouraging and lifted my spirits.

I picked a nice 'mess' of peas in varying stages of ripeness and brought them inside and washed them off.  Fresh picked peas always have all sorts of little critters on them, especially aphids, ants and stinkbugs.

I hollered at Benjamin who was in his bedroom.  Benjamin likes to shell peas.  We sat in the den and shelled peas while we watched a college football game.  That's one of my favorite things to do!  In no time we were done and had shelled an assortment of cowpeas of the varieties we discussed above and it measured out to be a little more than a quart.  In a few days, Tricia will put a pot of rice cooking and then she'll cook these peas with some sausage added to give a little smokey flavoring and we'll eat a fine meal of peas over rice.  That'll stick to your ribs.

Although the pumpkin patch was certainly disappointing, I'm happy with the peas and they'll continue to bear for a while now.  Also, I think if we root around in the deep freeze for a bit, we may find a ziploc bag or two of processed pumpkin from last year.  We may get that pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving yet!

Too Much of A Good Thing

Saturday morning after milking I like to walk around the pasture and the yard just observing things. I'll pick up a few fallen branches, fill all the water troughs with water and just give everything a close inspection.  I walked past the navel orange tree and noted that the tree was heavy with fruit.  I mean the limbs were drooping so much with the weight of the fruit, I was concerned about the health of the tree. More on that in a minute.

Notice the right side of the tree

Softball-sized fruit adorned the orange tree almost like ornaments on a Christmas tree.  We love our citrus trees.  My favorite is making freshly squeezed orange juice. Minute Maid just can't even come close to comparing with this OJ.  As I stood by the tree I thought about standing in this same location this spring.  It was cool and I was inhaling deeply as I smelled the fragrant orange blossoms.  Many of those blossoms are now the fruit you see hanging in the photo below.

A Heavy Load

The morning sun was streaming in from the east and I apologize for the poor quality of the photos today.  Believe me, the rays of the sun were beautiful in person.  Not so much in a photograph.  Anyway, if you look below, you can see something that looks out of place and not right about the tree.  The branches on the right side of the tree are leaning.  In fact some of the oranges were touching the ground and with all the rain, they had burst open and had grey mold growing on it. Other oranges had a blue-green mold growing.  What is that?  Well, you might remember from science class a gentleman by the name of Alexander Fleming who grew those molds and discovered Penicillin. That's great, I guess, that we have penicillin growing in the back yard, but I'm allergic to it.  

I wondered why this was occurring and leaned inside the canopy of the navel orange tree to get a closer look.  Here is what I saw:

Darn it!  A broken limb.  Not only this one, but two more in addition.  I went inside and asked Tricia if we had any strong wind.  Negative ghost rider.  So what caused it.  Well, I'm no arborist by any means, but here is my theory.  Either one or both of these events may be causing this:  With all the rain we have had, the wet leaves added extra weight to the already heavily laden limbs, causing breakage.  Also if you grow tomatoes, you know that after a rain, the tomatoes will grow so fast, they split their skins.  Perhaps all the torrential rain caused the oranges to grow too fast and get too heavy for the limbs to support the added weight.

If you look at the pictures, the leaves are still green.  In the photo immediately above, you can see that about half of the limb is still intact, allowing nutrients to continue flowing to the outer limb, even though only it's only through 50% of the limb.  I liken that to someone who has a blockage in an artery.  They can still function, but not at full capacity and the situation should be rectified as soon as possible.

So here's my plan.  In an attempt to save the oranges, I'm going to cut a "V" shaped notch into one end of some 2 x 4's  and prop the broken limbs back up.  This will give some support to them and to keep the limbs from breaking off completely.  I'm not sure if it will salvage the broken branch.  Will it grow back together?  I'm not sure.  Our live oak tree did.  It's a little extra work to have to do this, but the benefit of enjoying a fresh squeezed glas of orange juice this winter is well worth it.

Pedicures for Everyone!

Since the monsoon season started last month, I can't even begin to think about getting in the garden to plant the fall seedlings I've been nurturing on the back patio.  There are other things on the list; however, and one of those things is checking on the goat's hooves.  That seems like an odd thing to have on a list of things to do, but it is necessary.

I can remember when I was in junior high school I showed sheep as a 4-H project.  Sheep are notorious for getting sick, lame, and other ailments. Sheep get hoof rot very easy and it seems like it happens overnight - one day they are fine and the next they are limping and require a good trimming. Goats are no different.

I got Annie and her two girls, Darla and Jane and brought them into the barn. Then I went to the pasture that we have placed the bull, Chuck, and the buckling, Buckwheat, and I brought Buckwheat in as well.  I put the goats in our little goat milking stanchion that I built and described the process in
THIS POST.  I put a little feed in the trough for them to eat on to distract them while I work on their hooves and close the head gate of the stanchion to stabilize them.

I lift up each of their feet and inspect the hooves.  One thing I immediately noticed is that the hooves had grown a little uneven and need to be evened out.  What will happen is the outside of the hoof will grow just a little long and a little 'flap' will create a pocket in which dirt, poop, and mud accumulates. This pocket stays moist and is a breeding ground for bacteria. In fact, if it is bad enough you can smell a putrid smell.

You simply trim the overgrown part of the hoof so that the hoof is straight and even, leaving no place for mud and water and the resulting bacteria to accumulate and fester.  Then I use my goat hoof clippers that I sharpened with a file to trim the pad of the hoof since that will grow uneven.  Sometimes in cleaning up the hoof, they will bleed.  I'm sure it hurts like a hangnail does, but it is necessary to get the job done.  They might limp on the affected hoof for a day, but in no time they are doing just fine.

Now you would think that this would only occur in months where there is abundant rainfall and their feet stay muddy, but it happens in dry weather too.  One thing that helps is to have cement (like concrete culverts) for the goats to climb on as this is a way for the goats to trim their hooves naturally just by climbing on it.

I always use Dr. Naylor Hoof 'n Heel to coat the area that I've clipped to stave off infection in the goat's hooves. Sometimes the goats will kick hard and cause my hand to slip and nick myself with the clippers.  In that case I put a little Hoof 'n Heel on my cut to fend off infection, too. It is not labeled for use on humans, so I hope it is okay.  Come to think of it, maybe it is Hoof  'n Heel that has made me ornery as an old goat!

I did the same thing to all four goats and in no time I was done.  It is not a bad job, but I'm not the one getting the pedicure.  I'll check up on them later and do it all over again in another month.  I wish trimming the cows' hooves was as easy.

Yet Another Use for Persimmons

It is a sure sign that fall is around the corner when the little wild persimmons start falling from the tree in the yard.  Although it is very hard to see in the photo below, there are numerous persimmons still clinging to the branches of the tree.  Many, however, have fallen to the ground.  The overripe ones burst on impact, but most survive the fall intact.

They wait there on the ground for us to come along and pick them up.  Those that we don't get in time are feasted on by birds.  We posted about the persimmons before in THIS POST FROM 2015.  Then we also showed you how we process the persimmons we gather in THIS POST and within that post is the link to yet another previous blog post that contains the recipe for delicious persimmon cake.

We've gathered and processed enough persimmons already this year to meet our family's needs for many persimmon cakes.  The inventory of processed frozen persimmon in the freezer is at capacity.

And yet the orange-golden sickly sweet little fruit keeps falling from the sky. I am not a wasteful guy and I always feel that there are other outlets to use nature's bounty.  I walked out to the persimmon tree and surveyed all the fruit that lay beneath the tree.  Then I thought to myself, "I know who can use this excess fruit!"

I went to the backyard and picked up a molasses bucket and picked up every persimmon I could see.  My fingers were sticky when I was done as I picked up even the ones that had burst.

Then I carried the bucket over to the side of the garden at the entrance to the barnyard and called the chickens, "Here, chick, chick, chick, chick, chick!"  They came running with wings flapping.  Although they have very small brains, they have figured out that when I call them like that, it's time to eat!

I turned the bucket over and banged my hand on the bottom to dislodge those persimmons that were clinging stickily to the bottom.  Then it was feast time.  The chickens encircled the pile of wild persimmons and gourged themselves on the fruit.

The chickens quickly transformed the messy pile of fruit int a pile of big seeds. That was the only thing left.  These 'food processors' did the dirty work and seemed to enjoy their meal.  I laughed as I watched the chickens grooming themselves when they were done, wiping off their sticky beaks on the grass.  They truly transformed the waste with haste.

Lean on Me When You're Not Strong

We planted a couple of cassia trees in the backyard as we really like the beautiful yellow flowers that fill the trees in late summer/early fall.  We purchased the trees from a local nursery here in town called Natural Gardens.  They are very knowledgeable and helpful and they mentioned to us that the trees don't have a strong root structure and tend to blow over very easily in storms.  They told us that it is a good idea to stake the trees.

Well, we planted the trees and the trees quickly grew and thrived and added height and filled out nicely.  They make a nice looking tree for the backyard.  We got so busy doing other things that we never got around to staking the cassias.  Last month when we received almost 26 inches of rain (yeah, you read that right), the saturated soil coupled with the weight of the water on the foliage caused the trees to topple over sideways.  Lots of times I find myself waiting until disaster strikes to get around to doing things.

I googled the proper way to stake trees and it turns out it was a very easy process that I should have done from the "git-go."  Below is the finished product for the smaller tree.  You can see it is upright and happy.

All you need to properly stake a tree is two T-posts, some rope, and a sledgehammer.  Position the T-posts about a foot and a half away from the trunk so as not to damage the root ball and drive the t-posts in with the sledgehammer. Then drive them in until they are firm and solid.  Due to the saturated soil, I had to drive them in quite a way.

Then take a rope and loop it around the trunk and make a 'figure-8' and loop it around the t-post on one side.  Repeat the process on the other side, but pull it tight before you tie it off on the post, ensuring that the trunk is straight and true.

The other cassia tree was larger and required not only the two posts on either side, but a third post to be driven behind it to provide the stability and strength to stand. It took all of about 10 minutes to get the job done.  However, the rains continued to fall and the fact that this tree had more than one trunk caused complications that we didn't have with the other tree.  The weight of this tree caused it to continue toppling over.

It just needed a little fine-tuning, though.  I had Russ push the tree back upright and I tightened the rope on the left hand side and it pulled the tree back up.  If it would ever stop raining, the soil will stabilize, giving the roots something firm for which to anchor itself.  During dry weather, you don't need the staking, but when the storm winds blow and the weather rages, staking is mandatory.

I've discovered that like the cassia trees, we all need Someone to lean on when the storms of life hits!

Riding off into the Sunset

Image Credit

Riding off into the sunset evokes a feeling of finality.  In other words, "my work here is done, it is time for me to go."  Happy trails to you... and all that.  As I was gathering my thoughts tonight for the blog post, the visual of riding off into the sunset came to mind.  Not because anything is ending.  As a matter of fact, a new beginning has occurred as I posted about IN THIS POST. 

The reason the riding off into the sunset imagery comes to mind is that that is exactly what I'm doing now in my new job.  An old friend from when I was the Business office manager at the Jennings Hospital told me that his cardinal rule for accepting employment is that his workplace must always be located west of where he lived.  I didn't understand why that geography played such a determining factor in his employment decision until he clarified and told me that if you live east of where you worked, well then on your morning commute, the rising sun would always be at your back and consequently, the setting sun would be at your back on your commute home in the afternoon.

That makes perfect sense, doesn't it?  I violated my former coworker's rule and now I see why that was an important factor to him.  I have been getting my money's worth out of my sunglasses - that's for sure!  The commute to work to my new job is exactly the same mileage as the commute to my old job, but it takes me between 5-10 minutes less to get there, because it is primarily all Interstate 10 miles (with no red lights or school zones.)  But in the morning... Yep, the sun is right in my eyes. Same thing on the way home.  It is as if I-10 is the runway for the sun.

How is the actual job itself?  Well, I'm the General Manager of a Restoration Company and I have zero knowledge of construction, so my learning curve is quite steep!  I have been learning new computer systems and new policies and procedures and just a whole new line of work.  With the flooding damage in the area, we're busier than a mosquito at a nudist colony.  It has been only three full days on the job, but I can see that it will be months before I am fully trained and comfortable in the new job.

Because of the shorter days, it gets dark faster and there's not a lot of time to get things done around the house when I get off in the afternoon like earlier in the summer.  And I have a lot of garden work to do!  Until I have an opportunity on weekends to get out and about and get some things done around the homestead like till, pull up rows and plant the Fall 2016 garden, I won't have many photos or stories to share with you, but I'll do my best to keep my ramblings going as much as I can.  It is not time for me to ride off into the sunset yet in that regard - just on my way home from work.

The Good Stuff

I listen to a lot of different genres of music.  I know a lot of people (me included) criticize country music for being "too pop-music sounding," shallow, and it doesn't compare to good "old" country and western music.  I'm a lyric guy.  I listen to the lyrics for meaning and to see if the words the songwriter and singer strike a chord with me (pardon the pun).

Some songs really preach a sermon and help get your head screwed on straight when the whole world has done its best to get you off center.  Sometimes, yes, even a country song contains truth.  The "Good Stuff" isn't the things marketed by Madison Avenue marketing firms on glossy ads or vibrant videos.  The "good stuff," quite simply, is often the stuff described in Kenny Chesney's song below.  You can click on the red arrow below Kenny's nose below to watch the video and read the lyrics I placed below.  Lord, may we always cherish the truly good stuff...

Well, me and my lady had our first big fight
So I drove around till I saw the neon light
The corner bar. It just seemed right so I pulled up.
Not a soul around but the old bar keep
Down at the end lookin' half asleep
But he walked up and said, what'll it be?
I said the good stuff.
He didn't reach around for the whiskey.
He didn't pour me a beer.
His blue eyes kinda went misty.
He said you can't find that here.

'Cause its the first long kiss on a second date.
Momma's all worried when you get home late
And droppin' the ring in the spaghetti plate
'Cause you're hands are shakin' so much
And its the way that she looks with her eyes and her hair.
Eatin' burnt suppers the whole first year
And askin' for seconds to keep her from tearin' up
Yeah man, that's the good stuff.

He grabbed a carton of milk and he poured a glass.
And I smiled and said I'll have some of that.
We sat there and talked as an hour passed like old friends.
I saw a black and white picture and it caught my stare.
It was a pretty girl with bu-font hair
He said, that's my Bonnie, taken 'bout a year after we wed.
He said, I spent five years in the bar when the cancer took her from me.
But I've been sober three years now
'Cause the one thing's stronger than the whiskey

Was the sight of her holdin' my baby girl
The way she adored that string of pearls
I gave her the day that our youngest boy Earl
Married his high school love.
And its a new t-shirt sayin' I'm a grandpa.
Bein' right there as our time got small
And holdin' her hand when good the Lord called her up
Yeah man that's the good stuff.

He said, when you get home she'll start to cry.
When she says, I'm sorry, say so am I.
Look into those eyes so deep in love and drink it up
'Cause that's the good stuff.

That's the good stuff.

Ringing the Dinner Bell

We don't really have a bell that we ring when it is time for supper.  We'll normally just holler, "C'mon, Daisy! C'mon Rosie!  Come eat!"  In a perfect world they would come a runnin'.  When there is no grass in the pasture in winter time, that's exactly what they do.  Better yet, they'll be waiting for us when we come outside because they are hungry.

Right now, the days have been slightly cooler because of the overcast skies and rain and the grass is green and high as a chicken's head in spots.  The cows have their heads down eating when we come out and they barely notice our walk to the barn. We'll holler, bang on the feed buckets, clap our hands - all in an effort to call them in to eat and to be milked.

Those hard-headed girls willfully ignore us and go right on eating.  I'll slog through the mud and walk way out into the pasture to get them.  Inevitably, when I get out there, they'll lift their heads up, look at me with this expressionless face and begin walking to the barn.  It is like a game to them to see if they can make me walk out there and get them.  Rosie is by far the worst, too.

Daisy, being the matriarch and lead cow, takes the lead position as she saunters toward the barn. I've learned that I need to stay behind Rosie because she gets easily distracted and will stop and begin to eat grass again.  Or she'll decide that now is a good time to poop or pee or do both.  It is a long ordeal sometimes to get them into the barn.  I'll confess that sometimes I would like to pop Rosie with a 'hot shot' to give her a little pep in her step.

In the photo below, Tricia has just fed the chickens a bucket full of fermented rice. It stinks so very bad, but the chickens love it.  The cows will eat it, too, and find that it is great fun to walk right through the flock of chickens eating the sprouted grain and scattering the hens in a loud cacophony of clucks and feathers flying.  At any given time we have at least one or two hens limping due to their collision with the feet of an animal that is 300 times their weight.

At long last, we get them in the barn, cleaned up and milked.  As much as a rush that we were in to get them into the barn, we're trying to get them out of the barn. For some reason, the relief of being milked coupled with a satisfying meal, goes to work on their digestive system and we'll see their tails rising.

They aren't particular or shy about it either.  Needless to say, they will flat out fill the barn with poop and pee if we don't usher them out with the quickness as soon as we're finished milking, so they can take care of business outside.  In the event of a mess inside the barn, we have a poop scooper that we'll scoop the poop up with and fill up a bucket.  When the bucket is full, I'll toss the contents over the fence onto the compost pile.

I am noticing a change in the quality of the grass, with more production of the stems and seed heads and less production of the foliage of the grass.  That is not as appetizing to the cows and they'll pick around trying to find tasty grass underneath the taller grass gone to seed.  We'll have to start supplementing with hay at some point in the next month or two.  At least that will mean that we won't have to walk out to get them at feeding/milking time.  They'll have to wait on us versus us waiting on them!