Stargazer Season

The Stargazer lilies are in bloom.

Initially, there is one amazing blossom; then, a dozen; then, one hundred.  And, to think, my clump started from one bulb with no special care or treatment bestowed over the years; now, that is a perfect perennial.

I was first introduced to this special flower only a few years back while I was attending the local Rockbridge Regional Fair.  I had never seen this flower blooming in the gardens I was accustomed to visiting.  And, there it was…stems sitting in a glass of water among the other entries for the Flower Show.  I did not even get the full scent, but the bloom won me over.  I thought this flower must be difficult to grow; nonetheless, I had to have one in my garden.  So, so unlike me, I bought a bulb; a great investment to my garden.

The blossoms, pure white and cotton candy pink, are huge, majestic, and fully take control of my senses.

These flowers are so gratifying to behold; whether it be a glance or a downright stare.  But, the fragrance!  Oh, these blooms are unadulterated bliss with every little sniff.

I can be standing fifteen feet or more from this magnificent planting when I begin to smell the sweet perfume drifting out from the blossoms, drawing me nearer; making me take another step closer.   One, single bloom sitting in a vase on the kitchen table totally overpowers the room with sweetness.

In the garden, I make specific trips just to pass near the Stargazers.  I make a special point to call Glenn over for a minute to share in my delight.  He is not impressed.  Oh well…I tried.

These flowers do not last long enough for my pleasure, so I make sure I enjoy their bloom time to the fullest.  One year is a long time to wait for the next glorious blossoming.

So, for now, I make several treks to the Stargazers throughout the day and I am giddy.

What Was That?

A few days back, I was standing next to the pond keeping watch for the return of the killer dogs.

I heard a large splash.  Turning my head to look, I saw an extremely large round wave forming larger and larger concentric circles across the surface of the water.

My initial thought, ‘WOW! That must have been some big fish jumping.’

Minutes later, I heard the same sound and saw a similar wave; maybe a snapping turtle????

I relinquished my steadfast view on the pasture and began to watch the pond.  Then, I saw it.  It was a large and beautiful Belted Kingfisher diving into the water.  I had no idea that the Kingfisher actually dove straight into the water to retrieve a fish, but that is the technique I witnessed.

Now, I know!

P.S.  On further investigation, I was able to verify this Belted Kingfisher as a female.  The male of this species does not have the rusty band below the blue gray band.

Massacre at Mountain Glen

Yesterday, I was looking out my window, as I often do, and noticed a couple of animals running oddly.  I grabbed the binoculars and was able to ascertain that what I had thought to be a couple of calves were a couple of dogs.

I was home alone.  I had to get down to the livestock. 

Quickly, I grabbed my camera and phone, ran outside to the ATV, and took off down the hill.  I had contemplated a gun, but not only can I not shoot, I also do not know how to load a gun - my misfortune.

Halfway to my destination, I could see Jenny the donkey chasing the dogs followed by about 10 cows.

Reaching the gate to the pasture that currently houses the flerd, I dismounted the 4-wheeler and continued on foot.  Within seconds, I came upon a downed lamb - breathing, but with its neck badly injured. I called Glenn to inform him of the situation.  I continued.  A few more feet…a full grown ewe - breathing, but with its neck bleeding profusely with a dozen or more gaping holes.  She had been surrounded by a group of cows as if they were protecting her; then, wandered off when I arrived, and again circled her as I walked on.  I made a second call to Glenn. This particular ewe was still thickly covered in dense hair.  A gob of hair, ripped from her neck, lay at her side.  Blood dripped from each wound.

I continued to the end of this pasture to where I initially saw the dogs; two more sheep, both dead, with severe neck injuries.  Within feet of my location, I saw a dog peering at me through the rails of a nearby gate. The head was massive. That damn dog was watching me.  I grabbed my camera and snapped a photo.  I saw the second dog as they both ran through the tall grass.  I watched and took more photos as the dogs ran away from me, uphill, and across the property line onto the neighbors. They stopped halfway up the hill so I was able to get a fairly decent photo; wishing I had that telephoto lens and wishing I had a gun and knew how to shoot.  Those dogs should be shot.  I was lucky that I was not attacked; and, with no gun to protect myself. What was I thinking???

I called Glenn again and he was able to give me the neighbor’s phone number.  I scratched the number with a rock into the hard ground beneath me so that I would not forget the number.  I called, but there was no answer.  Within minutes, he did call me back.  I gave him the story and asked about his dogs.  Not his dogs; one was injured, so they were both inside for days.  He suggested wolves?  No, not wolves and I got the pictures to prove it. But, once I mentioned the Rottweiler-like statute, he hesitantly mentioned that he would ask his neighbor.

Glenn and Becky left their off-farm work, where they were making a repair at one of our rentals, and shortly joined me in the pasture.  Glenn soon found another dead ewe. 

We called the county sheriff’s department and the Animal Control Officer was dispatched to review the situation and to get the details.  Leaving us, she said she would try to find the dogs and get the owner to relinquish them to her.

The dogs will come back if given a chance.  And, they could attack a human as well as livestock.  What was I thinking arming myself with a camera and phone; helpful, but not very sensible.

I later e-mailed my dog photos to Animal Control as directed.  Once viewed on the computer, there is no doubt about the identity of the dogs. 

The rest of the evening was tense.  We brought the two injured sheep up to the barn and doused their wounds with iodine.  A call to the vet gave us further instruction as to the best treatment - flush with lots of water.  Every time we heard a sheep baa, we were down the hill even though there were no strange sounds during the attack.  If I had not seen the dogs, I would not know that there was any problem.  I do not recall hearing the dogs, only seeing them running around.

Now, it is the next morning.  I have yet to check on the sheep in the barn.  I have yet to check on the sheep in the pasture.  I am leery as to what I might find. 

We are waiting to hear back from Animal Control.  We are hoping that she tells us she has everything under control.

Last week when our power was out for two days, Glenn said that was a wake-up call to be prepared for future incidences.  This dog attack…he said was my wake-up call to learn to load and shoot a gun.  I believe he is correct.  I need to be able to protect myself and our livestock in future, similar circumstances.

Peace on the farm…well, most of the time.

P.S.  I have photos of the dead and injured sheep, but they are so disgusting, I opted not to include them here.  At 7:00 PM, the injured sheep are not faring well.  Also, we have not heard anything back from Animal Control.  And, upon viewing my photos, the neighbor thinks one of the dogs was a Mastiff.

Memorial For A Dear Uncle

Memorial For A Dear Uncle

I just received word that my Uncle Gerald (my Mother’s eldest brother) passed away last night.  When I talked to him last on his birthday June 10^th, I thought that he was 95 years old.  He corrected me to 96.

Uncle Gerald sounded very happy and well.  Robert, his son and my cousin (of course, he will always be Bobby to me) was visiting him; so, I got to have pleasant conversations with both. 

Uncle Gerald was a scholar, knowledgeable about a vast number of subjects and continued to learn on a daily basis; was a stamp collector; built fire engines; was quite an adventurer; loved Grandma’s (his Mother) homemade houska, and was a bit of a rebel.  And, he always had to be ‘right’ in any discussion. Now, that I am older, I understand this ‘right’ to be passion.

My Grandmother use to tell me the story of how, even when times were tough, she would always buy her son Hostess Twinkies because he was so thin.  She tried to fatten him up, but never could.  Uncle Gerald was always a slender man; he never seemed to gain a pound no matter his diet.

When I was growing up in Berwyn, Illinois; Uncle Gerald lived in the same town with his family.  Therefore, our families did many things together; so, I have many memories.  We celebrated every family member’s birthday, Christmas, Easter, and we spent several New Year’s Eves at his house partying and sleeping over (adults included) even though we lived a mere 15 minute drive from each other.  Our families had a lot of fun together.

Uncle Gerald introduced me to my first farm when, as a young girl, he took me to visit a farmer friend of his.  I, the city girl, acquired my first attachment to a kitten, cuddling it in my arms until it pooped on me.  I was done with that kitten.  Walking through the towering cornfields was exciting.  I fell in love with farming.  And, happily, I am living that dream today.

Uncle Gerald took us to the Art Institute of Chicago when his son Gerald J received an award for one of his original works of art. I did not much care for the geometric shape with a hole missing; but then, what did I know about art.   One afternoon, Uncle Gerald took me to the Chicago Planetarium to pick-up my cousin, Bobby.  He was constructing a telescope; or lens of some sort.  The interior darkness of the Planetarium was so mystical during the brightness of the day.  I was fascinated.

In later life, my Uncle and Aunt Olga visited Glenn and I during the time we lived in Wrangell, Alaska.  I am not much of a hostess, but I think they had a pleasing visit. They both really enjoyed the fresh salmon salad that I had prepared from our catch of the day.

My head is full of wonderful memories involving my dear Uncle Gerald…a great tribute, wouldn’t you say?

But, the best memory is that of my Mother and her love for her older brother.  That love never wavered.  I hope my Uncle and my Mother meet up and are enjoying each other again, along with their middle brother Al.

Farewell, dear Uncle Gerald.

Visiting Uncle Gerald at his home in Illinois - June 16, 2011
(my brother Robert, Me, Uncle Gerald, and his wife Adrienne)

 

Flashes of Indigo Plus

While out walking about my gardens, I kept seeing little flashes of intense blue fly past me.  Too small for a Blue Jay, I concluded that the flashes must be Indigo Buntings.

I grabbed my camera, moved an old plastic milk jug crate into the shade, plopped myself down, and waited.

And, I continued to wait.  I was determined to get an in-focus, up-close photo of this gorgeous little bird.

My patience paid off.  Within 15 quiet minutes the Indigoes returned, lighted on nearby branches, and I was able to get my photos.

Then, a rare opportunity …a hummingbird also took a break from its normally fast and frantic flight. This small bird lighted on the top branch of my tri-color beech tree and sat; no wing motion whatsoever.

The photos are treasures, but the realization that such a large variety of bird species (these two being a small sample) use and enjoy my gardens is better; my true reward - the birds’ presence and beauty.

Home Grown

Last night’s dinner included:

·         Sweet and flavorful baked potatoes freshly dug from the garden

·         Fresh, sweet, and tender edible-podded peas freshly picked from the garden

·        Squash Creole - summer squash, green peppers, onions, tomatoes - all freshly harvested except for the tomatoes which are the product of our 2011 canning season

 

·         Mouth-watering, tender, home-raised beef rib eye steak

Every mouthful was exquisite; distinct flavors and oh, so tasty!   The home grown aspect was a bonus.

As Gladys Taber wrote in Stillmeadow Kitchen (1947), “We had eight vegetables from our own garden this noon for dinner, counting the three greens in the salad.”  We, too, frequently count the number of bounty from our garden; seven at this meal. Eight if I had tossed fresh chopped parsley on the potatoes.  Nine if I added a spring of basil or tarragon or thyme to the creole.  Darn…I forgot the herbs.

 It is so gratifying to be able to grow and relish an entire meal offered by our own hands.

And, as the summer progresses, the meals only get better as vine-ripened tomatoes and cucumbers, and sweet corn are added to the mix.

And, I better not forget the herbs.

Hot Stuff

Boy, it is HOT again.  I have stopped counting the back to back 90+ degree days.

How do I tell that it is scorching? By my clothes sticking to my body, no; by the sweat running down my temples, no; by my perennials and vegetables displaying excessive wilted foliage, no; by the dogs’ tongues hanging from their mouths, no; by my laundry drying on the outside line - in 10 minutes flat, no; by my glass of cold water dripping of condensation before it reaches my lips, no;…

By my chickens standing with their beaks wide open - only when it is HOT!

Yep…today was one HOT day!