Archive | August, 2012

The Robins Are Gone

11 Aug

 

Speak Up Saturday

Patricia Franklin

    The robins are gone.  I do hear them calling once in a while, and one of the adults flew up onto our fence near the flower beds where I was working.  Instead of flying away, which I would expect, he flew down almost at my feet and retrieved something to eat.  The young ones come around every now and then too, and they all seem to be “our” robins, as they are not afraid and will continue looking for food.   
     As I left for Texas for a week, the mama dove was still sitting on her nest.  When we got back, there were two little heads peeking out from the flimsy nest and the mother was gone, but we could hear her cooing nearby.  Two days later, one little dove was sitting out on the branch. The next day, both of them were out of nest on the branch.  The following day they were out of sight.  I saw one on the front lawn a few days later and went over to get it, as the cat roams around out there. But when I got close, the little fellow flew into the tree, so I knew all were safe. 
    Now, a few weeks later, my husband and I were sitting on the patio last evening and two doves flew right close to us onto the bare branch just below the dove nest. We started talking and moving around, and instead of flying away as doves usually would, they settled down and kept us company, cocking their heads as though listening to what we had to say.  They stayed there as long as we were outside.  Is it my imagination, or did they recognize us and were seeking our company as well?
    At first I felt a little void in my life when I could not see the birds every day, but I know they are all still here and they come around now and then, while keeping up with their busy lives.  I decided I will encourage them to stick around, so have put out the bird bath, a hummingbird feeder and a little cage with suet to attract more birds. The finches seem to love it.  So they are chirping all over the place now and trying to avoid the aggressive little hummingbird who seems to think he owns the whole territory and tries to chase them all away.  And so …..  life goes on in my little bird world.
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Worms, Sauce and Homemakers

9 Aug

 

 On the Porch

 

Onisha Ellis

 

 

I started my day on Saturday in the garden. I had procrastinated for days harvesting the garlic plants. It’s not a particularly difficult task but I seem to be running low on energy. This lack of energy might have something to do with having the grandchildren sleeping over Monday through Wednesday this summer. They are so much fun but by the time they leave I am wasted, but I digress.

 

After harvesting the garlic, I moved on to the tomatoes. As I was picking them I came across a huge horned  green tomato worm. Gross! I went inside and chose a nice pinchy pair of my husband’s pliers to pull it off the plant. As I held it in the jaws of the pliers it tried to wiggle toward me so I quickly squeezed them shut. It seemed to writhe in agony but it wouldn’t die. Totally repulsed, I took it to the garden wall and smashed it. Just so you know, they have green guts. The next one I found, I called my husband to take care of.

 

Tomato Horned Worm

Tomato Horned Worm (Photo credit: jmdgolfman)

 

 

 

The morning was still cool so I moved over to the green bean plants. They were supposed to be runner beans, but only a couple of plants followed their genetic code and actually climbed so a bench was needed to pick them. A row of cucumbers are planted between the beans so I was able to multitask and picks beans and cucumbers at the same time. A quick check of the squash plants and I was done with picking.

 

Coming back into the house, I assembled my garden bounty of fresh tomatoes, garlic, zucchini and herbs and began washing, chopping, sautéing and boiling. Five exhausting hours later I had a wonderful spaghetti sauce.

 

I have always admired the women of the past but after making homemade spaghetti sauce, my admiration has increased a hundred fold.

 

BETTY CROCKER COOK BOOK

BETTY CROCKER COOK BOOK (Photo credit: Lulu Vision)

 

 

 

Proverbs 31:14

 

 

 

A Boy, A Cave and Secrets.

8 Aug

 

A Slice of Life

 Bill Lites

 

When I was 16, I was 6’0”, weighed 125 lb, and knew all there was to know about life, and so, was ready for any life challenge that came along.  My mentor at the time was an 18-year-old Air Force brat that was bored and as rebellious as the day was long.  When I wasn’t working, I followed him around everywhere he went.  We both had small motorcycles, so transportation was not a problem.  The other kids in our following came and went, but the two of us stuck together in everything.

One day my mentor said, “I know a really neat place we can go exploring up in the foothills outside of town.”  He polled the others that were hanging around his house with us that day and everyone thought it would be a lot of fun.  So, the five of us piled on our motorcycles and headed out of town.  It only took us about thirty minutes to get to our destination, the entrance to the old deserted mine opening, on the side of one of the foothills. 

 

Of course, my mentor had been there before and knew all about this deserted mineshaft.  So, with flashlights in hand, we set off to explore the dark hole in the ground.  At first, the shaft angled down at about a 5 to 10 degree slope, and was big enough that we only had to bend over slightly to make progress.  The further down we went, the angle steeped, and the shaft grew smaller, until we had to get down on our hands and knees to make any progress.  We crawled along like this for some time until we came to a caved-in area where we had to lay down on our bellies to squeeze through the opening.  Now I’m not normally claustrophobic, but that was very scary for me.  I guess I’d seen too many tunnel cave-in movies not to think, “I might just get caught in a cave-in here and now.”  But, I just held my breath and squeezed through.  About 100 feet beyond that tight spot, the shaft opened up into a large cave about 50 feet wide, 25 feet high and filled with water.  And there on the edge of the water was a raft.  What a surprise!  Only two of us could get on the raft at a time, and we took turns paddling around for a while getting wet in the process.

All this time, I had this niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach that we need to get out of here while we can before that shaft caves in again.  But, of course, I said nothing, because I didn’t want to embarrass myself.  After we tired of splashing around in that dirty water, we headed back up the shaft toward daylight.  I was relieved to get past that caved-in area and to finally make our way to the shaft entrance.

I thought later, “Well, I got out of that alive, and this is one venture my folks don’t ever need to know about.”  And, they never did. What kind of things did your folks never know about you?

 

If I climb to the sky, you’re there!  If I go underground, you’re there.

Psalm 139:8  (The Message)

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Old Age is Not For Sissies

6 Aug

 

My Take

 

 DiVoran Lites

 

 

Bette Davis, starring in movies from 1932 to 1989 said that. But, shh, let’s not talk about old age and maybe it will go away. How many of you do not want to grow old? You don’t. Really? Have you considered the alternative?

 

Because of insurance changes, I’ve recently been to a new doctor who is close to my son’s age. Taking a history, he asked if my parents were still living and when I said no, he asked how they died. I said Dad had an accident and Mother just faded away. After taking the history and reading me with his stethoscope, he said I appeared to be healthy. “Good for you,” he said.

 

“Boring for you,” I said.

 

“I’m not looking for sickness,” he said, “there’s plenty of that to go around.”

 

“You’ll probably die of a heart attack or a stroke,” It felt a like a curse and I’m afraid my face must have got, the look that can move mountains and make grown men cry. I didn’t mean to use it on the doc, but I figured I had when he backed off with, “Or you may just fade away as your mother did.”

 

Another doctor once wanted to project how I would die. She asked what I thought. What’s up with that? Do I have to choose right now? Okay, I’ll go with Ashley Montagu who said, “I will die young as late as possible.”

 

I like what Victor Hugo says about old age and dying too. “Why is my soul more luminous when my body powers begin to fail? Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart. I breathe at this hour the fragrance of the lilies, the violets and the roses as at twenty years. The nearer I approach the end the plainer I hear around me the immortal symphonies of the worlds that invite me. It is marvelous yet simple.”

 

Victor Hugo was in exile in Jersey, and latter...

Victor Hugo was in exile in Jersey, and latterly Guernsey (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

 

Yes, simple. I don’t want to grow old, but I don’t want to die either, so I’ll keep on keeping on and I sure hope I won’t be a sissy about it. I want to be one who hears, “the immortal symphonies of the worlds which invite me.”

 

I Corinthians 4:16

 

 

 

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The Robin Diaries- Part 7

4 Aug

Xeriscape

Patricia Franklin

 

This is the 13th day since the babies were born. We have been gone most of the weekend, enjoying some xeriscape yard tours around town and in Pueblo West. There are some beautiful xeriscape flowers and plants that I have never seen before. A few small plants really interest me…the butterfly weed(bright orange and almost like a wallflower),

An entire Butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberosa) ...

An entire Butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberosa) plant from the ground to the flower. It shows the characteristic blooming flowers, hairy stem, and is within 1 to 2 feet tall. Photo taken in Chester County, Pennsylvania. Photo was a handheld shot. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

varieties of creeping thyme, which we have also planted in our flagstone walk, pine leaf penstemon, wine-cup, ninebark, sea holly, gazania (like a daisy in various bright colors), candytuft and my favorite, desert willow. That’s a willow with pink flowers that look like orchids. It loves the dry desert. It looks as if the flower does not belong to the willow tree at all. Gorgeous! Then there are several plants with wonderful scents, honeysuckle, chocolate flower, ornamental oregano, agastache (various scents, even lemon, mint and licorice), hummingbird mint, lemon thyme (a ground cover similar to what we planted), and various types of lavender.

I cold go on and on. I have fallen in love with all these beautiful plants that can grow easily and beautifully on our dry plains here. It was a great get-away for a couple of days.

The robins have been so busy feeding the babies. It takes two of them all day long, especially since the miller season is gone and they have to search for food. We decided to give them a treat yesterday and brought them back a few night crawler earthworms. We did not see the robins when we went out there, but put a few worms in the raspberry patch, then the rest in our garden. We were not gone thirty seconds when the mother and father came out to gather them up. I could not believe how fast they could spot the worms and have them back to the nest. Those little birds got their tummies filled in no time and mom and dad got to rest in a nice long evening break.

The babies are getting lively, flapping their wings and trying to stand up the tallest to get the first mouthful of food. I hope they do not fall out of the nest before they are ready to fly. They are three different sizes, one is quite a bit smaller than the other two, but they are all very lively. They are quiet. I thought I would hear them tweeting, but they do not make a sound. I guess it is safer for them that way. They recognize mom and dad’s warning call, and will scrunch way down in the nest when they hear it. They are all used to us by now, and don’t seem to care if we are out there though I’m thinking at least one of them will be gone soon, as my research said it takes ten to fourteen days for them to fly. It has already been thirteen, but I don’t think they are quite ready.

I think this is a critical time for the babies, so I am going to keep a closer eye on them for a couple of days. That cat knows when we are gone, and would be over here in a flash if he knew they were there. I will now go out front, water my flowers and make sure the cat knows I’m around.

 

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Gopher Tortoises and My Biologist Son

3 Aug

I enjoyed the tortoise story so much, I wanted to go ahead and post the next installment. Plus, those days with the grandchildren are great fun but sure do a number on my energy and creativity, so I am happy to take a pass on my blog post this week.

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Nature specials on T. V. are great, but most of all, I love to observe nature in action for myself. I had what I thought was a real adventure with two gopher tortoises the other day. I saw two gopher tortoises in the same few feet of trail and figured they had to be together. I thought maybe the dinner-plate sized one was the mother and the salad-plate sized one who was about to wander into my subdivision and get hurt was her son. I picked up the small one and took it over to the big one.

Later I asked my Biologist son who has studied gopher tortoises since he was at the University of Central Florida if I’d done the right thing. Seems I was all wet in every department, but he graciously gave me the real scoop on the life and times of gopher tortoises.

“The salad plate size is about eight years old and close to the maturity necessary for mating. The bigger one would be from twenty-five to fifty years old.”

The minute I set the small one down the big one started bobbing his head.

“The scientists call it head-bobbing.”

Was it gopher tortoise communication?

“Yes. They recognized that they were of the same species though their ages were vastly different.”

Was it threatening?

“It would be easier to guess about that if we knew the sexes of the two animals. “If it’s a boy the shell is indented at the back, but if it’s a girl the shell is flat.”

I didn’t think to check that.

The head bobbing could have signaled an interest in mating or it could have signaled a territorial dispute. In the field, I’ve seen two tortoises sitting on the apron and bobbing heads for hours.”

The apron?

The sand hill at the opening of the burrow is called the apron. It’s where the mother tortoise lays her clutch of eggs so the sun can warm them and the sand can keep them cool on hot days.

I asked if mother tortoises look after babies when they hatch.

“No, when the baby tortoises hatch they’re soft and about the size of a silver dollar. That’s when they become food for dogs, feral cats, raccoons and birds of prey.

At about six months of age, gopher tortoises dig three to five burrows, over a two-acre area and roam from one to another on a rotating basis.

I didn’t want the little one to go into the subdivision.

“That’s right,” says B. “The biggest danger to any tortoise is a dog. They crush them with their teeth, and bite off any parts they can get to.

So the big one wasn’t the small one’s mother and even if she had been she wouldn’t have cared what happened to him.

That’s right, but hey, Mom, you have a great imagination, and in reality you may have saved the smaller tortoises life, so yes, you did the right thing, you just went the long way around to do it.

I guess it’s great to have a good imagination, but I need to keep in mind that there are things I can’t figure out because I don’t have all the facts.

In other words, we don’t know everything, and having a good imagination doesn’t always help.

I Corinthians 8:3 We never really know enough until we know that God knows it all.

 

 

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Snake Bit

1 Aug

 

A Slice of Life

Bill Lites

When I was around 6 years old our family took one of their many summer vacations to the beautiful Alto Frio Encampment near Leakey, Texas.  Even though the Encampment was established in the early 1920’s, by the mid 1940’s, it was still fairly primitive.  Our rustic cabin furnished only the basic eating and sleeping needs.

 

The south Texas summers were hot, so one of the joys of the trip was the afternoon swim in the Frio River.  On this particular day, Mother, Dad, my younger sister and I headed down to one of our favorite swimming holes on the banks of the river.  Being a frisky lad, I was running out in front of the others.  As I reached the edge of the water, and started to wade in, I felt something on my left shin and reached down to brush away what I thought was a deer fly.  My hand came back with blood on it.  About this time, my dad yelled for me to stop, he ran up to me and began to wrap a bandana tightly around my thigh. He tied it with a knot then picked me up and ran for the cabin.  I had no idea what was going on, but my dad and my mother who had been right behind me, had seen what happened.

 

Evidently, I had scared or stepped on a snake (water moccasin) in the shallows and he bit me, and then he was gone.  When we got to the cabin, my dad used a razor blade to make small cuts over the fang holes. He then sucked on the wound to get the poison out. He picked me up again, rushed to the caretaker’s house, and asked him to take us to the hospital.  I remember feeling dizzy and a little sick to my stomach, but that could have been from the smelly exhaust fumes coming through the firewall of that old Model A pickup we rode in.

The closest hospital was too far away, so we ended up at a doctor’s office where the doctor used a glass suction device to remove any poison that might be left.  Hardly anything came out and the doctor praised my dad for having done a great job.

I learned later that my dad had been a medic at the front during WWI and I  understood that was how he knew what to do in case of snake bite.  I also learned that sucking the poison out of my leg, could have been dangerous for him because of the fillings in his teeth. If there had been even a pinhole cavity around in one of them, the poison could have entered and made him sick or even killed him. Of course, he wasn’t thinking about himself at the time, only me, the little boy that he loved so much.  Thanks, Dad.

 

Psalm 23

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