Baby bluebirds

We have two bluebird boxes that get a lot of use, though never at the same time. This was the second brood this year.

I tried getting closer but they're all too skittish for that. The pictures are greatly magnified, so the quality isn't wonderful. But you can sense the cuteness.

I love that little patch of blue on the tail.

There are three or four fledglings... they won't hold still long enough to count. The parents are still feeding them.
Eastern Bluebird, Sialia sialis
-----
Friday Ark

Ancestors and Anecdotes

I've been corresponding with an umpteenth removed cousin my Daddy knows.  Danny has been in touch several times and has even driven the two-plus hours south to meet with Daddy.  They went together to old home places and Daddy even showed him a mountain named after the Walker family; the family name he's researching.  
  My paternal grandmother was a Walker before marriage.  This is a photo of my great, great grandfather, James Harvey Walker.  He fought on both sides of the Civil War!  Look at those high cheek bones.  I sure didn't inherit them.  Daddy said he heard that when he was young, he was quite the looker.  One uncle says there's Cherokee Indian blood in the family.
I talked to Daddy this afternoon on the phone for a good while.  He's the best storyteller ever.  His sense is timing is instinctive.  One of my most favorite things to do as a child was to sit on the front porch and listen to my Daddy, Grandpa, and uncles talking.  The women weren't nearly as interesting to me.  All they talked about were kids, food, and the neighbors.  The men would talk about politics, religions, and other important things.  Not that the women's talk wasn't important.  It just didn't interest me.
Daddy told me today that his Mama had an uncle, Charlie Morrow, who was a preacher and a bootlegger.  Nobody saw anything strange about that back then.  There was a church up in the  mountains that had a reputation for running off preachers.  Well Uncle Charlie was going to preach there one Sunday.  He walks up to the pulpit and lays his Bible open on it.  At the top of the Bible he lays his pistol.  He said that nobody was going to keep him from preaching there that day, and they didn't.  He stayed at that church for about a year which was a record!  
There's a strange story about finding a lost relative.  Mama and Daddy were up at the Appalachian Museum one day, and Mama sees this man that looks just like her father-in-law.  Mama finally gets up the nerve to go over and talk to him.  She says,  "You wouldn't be a Collins would you?"  Sure enough, he was!  She told him that he looked just like R.M. Collins from Turtletown, Tennessee.  Come to find out, there's a whole bunch of Collinses up in that part of the country.  We have to be kin to them somehow.  I just love stuff like this.

Molded by the Ice

When I went out with my camera yesterday, the ice still held my plants hostage - this relative of papyrus hadn't thawed a bit at 4 in the afternoon.

The cut -off stems of Hedychium coronarium/Hawaiian White Ginger bore an odd resemblance to the Cat tails that grew in Illinois swamps.

Over in the triangle garden, the 'Little Gem' magnolia leaves were gradually emerging, dropping clear replicas of themselves on the grass.

The Loquat leaves were still encased too, with most of the branches still bent. I experimented, holding a leaf and trying to slide off the ice, but it held on tight, so I left it to melt on its own.

But this turned out to be quite unlike my previous experiences with ice storms in the North. Many times ice would arrive just ahead of a thermal drop, so the ice would last longer, and the temperatures would be very, very harsh. I don't think we went below 28ºF here, and the unfreezing process was amazing to me.

This afternoon - ta da! My darling Loquat is rebounding I think, although one limb is now completely horizontal, blocking the patio exit at eye level instead of arching 8 feet overhead as it did a week ago. Ki has advised me that props may be necessary, and if we're going to use the patio, at least this branch will need support.

The ground is littered with browned and frozen loquats; the tiny fruits had just begun developing. A few remain on the tree, but winter isn't over, so my dreams of actually eating any this spring may stay dreams.

Today the 'Little Gem' magnolia [a small tree, shorter than I am] is standing straighter, but the center is more open, with the branches fanned out. The boxwoods look better, but have a new shape, too.

It's one in the afternoon, and we haven't thawed out as quickly here as Pam/Digging and MSS/Zanthan have reported - ice remains floating in birdbaths and in the pots.

I wonder if there will be permanent effects from the bending? From our decades of visiting the Chicago Botanical Gardens, I remember watching as trees were gradually forced into appropriate shapes for their Japanese gardens, with weights tied onto ropes, then suspended from branches. It took years in order to make them grow horizontally, but I may have a head start on that tortured, lateral look.

Is it time to start shopping for stone lanterns?

At the Beach!

Today, Dad took me to Limantour Beach, which I love to visit, but the waves kinda scared me. We were going to check out anything we could find for Pedro, but see what we found instead. Unfortunately, it was high tide, so there wasn't much. We'll go searching again soon. It was an amazingly gorgeolicious day. I'm watching the surf here and above, I'm exhausted after chasing the tennis balls. Then, I saw the crab and was kinda startled - cause it moved! Dad really tired me out by throwing me the ball so many times and I just had to lie down and take it all in. I had a great, great day, only it ended up with a spa treatment, cause I've gotten so dirty from the sand and mud from the last week and have to go to a fun match tomorrow - obedience, you know - yuck! Have a great Sunday everypup!xo Sammie

Well, it is the Gold Coast after all

Some nights are just plain weird, or stupid, or both. Tonight was one of, perhaps, all of those categories. It could be my E6 light, which may have a habit of attracting morons, but then, it's only been two rides with it so far, perhaps things will pick up. On the other hand, if there's one place in the world where people will get weird about something like this, it's the Gold Coast.

For some reason tonight I took a ride down to Point Danger. I guess I just felt like a change of pace, and most of the ride was actually quite pleasant. The view from Pt Danger at night is actually quite spectacular, and this picture probably doesn't do it justice.



It was on the way back that things started to get weird. In Coolangatta, two car loads of morons decided... well, I'm not sure if decisions are within their mental capabilities. But for some reason I got a slap on the back side from one, and a touch on the arm from the other. (Guys, I'm flattered by your interest, but I'm really not that way inclined, OK?). Now I'm not sure what the point of all this was -- it was pretty harmless, but then, there was just me and about 8-10 of these morons late at night in Coolangatta, it was a little unsettling.

For some reason I didn't bother to call the police. I guess I just felt it's "not so bad" by Gold Coast standards, and I'm probably right there, particularly after some of the things that happened last year. I did, however, tailgate them for a while, not actually doing anything aggressive, just sitting there and watching them squirm in the glow of the E6. Obviously they were waiting for me to react, which is exactly why I did not.

In the end, people like this are more amusing than anything else. They act all big and tough, safe in the knowledge that they outnumber me 8-1, and that they can step on the accelerator and drive away really fast should I threaten them (not that I'd bother). Still, if ever I'm feeling down about anything in the next few days, looking back on those morons and making fun of them should cheer me up pretty quickly.

The E6 did, however, prove it's value in Miami a bit later on, when a drunk wearing dark clothes decided to throw himself on the road -- and a dimly lit one at that. Fortunately, the E6 beam picked him out pretty early on in the piece. Any later and I might have been in trouble. There were a string of expletives that followed me away from that one, not that I was turning back. Frankly, I have better things to do.

Royal Ensign

The true-blue flower of Convolvulus tricolor 'Royal Ensign'.

Asian Melons

Gardening is not very interesting if I'm not trying something different.
I'm one of those people who ends up wanting everything marked "new" in the seed catalog, but I managed to restrain myself this year and only ordered five unusual melons. (That may sound like a lot, but the catalog had 16 varieties of Eastern and Asian melons that I'd never heard of before.)

This turned out to be my favorite. It's called Sakata's Sweet, and it originated in Japan. The description of fragrant, sweet, and crunchy was too good to pass up. And you can eat the peel!

Never having grown it before, I didn't really know what "ripe" looked like. I think it's actually a bit past this point - they get a yellowish tinge if you leave them longer. But it doesn't seem to matter much to the taste or texture.

One description said that they reach the size of a baseball, but they evidently grow about 50% larger than that in the Alabama heat.

They're green inside, and man oh man are they good. The taste is somewhat like a honeydew melon, only much sweeter, and very crisp.
The only problem we encountered was an extremely low germination rate. Out of about 21 seeds planted at three different times, we got one plant. (Still, it did better than the "Golden Sweet" melon, which produced no plants from the same number of seeds.)
Reading about another Asian variety, I was dismayed to learn that it only produces six - eight melons per plant. I hope that is not true of this type too, or else I've only got a couple more to look forward to.
The seeds came from Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds, a nice company who offered to refund the money for seeds that didn't germinate.
-----
I almost forgot to mention, if any part of the melon seems a little bitter, a day or two in the fridge (after cutting it open) will cure that.

A walk in the Woods and Ride 'em Cowboy

A rainy day was predicted but the Sun is shining so we go to the Park to do some hiking before the Rodeo at Crazy Horse this afternoon. Harney Peak is out of the question because it is quite windy. We have passed this sign several times so today we turn in.

Camp Bob Marshall is supported by South Dakota's 4-H and is open for special youth retreats and family reunions.

It is located on the edge of Lake Bismarck

Thetrail leads to Lake Bismarck and it's boardwalk trail

View of Stockade Lake from Lake Bismarck

The trail seems to end here so we stop and soak in the Sun and the beauty of the area.

Next we go to Legion Lake to hike the Badger Hole Trail

A walk in the woods

Brings us to Charles Badger Clark's Cabin. Charles Badger Clark was honored as South Dakota's first poet laureate. He lived in the park for the last 30 years of his life. The stories of Badger Clark, his life and poetry are stories of a man living an independent life.





Next it's off to Crazy Horse for the Rodeo



Ride 'em Cowboy!

Or not

Girl'sBarrel Racing

This Bull was totally insane a couple times he almost threw himself over the gate and almost reached the top of the announcers stand. I didn't get any bull riding shots cause my camera batteries died. But only 2 bulls were ridden and only for a few seconds. One rider decided not to ride his bull and it was calmer than this one! Needless to say this one went unridden.

Here are some videos of the events

I should have been a cowboy - learned to ride a horse and rope a steer . . .

Bronco Riding





Calf Roping - when they untie the calf it bounces right back up and trots back into the corral.
and Steer Wrestling


We meet some friends of friends for dinner at the Silver Dollar - good all you can eat fish fry (for a land locked area). This place always has fun signs though this one was supposed to read"babies not babes.

We go back to Crazy Horse for the Laser Light show - my camera isn't good enough to get pictures so I found these on the Internet



Hope you enjoyed the show!

Till later!

Meanwhile we keep on Trek'n

Melissa and Gary

Swashbuckling, Wood-chunking, and Bug-sloshing

"Swashbuckling, Wood-chunking, and Bug-sloshing" was written by Annie in Austin for the Transplantable Rose
The adventures may have been bloody but they were cinematic and the blood was not real in the new arthouse movie called The Fall. This visually compelling movie came with recommendations from both Roger Ebert and a trustworthy friend, so Philo and I went to see it at the Regal Arbor a couple of nights ago. We liked it a lot and were enthralled by the performances of a young Romanian girl named Catinca Untaru and by an actor who was unknown at the time this long-in-progress movie was filmed, Oklahoma's own Lee Pace. (Lee is now a favorite for those of us who have fallen under the spell of Pushing Daisies.) Lee's character is Roy, an injured stuntman confined to a Hollywood hospital in the 1920's. The wonderful Catinca plays Alexandria, also a patient, also injured, but mobile and so charming she has the run of the hospital. Roy tells Alexandria "an epic tale of love and revenge" - interrupting his story like Scheherazade in "One Thousand and One Nights". We see Roy's words inhabited by the kind of characters seen in old movies and visualized against some amazing settings. The hospital scenes were filmed first, but it took four years and location filming in 18 countries for Tarsem Singh and his brother Ajit to get this story on screen. The official site is here. A review by Reel Fanatic is here. If this looks like your kind of movie, try to get to it while it's still on the big screen.

The blood is real elsewhere. Mpst of us have discovered that deer, woodchucks, raccoons, squirrels and other animals don't share - they're able to turn an entire crop to compost by taking one bite of each fruit or tomato, or are willing to destroy a garden seemingly on a whim. Most of us just write posts in order to vent our anger and grief over lost crops or plants, but some people go after the varmints with everything from guns to hammers. Read all about it in the New York Times article on Garden Vigilantes. Philo saw the story first and brought it to my attention as soon as I woke up this morning.


Sometimes I read the paper right away with that first cup of coffee, but lately have been taking a quick run out to the tomato patch before breakfast to look for Leaf-footed stink bugs. I don't like to use pesticides anyway, but after reading the level of poison needed to control these bugs it would be out of the question - I don't want to kill off the bees, too! So I take my small bucket with a couple of inches of water in the bottom, lightly sprayed with something like Simple Green to break the surface tension, and in the other hand carry the Green Shears of Death, a pair of stainless steel garden scissors. The bugs are too fast to cut in half, but but by using the point to hold the insect's attention while stealthily moving the bucket underneath him, one jab forward and many a stink bug falls into my pail and drowns. As I scurry around the tomato frame in a nightgown, carrying a bucket and scissors and making triumphant little grunts as another bug falls to soapy death, the idea of me tending a front yard vegetable patch grows ever fainter in imagination.
Some adventures are best kept behind the garden gate.
There will be Flower Photos next time! I promise!

"Swashbuckling, Wood-chunking, and Bug-sloshing" was written by Annie in Austin for the Transplantable Rose Blog.

Gretton - Rockingham via plantation

With Eddie, Charlotte and Maureen. Led by me. Sunny, ground frozen, cold wind. 8 miles.





Same route as on Thursday 7 April





We started from the playground on Gretton rec, and followed the path between the new estate and the older houses. It goes by the hedge and continues straight on as far as the surfaced track. Just opposite there are a pair of stiles leading into a grassy field. We crossed this to another pair of stiles. After these the path goes right at about 45 degrees towards a wide gap in the hedge. There we turned right and walked with the hedge on our right, through a few gaps until we came to a stile through a hedge, and on to a track. over the stile on the other side and into a large field,where the path leads slightly right, as indicated by the footpath arrow. As we walked in this direction the metal gate and stile that we were aiming for came into view.





Over the stile to the Gretton- Corby road, and across over another stile. Here there is a short steep slope, which we descended. Then we aimed left at about 45 degrees towards a rather ramshackle stile into the wood.





In the woods, you go down a pretty steep short section of path, just after the stile, and go down to a wide grassy track. Turn left and walk along. There's a notice advising you to keep dogs on leads, and beware of snakes. Today, it was far too cold for any cold-blooded critter to emerge.





After a while the track arrives at a meeting of the ways, and here you need to take care. Not left, not left and slightly back, and not right. More or less straight ahead, with a slight bias to the right. Follow this track to a T-junction and turn left. Don't attempt to cross a quarried 'ravine' ahead. The left turn leads to a stile and on to the Gretton Brook Road. It may be possible to wend your way through the trees and emerge later, but it doesn't look very practicable, and is almost certainly not a public footpath.

From here, follow the Gretton Brook Road, carefully because it can be pretty busy, to the junction with the main road. Keep along this in the same direction until you reach Princewood Road. Follow the footpath/pavement/sidewalk here round through the industrial estate until you come to the area behind the Hampton by Hilton hotel. You can cut through to the main Rockingham Road. The verge is wide enough to walk on, or you can cross over to a surfaced footpath. The road goes past a hotel and the cemetery, and leads to the junction with the A6003. There is a roundabout at the top of Rockingham Hill.

Walk down Rockingham Hill as far as the footpath sign for Gretton - to the left. Continue if you fancy a coffee or more at the tea-shop just after the Sondes Arms.

Charlotte, Eddie and Maureen, ready to climb West Hill!

There is a longish section along roads, but the walks at either end of it make it worthwhile.





More later

Love This Bag!

Isn't this bag a hoot?