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!

They Don't Make 'Em Like They Used To

This evening I went to retrieve the milk cows as they were eating grass way out in the pasture and ignored our calls to come to the barn to get milked.  Tricia was gathering together the bucket of fermented rice from the feed room in the barn to feed the chickens and they waited right outside the barn gate for supper.

That white behemoth by the barn door catches your eye, doesn't it?

That is our old deep freeze.  Although I shouldn't really use the word old.  The thing was only six years old when it bit the dust.  We were going to haul it off to the landfill, but I don't like hauling things to the dump.  Not when they have another use.

I remember when I was in junior high school, I showed sheep.  We had a red barn out behind the house and right outside the door, my dad had placed an old chest-type deep freezer that no longer worked and we used it to store sweet feed and Calf manna in.  The rats couldn't get to the feed in the deep freeze and it was sealed tightly and kept out moisture.  When you opened the door, the great smell of the sweet feed and calf manna hit your nostrils.  Sweet feed still brings back good memories of childhood.

So back to that white "eyesore" by the side of the barn.  I remarked to the salesperson at the store that we bought it from that it didn't last but six years. Surprisingly, I was told that is really all you can expect out of them these days. They aren't built to last. They also aren't built to be kept outdoors in the garage.  They don't have the insulation in them that they had back then.

My brother still has an old chest-type deep freeze that he inherited from my grandmother that we called Bumby.  It was and International Harvester brand and had a big 'hood ornament' right above the handle.  It kept the ice cream and other stuff frozen solid.  Well, forty-something years later and that thing is still running! Amazing.  Things used to be built to last - with pride.

I guess I have to look on the bright side.  It gave me six good years as a freezer and now it will give me many more good years as a storage receptacle for chicken feed.  

Got 'Em!

For the past two days we've been talking about the snake that ate two of momma hen's chicks and the process by which we were going to take care of the egg & chick eating serpent.  Yesterday afternoon we were milking the cows and goat and Benjamin was gathering eggs.  I glanced over in time to see him running out of the hen house faster than Usain Bolt.  "What's going on?" I yelled.  "A snake is in one of the nesting boxes and he's got an egg!" Benjamin exclaimed!

Oh boy!  We walked into the hen house and disturbed the snake's supper.

I mean, that ol boy had a mouth full! His skin was so stretched out it looked like he was about to burst.  He was so busy trying to get the egg down his mouth that he didn't notice us watching him.

That was a fatal mistake.  It allowed me time to go get a shovel in the barn that we keep in there for shoveling out cow poop.  It works nicely for chopping off chicken snakes' heads, too!

The chicken snake fought til the end, striking at us harmlessly with his mouth open. Part of me really hates to kill a harmless snake, but this guy was eating our eggs and baby chicks and would have scared my wife half to death if she would have walked in on him.  Not to mention the fact that sometimes we gather eggs after dark and "feel" for the eggs in each nest in order to gather them. Putting our hands on a big old snake in the dark would have been a scary thing, even if the snake is harmless.

We liberated the snake's head from his body and threw the snake carcass into the barnyard as a warning to all other chicken snakes in the vicinity.  Lo and behold a hen came along and began pecking at the snake and commenced to eating on him. Pretty soon the other hens joined in the fun.

Funny how fast the tables turn in which the hunter becomes the prey!  Well, at least the two remaining baby chicks and our eggs are safe.  Or are they?  Maybe this old boy has a wife?  Or a brother or sister?  Hmmm.  Oh well.  If our ceramic eggs don't get 'em, my shovel will.