Bits of Nothing

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30

Well this is it, this is the last installment of the 30 days of blogs challenge. I was beginning to wonder if I was going to make it there for a bit. This past week was especially hard for some reason and I will glad tomorrow to be able to kick back and catch up with those of you who are still writing blogs for your 30.

I was hoping for a great blog today. A blog that would top all of those previous blogs. A blog of something big, big and powerful and leaving you wanting more.

Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but it's not going to happen. Today dawned like any other day this past week. Hot and humid and nary a drop in the forecast. The only dark cloud on the horizon was the one that developed over my head.

I went out to water a bit. Being in one of the worst droughts we have been in since the 1950's, things are shriveling up quickly. Missing one day of watering, can result in the loss of several plants.It has me depressed and putting away all notions of getting anything accomplished this fall. No plants will get thinned and relocated. No iris will be separated and shipped to promised friends. No new thoughts of bulbs and plants will be entertained unless rain somehow materializes by August. It doesn't appear like that will be happening any time soon.

After staring at my problem tree again, I sighed and went back indoors and made another call to the utilities. It has been almost a week and no one had gotten back to me or been out to view the culprit. I again talked to one person, was transferred to another and then promised to hear back from the guy in charge. I waited all morning and finally just after 1 pm he called. The gist of our conversation went like this:

Me: I called last week about having you come look at and trim or remove a tree near the power lines.

Utilities: We have a very long list of trees to be trimmed, it will be weeks before we can come out.

Me: Can someone at least look at it to see if it is an emergency? It is developing a crack in the crook of the tree and I am afraid it will split and fall and take out the line.

Utilities: We have changed our tree policy

Me: The tree is right next to the line, not long ago you removed a tree several feet from the roadway that was no way near the line before.

Utilities: Home owners are responsible to keep all trees trimmed near lines leading to their house.

Me: The line to my house is buried underground, this is a main line that runs North and South and connects several of my neighbors.

Utilities: What is your address

Me: 1st street. The power lines run down an alleyway between 1st and 2nd.

Utilities: I have a map in front of me, there are no lines on 1st street.

Me: In an alleyway between 1st and 2nd, running North and South, just west of 1st street.

Utilities: That must be a phone line.

Me: There are several poles that run North and South, from the corner of my yard, North down the alley way (named all the neighbors on the block).

Utilities: Yes, that is a phone line, I have nothing on the map for power lines.

Me: There are THREE LINES running NORTH and SOUTH on a series of POLES down the alleyway, and yes, there is a phone line below those THREE power lines on those  SAME POLES.

Utilities: I will have to see it for myself, It will be several weeks til I can get out there.

Me: I can e-mail you pics to prove I have power lines on real poles.

Utilities: We have adopted a new tree policy, homeowners are responsible for any power lines coming into their house.

Me: It's buried from the pole to the house, if the tree goes it will knock out all the three lines to my house and all the neighbors on the block.

Utilities: I better see it for myself, but it will be a couple of weeks.

Me:....(pause).....thank you....(click)

After then was an assortment of words uttered by me, best left out of print. The whole conversation had me feeling like I had stepped into a really bad episode of Abbott and Costello's "who's on first"?

Needless to say I have been on the phone trying to line up tree arborists and referrals from people I know on tree removal and trimming. I left messages with two of them, and a message with my one neighbor who is closest to me to ask his opinion and at the same time warn him that maybe it would be best if he didn't drive down the alley for awhile.

I am of course still waiting to hear from anyone. It has me beyond annoyed and peeved and ticked off and not at all what I had hoped to blog about today.

There will be no rainbows, adorable puppies, fuzzy ducks, and all of that other assorted cute stuff. There is only a big black cloud over my head with dark thoughts thundering. But I thought I better get this blog posted in the off chance things go really dark here if the utilities should go off.

If they do, I hope they can find me on 1st street. It's right next to 2nd street, with an unknown, unmarked alley running between them with some powerlines.

 

 

Impulsive

Never let a bored woman near a pair of scissors.

Today I cut my hair.

I didn't cut it really, really short, but I did cut off a few inches. It's not something I haven't done before.

I get bored with myself and my current fashion sense (or lack of it), and I think to myself, I should cut my hair.

Today I cut my hair for more practical reasons. It was hot. It was long and getting in the way and I didn't think twice about chopping off a bit of my tresses. My hair is still long, about 5 inches past my shoulders, but most days you can't tell it's true length.

I have been blessed or cursed, with wavy/curly hair. Every summer with the obsessive humidity, it takes on a life of it's own. It will increase in volume past the point of being reasonable. It's part of the reason I keep it long. Cutting it short would only encourage it to poof out into a frizzy afro that would make many question if the circus had been to town and I was one of it's illegitimate offspring. The shorter I cut it, the curlier it gets. It may have looked cute when I was younger, but fuzzy headed bowling ball heads aren't so cute when one gets older.

My mom loved to style my hair. I think she was envious of it's ability to be coaxed into ringlets and curls when her own thin, straight hair would barely hold a wave. She had hair envy and so she lived vicariously thru my hair. Well, until I got older and did my own styling. I wasn't so adventurous with my hair exploits. I wanted something easy, something I still want today. I want to be able to wash and comb it into a ponytail and go. No curling or straightening irons, no hours of blow drying and fluffing. I want the ease of being natural.

Now as far as my haircut goes today, it looks okayish. It's not exactly perfect, but considering it was done on a whim, it doesn't look bad. Thankfully curls cover up any minuscule length differences. I will look at it again tomorrow when I get out of the shower. Who knows, I might need to take up those scissors again and give it a little more trim.

At this point some of you may be worried I might end up bald with trying to even up my hair. The impulsiveness of taking those scissors in hand, will have you grimacing at the prospect of me running with them. I assure you, I will not run, but only walk to the mirror.

It's that impulsiveness that tends to get a person in trouble. Thankfully I am so darn practical and if I admit it, such a darn chicken, that I rethink a lot of things before doing them. I try to squelch that impulsiveness a lot so that it doesn't get me in trouble. But one only has to look around and see some of my impulsiveness in plain sight.

I have a pink chair. Yes, really, a pinkish mauve chair. It was the rage in the 80's to have mauve pink and dusty blue everywhere and I jumped on that bandwagon with relish. Okay I guess if I admitted to having the pink chair, I can admit to having it's twin dusty blue one right next to it.

Silver, I like silver. I like silver platters and pitchers, and salt and pepper shakers and all kinds of assorted shiny, silvery bits. I bought a lot of it on impulse, only to wonder why? Why, in the world would I buy all of this silver stuff that has to be cleaned and polished? I will admit, some of it is hidden from view, still waiting on that polishing.

Clothes, oh good grief the clothes. I am not a real clothes horse. I don't buy a lot, but sometimes I get in these moods, particularly when I haven't bought anything in awhile and I will lose all sense of sanity and cruise those clearance racks. Forgetting that #1 rule of why they are even on a clearance rack. Nobody wants to buy them. Except me, when I am in one of those impulsive modes and can't see anything past those discounted price stickers. I have a few of those hangers of shame, still with the tags on them. Remember those jackets from the 80's with the big shoulder pads? I still have one, a striped black and white one, with three quarter inch sleeves with a cuff. My eye will go to it every so often while glancing over the closet and I will inwardly cringe at my offending impulse purchase.

It makes me wonder if impulsiveness isn't really stupidity in disguise?

Most of impulsive moves seem to have me experiencing a bit of regret. Why did I buy that item? Why did I do that stupid move? Why did I post that comment on a blog that had me hovering on deleting it, but in my impulsiveness I hit the post button instead? Sometimes I will go back to delete a comment quickly, only to find someone has already read it. It is already out there for the world to read and I can't take it back because they replied to it.

How many times have we started something and immediately regretted it? Made a choice or decision that we stew over and fret about and hope that it was the right one.How many times has our impulsiveness been more of a positive force than a negative one?

I've made a lot of mistakes. I have made a lot of poor choices. Choices I thought were good at the time, but they were made in haste without my thinking thru the consequences. I have said things and then immediately wish that I could take them back. I have remained silent, when I wished that I would have spoken out or at the very least, clarified something that could be taken the wrong way or been confusing for someone else.

I need to monitor my impulsiveness and guide it in a more productive direction. Some things are best done impulsively. Some things you just can't plan but have to do on the fly. I just need to learn the difference between those two things.

One thing I can assure all of you is that despite my hair cut, I won't be coloring my hair any time soon. At least, not until it starts to show a bit more grey and I become self conscious of it. So until then, I can mull over my choices of what color to choose. It won't be mauve pink or dusty blue, I am certain of that.

Life's a Bore...

 

Well here it is, nearing the end of the 30 day blog challenge and I only have a couple days to go. What a time to start drawing a blank.

I have thought off and on all day what to write a blog about. What would be exciting to capture your interest and have you wanting to read all the way thru my ramblings without wandering off in boredom. I was getting desperate. I was even following the cat around to try and get a few pics of her when she does all of that "cute" stuff cats do, but even she was bored with my pursuit.

I did manage to catch a big yawn for her and even though it looks a bit ominous, the only thing one had to worry about was bad kitty breath...

Once again my day was spent waiting upon the arrival of the local utility company and my time was spent in vain. I had a sneaking suspicion they wouldn't come. I will give them one more day before calling them again. I don't' want to seem like a demanding customer, and my main concern is for my neighbors who will be so inconvenienced if the tree takes out the power line. With the horrible heat we have been experiencing, I hate to think of anyone going without their a/c or being uncomfortable. I am just wishing the utilities would come and at least look at it and either address it or ease my worries that it will be okay for awhile, that it can wait and it's not endanger of falling any time soon. I guess I could call a tree removal company, but they will call up the utilities to turn off the electric anyways to trim or remove the tree. I hate the thought of spending thousands of dollars for tree removal, when it was just a few years back the utilities came thru town and removed a beautiful old walnut tree across the alleyway by the garden.

It was a majestic tree that rose up and arched like an umbrella, shading a good deal of the backyard. It had huge crops of nuts that the squirrels hoarded away like pieces of gold each winter. But the guy from the utilities at the time said it had to go, he swore it was hollow, it would fall any day. So they cut the big walnut tree down, down to it's solid base and drove off leaving me a pile of limbs, and brush to deal with.

So much for being hollow...so much for being a problem. Now that I have what I think is a big problem, they can't be found. It is frustrating to say the least.

We continue to be in a drought here in Nebraska, and if it' weren't for watering, the garden would be a total bust this year. Today, the second round of corn was picked, some green beans, and a few cucumbers. Marianne you will be glad to know that no one was harmed during their harvest. There was though, a rather large menacing club shaped zucchini that will be made into a more peace loving quick bread or two.

I've been reading several blogs lately on the stories and lives of fellow bloggers and I have to say it's been fascinating and a bit depressing at the same time. You all are so amazing. You have done or experienced things I never would have guessed. Just trying to make a list of my accomplishments has me feeling rather inadequate and thinking what a small life I lead. I need to get out more. I need to make more goals. I need to make sure the next chapter in my life overshadows the previous chapters, so that on my headstone one day it will read more than just a couple of dates with a dash. That dash has to have more meaning.

I have only two more days in the 30 day blogging challenge. I started the personal challenge on June 18th and I will take it thru July 18th. Even though I had a few blogs before my posting in June, I don't think they count towards that goal. I can't rely on what was done before, and that I have to judge myself on what I do now and not rely on the past.

It's something I have noticed or become aware of a lot more lately. People forget what you did for them or their needs and demands in the past. They only seem to concentrate on the here and now and it's as if those earlier years are just tiny footnotes that they vaguely can recall. I guess, that is the attitude to take, to be conscious of today. A part of me keeps close to me, the past though and I try to remember those positive influences and people that made those days or moments better.

So tomorrow, I will try to do better on writing my final couple of blogs. Hopefully I won't be judged too harshly on today's feeble attempts, and that this too will just be a small footnote in my 30 days.

Nerve

They took it. I know they did. I didn't see them actually take it, but I knew it, I knew they were the culprits.

I heard a door slam very early this morning. Then another, and another. Hoops, and hollering and laughter. They were at it again. The kids, well technically teenagers, were across the street next door goofing around at just after 5a.m.

I wasn't surprised, they are there all hours of the night some week-ends. Usually they come at midnight and stick around til 1 or 2 before taking off home or other parts unknown.

But this morning they were there early just before daylight. Just before it was light enough for me to go search for the Sunday paper.

Of all the nerve! I knew they took it, they knew I knew that they took it. They knew I was watching them. I didn't trust them, first my paper, then who knows what next. Usually I pay them no mind, kids will be kids was my motto. All kids hung out and drank beer at some part of their adolescence. Other than picking up a bit of trash and empty beer cans the next day I usually had no problems with them.

But they had crossed the line. They had stolen that most sacred of things, my Sunday paper. I think they knew they had erred in their ways too. They didn't stay long. Just long enough to drink a few beers, play in the cornfield across the road and toss ears of corn at each other. When it was lighter and they had left I went in search of my paper.

I found it, ripped from it's brightly colored orange plastic wrap. It was rumpled, damp from the wet grass and looking a bit forlorn but it was all there. I bundled up my paper and walked back across the street feeling like my paper had  been violated. Gone was it's new fresh paper smell, it felt dirty and used and I was half way tempted to toss it and get a new paper. But that would have been ridiculous. So I read my paper half hearted-ly but it didn't feel the same. My quiet, idyllic Sunday morning had me fuming.

I noticed there seemed to bit of that going around on the internet lately. Mr. Oz posted yesterday about a lady trying to make off with some shirts at his garage sale. Already at the cheap price of a dollar, she evidently thought the deal wasn't sweet enough.

I read on a fellow face booker's wall about their neighbors sneaking over and stealing the rocks from their rock garden so they could build a fire pit. I was glad to hear he did get his rocks back, but it makes you wonder just what are people thinking?

My mom came thru the door the other day very agitated and upset. "What's wrong", I asked. "They are at it again", she replied. "They are driving thru my yard again". It's the same old story from last year. There is a guy in town who has a 4-wheeler and likes to drive it thru her front yard. There is an alley way up at one end of her yard, and a private access road down the hill at the bottom of her backyard. Across from it, is another piece of land that is all timber and brush and it also belongs to my mom. To the South of her is a farm field, and to the North of her is the road that curves around a corner.

The 4-wheeler guy likes to drive down the alley from his yard and drive thru her front yard, behind her chicken coop and another shed to drive down the access road into the farmer's field and into the wooded areas beyond. Most times he just drives thru the front yard, but he will on occasion drive thru her back yard, a couple times, even thru her garden in the early spring and winter. He will maneuver his way thru the wooded area, driving thru the other plot of land of hers and end up back on the road, making giant circles.

Last year when my brother lived here he had a talk with him and it stopped. Well, now that my brother has moved from the area it has started up again. I guess the guy feels he has nothing to fear from a little old lady. He would be surprised to know that little old lady wanted to put up an electric fence and hoped he would run into it. I had to talk my mom out of that. Even though it would give her some small satisfaction it would be dangerous. I warned her about him getting clothes-lined. He could be seriously hurt, and even though he was trespassing he would sue her for any injuries and would most likely win. That is just how our justice system seems to be any more.

It makes you wonder just what in the world is going on? Just when was it that the world started being so indifferent, so callous, so self absorbed to think that anything goes. If they want something, take it. If they see an opportunity for personal gain, take it. It's not just from the current younger generation, it's everyone.

You wait patiently in line, someone always tries to cut in, and then acts indignant when called out on it. Driving the speed limit and following the traffic rules, somebody passes around you on the shoulder of the road so they won't have to obey the limit behind you. It's the people that steal flowers from your yard, steal parking spaces from the handi-capped, pocket items accidentally lost by others. It's a constant sense of entitlement and believing that rules don't apply to them, or their kids, or their pets, or anything that would inconvenience them.

It drives me nuts this lack of basic good manners. This lack of integrity and doing the right thing, and recognizing boundaries, and of what is just right and wrong.

Today the phone rang and upon answering it, was the blaring pre-recorded political message by a current presidential candidate. I could only put the phone back on it's cradle with a little more force than usual. I could only mutter under my breath about telemarketers and the like calling on a Sunday. Of all the nerve!

Policing the Pie

I was going to cheat today.

I was going to commit pie blasphemy and make fake pie.

Even though it technically has something that lines a aluminum tin, has filling and was going to be topped with Cool Whip. It wouldn't be real pie.

I had plans on making chocolate fake pie. The kind of pie with a pre-made Oreo cookie crust with chocolate pudding and frosted with an equally fake whipped cream.

I am so ashamed.

But in me defense, or at least what I told myself, is that I could make fake pie. It has and continues to be so darn hot, that real pie baking was out of the question. I could make fake pudding pie and try to pass it off as the real deal. I kept telling myself when it cools down, I will make the real stuff. I will break out the pastry cutter and rolling pin and make the traditional homemade two crusted pastry deliciousness known as pie. Shameful, utterly shameful now that I think more about it.

I like pie. I more than like pie, I love pie. I am a pie snob. I want my pie homemade. I want my pie to be able to have a scoop of ice cream, warm from the oven and filling the house with that pie smell. I have never met a pie I didn't like, well I haven't met green tomato preserve  pie yet, that may not go so well, but I like pie.

I remember as a kid my grandmother making weird pies. She made gooseberry, mincemeat, raisin, and custard pies with coconut. Not the typical apple and cherry pies that my mom made. But I ate grandma's pie and loved them. As we grew older, grandma's made from scratch pies became replaced with "Mrs. Smith". We often would joke about those Mrs. Smith pre-made frozen pies, and we ate them, but secretly we yearned for the old fashioned goodness of real pie.

My mom made real pie when we were kids, but she soon became like grandma and started buying Mrs. Smith pies as well. She still does for the holidays unless I put my foot down and will volunteer to make real pies. A big part of me rebels about frozen bought pies for holidays. If there was any time in the world to celebrate with real pie, it is at Christmas and Thanksgiving. Of all the nerve, those fake frozen pies.

So today as I was making my chocolate pudding for my ice box pies, it hit me. I was such a Benedict Arnold. I wasn't buying frozen pre-made pies, but I might as well have been. I was assembling pre-made crusts with homemade chocolate pudding and calling it pie. Fifty lashes with a wet noodle for me.

The worst thing about it was the pies weren't even going to be for me. They were going to be for the neighbor who had helped me out one day. He never will take any pay but he will take pie. He loves pie, everybody loves pie.

Oh sure, I was making real pudding, not the boxed kind. I was separating and tempering those eggs for that chocolaty custard filling but it's those other bits of the pie that were fake. I tried to tell myself I could give them the gift of chocolate ice box pie and then later on, make him a real peach or apple pie. Maybe even make him TWO pies, one of each and maybe even make another EXTRA pie for a different neighbor who is always so nice. Yes, I would make a whole bunch of real pies with flaky crusts and bubbling apple, peach, and cinnamon goodness. After all, one can't just make one real pie if you are going to all the work to make pie crust. It's as easy to make 2 pies than to make one. What's another pie or two or three?

So I put my chocolate pudding in the fridge to cool with cling wrap gently placed on top to avoid that dreaded pudding skin and contemplated real vs. fake pie. I still haven't decided if I will go ahead and make the fake pies and then later make real pies, or if I should just skip being a fake and make the real deal.

I could run to town one day next week and get some peaches and in the early hours one morning, roll out some pie crust and bake a few pies before it gets too hot by afternoon. It wouldn't kill me to suffer through a day or morning in a hot kitchen to make the real McCoy.

There is the matter of that chocolate pudding though. And I do already have the fake cookie pie shell and the cool whip. If I didn't make pie for the neighbors, would I then be forced to have my pie and eat it too?.... Hmmm decisions, decision, do I or don't I? Real vs. fake?

It's a big decision. It's a slippery slope that pie making. I can feel myself going the way of Mrs. Smith's and abandoning my own pie principles. The more I think about it, the more I feel like I need to make real pie. My conscious has gotten the better of me and demands real pie.

Or it could be in cahoots with my tummy, and is thinking about having it's own slice of chocolate pudding ice box  pie...

Friggatriskaidekaphobia

Yeahhhhhhhh it's Friday!

Ohhhhhh it's the 13th....

I have never been one of those people that got particularly upset  or paranoid on a Friday the 13th. It's always just been another day on the calendar and I figured any Friday was a good day despite what number was attached to it.

Today had me curious though, just what is the deal about the fear of Friday the 13th? Just in this year of 2012 alone there are 3 days that the 13th will fall on a Friday. Oddly enough, those 3 dates are exactly 13 weeks apart. (Insert spooky music here). The only real fears I had this morning were about my tree and thinking up something to blog about. So I took what was staring right in front of me on the calendar and googled Friday the 13th.

Friggatriskaidekaphobia or Paraskevidekatriaphobia is the fear of Friday the 13th. I just had a small sample of that fear, when trying to spell both of those words without any typos. Don't look too closely in case I did. I typo on a regular basis so I am sure it's not just going to occur today.

Friday and the number 13 were considered in the past, (and still today) very unlucky.

Never change a bed on Friday, according to folklore. It will bring bad dreams.

If you cut your nails on Friday, you cut them for sorrow (Pay attention Souix, I think this applies to chewing toenails too).

Never start a trip or set sail in your ship on a Friday. You will have bad luck.

I can sorta understand that last one about traveling. There is NEVER a mechanic's shop that is open on a week-end if you should break down.

Thirteen people sit down to dine together, one will die within one year.

There are 13 witches in a coven.

If you have 13 letters in your name, you will have the devils luck (Jack the Ripper, Charles Manson, Jeffrey Dahmer, Theodore Bundy, etc.)

I had never heard of any of those things until I googled about Friday the 13th. I still think of Friday as a good day, and if I were in China they consider 13 lucky. In the times of Egyptian Pharaohs they thought 13 was lucky too. Well, maybe not so lucky now as I don't think any of them are still living.

There are a whole slew of phobias that most likely a few of us or the majority of us might share.

Breaking a mirror. A reflection in a mirror is thought to represent a soul, so damaging a mirror corrupts the soul of the one that broke it. The good news is that life is suppose to renew it's self after every 7 years, so the soul will be restored after the 7th year has passed. I am not exactly sure how this works out in dog years, but I am assuming they only have to wait a year?

Walking under a ladder. The ladder is suppose to represent the trinity. It creates a triangle when placed against a wall and walking under it is seen as breaking the trinity. I don't' walk under ladders. Not because I have a fear of breaking anything, but it just doesn't seem normal to choose to walk thru a narrow space where people are most likely working. I myself have a fear of heights and it is that acrophobia that will have me clinging tightly to the top of the ladder when forced to go to the top of it. How in the world one is suppose to hold a paint can in one hand and a brush in the other hand and not fall off is beyond me.

Bad luck to open umbrellas indoors. I googled about umbrellas and there was a long story about umbrellas, something about trying to capture the essence of the goddess of the sky and opening up the umbrella indoors would bring disfavor from the god of the sun or something like that. I think it was a long winded way of saying, "idiot it never rains indoors, close the umbrella up before you poke your eye out".

Magpies. A single magpie is seen as bad luck. It is a sign of impending death. Except in China, it is regarded as good luck. I am wishing now I would have googled 13 magpies in China to see if that would still be considered lucky.

Spilled salt. Salt use to be expensive and spilling any of it was a big no-no. Spilled salt was thought to reduce your longevity, and that it could ward off evil spirits. Lucky for us that we can throw salt over the left shoulder in the face of the devil who lurks there if we do spill some of the seasoning. I couldn't resist looking over my left shoulder. No devil was there, but now my neck kind of hurts.

It's funny how fear can control our lives and how we attach significance to some things whether imagined or real. Phobias, fear of something bad, feeling unlucky in life and situations tend to hold us back. They polarize and prevent us from a lot of things in life. Real or imagined they create an anxiousness that colors our choices.

I didn't climb a ladder today. I didn't take a trip or travel. I didn't spill salt or go looking for magpies. I don't even think I own an umbrella. But I did find myself outside today walking under my cracked tree a couple of times while out watering the veggie garden. I came inside as the sprinkler was going and thought, I should go back out and take another pic of the tree. Take a pic from the South side so all of you can see how it hovers just a few feet from the power lines. Then I got to thinking of the cracked tree and how it could fall on me, and there I would be crushed to death. That part kinda bothered me, but not so much as the thought of someone finding the camera and me filming getting crushed by the tree and uploading it to Youtube.

Yes, that is my biggest fear and phobia. Doing stupid, moronic, idiotic stuff that I should know better not to do and it being on-line for all the world to see.

So I talked myself out of going to take another pic. I couldn't help but remind myself, that it would have been the third time I walked under that tree too, and we all know bad things come in threes.

Wishing you a SAFE Friday the 13th.

Cracked

I don't know how I missed it. I have walked past it a hundred times this summer and it must have always been there. At least I hope it has been there awhile and didn't just appear over night.

I was out early this morning puttering about, when I noticed a big crack. I had to step back for a moment and take in the size of the crack and try not to get too nervous about seeing the crack.

No, my neighbor was not bending over with un-belted trousers slipping down his hips. It was a tree that had all of my attention. My tree with a crack.

The tree has had issues for some time. It is a messy tree and always loses twiggy branches every time the wind blows. Earlier this year it lost a couple bigger branches, that luckily landed on the other side of the electric line that runs behind it.

It's a huge tree, I am not sure how many people it would take to circumference with their arms stretched out, but probably 4, maybe five. It's an old elm that has been reaching up to the sky for decades. It was severely pruned during one freak ice storm at Halloween. It had me nervously biting my nails and hoping that the wind did not pick up, that the  branches coated in ice would just continue to fall straight down and miss everything, house included.

Today has me feeling that same nervousness. I immediately went in and called the local utilities and after being transferred a few times, I finally talked to a woman who would "pass along my message". That seemed to only add to my anxious state.

Will they show up today? Will they just drive by and go on, not bothering to get out and walk around the tree to see the offending crack? Will they meander down the alley way behind the tree, daydreaming and killing time so they won't have to worry about working in the heat today? Will they shrug their shoulders and leave all of the worrying to me?

So here I wait. Wait with my big cracked tree and wonder about it's plight. Will they say it's okay, will the trim it, will they decide it all must go? I dread that last thought. Despite all of it's messy habits, it is a big shade tree. It helps to cool a lot of the back yard and the house. I am keeping my fingers crossed that despite being cracked, it is still viable....much like me.

At the base of the tree I have the top basin from an old bird bath. I fill it regularly with water for the squirrels and birds and yesterday it was visited by one of the members of the fox family from next door. Today I was out there with my camera, hoping to catch another visit from my tiny, slender friend but the premises were being used by a robin instead.

Puffed up and cleaning his feathers, he seemed unconcerned about my peeping ways.

The bird looked a little sick here, but that was not the case. He was using the side of the concrete basin as a loofah and was scratching his beak...

Thoroughly soaked and ruffled...let's face it, none of us look that great when stepping out of the shower...

Looking a bit cranky at spying me, spying on him...and with a camera no less.

I was hoping that by the time I uploaded a few pics and wrote the majority of this blog the people from the utilities would be here so I could give an update. I guess that will have to wait for tomorrow on another blog, or sometime this week or month, whenever they decide to show up.

Cracked.....crabby bird....and corn, picked from the garden today.

That concludes today's blog....brought to you by the letter "C"... Darn it, I could have done my 30 blog day challenge using the alphabet. Well with a few extra letters thrown in. Somehow I don't feel enthused enough to start a new challenge of the alphabet after this challenge. Which is a good thing. I have a feeling I would be run out of multiply by bloggers with pitch forks, flame throwers, and other assorted painful devices for even suggesting such a thing.

But it has been fun....hasn't it?

 

 

Huggable

I remember reading once, that a person needs 4 hugs a day, minimum for survival and 8 hugs a day for maintenance.

I am assuming they are talking about one's mental or emotional health as I haven't gotten in my quota of hugs today and I feel just fine. But maybe that is what is so sneaky about going without hugs. You will go about your business not knowing that at any moment you will just collapse and croak

I am a firm believer in hugs, even though I am not a really huggy kinda of person. I don't greet strangers with a hug or people I don't know well. Hugging for me, can be awkward in wondering if that person is a hugger or even approachable for a hug, or will they freak when those outstretched arms come their way?

It's hard to hug or be hugged when you are single and the only other living, breathing thing closest by is the cat. Even the cat is not a huggy kind of cat. She has issues, she has attitude. She will let you know when it's perfectly acceptable to pet her. Other times are off limits. She has her own personal quota for quality time together.

Most of her days she is content to be curled up in a ball, oblivious to everything around except the opening of the refrigerator. That will cause a frenzy of her tearing thru the house to be there in time to make her vocal self known.

She has these moments though, when she will sit at the foot of my chair and stare up at me and with a little coaxing, she will crawl up into my lap to settle down. She will look up and throw her head back so that it  leans against me and purr. It's the closest thing to a cat hug that she can do. She will purr and knead her little paws and be an idyllic cat companion for about 5 minutes. Then she will morph into her Dr.Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality and snap. She will growl or slap her paw at me and hop down and refuse to have anything more to do with me. She has had enough of that mushy, huggy stuff.

She's an odd cat that she craves togetherness and has to be in the same room as I am all of the time. But she wants to be separated, except for those brief episodes of giving me her "cat hugs". They say dogs are man's best friend, and man is cat's best friend. I think there is more than a grain of truth to that quote.

So, if your alone and your cat won't even hug you, where do you go for hugs? Do you search for a friend, a family member, a co-worker, just someone to give and receive a hug? Do you even crave a hug? Do you crave hugs daily and feel differently if you don't get one?

I think the biggest source of hugs we don't see or take advantage of is in the mirror. No I don't hug the mirror, that would require me breaking out the windex, and I hate cleaning and polishing glass. No the source of hugs is what is staring right back at me.

It only makes sense that I should hug myself. After all, I am my own worst critic. I beat myself up constantly. I whine and complain and ask myself on numerous occasions just why can't you get your act together? Why can't you succeed in your attempts? Why give up so easily? Why don't you become the potential I know that is in you?

Pretty harsh that inner me. A bit demanding, and belittling. That hard, bitter, critical self needs a hug. A hug from the part of me that hopes and dreams. It needs to just waltz right over and give myself a hug. Not just once, but evidently I need to do that at least 4-8 times a day.

It's something I think we all fall into. This trap or abyss of negativity that we fail to give ourselves more than just a pat on the back. We need more than just a pep talk, we need to wrap our inner self up and whisper it's okay when we fail. Failing does not define us, but failing to keep trying does.

So today I am going to try this 4 hugs a day thing. I am going to squash the pessimistic part of me and embrace the part of me that needs a hug. I know that I will never ever be a Pollyanna. I am just not one of those people that are cheery and bright and always sees the good in everything and everybody. If I am completely honest, those sort of people eventually get on my nerves. I mean, nobody can be that happy all the time. It's like their inner hugging self has gone into overdrive. I fear they will eventually choke themselves with their own positivity.

But I can and do appreciate their attitude, and I need to adopt more of it. If only it's for a few minutes a day, like my cat. I will hug myself and be encouraging and supportive. Then I can walk away and go back to being my usual prickly self.

Have you hugged yourself today?

 

 

 

Hayseed

Today I realized just what a hayseed I am.

I made a comment on fb to Zee about how I don't see how she does it. Living with neighbors so closely packed together. I think she must have rolled her eyes a bit when she mentioned to me, it would be no different than living in New York, LA, or any city.

I had one of those "doh" moments when I realized just how stupid my comment sounded. Of course Zee was right, it wouldn't be any different for anyone else, but it would be different for me.

I am a country girl. I have always lived in a rural area. Either in the country or in a tiny town, the closest thing to a traffic jam is when two combines meet on the road.

Sometimes I forget that the rest of the world isn't like my world. I forget that things move at faster paces, and people travel from parts all over in just a matter of hours. Whether by plane, train, or automobile, the amount of travel and the speed at one gets to their destination, is quite a marvel.

I have never been on a plane. Never been on a train. Never took the subway anywhere, in fact my main mode of travel has always been by car. The first vehicle I ever learned to drive was an old Ford pick-up with huge extended side mirrors. A leftover from it's previous camper excursions. It was two toned, unless you count the rust and then it was three. It had the old dimmer switch on the floor, and cruise control was not an option. It served me well though, and if I learned one thing on those back roads of Nebraska, it is never to drive on a dirt road when it is raining.

Today when talking to my mom, she mentioned her sister had called her and talked about going on another trip. She already has a trip planned to Europe in a couple of months, but now she was thinking of a second trip. A trip to Australia. My mom has two sisters who both travel a lot in their retirement. They send her postcards from Alaska, Peru, Africa, and their latest cruise ship travels. Every year it's a new trip, a new destination. Sometimes those two sisters will travel together with their spouses, but most of the time they travel separately, Secretly I think it is so they can "one up" the other on their travel adventures.

I feel bad for my mom though. She never travels. Her big trip will involve driving to Omaha or Lincoln and doing a bit of shopping before heading back home. She doesn't even make it out of the state. Oh she has been places before, she lived in different spots around the country, but she doesn't travel like her sisters do. Being a stay at home mom for years, we never were a double income family growing up. Mom only went to work when we were old enough and my dad's health continued to decline. Even after the passing of my day, mom's finances didn't improve much. There were the bills and a funeral to pay for and home repairs to be made that had been put off.

I asked mom if she would like to travel too, and her answer was "no". I think a part of her would have said yes. It's hard to travel when you are single. One hates to feel like a fifth wheel, and every time she travels a short distance with her sisters to a wedding or family event, she swears it will be her last. I can understand her viewpoint.

Her body is the other culprit. Traveling involves sitting for long stretches, something she doesn't think she is able to do any more. When looking closely at her, you can tell from her hands she suffers the ravages of arthritis. Swollen joints, big knuckles, fingers that refuse to cooperate and stay straight, twist and turn in different directions. Her feet are even worse.

Sometimes I get a little resentful for her. I get irritated with her sisters that call to tell her of their trips they are planning. I get a little peeved that not only can she not afford the trips, her health and being widowed adds to her burdens of why she doesn't take big trips.

I envy those who travel. It sounds like fun, it looks like fun, but it's something I never put as a priority for me. I blame it on the practical side of me that thinks of the cost and just what I could buy or invest with those funds. I can't swim, so cruises don't float my boat. I am afraid of heights, so flying is beyond my reach. The thought of traveling on a subway daily makes me feel claustrophobic.

I don't think I have much of that wanderlust in me. I keep hearing Jim Stafford's words echoing thru my mind of "taking a trip and never leaving the farm". And no, don't worry, I am not given to smoking anything funny or rolled, those silly lyrics just seem to fit my mindset on traveling.

I think back on Zee's comment today and wonder if I shouldn't make more of an effort to travel more. To become less set in my ways and if I shouldn't make myself a little uncomfortable with something new. I look down at my hands and can only mentally compare them with my mom's. So far, my fingers are straight...well except for that little pinky finger that curves in a bit on that joint. Some days I do notice a little swelling in some of the joints after a few hours of weeding or string trimming.

Some days I feel to old to travel, and other days I feel like I should think about traveling before I get to old. It's something I will have to talk my practical side into though. Who knows maybe one day I will even get onto a plane. Some days I look at my mom and can't believe at one time in her life, she didn't just fly in a plane, she flew one. Now that is what I call traveling...

 

Captain Kirk, Janet, and June

I've been hanging out with Captain Kirk, Janet, and June alot. They are sorta neighbors, sorta friends, but mainly they are hostas. They are some of the new hostas I planted this spring when putting in a new hosta bed.

They were just little things, small divisions, not even out on their own when they were shipped off to Nebraska to find a new home here. They seem to be adjusting well despite being uprooted from their old residence.

They are all a little bit different. It's what attracted me to them. Their blooms are insignificant being either white or lavender, but it's their leaves that make me giddy with excitement.

One day, they will grow big and bushy and make a splash in the border just by being green. They will be a bit of a tropical oasis in my backyard. Something only I will see. They are tucked in an area between the house and garage and unless someone walks all the way around the house, they won't see them.

But I know they are there. They are just there for me. It's that selfish part of me that wants my own retreat. My own vacation spot in my own yard. I liken it to people who cut flowers to bring them inside. Nobody sees or smells their blossoms but the person who placed them in their vase. It's like a secret. A secret beauty that we alone are privy too.

It will be awhile before they are mature though. They are facing adverse conditions with the heat and drought. The shade helps. The watering helps. The mulch is a life saver. I'm doing all I can to encourage them to grow and be happy and in return make me happy.

This morning I wasn't so happy. As I waited and waited for the rain predicted on the weather channel this morning, it never arrived. It was all going South, way South of me. I could only shake my mental fist in anger at the tv and threaten to never "Wake up with Al" again. Take that Al Roker.

So I drug the hose around and gave them the life saving moisture that they crave. Their tired little stems looking more life-like the more I watered them. I was mesmerized how the water beaded up on the textured leaves and glistened like little diamonds on their green pillow leaves.

We are close, my hostas and me. I know all their names by heart. Some are growing by leaps and bounds, and others are taking their time. Content in being the last to mature. Hostas come in all different shapes and sizes and all of the ones I planted were to be of close to similar size. Medium to large. Captain Kirk is being difficult though. The Captain appears to be a slow grower and I am hoping in time he catches up and dazzles me. So far, it's kinda iffy.

Janet has grown twice the size she was at planting. Her leaves though mainly green are starting to turn and show some promise of interest. She may be more golden by the end of the growing season. It's okay if she wants to, in fact I encourage her individuality...

 

June is a show off. June is getting so big...so bold...so colorful. She is going to be showstopper. She is going to be a glory hog, I can just feel it in my gardening bones.

There are two of the hostas that are similar, both sorta like cousins in the hosta world. There is always improvements and new introductions with all plants, and I already had "Guacamole" when I ordered "Stained Glass" as well...

 

 

I have tried to assemble a group of all stars. All star hostas, that will shine and stand out on their own. Each chosen for it's size, coloration and leaf form. "Jimmycrackcorn" was a must have. A bright goldish green that eventually with age will be sporting rippled edge leaves called "pie crust". I have developed a lust for pie crust. Evidently something else has too as Jimmy has been nibbled on by some perpetrator.

I don't take lightly to nibblers. I will take no prisoners, heads will roll, bug guts will be shed. Poor Jimmy, he will come out of it though. This just isn't going to be his year to shine.

"Regal Splendor" is going to be a splendor. It's leaves edged in a creamy loveliness. With my favorite hosta Krossa Regal in it's lineage, it can't lose.

I look at all of my new hosta acquisitions with the same critical eye. They need to grow, they need to thrive, they need to find their own way in the garden. I expect them all to succeed with a little coaxing and support from myself. So that one day they can grow up and become what they were meant to be... beautiful.

My eye can't help but wander over to "Striptease" and I find myself oooohing, "oh you are looking mahvelous dahling".

Yeah, it's pretty pathetic to be so gaga over hostas, but I can't seem to help it. If I could, I would plant a 100 more. For now I will just have to be content with the dozen or so I put in this spring. Til next year when I can find some place new to tuck in a few more, for my tropical oasis.

 

 

 

Astrologically Speaking...

Three stars.

I only have three stars. Three stars is only average. I am only going to have an average day today.

Why can't I ever seem to get 5 stars? I want a five star dynamic day in which all of my stars, planets, karma, and other astrological stuff lines up for that momentous kind of day.

One of my favorite things to do on Sunday is curl up with the Sunday paper. Even though I can read all of it on-line, I love the feel of paper between my finger tips. I love sorting thru the paper and looking over the ads first, then the comics. Then I read the "Parade" insert before tackling the meaty part of the paper, the actual news.

In the "Living" section is all the fun stuff. The movie reviews, the upcoming attractions, the crossword, the word jumble, the sudoku (I pass that one up - it involves math) and my daily horoscope. It's usually the only time I check my horoscope for the whole week, so a lot of pressure is put on that column of astrological information. I want, and sorta expect, to have a good report. A day of 5 stars, 4 at the minimum. I don't want to hear I am going to only have 3 stars and another average day.

I have to confess that about all I know about the zodiac and astrology is that my sign is "Libra". It's not all that exciting looking at it's little icon. It's a scale, it's to show balance, it may be subliminally telling me to go on a diet. I don't want a scale, I want something kewl like a Taurus, or a Gemini. It just seems so boring, that little scale icon, no wonder I only have a 3 star day.

Today had me googling out of curiosity to learn a little bit more about my sign. Evidently there is a lot more to this astrological stuff then just knowing you sign.

Libra's are born between Sept. 24- Oct. 23. Our season is Fall, (well that makes sense-duh). Our metal is Copper. Our Quality is positive (I beg to differ). Our element is Air (well we do need to breath after all). Our mode is Cardinal which evidently means movable, because I saw no hint of any red birds. Our body part is the lower back, kidneys,loins. Funny, it's been my neck that has been hurting this week. Our direction is East, and surprisingly I am facing East, hmmm maybe there is something to this?

According to the internet, and it never lies, Libras are diplomatic, romantic,easygoing, idealistic, but our faults can be that we are indecisive, gullible, flirtatious, and self indulgent. Ha! I snicker while eating another cookie.

That was pretty much the easy stuff that I read. After that things became more confusing. Evidently we can't be content just being Libra's, other things like the sun,moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, etc. etc. all want to influence our sense of being. I was instructed to fill out a form to get my "Natal" chart at this point which I did...It looks like this...

I stared at it a minute and went back to the previous page. It made no sense at all to me, and being the easygoing Libra that I am, I wasn't about to waste time trying to figure out what all that meant.

It doesn't just stop there though. There are other confusing things out there that only add to the layers of confusion. There is the year that you are born in, year of the rabbit, or snake, or pig or something else that I have no clue about. There is the tropical zodiac which I have no clue as to how it differs from the constellational kind other than I hope there are free daiquiris included.

It's confusing being a Libra, and one would think having a sign of balance that I would be more on keel. Evidently Libra's are rebels though and don't follow the rest of herd as we are the only sign that is not represented by an animal or human.

It really could be quite interesting to delve into and immerse ones self into understanding the stars and planets and how they are suppose to affect my day to day routine. It would be helpful to understand ones faults and realize that I am just prone to some things because it has been written in the stars before I was born.

I like to think that everything is connected, the mind, body, spirit, universe. To know that the wind, air, fire, water are somehow related in a way to us that is intuitive. I can see how one would want to revolve their life around and be in tune with the universe. It's fascinating to read about, and yet part of me wonders if it isn't just a need to feel a part of something bigger that has people rushing to have their charts done or to know if somehow Mars or Venus rules their sign.

My hororscope says today that I am to use today to settle in. A trip to the gym or a walk might be nice...... hmmmm they must have known about that second cookie.

The last sentence of my horoscope says to get some R and R. They must have known it was a good day for a nap. I might just have to think seriously on that. After all who am I to argue with the universe?

Closet Inspiration

Today I have had a hard time thinking of a subject to write for a blog. My mind was drawing a blank, nothing was coming to me. I was beginning to think I was going to have to brave the heat and go for a walk and just start snapping pictures.

But today I found inspiration in the most unlikely of places, my bedroom closet. There is nothing really remarkable about my closet. It's small and cramped and STUFFED to the brim with things I have held on to. I don't even know why I have the majority of stuff in there.

It's to the point, I can't even add much more to the closet. It's at it's capacity, over the limit in fact. I have cleaned it out in the past, but somehow it always seems to get back to it's current state of brimming over.

I am not a clothes horse, or I never thought I was. I don't buy a new wardrobe every year. I keep the same thing and wear it over and over til it gives out or I just can't stand to see me wearing into another new decade. It's that practical side of me that refuses to toss clothes that are still good.

I have clothes from 5 years ago. Clothes from 10 years ago. I have clothes that I wore in high school still in my closet. Why I haven't parted with them, I have no idea. They don't' fit, they are out of style, and most likely will fall to pieces the next time I wash them. Just like one of those rugs I washed last week, that left some of it's rubber backing behind. I am still picking out pieces of rubber that emerge when using the washing machine.

It's that stuff that we hang on to that has me thinking today that I hang onto too much stuff. I need to do some serious closet cleaning. I need to toss or donate those old clothes. I am not sure who would want to wear a sparkly boat neck top from the 80's but I am sure there must be someone. People will surely fight over the mauve pink blazer that seemed like a good deal at the time. Everything seemed to be mauve and dusty blue in the 80's. Well when they weren't rocking out their sparkly gold boat neck top.

It's not just clothes that I have in there either. There are shoes. Not a lot of shoes from some women's standards, just a couple dozen pair. I counted 3 old pair of sneakers right on top of a pile of other shoes that really could be tossed. A part of me rebelled and told my inner self those would make good garden shoes. All of my old worn out sneakers get designated as garden shoes. It's just a given and not up for discussion my mind reeled.

I've got to do something though. I have no place to put anything new. I don't have any room for what I might buy today or tomorrow or in the near future. I am just too busy hanging on to old stuff.

I tend to do that with everything. It's an inner hoarder in me that refuses to let go. I hold on to things from the past and squirrel them away so that they are always there when I need to revisit them. It's nuts.

I don't know why it is hard to get rid of some things. I don't know why I cling to stuff that is old and no longer relevant. Why am I giving it much more meaning than it deserves? Past hurts or perceived wrongs..let it go! Past disappointments or a case of "could of, would of, should of" throw it out.

It's the weight of all that stuff that I horde that keeps me from letting new and current things in. If I am truthful with myself, none of that stuff that I keep holding on to is serving me any purpose, other than to hold me back from the possibilities of something new in my life.

When I think about my closet, my bedroom, the whole house, I can mentally tic off on one hand the things that I absolutely have to have, or want to save. Funny thing is, none of those things involves clothes (well except for maybe a change of underwear).

Things I would save:

1. The cat. She is a living thing and has value over stuff.

2. My purse. Not because it is full of money, but because it has my identification, driver's license, etc. etc. I don't want the hassle of trying to replace any of that. (I could mark this one down to laziness on my part).

3. My great grandmother's school bell. It's a small brass hand bell from when she first taught at a country school. It has some monetary value that is outweighed by it's sentimental value.

4. Photos. I would want to save the photos. Pics of people of my past and present and the memories they bring to mind that make me smile and feel melancholy.

5. A large old crock. It was something that I bought at an auction years ago. One of the few times my father and I bonded over anything. A shared love of going to auctions and sales to look for treasure.

There are a few other things, but nothing that I really couldn't replace if I had the money. That seems to be the recurring theme a lot with me. I am always afraid that down the line, I won't have the money to invest in or replace what I currently have, so I hold onto it. Something I do with memories, and feelings, and situations as well. It needs some cleaning out too. I need to just hoard those few things that I value more than the rest.

1. Words of encouragement

2. A warm embrace

3. Kindness

4. Compassion

5. Strength from within

I feel the urge to clean coming on. I need to get garbage bags and boxes and organizers and all sorts of things to start the process. If I look and dig deep enough, I might find more in there than I knew I had. And maybe I will find those big gold dangly ear rings to go with the gold sparkle boat neck blouse.

People Are Funny...

Today googling for a pic, I typed in the word "funny" and had a barrage of cat pics. For some reason the world has a love of cats and finds them all humorous. Perhaps it is because of their stand off-ish ways, or the fact that they are forever finding themselves in situations because of their curiosity. However you view cats, or dogs, or people, they all are funny in their own way.

All of us have our own internal sense of self and genetic makeup that is our own. We all experience and view things in our own individual ways and sometimes it is hard to see something from someone else's perspective.

Some people, I just do not "get" though, and find myself often scratching my head and wondering just were they thinking or do they think at all. Or is it just me, and I am too set in my ways and views that I can't see things differently.

But despite all of that, I think everyone is funny. Everyone has the ability to tickle my funny bone without them even knowing it. I admit I find humor in the most strangest of places, and that is a good thing. If I failed to see the humor in a situation, another emotion would most likely take it's place. I remember my mom had a particular phrase she said a lot and it was, "if you don't laugh, you will cry". I understand that more with the passing of time, but when a small child, I thought it was an odd thing to say.

Today as the sprinkler was going on the garden, my next door neighbor drove by. It wouldn't seem like much of anything to most people, but to me it was funny. It was funny because yesterday morning when I was out taking pics for my blog, he drove past then too. He and his wife drive by constantly. They aren't going any where particular. They drive by out of curiosity and at times it is annoying but mostly I think it's funny.

The neighbor who came over to help me with the cat's transport to the vet is having some rough times lately. I feel for him. I really do. He is retired and his days are busy taken up with the women in his life. He has been separated from his wife for over 30 years, never bothering to divorce. Her health is failing and she is on oxygen from years of smoking. He spends every evening at her house for dinner, checking up on her and making sure all is okay. Since December of last year, he has been spending time with an ex-girlfriend who has cancer. Quite a serious situation. I will be the first to mention that there is nothing funny about cancer.

The last woman in his life, is not technically a woman, but she is a bitch. She is his dog. His greatest fears and worries seem to be about his dog that is aging and slowing down. If all three of those females were to pass away on the same day. The most tears would be shed for the dog. Well, she is a nice dog. Some would find that sad. Some would roll their eyes. Some would find that funny.

People laugh at all kinds of things. Some of it inappropriate. Some of it, nervously unintentional. Humor disperses it's self in all shapes and guises. Some people seem to have no sense of humor, and there are others that see everything as a joke.

I try to put myself somewhere in the middle, but most days I lean a bit more to the latter side. I don't think I can be any different. I know I can be too much for some with my crazy ways and constant silliness. It just rubs some people the wrong way, and other times it attracts people too.

I have thought a lot about my mom's phrase of "if you don't laugh, you will cry" and I think it applies to more people than I realize. Maybe even to myself too. It's just part of maturing and growing up. I will continue to inwardly grin to myself though when I see the neighbor drive by. In fact, I feel like going out and doing something...just anything, so I can hear their engine start up and begin it's slow stroll around the block. I am just funny that way..

7/5/12.......Take 2

I will try this again.

Who knew bloggers were such picky people? I wrote a blog earlier today but it was discounted, an uproar went up that it wasn't a true blog. I had somehow cheated and bent the rules and didn't have a real blog but one of those fake ones that try to come off as something original, but it isn't.

So, here it is, take 2 of blogging today. A real blog written by yours truly. Even though the previous blog was written and typed by my little fingers it didn't count. It was considered a copulation of other's blogs. It was a recap, one of those cut and pasted bits of fluff into something I was trying to call a blog.

Bloggers are unforgiving. They are sticklers for the real stuff. They will cry foul and type in caps at you with lots of punctuation. Nooooo, anything but that!

So having been throughly chastised, and reminded that this was all my idea, I bravely stepped outside to get inspiration for today's blog. Nevermind that it is sooooo hot and it was getting on late in the morning, and there was no breeze, and it was humid without a cloud in the sky.......etc. etc.

I wandered around a bit and thought of Sharon's blog earlier this week on them having a poor apple harvest. So I crossed to the one end of the garden to snap a few pics of my pear trees. I have two, a barlett type pear which is a larger more green colored pear.

And I have a seckel variety of pear that is a smaller, sweeter pear that has more of a redcast to it's skin. Sometimes, even appearing brownish. They really are coloring up fast this year with the heat and there is a fairly big crop this year. Like a lot of fruit and nuts, one year will be a heavy bearing year, and the following year it will be a smaller, lighter crop.

 

I have a few more fruit trees planted but they are young, under 6 feet, planted in the last couple of years, and I am hoping to get a decent orchard eventually.

Wouldn't you know that I would walk back up the hill and realize I forgot to take a pic of the apple tree with it's crop? I could feel my shoulders droop, feel the "but it's so hot" whine coming on and yes Misty, I cheated, I stood far away and just zoomed with all my camera might to get an apple pic. It turned out a bit blurry, but it DOES count for a pic, just like that first blog does! ;)

A lot of the garden is done, the onions, potatoes, peas, radishes, etc. All of those early crops finished long before this stretch of heat and dryness, but the beans are coming along. The corn is tasseling and it won't be long before the golden ears are dropped into a pot of boiling water and served up with salt,pepper, and butter.

My tomatoes are growing and blooming but still refusing to set fruit. Grrrrr... I know it is the heat. The temps are not cooling down enough at night and the blossoms are falling to the wayside.

There still continues to be a few blooms of the daylilies, and they are a welcome bright sight in the landscape.

Salvia is another one of those plants that seems to be carefree and even though I posted a pic of it blooming back in May, here it is, still blooming as much as before.

There are a few hostas, putting up bloom stalks, a climbing rose, in between it's flush of flowers, and other assorted flowers that, if they had a decent rain, they would be basking in their loveliness. They are like me, conserving their energy for the right time. They will bloom again when they are ready.

As for me, I was ready to head back inside to the coolness. Ready to come back and write another blog to appease the masses. Well at least to appease Misty and Marianne. I couldn't resist one last snap shot of the seed pods I saw dangling from a redbud tree...

THE END....