From the Penalty Box

I've seriously reprimanded myself.  During the past few weeks, I've been recuperating from a back injury curled up in bed with my laptop.  For three years, my pledge to myself was that for every four documentaries, I could watch one show purely for entertainment.  Most times, I hold on to a DVD for a month before I have a chance to watch it.  But, with the mail-in center  for Netflix in Birmingham,  a DVD mailed in one morning results in a new one by the next day... causing me to seriously overindulge the last two weeks.


Therefore, the diet has begun:  restrictions on my online time and I cancelled my Netflix plan. Take that you bad girl!


I hadn't posted anything on my blog in a couple of weeks because the Blogger site has decided to block me from uploading pictures.  Technology is dastardly. Two weeks of upgrading operating systems, defragging, compatibility view changes... to no avail.  My amateur techie work will probably end up costing me double the usual shop fee when I bring my laptop to my repair guy today!


Before I lose my laptop, let me highly recommend a documentary and a TV series.
What Plants Talk About is a Nature documentary that is absolutely fascinating.  Did you know that big daddy trees in the forest help feed their own offspring?  I'm not telling you how, you'll have to watch.  I might not be able to use my chainsaw for a while...


The 12 part TV show is a political drama/police mystery called Salamander.  It's set in Brussels and is in Dutch and French with subtitles.  Spine tingling suspense and beautiful streetscapes.  I've been to Brussels twice, but almost a decade ago.  Watching the show, I felt like I had my backpack on again and I was marching through town trying to see every inch of it, every embassy, every statue.  Ahhh memories, if that's all I have left when I get old, at least they'll be good ones.

Lucky Number Seven

July 3rd, Cole hit a milestone:  the big 50!

Or to look at it on the bright side:  lucky number 7.  After the year he's had, he's due a better fortune.
It's tradition that on his and my birthdays, we're on a trail somewhere.  As I'm working through the long weekend to catch up on work, my grand plans to take Cole to Roosevelt State Park were canned.
I think he was just as happy with an hour of squirrel hunting this evening.

We came back to meatloaf straight out of the oven.

"Define share".

Snouts in the trough.

If you think about it, Cole ages 1 year for every 2 chronological months.  Time together is precious.

The occasion called for a trip to the ice cream parlor, with all four dogs.
I only wanted one good picture of us. Is that too much to ask? With the 10 second delay on my cell phone camera, you never know what the picture will end up looking like.  Out on the deck, Cole was preoccupied scanning for squirrels in the trees.

Still focused, he's assuming I'm giving him a boost up the tree.

Moved inside.  Things got goofy.

A little drunk off my second glass of chocolate milk!

"Ma, I farted".

"You're making my eyes water, Kid".

"You're staring at me.  I can feel it".

 

Never got the good picture I wanted, but had too much fun trying!

 

Ended the evening by bringing Wilbur his beetles.

 



Do I know how to party, or what? 

My Countries

I have cause to celebrate twice this week.

Happy Canada Day to my Canadian family and friends!

 

I was belting out some off key renditions of O Canada at work yesterday.  I even met a fellow Ottawan at Earth Fare.  Hard to mistake her for anything but a proud Canuck with Canada on her T-shirt, even her baby's pacifier had a maple leaf on it. 

Reconnecting with my roots has been a theme these days.  Through the magic of Facebook, I recently found my childhood best friend, Anne-Marie.

Her passion in high school was ballet.  My bet was that she would end up dancing with the Royal Winnipeg Ballet. We lost track of each other right after high school.  She thought I was heading to Carleton U for Architecture.  Instead, I headed to the States to study agriculture and she went about her business getting an MBA.  After being a stockbroker, Anne-Marie decided to begin the second act of her career and became a chef and a college culinary instructor.

Always driven and disciplined, I bet she has a third act up her sleeve.
This Fall will be my first time back to Canada in four years, only fitting that best buddies (even after a 27 year hiatus) will be together again.  Serendipity!

It's been said that the person you should become is the one you were at 15 when your passions were clear.  For me, it's always been about animals and books.  Seeing this photo that Anne-Marie had of us at 15 made me laugh. Everyone else on the bus is chatting and we're engrossed in our books.

 

In honour (notice Canadian spelling) of Canada Day, I want to recommend a fine Canadian author.  Louise Penny has written a series of detective mystery books set in Canada. 

 

 

Bury Your Dead is a contemporary novel set in Old Quebec City.  A fabulous read.  I could spend the rest of the Summer cradling her other ten books...

 

In honor of my adopted country, I present two books from an Auburn University entomologist, Dr. Mullen, both books concern Phillip Henry Gosse's year in Alabama in 1838.  Gosse was an Englishman who had worked in Canada before moving to Alabama to become a school master. One book is of his watercolors Entomologia Alabamensis.

 

 

The other is a collection of letters he wrote detailing the flora and fauna he discovered over the course of 8 months in Dallas county, only two counties from my Lee county.  Written 176 years ago, I could be standing there beside him when he describes his euphoria at the discovery of Actias luna (Luna moth), he even compares back to his explorations in Canada.  All these strange southern bugs and plants that I've delighted in studying, he had the same adventure two centuries ago.

 

 

It would seem he did more exploring than school teaching, using his pupils to gather specimens for his entomological collection.  He had minions!  Gosse's descriptions of agricultural practices make me shudder.  Rather than clear cutting forests for the preparation of fields, the cotton farmers girdled trees, killing them within a year, but also wasting the wood.  The following season, the slaves planted cotton in the devastated wasteland.  Gosse describes the danger involved for the slaves working among thousands of dead standing trees. 

One experience that I can only live through his eyes is of hunting on horseback in a virgin forest.  Gosse was able to pursue deer at a gallop through the forest. He goes on to explain that second cut forests are choked by brush and terrible vines.  You don't say, that I have plenty of experience with! 

 

Happy July 4th to all my American friends and adopted family members!







He's Back

Wilbur is back!

Tuesday morning, he was back in the pond.  As I've been neglecting to bring him beetles the past few nights, he probably went out to foray on his own.  Welfare benefits will resume tonight.

To answer questions I've been getting, I will tell you that I don't know what's wrong with the lower left side of my back.  Doctor doesn't believe it's a muscle sprain.  It's pinched nerves probably due to a ruptured disk.  An MRI would confirm it, but I don't need to spend over $1000 only to be told to keep doing what I'm already doing:  taking it easy. 
In my early 30's, I pitted myself against Angus in a trailer loading battle.  I lost.  The double herniated disks in my neck made it so that there was virtually no way to hold my head without pain.  At least, this time, it appears to be a smaller blowout and I have only a few motions that aggravate it.  See?  Could be worse, but gonna get better.

Down Time

Nothing terribly exciting to report from the Agricultural Research Station in Alabama.

We could discuss the weather, the universal conversation starter.

Monday afternoon, it was only 93'F, with 73% humidity which equals 118'F Heat Index.  Welcome to Death Valley, Alabama.  Sucks the life out of you. 

I've been preoccupied with pouting over the fact that I can't run with this back problem.  Who wants to run in this anyway?  I should be grateful to be cloistered in my own house! Gratefulness is not what I have been emoting lately, more along the lines of grouchiness.  My slogan since I hurt my back has been "it could be worse".  I'm ready to switch to "this will get better". 

 

Perhaps not yet. The forecast for tomorrow:  99'F, or 37'C to my Canadian family.  Add a predicted 60% humidity and voila:  sauna, 120'F Heat Index, or as you Canucks say Humidex of 49'C. 

 

The heat wave today was interrupted by an unruly storm rushing in from the East.  The Storm Center warned of 60 mph winds, so I gathered up the troops and rushed the farmhouse. I didn't see the need to pile 4 dogs into the underground shelter, as I could watch the radar on my new tablet.

 

The same ninnies at Verizon who gave me a free Smartphone last year gave me a free tablet.  Their attempts to entice me into using more data are failing, miserably.  But, keep giving me the free gadgets, guys!

 

 

I have two regular boarders staying here this week, their initiation to severe weather preparedness. I've been accused of being a worry wart.. been honing that skill for years.  When I was eleven, I made my own rope ladder to use from my third floor bedroom in case of fire.  There was always a lit cigarette somewhere in the house when I was growing up and I practiced getting my cat stuffed in my backpack, out the window and down the ladder.  I was beyond Boy Scout prepared, tad bit of a wing nut back then, so what changed?

The storm rolled in and left behind some down limbs, took out the top of one tree and plopped it onto the fence.  Mother Nature can be apologetic:

 

Rainbow.

While working to straighten all the toppled plants, I found a coachwhip snake that had snared itself in the netting I had installed over the sweet potato plants to protect them from marauding chipmunks.

 

Sadly, the poor fellow was dead, probably baked in the heat today.  A beautiful 4 foot specimen. 

 

Long enough to make two belts.  All joking aside, I can't find Wilbur tonight.

 

Wilbur fills up my hand when I hold him, I doubt the snake could have swallowed him, but that may not have deterred him from preying on him.

Good news is that the netting has saved half the sweet potato plants. 

 

 

I wish to encourage biodiversity in the microcosm of my backyard.  But, it's getting out of hand, the wildlife is edging me out. 

To vent, Cole and I went squirrel hunting after the storm passed.  The colors in the sky at dusk were amazing. 

Sometimes being benched is what's needed to start seeing things with more gratitude. 

 

Life is magical.







Sidelined

My back had been troubling me all week, but ignoring the problem seemed to be working fine.  Before heading to work Thursday morning I was drawing water up from the well to water the garden when it felt like someone shot me with a 9mm in the hip. 
I've had back issues before where I'd been stuck in bed and my husband had to carry me in a prone position to the chiropractor.  So, I thought that this was simply a pinched nerve and what I had to do was keep moving and the nerve would unwedge itself and all would be OK again.  I shuffled around doing my chores, cursing and crying. I kept crying because every time I turned around I found damage caused by furry creatures.

Overnight, the chipmunks had eaten off the tops of all the newly planted sweet potato plants.  The sweet potato plants ordered months ago, waited on and finally arriving only Tuesday. The chipmunks' feasting wasn't limited to these, they had also eaten every single lima bean that dared to sprout.  My usual 2 gallons of harvested dried beans are not to be this year. Do you realize how many groceries I will have to actually buy this year?  Oh, this is WAR. Fur will fly.  Can you buy dynamite on Ebay?

Teetering out the drive to the chicken coop, I found Morel had her head stuck in my fence.  Darling, precious Morel had eaten an entire side of a cherished antique rose that had been full of buds on the brink of blooming.

Out in the pasture, what did I behold?

Tommy had attacked the coop during the night.  Bovine sized piñata. Torn tarps, broken clips, aaaaargh!
 I managed to get into the chicken coop to take care of the girls and then couldn't get back out.  I spent ten minutes in there scaring the hens with my bawling.  Surrender.  If I could make it out, I promised myself I'd go straight to my chiropractor.  I got out, but couldn't get into my car. 
OK, Plan B:  Reschedule work not to lose any income and root through the medicine cabinet for some relief. 

One lousy 6 year old muscle relaxer tablet is all I could come up with.  Better than nothing.  As I tried to cut it in half, it disintegrated.  Half fell onto the carpet, but I was able to lick the other half of the counter. ________________ fill in the blanks with something that would make a soldier blush. 

A few hours later, after laying on a bed of ice packs, I felt a little better.  I still couldn't reach down to put socks on.  But, with a couple pairs of kitchen tongs, McGyver got her loafing socks on. Progress is good.

I'd be making a fashion faux pas, but I could now get dressed to go to the chiropractor.  If only I could get in the car...not... aaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!

Late afternoon was absolutely gorgeous outside.  Probably our last beautiful day for a long time.  Heat advisories forecasted for the next five days.
My neighbor had brought me prescription strength anti-inflammatories, I was feeling upbeat. Somehow, I was going to make my day productive and enjoyable.  Resting in bed would have benefited the body, but the spirit needs tending too.  Being outside, with the hummingbirds buzzing me, the breeze on my face, the mockingbird's overtures, the horses waiting for me at my gate, now that bolsters the spirit!

I managed to extend electric fencing to the chicken coop.  Tommy, literally, knock yourself out, buddy!

I could now get down on my hands and knees and crawl around.  Cole senses when things are amiss and he becomes very protective. He won't leave me for a minute.  Even in the smallest room of the house, he sits at my feet and stares at me:  "You OK?".  Unnerving, but sweet. His shadowing made it possible for me raise myself when a post or tree wasn't handy. He let me use his shoulders to pull myself up. I love that kid.  We did some weeding and I covered the guillotined sweet potato stubs with mesh.  They may not grow back, but who knows!

By evening, the Celebrex gave me enough mobility to fold myself into the car. The dogs and I went for a test drive.  Could I manage the stick shift?  Not gracefully, however I did get to the coffee shop to collect my 2 gallons of organic milk.  Our agreement is that I get it out of their coolers ASAP on Thursdays.  I wasn't going to renege on my promise and lose my dairy privileges.  A big mug of hot cocoa was my rewards for bringin' home the milk.

This is what greeted me when I returned from town.

Toads sitting atop fresh manure, thinking they got it made in the shade, lunch would be flying in soon.  That's my day in a nutshell:  up to my eyeballs in poop, but good things are always there, if I keep my eyes peeled.

Kayak, Bad

Embroiled in vacation planning around here.  The original idea was to haul my kayak to Canada, dropping it in a Great Lake or two along the way to Algonquin Park.  The four day excursion in the Park will require multiple portages, the longest being a mile.  Time for a test of my equipment.


First snag:  somebody overzealously applied Overton's Kayak Protector (overpriced Armor-All) to her kayak.  Hoisting it over my head was as futile as trying to hold a greased pig.  As far as kayaks go, it's also quite heavy at 60 -70 lbs.  The 60 pounds of rocks that simulated my gear and Cole's food were also quite heavy.  Instead of risking losing my good hiking pack in the bottom of the lakes, I used two old packs, strapped front and back.  Makes it hard to breath when you have 30 pounds compressing either side of your lungs.  Who would have thunk it?

 

Washington crossing the Delaware.

 

We didn't capsize, didn't lose our load, but discovered that loaded down, the kayak barely has 1" positive buoyancy.  With a little choppy water, it would be fabulous recipe for hypothermia on a Canadian lake in October.  This completely disqualified the kayak.  But, the experiment had to go on to the end.

 



We had to portage a complete mile.  Which meant trudging to the other lake and zig sagging around to get the mileage.  To add to the misery, it was the hottest day yet:  mid 90's, Humidex in the triple digits.  The pond water wasn't even refreshing... like wading in a hot tub.

Conclusion.  Two hours devoted to flunking a hypothesis. Therefore, I shall dole out the $25/ day for a rented canoe in Algonquin Park. 
Next experiment:  will Cole redecorate the interior of the wagon with puke if I bother to take my bicycle to Canada?

Taking bets right now...