Wisdom From The Reading List

Last week I was listening to The Bear Grease Podcast which has a series going right now on the Civil War.  Part 1 was very interesting.  The podcast mentioned that Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote Uncle Tom's Cabin, a book which exposed the cruelty of slavery to a huge audience, showing the practice was a moral evil.  In fact, when Abraham Lincoln met Harriet Beecher Stowe, he remarked, "So this is the little lady that started this great war."

I realized that I had never read Uncle Tom's Cabin.  I promptly reserved it from the library on my audiobook app.  It's a long book - 22 hours long, and tells a weaving story that, to be honest, is a tear-jerker.  It shows the atrocities of humans owning other humans as property, of beatings and splitting up of families.  Looking back, it is difficult to imagine that it ever happened - a stain on our nation.

The book's protagonist was Uncle Tom.  He's a good Christian man - one that we should aspire to be.  He constantly read his Bible and trusted his Lord.  His example of faithfulness to God in the face of terrible abuse is inspiring.  In one example, he finds himself owned by a cruel, heathen owner, Mr. Legree.   Legree is beating Uncle Tom mercilessly and Tom has done no wrong.

Legree says, "You see the Lord ain't going to help you; if he had been, he wouldn't have let me get you! This yer religion is all a mess of lying trumpery, Tom. I know all about it. Ye'd better hold to me; I'm somebody, and can do something!"

  "No, Mas'r," said Tom; "I'll hold on. The Lord may help me, or not help; but I'll hold to him, and believe him to the last!"

What faith!  What a man!  It reminds me of the verses in Daniel 3:17-18 when Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego are about to be thrown into the fiery furnace, they tell King Nebuchadnezzar that God can save them.  They go on to say the following:

"If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up."

We can certainly learn a lot from the example of Uncle Tom, of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.

The second book of the week was, well, I don't know why I did this to myself, but I read Old Yeller, again.  It was another tear jerker.  Spoiler Alert if you've never read it: (Who's never read Old Yeller??!!)  Old Yeller dies at the end.  This audiobook is only 3 hours long.  Old Yeller arrives as an unwelcome guest, stealing meat from the family.  Travis, the protagonist, initially hates the dog, but Old Yeller soon proves himself and is loved by the family.  You can really see the love that grows between the children and their beloved pet, Old Yeller.

Although I can't remember the book mentioning God, it has a strong Christian theme running just beneath the surface.  Old Yeller loves the Coates family and sacrifices his safety, saving the family from a bear, wild hogs and a wolf that has rabies.  Old Yeller eventually gives his life for the family he loves.  You see, Old Yeller loves Travis and Travis, in turn, loves that dog so much.  After Old Yeller is bitten by the rabid wolf, Travis must make a tough decision and put down the dog he loved before he got rabies and put the family at risk.  You can feel his pain and as the book closes; you find yourself mourning right there with him, discouraged, depressed, and melancholy.

But then Travis' dad returns from bringing cattle to market.  He finds Travis dejected, unable to even feel joy for the horse that his dad had brought him back.  The saddle horse was what Travis always wanted and had long dreamed of.  Travis' father uses this moment to encourage Travis, teaching Travis that in life there are sure to be hard times and disappointments.  He uses this opportunity as a teachable moment about life, telling Travis, "A part of the time, it's mighty good. And a man can't afford to waste all the good part, worrying about the bad parts. That makes it all bad."

Between the two books on the list this week, if I was a crier, I would have consumed some Kleenex tissue.  Instead, I gleaned some wisdom: Maintain a strong, unshakable faith in God and focus on all the good things and blessings in our lives.  Don't worry.  Enjoy life.  Make sure you are prepared for eternal life.

Pickin' Sweet Corn

We grow a couple of heirloom varieties of sweet corn each year like we've done for umpteen years or so.  Sweet corn is one of those things that has at least two rows allocated each spring.  It grows fast and grows tall.  It feeds on the nitrogen in the soil provided by composted chicken litter and that homemade funky smelly fertilizer we've learned to make.

When I said it grows tall, I'm not pulling your leg.  Eleven feet from ground level to the top of the tassel!  The height is impressive, but it's also a curse of sorts.  When spring rains come they're usually accompanied by winds ahead of the thunderstorm.  Those gusts tend to lay the corn on the ground.  In the past, I'd stand them up and press dirt around the base to hold them straight.  That was a time consuming and unsuccessful venture.

For the past several years, I've opted for a better solution, using the "Florida Weave" method that I use for trellising tomatoes, but more simplified.  I drive a t-post on each end of the row and weave baling twine in and out all the way down the row and around the other t-post.  Coming back I weave the twine on the opposite side and cinch it up tight to the t-post on the end.  That way it makes the corn stand up straight again, which is important.  The tassels produce pollen that fertilizes the ears and that pollen uses the wind and gravity to do its job.  If the corn is laying down, my guess is that a lot of the ears will have blanks.  Each silk thread equates to a kernel of corn.  If pollination is not successful the ears will have blank spots.

Just look at that beautiful red silk!

A Beautiful "Red-Head"

Here's how you know when the corn is ready for harvest.  That beautiful red silk will turn brown.  When that happens, you've got to be ready to pick.  If you wait, you are in danger of a big fat worm eating its way through the ear or the corn will not be as juicy as it would have been if picked earlier.

It was a hot, humid morning and by the time I had picked every ear that was ripe, I had soaked my shirt.  I brought the crate of corn into the garage and put it in the refrigerator to cool down.  I wanted to cool down to, but there was still work to do.

I cut the corn stalks and carried to Nicky, the bull.  Nicky was thankful.  Popcorn the buck was grateful as well.

Aww Shucks!

A customary corn harvest day always involves eating a bite-full of raw sweet corn right there in the corn patch.  I want to show you my favorite variety - Country Gentleman.  I like the name of this variety.  I think it sounds noble.  Wouldn't you like to be considered a country gentleman?  This is a white shoepeg corn.  I like it also because the kernels are arranged in random, haphazard fashion unlike the uniform organization of 'normal' corn.  Somehow I can identify with that jumbled, unorganized arrangement!

Here is the other variety - Stowell's Evergreen Sweet Corn.  These kernels are lined up in neat lines like you're used to eating when you enjoy corn on the cob.

We blanched all the corn on the cob for nine minutes, cooled it in a sink of iced water and then used a sharp knife to cut the corn off the cob, scraping the cobs to get all the juicy corn "milk".  Then I spooned it into quart ziploc bags.  Yes, we re-use bags that are still in good shape!

Later, we'll thaw and make our two favorite dishes with sweet corn - Corn Macque Choux and Elote (Mexican Street Corn).  I think if it ever stops raining, I'm going to go plant a couple more rows of sweet corn.  You can't have too much of this in the freezer or to eat fresh right off the cob.

A Bad Dude in the Back Yard

I walked out to check on the bees.  There is lots and lots of activity.  In fact, I need to open the boxes to see if I need to add more honey supers on top.  I don't want them to run out of room and swarm on me.  Honey Extraction time is about a month and a half away.  As I looked at the bees, there must have been a sizable hatch from the two hives that we split.  Initially, the population in both the split hives was a little low, but now many bees fly in and out, bringing in nectar and pollen.

It was hot and humid so I sat on the swing by the BBQ pit.  The shade of the live oak tree makes it a nice place to sit on hot days.  While sitting, I heard a loud buzzing noise.  It was too loud to be a honeybee, but I couldn't locate the direction it was coming from or what was causing the vibrating noise.  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement.  A huge hornet-looking creature had a cicada in its clutches and was dragging it along the ground.

This operation was no small feat as I'm positive the cicada was bigger in size and weight than that of the wasp.  I looked it up and this thing is called the eastern cicada killer wasp.  It gets its name honestly, because that's exactly what he's doing.

The cicada killer's fancy name is Sphecius speciosis.  They use their stinger to paralyze the cicada and then they grasp it in it's arms and legs and begins climbing a tree (or a pole, in this instance).  Since the cicada is heavy, the use gravity to assist them.  They climb high and then jump off and fly to their underground nest carrying their prey with them.

Something like Uber-eats or Door Dash, I suppose.  The wasp drags the cicada in her hole in the ground and lays eggs on top of the cicada and then covers her burrow up with dirt.  When the eggs hatch, the larvae eat the cicada.  Thanks for the food, mom!  It grows, digs out of the burrow and continues the cycle.

I watched in amazement as the cicada killer was focused on it's task.  As it buzzed by my ear, I ducked.  I read that the males don't have stingers.  It's only the females that sting.  There's a parable in that sentence, I'm sure, but I'll leave that alone.  I wasn't about to try to determine if that big wasp was a male or female, so I just got out of it's way.

The Local Park

We have a local park here in Jennings.  It is at the junction of I-10 and LA Highway 26 and is called the Louisiana Oil & Gas Park, commemorating the discovery of oil in Louisiana here nearby in a little town called Evangeline.  There is an old wooden oil derrick and there is a lake that is stocked with catfish and in the spring, believe it or not, rainbow trout.  Around this lake is a walking trail and Tricia and I frequently walk briskly for 30 minutes around the lake taking in the sights.  There are numerous ducks and tourists flock in (pardon the pun) and purchase feed to feed them.  The fat ducks waddle up and poop all over the sidewalk that makes up the walking trail, making messy obstacles to maneuver around.

But the real attraction at this park is the Gator Chateau.  You can go inside the visitor center and enjoy free coffee and a gift shop and listen to locals playing french music while they pick up tourist information that gives where to get boudin and cracklins in town, among other things.  It's called the Gator Chateau because it is home to a number of alligators that lounge about in their nice habitat.

It's clean - much cleaner than where we normally see them in muddy bayous.  They pose for pictures and probably feel quite fortunate that they aren't someone's cowboy boots, purse are belt.  At least not yet, anyway.

The main attraction in the Gator Chateau is that you can actually get to hold a baby gator.  They have their nails painted and that's how you can pick out the one you want to hold.  The one below with the pink toenails is named Chloe.

I enjoyed my free cup of coffee and looked at Chloe for a bit while finishing up being a tourist in my own town.  If you're ever in our neck of the woods, stop off at the Oil and Gas Park, sit for a spell, and enjoy yourself.

A View From the Kitchen Window

It's important to have a view from the kitchen window.  A lot of time is spent there.  Although we have a dishwasher, we haven't used it in years and hand wash and dry dishes and pots and pans and spoons and forks.  As we look out, we can see when honey or egg or milk customers drive up.  We watch the squirrels run and jump across the limbs in the live oak trees.  We saw the new swarm move into the column.

A few weeks ago we saw lots of activity in the cleyera shrub that is only 3 feet from the window.  It was a momma cardinal, and she was hard at work.  We spied on her as she carried twigs and straw and constructed a nest right in the crook of the shrub.

She was on a mission and seemed not to mind that she was being scrutinized in her construction project.  When she had it complete, she seemed satisfied and rested.  It felt like home.  Comfortable.  Safe.

Each day the momma cardinal would fly off briefly to find something to eat and then she'd come back and sit on her nest.  While male cardinals are dressed in bright red, the females are a light grey-ish red.  They aren't flashy at all - except for their beaks!  That beak stands out like a sore thumb.

One morning as the momma cardinal flew away for her morning coffee (black, no sugar added), I snuck outside and took a peek inside her nest to see what she was sitting on.

Three little eggs!  It reminds me of the "Robin Egg" candies that are so popular at Easter time.  Faithfully, everyday, rain or shine, the momma sat on her nest.  She had nothing to read, no cell phone to scroll on, yet she was focused on her job.  You know what?  She got the job done.  One morning we looked out and saw this!:

That's some ugly little birds right there!  At the slightest noise or movement, the heads pop up and mouths open wide.  And the mother bird was right there, bringing the babies what looked to be bugs and worms to eat.  

But it wasn't just the mother.  The father, dressed to the nines in his spiffy red suit showed up.  I thought he wanted to just inspect his offspring.

But it was more than that.  The father was bringing food, too!  He was leaning over feeding his babies.  Both the mother and father were taking part in the nurturing of the babies.  No absenteeism, but true teamwork in this home.  It was a touching thing to watch.  I wonder if humans could rediscover this virtue?  But I digress...

In what seemed like no time at all, the babies grew and grew until they had outgrown the nest!  Little feathers now covered their wings.  The once ugly, nude little creatures were now beginning to look like birds.

And then the time came for them to leave the nest.  Be safe, little birds.  Ginger, our cat, is a skilled hunter.  Fly high and out of the grasp of Ginger.  Oh, an empty nest.  It's quiet for sure, even in a human family.  Tricia and I can vouch for that.

The Flow Is ON!

For about the first five decades of my life, I loathed Chinese Tallow Trees.  We also call them Chicken Trees.  Why did I hate them?  Because they are truly an invasive species.  If not kept in check, they will turn a lovely pasture into a scrub brush forest before your very eyes.  They encroach on the borders and outside levees of rice fields, suddenly turning a 50 acre field into a 47 acre field.  Birds eat their seeds and then sit on fence rows.  As a result of the bird poop propagation, Chinese tallow trees sprout up along these fence rows and before you know it, they've grown through the fence.  These trees require constant clearing, hauling, and burning - non-stop labor.  I wished we could eradicate them, make them as extinct as the dodo bird.

But then something changed.  When we began beekeeping, my intense hatred for the Chicken tree evolved into vehement dislike.  This spring I actually dug up two chicken tree seedlings growing in our flower beds and replanted them along the fence row bordering our neighbors in the back.  Tricia could not believe it.  Had someone abducted her husband and replaced him with an imposter?

As it turns out, the Chinese tallow tree is the primary producer of nectar in our area.  It makes fantastic honey!  The honeybees just love it.  Each year at this time, the tallow trees tassel and flower.  The bees are on it like white on rice and bring loads of nectar back to the hives.  When I walked out to the bee boxes today there was SO much activity!  Here is a shot of the Chinese tallow trees in bloom:

The flow is on!  I wanted to see if the honeybees had found it yet.  Within seconds, my question was answered.  Bees were all over the place, moving from one flower to the next.  They were moving so fast, it was hard to get a photo:

Now that the flow is on, we'll have to be diligent in making sure that we're adding honey supers on top so that the bees don't run out of room.  That means we'll be donning the bee suits once a week, opening up the boxes and checking to see if we need to add supers on top.  We have a little over a month until we're extracting honey.  Hopefully, we'll have another good honey harvest.  We're a land flowing with milk AND honey afterall.

Taking Care of Business

One of the things that I pray for each morning is something that I used to not pray for - that's to be a good steward of what God's given me.  Am I taking care of my family and putting them first, showing them the love they deserve?  Am I taking care of the animals that depend on me for their well-being?  Am I properly caring for the assets and belongings He's given me charge of?  See, it all belongs to Him.  I'm just the caretaker.  If I neglect things or don't maintain them, then I am not being a faithful servant.  I'm trying to do better in that regard, so of course, I have a list of things to catch up on that have slipped.

Back in 2017 our chimney sweep passed away from cancer.  Since we live in the deep south, there's not a chimney sweep in every town.  In fact, I've struggled to find one.  It's embarrassing to say that it's probably approaching 10 years since we've had our chimney swept.  To make matters worse, we use our fireplace a lot in the winter instead of expensive electric heat.  We never installed a gas jet to get the logs started and instead use "lighter pine" (you might call it heart pine or pine knots) to start the fires.  Pine sends thick black smoke and soot up the flue.  I imagine that causes quite a build-up.  I needed to get this taken care of as it could result in a fire hazard.

Image Credit

This past week I called and was able to find a chimney sweep about an hour away from us who agreed to arrive the next morning at 8AM.  He knew of our sweep that had died and told me that now that Ed is gone, he's the only chimney sweep left anywhere in the vicinity.  Two guys arrived.  No, it was not Dick Van Dyke from Mary Poppins.  They did not get up on top of the roof and sing "Chim-Chiminey, Chim-Chiminey, Chim-Chim, Cher-ee" and dance.  Instead, they got to work setting out drop cloths to protect the interior of the house and worked sections of a 30 foot telescoping pole with brushes up into the chimney, scrubbing and cleaning.  LOTS of material fell down the chimney!

They scooped and vacuumed.  It took about 90 minutes.  In their inspection, they found some cracks in the firebrick that they patched for an additional sum of money.  Here is the tub of material they removed from the inside of our chimney, telling Tricia that this is the amount of material that they would expect to remove from THREE houses!  He recommended once a year chimney sweeping to be done.

In the end, the price tag for the chimney sweep work was $295 with and additional $50 to patch the cracks in the firebrick.  It was good to get that job done!