My attention was diverted by a myriad of chores and errands yesterday and by the time I got around to blogging it was nearly bedtime and I figured I wouldn't have anything to say this morning so I didn't. Blog, that is.
I picked the ripening Boxcar Willie tomatoes so that Durwood can pounce on them as soon as they've reached the peak of tomato perfection. In slug news, the bowls of beer are still pulling them in. I've got three more cans of that high-quality brew I bought last week so there's plenty of ammo left if we get a big rain and have to reload.
While we were having supper a hummingbird came to the feeder I moved right near the patio doors and stayed long enough for me to get the camera up, ready, and snap a few frames. It isn't the best lighting or backdrop but see those tiny buzzing wings? I love it, we love it, and sometimes even a brave oriole will come for a sip. Durwood's picture is a little blurry but you can see the "big" oriole on the tiny feeder. You should see them contort themselves to dip their bill into the sipper hole.
Last night I finally got time to sit on the couch with my feet up and knit a few more rounds on the Dobby Hat(s). I'm glad I followed my whim and made the top striped. I see more spiral striped hats in my knitting future. I love the way it looks.
August 26--Tom & Pat Leeson, People in Forest. The light in the forest was green. All of the shades conspired to tint the very air with their insistent greenness. Breathing it in made Sophie feel like her cells rejoiced, dancing with the heightened level of oxygen proximity to all the plants' respirations gave them. She was conscious of the give and take--her exhaled carbon dioxide for the forest's emitted oxygen--a perfect symbiosis of woman and biota. The bright sunlight of the clearing made her shrink back into the shadows but the chuckling of water over the rocks in the stream bed drew her out onto the fallen log that served to bridge the gully. The benediction of the sun's rays fell on her head and shoulders as she balanced on the broad trunk. She returned to the thick forest feeling welcomed back into its green embrace.
And now it's time to gobble some Cheerios and get dressed because I get to go to the chiropractor before work today. Yay, I love getting my bones rearranged. It makes me feel taller for a few minutes. Hasta la vista, babies.
--Barbara
When I went out this morning and looked down I saw this in the grass. In a month I wouldn't mind, in August it's not something I want to see.
The purple coneflowers are looking beautiful and there's even one last bee balm blossom peeking out of the yarrow.
I spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening working on Dobby Hat(s) #5. I dug out a sock pattern that tells how to use three different strands/colors of yarn to make spiral stripes and it seemed to make the most sense (and require less counting) if I used DPNs (double point needles) so I did that. I think I like the way it looks. It does kind of detract from the white stripe with the red Fair Isle wave through it, but I don't think I'm going to change it. I anticipate running out of the purple before the pointy tip so I'll just go on with the red and white and make a white pompom. It'll be good.
This morning I was fast enough to catch a hummingbird in mid-flight. They're so amazing to see, I wish they'd stay longer so we could just sit and watch them.
August 24--Carl Fischer, Fortune Teller. The tent was faded green and orange, and smelled of straw. Glenda regretted walking in and would have turned around if the woman hadn't spoken. "You shouldn't go yet," she said in her rusty voice, "we have a few things to discuss." Glenda said, "Excuse me?" She walked over toward the fortune teller and stood behind the empty chair. "You have questions, right? You didn't just wander in here on a dare." The fortune teller flicked her hand at the seat across from her. "Sit. Ask your questions. You probably won't believe the answers but I'll tell you anyway."
I took the time to walk the treadmill this morning so I was running late for work but I miss it and feel guilty when I skip walking. It makes me feel good. FW, one of the Friday Night knitters gave me a big bag of her homegrown tomatoes in exchange for a couple skeins of thrift shop yarn I found for her. Durwood's jaw dropped when he saw them, he's been eating on them all weekend, I made us each a caprese salad with last night's supper, and there are still enough for me to have them with my lunches this week. That was an excellent trade. Thanks, FW, you're the best.
--Barbara
It was dark-ish when I got up around 7 o'clock and it rained, but not before I got out there to check on the slug par-tay (bigger slugs came last night but I'm not showing you more drowned slugs, I figure you've got the idea) and take garden pictures.
The gourd-let is getting bigger as are her little brothers dangling right below her. The lone (so far but there are lots of flowers) spaghetti squash is about as big as my fist or maybe a little bigger and you can see in the background that the Boxcar Willie tomatoes are ripening. (I feel the need for a lonesome rail-riding song all of a sudden)
There was plenty of bird activity this morning. Lots of Sparrows which remind me of a gang of kids wreaking havoc in the mall with the way they ALL have to crowd onto the platform feeder at once and ALL have to take a bath at the same time. The Chickadees dart in for a seed and then dash off. The teenage Bluejays continue to be entertaining as all get-out. Today one of them tried to come in for a landing on the hanging platform, ricocheted off the roof, and landed in the grass. He came back for a second try, didn't have better luck, and flew off. A male Red-Bellied Woodpecker tried for a peanut from the platform when the Sparrow crowd was there, flew up into the apple tree to wait, swooped down for a single peanut in the shell and hasn't been seen since. The young Orioles flock to the new feeder, even batting away bees and hornets to reach the nectar. This one's breast is getting really orange. (And that's the Wisconsin Bird Report for today.)
Just about every morning this loudmouth chipmunk sits up on the patio step and proclaims its ownership of the domain, cheek pouches bulging with seed it scavenges under the feeders. Durwood just called out that it's climbing the crooks that hold the feeders but doesn't know what to do once it gets up there and climbs back down. I wonder if it climbs in the Slinkies or over them. I'll have to ask.
In knitting news, I bore down on Dobby Hat(s) #5 yesterday and got it about half-knitted, up through the little strip of Fair Isle (which I still do not care for but this was such a little bit that I went with it, but I will admit that I did think of simply making a white stripe and then finishing the pointy top with the dark red and calling it a day). I have entertained the idea of knitting one or two rounds of the purple and then adding in the dark red and white to spiral stripe the top. Do you think that'd detract from the Fair Isle stripe? The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. Then I'd make the pompom with all three colors. I can start it and if I hate it I can always rip it back and start that little part over, can't I. I think that's what I'll do just as soon as I run to the grocery to pick up the case of Durwood's favorite tomato soup I ordered for him. (It's on sale for ninety-eight cents a can instead of over two dollars like it regularly is; I'm getting three cases. I figure we can store it as easily as the grocery store can.)
August 23--Bruce Peterson, Nuclear Family/Global TV. Eve, Adam, and baby Cain sat in their cube watching the required hours of state programming. Even at thirteen months Cain knew not to play or babble while the man in the glowing square on the wall was talking. Work, eat, TV, sleep--that was their lives. Eve worked in the greenhouses and hydroponics lab. Adam drove a conveyor around the plat, some days carrying people, other days he had cargo. Cain went to offspring care, he had been going since the day after his 3-month natal day anniversary. Eve was fortunate that her lab was only a few squares from offspring care so she could visit him on her meal break. They were lucky to have gotten chosen to procreate. There was a strict quota and only a few couples were allowed into the program every month and not all of them conceived, like a lottery within a lottery, the number of offspring was strictly regulated.
Interesting but I wouldn't know where to take it from there. I've read too many dystopian novels to not have it be derivative and unoriginal to the max. I finished all the laundry yesterday, except for folding and Durwood will do that once I bring the basket up later, so I can knuckle down and maybe finish the Dobby Hat(s) today. Toodles!
--Barbara
I try and try to take pictures of the hummingbirds that come to our feeders but usually by the time I get the camera up and focused the little darlings buzz away. Not yesterday. I had my camera in my hand when one came to sip a bit of nectar and I got it. Yay! I moved one of the nectar feeders to a hanger on the gutter right outside the patio doors and we've seen one there a time or two already but I haven't sat there with my camera at the ready. One of us will get a shot one of these days. There were four bluejays that swooped in for a drink yesterday afternoon too. One overshot and landed in the honeysuckle, the next one landed on the rim of the birdbath (pictured), number three landed on the back of the Emma's chair, and the fourth one, the klutzy one, landed on a Slinky, got bounced down and up, and flew away immediately. Like I always say, they're fun to watch.
Last night at knitting I finished Sudoku Lake #7 and Dobby Hat(s) #4. Then this morning I cast on Hat(s) #5 and got it attached to the hat body. Next I'll knit five rows even, then there's a band of white with a red, Fair Isle wave through it, then the purple comes back to make the pointy top part. I have my doubts that I'll have enough of the dark purple to complete the hat so I'll be checking the bag of yarns next time I go down to flop the laundry around OR I might use the red for the top and make a purple pompom. You never know what I'll do.
I just went out to check and there was definitely a slug party in the garden last night. Five slugs came to the party, none left. (I am reminded of the Raid Roach Motel ads, "Roaches check in but they don't check out.") I put out more beer in bigger bowls. Mwa-ha-ha-ha.
August 22-Reagan Bradshaw, Composer with Piano & Violin. Sue watched Drew from the chair in the corner, her book lay forgotten in her lap. She imagined she could feel the energy radiating off him as he wrote. He mumbled and muttered, scribbling notes on the music paper he bought by the ream. He played a few notes, frowned, erased, and played again. What sounded like random notes would, over time, turn into a melody. She thought it was a form of alchemy, the magic he worked with music. He was so focused, so driven, sometimes she felt like he didn't even see her when he worked like this.
Time to go play with wet clothes.
--Barbara
When Durwood and I were cruising Walmart the other evening he dragged me into the clearance room (uhhhgh) where I found an oriole nectar feeder on clearance (yay!). We brought it home, he whipped up a vat of birdie juice, and I hung it outside. (we don't fill it more than a third, the nectar ferments in the heat too fast) The very next day the flock of young orioles that hang around here contorting themselves to drink from the hummingbird feeders discovered it and can't leave it alone. This morning I saw one, then two, then three (one waiting on the nearest crook), then the fourth one got shooed back into the apple tree. I'd say that was seven bucks well spent.
I got the fourth Dobby Hat(s) part attached to the hat body yesterday. Of course, I ran out of the yarn so I had to unearth an other skein close to the first color to continue on. I'm not fussed running out of the "main" yarns because this is not your traditional hat, is it? I'm working on the short rows, feeling much more confident that I'm doing this one correctly, and the next hat part is the last hat part, so that's good. I will probably make another hat like this someday using the called-for yarn and needle size just to prove that I can make it right. I've got a bag of sock yarn scraps that would be perfect for it.
I bought the cheapest brewski (Natural Ice Lager $2.49/4-pack!) in the liquor store this morning and put a couple dishes of beer out in the garden for the slugs. D'you think the birds, squirrels, rabbits, and chipmunks will imbibe too? Maybe I'd better put out more beer... Par-tay!
August 21--Brian Fraunfelter, BF505. Vera woke and lay listening in the dark. She heard the spattering of hard rain but the sound wasn't coming from the window at the head of the bed. It seemed to be coming from inside the house.
I fell asleep after "spattering." I know because there's asleep writing all around the word, then I woke up enough the scribble the pathetic rest of that up there before I was out like a light. I'd rather fall asleep too fast than have a hard time sleeping any day. I think I'll go pour out more beer for our nature pals.
--Barbara
I thought I'd get the icky part over first. I looked at the tomatoes and found a slug eating on the ripest one. Ick, ick, ick. That means I need to put out a couple saucers of beer to attract them. I wonder if they'll sell me a beer at 9 o'clock in the morning if I tell them it's for slugs and not for breakfast. Probably not. I'll nab one at a gas station on my way home tonight.
In other garden news, the gourd-let is getting bigger and more gourd-like. It's still a fairy gourd size but it'll grow. There are a bunch of smaller ones too. I'm so excited to make a few birdhouses like Grandpa Stephan used to. The spaghetti squash, only one so far, is looking fat and happy. I just wish the tomatoes would start turning red. There are a crapload of green ones out there but the only reddening one is the one that the slug was nibbling on. (Do slugs nibble? I don't know, but you know what I mean.) We need some sunshine to get them ripening.
I cast on hat #4 for the Dobby Hat(s) yesterday afternoon. I was considering frogging hat #3 and doing it right now that I've written to the designer, gotten a very nice response, and found out that I misread the pattern, but I decided to just forge ahead. Oh, I have to tell you that when I was talking to VJ the Guild's Master Hand Knitter about the pattern last Thursday she asked how many stitches I had and I said, rather proudly, that I had 131 which is only one fewer than the pattern says I should have and she turned to me with a smile and said, "I always feel very smart when I end up within a few stitches of what it says I should have." So even one of the best knitters has to make one or knit two together. Whew. Made me feel a lot better about my knitting prowess.
This morning a young Downy Woodpecker was hanging upside down from the suet feeder having a good breakfast. I really like seeing them at the feeder. They're fun to watch because they usually land on the Slinky on the next pole and have a little ride up and down before fluttering over for a snack.
August 20--brt Photo, #7 More Motion. Laura brushed her fingertips together and then blew on them. She'd seen a safecracker do that in an old movie and thought it couldn't hurt. She knelt on the thin carpet laid over the concrete bank floor and felt the cold rising up her thighs. "Hurry up," Skate hissed from the shadows by the door. "I can't," she said, "this takes as long as it takes." She put the tips of the stethoscope in her ears and pressed the other end to the safe door right next to the dial. Her fingers turned the dial slowly one way and then the other, back and forth one more time, then her shoulders relaxed and her back straightened. She reached over with a gloved hand, depressed the handle and tugged open the door of the safe. "We're in," she said. Skate moved silently up to reach over her to grab a stack of wrapped bills and stuff them in his backpack. "Come on," he said, "pack up and fill your bag. We gotta get outta here." As she reached for a pack of bills she heard the soft scuff of a shoe on concrete and froze.
And now it's time to head out because Copps has Durwood's favorite soup on sale and I want to get at least a case of it before the vultures get it all. I'm not a vulture, I'm a savvy shopper. I can store the soup easier than the store can, right? Adios.
--Barbara
This is the third or maybe the fourth day of thick overcast, drizzle or rain, and high humidity. I'm now in a lack-of-sunlight stupor. The alarm clock buzzed at 6:06, at 6:11, at 6:16 when I turned it off, then the 6:31 alarm across the room got me on my feet, into the bathroom, back into bed, and I finally got out of bed and MADE the bed at 6:52. Which means it took me until almost 7:45 to take garden and backyard photos to put on here, stir up a cup of sauce to add to the too-dry black beans and rice lunches left for the week, toddle down to the freezer and bring up a package of fish for Durwood to turn into supper, take the newspaper back into the bathroom, and plunk myself in the living room to do my daily Wii workout. So here I am, it's 8:30 and I am not awake. Upright, yes. Out of bed, yes. Drinking coffee, yes (but it is decaf so what can I expect?). Awake, no.
LC has decided she likes to "cook." She'll use Tupperware lids and a plastic spoon to stir things up, even tip the lid over her mouth and say "mmm," so I dug out an old aluminum pot of that belonged to Durwood's mom, a short wooden spoon, some of the plastic stuff out of the camping box, and an ancient aluminum measuring cup and put it into a basket for her. Durwood said she needed "food" so we cruised Walmart's toy dept and found this basket of play food for five bucks. I took out the cardboard boxes pretending to be milk, juice, cereal, etc. that she'd tear up (she'll get them back when she's a little bigger) but I thought this was a pretty good bargain since it comes in a plastic shopping basket she'll like carrying things around in.
Despite the continued heat the apples say that fall is coming. Also Monday's storm didn't do the leaning privacy fence in the backyard any favors. It's not our fence so Durwood's calling the building owner behind us today to urge him to fix it. Nicely, of course.
There's a whole vine of gourd-lets growing and one nice spaghetti squash but the one I freed from the wire didn't make it. I found its corpse on the ground this morning. There will be no funeral.
And it's raining again. Some poor service schmuck is working in the street and just got himself all decked out in his rain gear and is keeping on working. You know he'll be damp and uncomfortable all day, the poor guy.
I'm 3/4 done with Sudoku Lake #7. Sorry I keep showing you this tiny thing but it's the only knitting I've been doing and I didn't cut up any fabric yesterday so it's all I've got.
August 19--Eric Crossan, Smooth Sailing. The thick cloud cover blended into the still waters of the bay as the sailboat glided past the old Nag's Head lighthouse on the point. The setting sun gleamed rose-gold through a chink in the clouds. Caleb thought he saw someone waving from the top of the lighthouse but he knew that it had been boarded up for years. He was sure that the local kids found their way inside with a willing date and a six-pack because he'd gone with James and Asa just last month to clear out the debris left by their parties and he had personally made sure that the ladder to the top was removed.
I think it's Rapunzel waving at him, don't you? Or a siren intent on luring him to crash his boat on the rocks. Hey, I was tired, odd things run through your mind when you're tired. It's a work day and it's almost 9 o'clock. I'd better get cracking or I'll be at the dive shop in a cami, shorts, and slippers. Not a good work look, not even on business casual days.
--Barbara
I picked the ripening Boxcar Willie tomatoes so that Durwood can pounce on them as soon as they've reached the peak of tomato perfection. In slug news, the bowls of beer are still pulling them in. I've got three more cans of that high-quality brew I bought last week so there's plenty of ammo left if we get a big rain and have to reload.
While we were having supper a hummingbird came to the feeder I moved right near the patio doors and stayed long enough for me to get the camera up, ready, and snap a few frames. It isn't the best lighting or backdrop but see those tiny buzzing wings? I love it, we love it, and sometimes even a brave oriole will come for a sip. Durwood's picture is a little blurry but you can see the "big" oriole on the tiny feeder. You should see them contort themselves to dip their bill into the sipper hole. 
