End 'o Garden

The mums, I think the variety is Sheffield

So...it is time for frost in this area, past time really, not that I have the slightest desire to see it arrive. Instead I have been reveling in the blooming plant life that this soggy summer sent us. What a year for flowers!

Cannas are at least four feet over my head and still blooming like mad. The invasive purple and blue morning glories that surprised me by coming up from seed every year after I misguidedly planted them a few years back, have covered the arbor and burst out into the yard, waving bright flags until noon or later every day.

The old-fashioned mums the kids hate so much that they dig them all up and give them to me (chortle, grin, chortle) are elbow high, and so burdened with pink flowers that they can barely stand. I do love me an easy flower that practically grows itself. These things languished in plastic bags, practically bare root, until I got around to heeling them into the dirt last year. Hey, I was busy, it was hot and blah, blah, blah. They didn't even notice the abuse and all grew. ALL.

The butterfly bush is in its second year and looks amazing. I bought it last year because the dusty grey foliage looked cool. The bazillions of purplish flowers are a nice bonus.

I go in for that Tarzan-is-about
to-come-swinging-by-on-a-vine
look....

Various annuals are doing their thing as well. I learned about cutting back and feeding leggy petunias from a YouTube video last year. It works. The red one on the front porch had to be cut back TWICE this year because the growing conditions were so amazing.

'mingo beans

However, as I brush through the narrow path between the morning glories and one of the mums at the back door, I can't help but realize that this is not going to last. Although at this moment there is no frost in the forecast, you can feel it coming, smell it on the air, sense it in the need for warm sweatshirts in the early morning that somedays lingers all day.

Any day now. Or any night.

I am not ready for frost or winter or wind or wild weather, so I just enjoy every hour of good garden time that the good Lords sends me. It will all be gone soon enough. 

The Rarest Bird I have ever Seen

 

Had some problems around the place this morning, but we more or less either solved or shelved them for a more fortuitous day...mostly shelved.

The boss suggested going birding. I was like, "Where?" I've mostly been birding at home lately as warblers and sparrows are migrating and this is pretty much as good a place as any.

He said, "You're gonna think I'm nuts."

"Where?" 

"A reservoir."

"Which one? Sacandaga? Beardsley?"

"Nope."

"Which one?"

"Cobleskill."

"Nah, it's too muddy. Remember last time we went when it rained? You almost fell. Let's go to Schoharie Creek Preserve."

So we did. 

And then to Sara Lib Road Quarry. Had a good time, didn't see any thrillers. Just got back into the car when What's App chimed in with a bird alert from HM Bird Club.

OMG, OMG, OMG 

One of the really good birders we have met and much enjoyed had found a Barnacle Goose at the exact reservoir where the boss suggested going. 

Cobleskill.

Thanks to the finder, his co-finder, and a really nice local birder who has put me on several super good birds over the years, (and who waited with his scope when he certainly had more important things to do than wait for me,) not only did I see it, but also got some photos.

If my interpretation of the ABA rarity code is right, it is the rarest bird I have ever seen.

A huge thank you to David, Mark, and John, for finding and sharing the bird, and for making sure I got on it. Sure made up for all the bad stuff this morning.

Rescued this little guy from the road at Schoharie Creek
Preserve. Cute little critter

Tastes Change

 

Or do they?

I am sure you remember being a kid when they brought out the watermelon. For us it was usually at a grandparent's house. It would maybe come from a cooler, as its big oval self wouldn't fit in the fridge full of food intended to feed aunts, uncles, a ravening horde of kids, and adjacent relatives.

It would be dark green on one end shading to whitish green on the other and beading with moisture in the sticky summer heat.

You might have just come from running under the sprinkler and be dripping a bit yourself. For sure no one wanted you sitting on their lap.

Then the knife would come down and saw and hack and the slices would fall away in gleaming pink splendor. It was hard for a kid to wait their turn, but soon, bendy paper plate in hand, off you would go to devour like a wolf what I have heard described as sweet, pink, fog.

Everyone dealt with seeds in their own way. There were jokes about what might happen if you swallowed one, with knowing looks from the adults at certain of the aunts who might be adding to the cousin count someday soon. There was a fair amount of spitting of them from rogue brothers and admonishments for same from fake-glaring grandmas, who were really the most indulgent people on the planet.

But the bottom line was that it was good. So sweet, so meltingly delicious. Watermelon was an icon of summer, remembered fondly all year.

Fast forward to now. We still buy watermelons out of big boxes at the supermarket, and we still eat them. However, like so many childhood delights, the glow seems to have faded along with the flavor. We like them, but there is always some left for the chickens to peck.

I figured that our tastes had changed as often happens. I mean, hey, look at cheese. I absolutely hated it as a kid and now it is one of my favorite things...but I digress.

The other day, as we perused the birds on Lynk Street, which is actually a fine rural road out by Bella Terra Farm, we passed an Amish pumpkin stand. You can find them all over, with fat, glowing orange orbs for sale for a fraction of what the English stores ask. (In this case a buck for one the size of a bushel basket.)

So we stopped and grabbed a couple, one for the stump at the bottom of the driveway and one for Peg to carve. We noticed that they also had watermelons, huge, nearly square lumps of different shades of green and grey. Also only one dollar each.

We passed on them at first but then went back and bought one. What the heck? If we didn't like it the pigs and chickens would, so there was no way to lose.

At home I jabbed a knife into it to discover that it had a rind like a rock. However, I persevered and got it gouged and sliced into edible chunks. It was loaded with black seeds like fat black bbs only flatter and bigger. 

It also tasted like summer childhood. Sweet, succulent, melt away in your mouth like that pink mist we mentioned, and leave you smiling and thinking of more all day.

Turns out our taste buds hadn't changed, the watermelons had. We ate watermelon for days and they were good days indeed. 

We also went back for another, but the huge ones were all gone, with normal sized little ones instead. We bought one anyhow, and it is waiting in the kitchen for someone to get hungry and get out the knife.

Meanwhile there are also two little cups of seeds from the big one drying in the kitchen. Guess who's going to try their hand at growing watermelons again next summer.....

Never, Ever try this at Home

 

What peppermint fumes feel like

Tis Autumn, the season when us folks in the country wish they were called outsects and lived up to their reputation...rather than being insects and wanting to come indoors en masse. Box Elder Bugs, Brown Marmorated Stink Bugs, Cluster Flies. And I suppose those lantern flies will be next on the agenda, dagnabbit.

In fact night before last I was heading out at dusk to check the stove and bring the doggo in when I felt a sharp stab on the back of my hand. Some kind of fat black-and-yellowish bee must have been hoping to sneak through the crack in the back door to join us in the relative warmth of the interior. My sleeve scooped her up, she felt inconvenienced by same, so she stung me.

I dashed her away, and after some serious trepidation, as so many members of my family are so dangerously allergic to stings, the pain faded, leaving behind a vague itch. Good deal.

However, bugs ain't the only ones what wants ta join us, if you know what I mean. And we accidentally discovered that peppermint oil really does repel rodents. Mice were taking over the folks' house; they had a vial on the kitchen counter, I sprinkled some around, and hey presto! no further evidence of mousy escapades and recent meals.

So we bought some for home. However, it became outdated and smelled a little funky, so we bought some more. Behind a grandchild of Depression Era folks, and having grown up running tame in their homes, it pains me mightily to throw anything out that might be useful some day.

I decided not to waste the peppermint oil. Becky pried off the little plastic thing that prevents an excess from spilling out of the bottle. Then I upended it over a hole near the washing machine that has ofttimes provided ingress to pests and been patched many times...probably for generations of both unwanted mammals and the humans they plague.

Seemed like a good idea, so I dumped the rest down the cellar stairs.....just in case you know.

Seemed okay for a while. Smelled kinda nice and all.

Plus the bonus of not spreading poisons or setting traps seemed like icing on the......

Wait a minute...oh, oh.....

Everyone's eyes began to water and the kitchen became nearly uninhabitable. Liz was baking cookies, but you couldn't ascertain that because of the overwhelming stink of flaming peppermint.

Throats clogged. Eyes and noses ran. We could tell that our collective senses of smell were fine indeed, thank you very much.

I finally got Liz to stuff an old pair of pants over the little hole in the pantry, and you could stand to be indoors, although it felt like a candy cane factory for sure.

I was grateful when it came time to go to bed. When we moved up here and I picked a room, I chose one of the lesser rooms, rather than the opulent master bed room, because it overlooked the heifer barn so I could hear the cows if anything happened in the night.

I was sure glad of that last night, as it is far enough away from the kitchen to be safe from the peppermint skunk in the pantry.

This morning when I stepped out in the hall I was forcibly reminded of last night's folly....

Instantly

But it's not too bad.

And it will go away in time....

Right?

Check out

 

What my friend found hidden among the things they have planned for us.

Thanks to Abdul

 

Who has been spamming the comments here for the past few weeks, I have had to turn on comment moderation. I will turn it off again in a bit, but he has been irritating me mightily and I am already cranky enough.

Sorry.

In other news, we made our annual pilgrimage to Sabattis Bog the other day to look for Canada Jays. We got 'em, but it was pouring rain and they were really spooky...so no photos.

Of course the forecast for the day was partly cloudy and then when they...as usual...changed their minds, the rain was supposed to stop around one. It was cloudy all right. Relentless heavy rain until around 3. We gave up and came home.

Some Fun

 

Common Raven

Blue Jay topknot

Carolina Wren

Birds we've seen recently. Some of these have already been on Facebook, but not everyone has that so........

Blue-headed Vireo

Ring-necked Pheasant

Ruby-throated Hummingbird

American Goldfinch molting into winter colors

Nashville Warbler

Blue Jay

Chipping Sparrow

Sunday Stills...Evening

Lyker's Pond, 
one of our favorite birding spots

For more Sunday Stills.... 

Algebra Birds

 

Does this nectar make my butt look fat?

There must be an equation to explain the way the foggiest mornings bring the highest number of warblers, with the possibility of identifying them declining with every single drop of misty water.

 Add in leaves as a variable and their nearly magical propensity to vanish behind branches and you have a challenge indeed.

Today was such a day. The fog was thick and swirly with the warblers nearly as thick, flitting around in the black walnut trees.

Alas, they might as well have been hidden inside paper bags for all the chance there was of knowing who was who.

Chipping Sparrow, fall plumage

Picked out a Magnolia, a couple of Nashvilles, what was almost certainly a Blackpoll that I didn't count because of the almost part, and a Blue-headed Vireo. That was it among a dozen or so.

Fun to see the incredibly fat hummingbirds though. They love the cannas and morning glories and we have a few stop almost every day to partake.

Water is stupid high everywhere. This is normally a trickle

Later in the day the fog burned away, with the warblers melting right along with it.

We found the pheasant above though, and a couple of first of the year birds in another county.

Plus we bought a gigantic watermelon from the Amish up on Lynk Street for a buck! The rind was as hard as some of our firewood, but what was inside was delicious. Also got some corn, spaghetti squash for Liz, and a few apples down at Shaul's.

Sure was a pretty day for a drive. 

Sunday Stills...signs of Autumn

 

For more Sunday Stills....

If you see this Guy Today

 

Wish him a very Happy Birthday....

Happy Birthday, Ralph!

Timeline of a Terrible Time

 

This was during the height of the ****** crisis when government nannies were ripping families apart and leaving loved ones with no advocates in horrible situations.

Mom hospitalized with COPD

I go to Dad to do what I can to take care of him.

Dad falls...a lot...can’t do his pills, won’t let anyone else do them either, failing fast.

Mom released to rehab in what we thought was a good nursing home. (So wrong)

Dad briefly hospitalized, sent to rehab, different wing, same nursing home.

Fire in a dryer at the nursing home. Mom wheeled over to Dad’s wing for a welcome visit. They hadn’t been apart for more than a day or two in almost seventy years. We were happy for them for a while...and then

Dad diagnosed with *******. Mom caught it from him during that little visit.

Dad recovers quite quickly, scheduled for next day release to a different nursing home. The original one had done things like leave Mom sitting with her legs swathed in soaking bandages, shivering with cold, and ignoring her until I called and made them go change them and get her a blanket. GRRRRRRRR I wonder to this day if she ever got her insulin.

I call the hospital and Dad’s room. No answer all day. Can’t get anybody.

Finally doctor calls, Dad has crashed.

Hospital calls, Dad has died.

I call mom, the boys, and family.

Hospital calls. Dad has not died, but probably will. We decide not to tell Mom until morning.

However, the doctor calls to tell her...rightfully I guess

Mom spends the entire night on the phone with the doctor exhorting him to save Dad. 

“If you can’t save him, I am going to go too,”

They couldn’t.

He did.

She did too. .

The news story about the doctor in the story below took me back there this morning. I find that I am finally ready, after nine months, to share it with you. Thanks for reading. 

Truth Imitates Fiction

 

Woke up today to find this story on Facebook. I tend to lie in bed for a while when I awaken before the rest of the house for a good reason. Once my feet hit the floor downstairs Mack welcomes me with a cacophony of high-pitched barking, awakening people from their peaceful dreams.

However, when I read the story I found myself, by some sleight of text, back in the living room of my parents’ house late November into December last year.

I called their house one fateful day, having had a feeling that I should talk to Mom. Little did I know that I had already seen her for for the last time, and would never speak to her again except on the phone.

Dad answered. He seemed confused. I asked where she was.

“In an ambulance on the way to St. Mary’s” he managed to tell me.

Actually the ambulance was still in the yard as they were trying to stabilize her.

I grabbed a bag of chargers, NOOK, a few clothes and snacks, and Ralph raced me up to watch over Dad.

11 of the longest days of my life ensued.

Dad had been falling regularly. Vertigo from his meds? A wonky knee? Both?

Who knows?

Anyhow he kept falling, plus he blasted FOX at eye watering volume off and on all night. Plus I was sleeping on a camp cot in the living room.

Sleep was elusive at best. I managed to get through the nights reading JA Jance books, particularly the Ali Reynolds series, my favorites. JA is hands down my favorite author.

Some of her books deal with a fertility doctor who used his own genetic byproducts to get families with child, producing a southern family reunion’s worth of genetically damaged children, who later found each other.

The story above is so eerily similar to the plots of those stories, that I had to come downstairs and hustle Mack out to his run so I could write about it. I also sent Ms. Jance the link and my thanks for helping me through that awful time

To be continued in Timeline post above....