Much to be thankful for ...

I have much to be thankful for this first Sunday in May. Last Wednesday, April 27, parts of my town of Ringgold, Georgia were mangled and in many instances destroyed by an EF 4 tornado. A short fifteen minute drive from my home and my daughter's, Ringgold is where we do most of our business - my grocery store, bank, chiropractor, pharmacy, beauty shop, etc. - and there are many lovely older homes. Eight members of our community, four from one family, were killed.

But here at my home we simply had very high winds and much lightening. My husband was out of town, leaving me home alone with three dogs, a hamster, and a fish, and me trying to figure out, amidst the many watches and warnings, how I was going to get a muzzle on the forever battling Eva Jean and Charity, or attach little Oliver to my body (maybe put him inside my shirt?), and getting the four of us in the tub, in a split second. Melody and I were in touch every little bit via text and phone calls, but the four minutes between our homes seemed very far indeed under the circumstances. After one of our calls I told her with a catch in my throat that I loved her, and she, with a shaky chuckle, said she loved me, too. Neither wanting to voice the real fear beneath the surface, that 'just in case this is the last time ...' fear.

Meanwhile, Julie at Midlife Jobhunter was worrying about her son, Ian, who is a freshman at the University of Alabama in Tuscaloosa. And Dinah at My Aimless Infatuation was dealing with her own fears near heavily damaged Rainsville, Alabama. I'm glad to report that they are both fine, and I'm sure Julie and Dinah will both have a post soon on their experience with this historical storm.

We still aren't allowed into Ringgold because of the damage. In the meantime, as I walked my yard this weekend, my heart was full of wonder at how lucky I am to have an intact yard, especially in light of seeing the forever changed landscapes on the news. I took these photos before the storm, but all remain as you see here. Spared. And I am so grateful.

(As a side note...can you find the camouflaged object in this snow photo?)

A Revised Ending!

A week ago I told you about my little bluebird, the one who escaped the clutches of a snake, only to be used as a plaything by my boxer, Eva Jean. I had sadly placed his slobbery, limp, barely breathing little body in the nesting box after looking him over, thinking that the parents could find him and know that their job was done. Later, before finishing my post, I looked in the box once more and saw that he seemed to have died, as he was unresponsive and to my eyes was not breathing (even knowing that they sometimes play possum). As you know, I shed some tears!

Imagine my surprise when I opened the box the next morning and found this...

A wide-eyed baby bluebird, thinking I had come to give him some breakfast. I just about cried again! After ooohing and aaaahing for a few minutes and performing a soliloquy for him about how excited I was, I closed the door and hurried inside to the kitchen window. I watched for quite some time, but the parents were not coming...they were still in the yard, apparently looking for their baby. It was truly heartbreaking!

I opened the door of the birdhouse, hoping to get their attention and let them see that he had returned there, and within minutes they both appeared, then again and again over the next two and a half days. Sometimes they tried to coax him out, sometimes they fed him, sometimes they just kept vigil in the dogwood tree. I was on pins and needles wondering if all of his body parts were working - no broken wings or legs - and absolutely NOT allowing the dogs out the door except on leash!

I was ready with my camera at the kitchen window, and have probably a dozen starts and stops of his hesitation at the door of the nest. At dark on Tuesday night he still had not fledged, so I had to give it up. Wednesday morning was the same. Wednesday afternoon Garrett and I were walking Oliver and Charity around the yard, me knowing that the baby had been in his nest just a little while earlier, and he looked down under the maple tree where Oliver was sniffing, and saw this...

I don't know WHO was more excited, me or Garrett or the dogs wondering what was going on! After exclaiming over him for a minute, I ran to the house with the dogs and got my camera to get this photo before the parents had another nervous breakdown. They had been following our every move, and after all they had been thru they didn't need these big people messing with their kid! (I also checked the nesting box to make sure it was OUR bluebird!)

I don't actually know if this story has a happy ending. Thursday he was nowhere to be found, but the parents were keeping vigil and guard at one corner of the yard which borders on an overgrown lot, which borders on our green area. I couldn't tell if he was in or near our tree limb pile or on the other side of the fence. Friday they had moved further out into our neighbor's nicely mowed lawn that also borders on the green area. This is good news and bad news, as this area is shaded from our 100 degree week (with 107 degree heat index), but also home to the snakes.

But in my mind I'm calling it a happy ending. By some MIRACLE he survived his time in our little corner of the world. He survived the sparrows and mockingbirds, the wasps and suffocating heat, the snake, and the dogs. His parents were AWESOME, never giving up and battling all those demons to the best of their ability. Now he, and they, are off to the next stage of their lives. According to the book, they will feed the little guy for up to two weeks if he needs it, and then will possibly be a family group for a while until nesting begins again.

Now the question is: Do I leave the nesting box hanging on the deck, to possibly repeat this heartache and happiness again, or do I take it down? Hmmm....

(I uploaded several videos but blogger didn't show them in preview...now I know that they don't play until you've published! Gosh, it took me long enough to figure that out! It's a little boring, and I shot it thru the screen, and I forgot to zoom, but take my word for it that he was sticking his head out! In case you're like me and wondering how to start it, you just click in the middle. And did you now that if you click the little white square on the bottom right of the video screen it will go to full screen for better viewing? I just found that out!)

I'm Glad I'm Not a Bird: TWO SAD STORIES

I can't believe I'm sitting here at the computer crying big wracking sobs over a nest of birds. But I think if you hear my tale you'll understand why I'm such a goof.

Remember the nest of wren eggs on the front porch, the porch that gets so hot on a summer morning that touching the steel front door will actually burn your hand? The one in the geranium pot that at one point I covered with the cereal box to shade the eggs and the mama? Well, the two week gestation period ended with no babies. But the mama continued to sit on them for another week before she gave up. THREE WEEKS she sat on that nest in that blistering morning sun, only to have to desert it with no babies to show for it. I think she was a first-time mama and had picked that spot in the shade of the afternoon or evening, but it was just too sad to see her sitting faithfully, unwilling to give up too soon. Yes, it happens all the time in nature. But it was just very sad. I left the eggs in the nest in the pot so that she wouldn't come back to nest again. There were four of them. (pictured above)

But we still had the nest of bluebirds on the deck, remember, who were due at the same time. They hatched (we didn't know how many), and mama and daddy took such good care of them. I marked the calendar when they'd be due to fledge, and the plan was to leash walk the dogs when it was time. Last night (Sunday) at dusk, the mama and daddy were all over the place out back, going back and forth from the nest to the bushes and trees, that thing they do when they're coaxing them out of the nest. The sparrows and mockingbird chose that time to come and harrass them, so that the protective parents had fight them off in order to protect their brood. We took turns at the kitchen window, running out to chase off the sparrows, and David even took a pellet gun to the mockingbird (but missed). I had made plans to spend the night with the grandsons, so left thinking all was well in my bird world.

This morning I called to see how it was going, and David said 'you don't want to know'. I said 'oh no, did the dogs get the babies?', and he said 'no, a snake'. 'ARE YOU ****ING KIDDING ME?' No, he wasn't. He had taken Eva Jean out just after I left, looked over at the nesting box, and saw a six foot snake hanging out of the box. He grabbed my lopping shears and grabbed hold of the snake, trying just to get him out of the box, and pulled and pulled before he finally came out, and, though it was injured, was able to get away. It was dark by this point, so there was nothing David could do until this morning. He looked in the nest, and there was one baby left.

I didn't get home again until tonight (Monday). I was so excited about one baby being left, even though he could have suffered 'crush' damage from the snake (or psychological damage from seeing it's siblings eaten). I'd look out the window now and then to see if there was any activity, and mama and daddy were out there and coming to the nest with a worm, but then leaving with the worm. We weren't sure what that meant. I began to prepare dinner, and without thinking I let Eva Jean out back. Went back to the sink. Looked up to see Eva Jean racing around the yard and tossing 'something' up in the air. I flew out the door and across the yard...to find that she did, indeed, have the baby bluebird.

The little guy, already a dark blue, was barely alive. Neither of us had the heart (or stomach) to put it out of it's misery, so I gently placed him back in his nest, hoping the mama and daddy would find him and realize their job was over, that none of their babies had survived, that they would have to start all over again. (When I put him back, I saw that there was one unhatched fragile blue egg still intact that never hatched and escaped the snakes clutches.) As I stood again at the kitchen window, the anxious parents were sitting atop the dogwood tree, searching the ground for their last baby. (And, just now having checked, I think he is probably dead.)

I know nature can be cruel and that this scenario plays itself out dozens if not hundreds of times a day. But nature can also be beautiful, and I will continue to hold out hope that one day we can see the full cycle of nest making to egg laying to fledging played out successfully in our little corner of the world. But from now on I will post about it after it's a done deal.

Peaches

Summer 2006, we planted one peach tree. One year later, we had one fuzzy little peach ... Garrett and I split it, and it was the sweetest, tastiest peach either of us had ever tasted. We could hardly wait until summer number three when we surely would have a bumper crop! Spring of 2008 brought hundreds of tiny little flowers, which fell off a couple of weeks later in a hard frost. Summer 2009 brought dozens of tiny, hard green peaches, to be lost a few weeks later in a late and extended spring feeze and ice storm. This summer, summer number five, was surely to be THE YEAR OF THE PEACH!

The tree this summer was covered with beautiful Georgia peaches! They even ripened several weeks earlier than expected due to the early spring weather we enjoyed (and which quickly gave way to a hotter than expected summer).

The only problem was, their ripening coincided with the appearance of the dreaded Japanese beetle. If you've never had to deal with them, count yourself lucky. If you have seen them, you know that they not only destroy every fruit and flower in your garden, but are downright disgusting, munching and copulating at the same time. To try to pick any fruit that was NOT covered with these nasty creatures was like something out of a nightmare, their hard bodies slamming into your face and arms in an effort to chase you away from THEIR bounty.

But they weren't the only pest at the peach tree. This particular one, with sparse white hair and dark freckles, is an EVA JEAN, with the ability to just reach up and grab a peach at will, taking a few bites and leaving the remains on the ground for another pest, the ants.

This hairy pest is called an OLIVER, a common ordinary thief who will go so far as to grab a peach right from under your nose after you have done all the hard work, and who is not above taking one in the house and trying to tell you it's a ball.

I've saved the worst pest for last, and thankfully I have no photo of it. It's the 'plum curculios' worm. It enters the peach in the early stages of development, and if you don't spray in a timely fashion it will destroy the innards of the peach and cause it to either fall early or bruise heavily.

And when you cut them open, no matter how beautiful the peach may seem on the outside, there will be a teeny tiny squiggly white worm on the inside at the pit. And after you've cut open a few dozen peaches, your stomach begins to do this funny little squirmy thing, and if you weren't raised to do this on a regular basis, you just flat give up and say 'no more'.

When all was said and done, there were only enough peaches to freeze five two-cup bags for future cobblers. I'd have taken a photo of the one that we already made, but it didn't last long enough! It was simply scrumptious. And next year, if we don't have an early frost or heavy freeze, and if we spray in a timely fashion, and if they can time their ripeness before or after the invasion of the Japanese beetle, maybe, just maybe...

Oliver, Sunset, Bluebirds, Wrens, and Lewie the Blewy

It's been a while since I posted a photo of my little Oliver, so here are two. I don't have a story to go with them...just wanted you to see how cute and sweet he is. Twelve pounds of love!

Also don't have a story to go with the sunset, except that it was at the end of a horrifically hot and humid day, and obviously beautiful!

I haven't had much luck with bird stories, but will try one more time. Three weeks ago, Mr. and Mrs. Bluebird began testing this hanging birdhouse on the deck. Knowing that they sometimes start several, we weren't sure if this would be a keeper. It was. Mrs. Bluebird is now sitting, and the birds should hatch within the week.

Mr. Bluebird has been quite busy keeping those pesky sparrows away, though they haven't been as much of a problem this year as last as most went on to greener pastures when we had the hawk hanging around. And, apparently, the maurading mockingbirds have been busy harrassing someone else's nest, as they haven't been a problem either ... yet. He sits here next to or in this old feeder above the box or in a nearby bush, and is very attentive to Mrs. Bluebirds needs. I'm disappointed, though, that the birdhouse is facing away from the kitchen window, as we'd have to have a tall ladder to be able to see what's going on inside, and they might not be happy if I took it down or turned it around at this point as it wouldn't face out into the yard.

Why, you may be asking, is this pathetic looking geranium covered with a cereal box? Because of these...

On the hottest porch in town, which gets blazing and reflected sun from sun-up til 2pm, in a geranium that I somehow managed to baby thru the winter in the house, is now home to a nest of Carolina wren eggs. I know that mama birds know how to take care of their babies, but I was thinking she might not have known exactly how hot this spot would be in our unseasonably hot June. After watching her hanging her head out and panting, I cut up a cereal box and put one half of it on top of the plant to block the sun, and would take it down in the afternoon. The plant is blooming now and blocking the sun, so I can leave them alone (except for occasionally putting a little water on the front side to keep the plant alive). She didn't seem to be bothered by the box or by me coming and going out the front door, though I did put reflective tape and a note across the steps requesting everyone to move slowing and quietly! If all goes well (and we all know that it doesn't always), we will have babies in the next few days. And I will not become emotionally attached this time!

Last but not least, I'd like to introduce you to my birthday gift from the two grandsons back in May - Lewie the Bluey, a male blue betta. I haven't mentioned him before because I wasn't sure if he was going to live due to the 'tomato sauce incident', or that you would believe me if I told you what happened! It would sound like a 'fish tale', just like the one I read at a blogger friend's place when she posted about a fish she had had as a girl that was blinded because of a broken bowl, which I thought was a fish tale but that she swears really happened.

Anyway, I was cleaning Lewie's bowl and had put him in his little plastic holding dish, then went to put him back in the cleaned bowl with the dark green net. Did I mention that I was right next to a cluttered sink, that I didn't have my glasses on, and that he's a dark blue with a greenish tinge? Oh, and maybe I had my head up my butt?

Long story short, I thought I had got him back into his bowl from the net, tossed the net in the sink, looked back at the bowl, and there was no fish. Looked in the sink, saw he was still in the net, picked up the net, and he fell out...into a can of tomato sauce from the night before that was soaking to loosen up the dried tomato sauce residue. I hurriedly tried to get him out, pouring the water into my hand thinking I'd catch him, but fish being fish, he slid back down into the cluttered sink, underneath dirty dishes and silverware.

I finally got hold of the poor fish and put him back into his bowl, but the next week was touch and go. I thought at the very least he'd be blind from contact with the tomato sauce, or emotionally damaged from his tour of the sink. For the next week or so he wouldn't eat. Nothing. I don't know how he survived at all, actually, and was preparing the boys for his imminent death. Luckily, that didn't happen. He is alive and well, eating like a pig, and so glad to see me when I walk into the room. He's right here at my computer, and I do believe he knows the sound of my voice as when I speak he does rapid laps around his bowl. And that's not my imagination!

Damn Mockingbirds!

Don't be fooled by this innocent looking bird sitting on my porch railing. He is one of a pack of marauding juvenile mockingbirds that have been terrorizing all the other birds in my yard...and who took the week-old baby robins I told you about last week and threw them out of the nest. We only found one, which our boxer had, so we can only assume that the others were gotten hold of by the dogs as well.

What makes me so mad is that I saw them go in there, and repeatedly ran out and chased them off, even encouraged my dogs to try to get them, but they snuck back anyway. As the boys and I searched the surrounding area, mama robin sat atop the peach tree watching us and looking very forlorn. How sad is that! Make a nest, lay your eggs, sit on them until they hatch, bring them food over and over again for a week, only to have them tossed out for kicks by a bunch of bullies.

I wrote about my displeasure with the mockingbirds last summer, so I guess I need to accept that they will continue to be a part of my garden life. But I don't have to like it. Last year the snake got the baby bluebird, and the sparrows took over all the other bluebird houses, and now this. I think I'm about to give up on trying to attract nesting birds to my yard, and for sure need to not get so emotionally involved! Between the snakes, hawks, sparrows, starlings, and damn mockingbirds, I feel like I'm setting up all the other birds for heartache.

Oh well, it's all part of nature, and nature can be very cruel in the middle of all the loveliness.

Baby Birds, Blooms, and Birthday

Most of the last month has been taken up with working in the yard and taking care of the grandsons. Thankfully, that pesky hawk finally went away and some of the birds have come back, including these nesting robins. They're in a really dense spot in a bush, so I had a hard time getting this photo and then had to enlarge it. The boys were running thru the sprinkler and splashing their little faces (the birds, not the boys), so I had to make them move (the boys, not the birds). As far as I can tell, there are four babies. If you were here last summer, you might remember that we had one baby bluebird in a house right out the front door...that was eaten by a snake. Hopefully these little ones will have a longer lifespan, and my dogs won't get them when they fledge!


I'm sure you don't need a narrative of my flowers! My perennials have gone crazy with all the rain we've had, making clumps so big that I'll have to divide them soon, but my eye has been more drawn to the individual flower types and the wonder of how different and intricate they all are.

And, finally, a photo of my 62nd birthday (on May 15th). Melody brought pizza and she and Conner, the four year old, made the flower shaped cake (yellow with chocolate frosting, my favorite) . Of course the boys fought about who got to put the candles in (we could only find six, thank goodness!), and then fought again to see who got to lick how many candles when we took them out.

(Please pretend you don't see the weed killer and other clutter that we had to shove over to make room for the cake!)

Wednesday's Wander to the Wayside: My Early Spring Garden

Today we're wandering to the wayside from your vantage point, but not mine...we're looking at my own garden! We went from winter to summer here this last few weeks, literally. From the 60s to the 80s and a sun so bright it could burn your eyeballs. I swore last year that I was going to paint my front door from dark green to white (it gets so hot that Conner burnt his hand last year), but with it being so hot already there's no way. Well, maybe we'll have some more seasonal weather before June actually gets here.

In the meantime, the garden is waking up. The daffodils/tulips/iris are absolutely gorgeous in our area this year (though my iris aren't even in bud yet), but, sadly, they're also fading fast because of the intense heat. Most knockout roses are already covered with buds, and all the flowering shubs and trees are blooming at the same time (forsythia, lorapedlum, dogwood, bradford pear, etc.), thus making this one of the worst allergy seasons we've had in a long time. Fortunately for me, most of my allergies are in the fall, but Garrett, the 7 year old grandson, really suffers.


I've had these strawberries for about eight years, or at least they're from the original ones I bought then, and I moved them into pots a few years back because our pasture grass would not leave them alone, and David didn't have time to do raised beds. They get their first delicious bounty by the end of May, and then another batch at the end of the summer.

This is the krawnzan cherry tree that we're still not sure will survive. It took a terrible drought hit it's first two summers, got canker, and the trunk somehow went all crooked. I'm having to prune the branches on one side to keep it from getting too heavy on that side and falling over! But it's right next to the deck, providing much needed shade in a few years, and a spot for birds to nest (if we ever get any).

David's always bring home cool pieces of wood, and lambs ear always softens it's edges. I just got thru cleaning this one up - if you've ever had one (lamb's ear) you know what an ugly mess they are at the end of winter!

This is a Lithodora, which is a ground cover that has a dark blue flower against dark green foliage that blooms thru June. I bought it thinking it was Forget- Me -Not, obviously not reading the tag. It was a deeper blue when I brought it home, but the sun has kind of faded it. I can't wait to see how it does, as it was one of those blues that just jumps out at you, and it will spread to 2-3' and reseed.

This bush is a witch hazel, and you really need to enlarge it to see the spidery flowers. This poor bush has been dug up and dragged to I don't know how many houses, but has finally come into it's own now that it's had four years to recover from the last move. It starts blooming in early March, or even in December if we have a warm year.

You just can't beat a tulip, can you?

And now, a sad story. This next photo is of a resident hawk (not sure which kind). Because of him, and the resident mockingbird, we have NO BIRDS. Seriously. Remember those beautiful bluebirds from last summer? No bluebirds. The bright yellow finch at the living room window? Nada. On the plus side, we also have no sparrows, but I'd gladly welcome them back if it meant the others would follow! Enlarge if you think you can identify it, or just to see the mean look in his eye! He can turn his head all the way around, and is so quick it's like watching a magic trick. He will sit there for hours and hours, and couldn't care less that I'm watching him. This shepherd's hook is only five feet outside the window, and he looked me in the eye when I took this photo!

The only bird he hasn't caught or threatened is...the f***ing (yes, I know, those of you who know me are surprised that I didn't say it out loud) MOCKINGBIRD that tormented the bluebirds last year, and has taken over the back yard to the nth degree already this year, including chasing away the bluebirds and cardinals before my very eyes. I actually have a video of two mockingbirds having a territorial fight out back, but couldn't get it to upload.

All this started when I put out feeders this winter. Birds of all kinds came from miles around to feast in my yard during our four snows, until the starlings also arrived. And then the hawk. And then the mockingbird. But it all started with the feeders, and I'm sure the hawk was circling overhead and saw them all hanging out. So it's my fault. As for what to do about it, I don't know. I'm guessing that we can't shoot either bird (except in my dreams), so I'm at a loss. Any suggestions? Imagine, a nice big yard with trees, bushes, and flowers...AND NO BIRDS!!!

One last thing...I didn't take a photo of it but will mention it anyway. Did you ever make a donation to something like the Arbor Day Foundation, and get fifty twigs in the mail that you're supposed to plant? Well, last year, that's exactly what happened. I think I forgot to take them out of the plastic bag they arrived in, and they got soggy and moldy. I stuck three in a pot of dirt to see what would happened, and promptly forgot about them. Until this week. Lo and behold, what do you think is growing in that pot? A Sargent Crabapple, a Golden Rain Tree, and either a dogwood or crepe myrtle. The problem is that the color code has worn off, so although for some reason I still had the descriptions pamphlet within easy reach, I don't know which is which. Oh wait, I guess there is a drawing for leaf identification, so that might help. Except that the trees are very misshapen trunk wise (or twig wise I should say), so I'm not sure if planting them would be a smart thing to do. Though I guess it won't hurt to give it a try. They couldn't look worse than the trunk of the cherry tree!

Happy gardening to all! I'm enjoying seeing everyone else's spring flowers, and I look forward to seeing the fruit of YOUR efforts in the coming months.

Friday's Favorites: Kitchen Window

You may have heard me say that I have a really small kitchen, which means I also have a really small kitchen window. Like the buffet I've written about before, I have a tradition of what I put in any of my kitchen windows, the same thing every time: the stain glass flower that my sister-in-law, Sandy, made for me; a yellow flower pot that we inherited with the house we bought in 1974 with an ancestor of the ivy that was in it at that time, my bluebird sun catchers, old bottles that we've collected over the years, and seed packages.

Although the window is small, it looks out onto a large yard, only just coming into it's fourth summer of being somewhat landscaped. There were no trees or bushes when we moved here in Dec. 2005. On the horizon is the green area I've talked about before (the hundred year flood zone), where just today I watched a heron glide in and make a graceful landing, and where I look toward the awesome sunsets that we get all year round.

The photo above was taken when the rose of sharon was in it's first year of blooming, and the dogwood tree was also only two or three years old. The hummingbird feeder is hanging off the side of the deck and usually covered with and surrounded by hummingbirds, so we get to see them up close and personal as it's only three feet from the window.

This is about 7am on a foggy morning, with the moon still up in the sky. The crepe myrtles are so heavy with blooms and dew that they were dragging the ground.

So although the window is small, it looks out onto many wonders of nature. I can hardly wait until this coming spring and summer, when the bushes and trees will be reaching their maturity, and the cherry tree next to the deck will be tall enough so that we will be eye to eye any birds that nest there up. Only a few more months!

What is it about clouds?

What is it about them that makes us stop in our tracks and utter simple words like "cool!", "awesome!", and "wow!"?

Our neighborhood was treated to this cloud/light display at sundown last week, and we just stood in the back yard, turning around in every direction, awestruck as if we'd never seen anything like it before.

I don't think any further commentary is needed ...