Forty in thirty-nine
Yesterday, I turned forty, and became a redneck.
I lounged half the day away in bed, laying there in a happy doze until almost 5:30, when I got up to let the chickens out. I contemplated how cool it was that I turned forty on John Wayne’s 100th birthday. If you’re going to share birthdays with someone famous, it might as well be with someone everybody loves, right?
Once the chickens were taken care of, I started the sprinkler going on the the left side of the garden. I have watering down to an art now, getting the whole thing done in three or four hours with overlapping coverage in a good bit of the garden. Two spots on the right side (which I did Friday evening) and two spots on the left with the AWESOME sprinkler I got at the co-op, and the whole almost-quarter-acre garden is saturated. I’m watering once a week now because the rain is scarce.
I think it may be about time to find out if there’s some water in that well under the laundry room.
I watched the sprinklers for a bit, scratching idly at some poison ivy rash (I have it on: my neck, my back, my side, both arms, and both legs. I fail at protecting myself, apparently) and being generally mesmerized by the back-and-forth of the water. Finally, I went inside to shower.
After my shower, I goofed off in front of the computer, waiting for the dew to dry a bit so I could start doing things outside. I stood on the front porch with Robyn’s dad for a while, watching the hot air balloons launched at the Jubilee over in Decatur. By eight or so, I was in the garden—on the right side because it was soft but not gooshy—hoeing.
Goddamn, I hate hoeing, but if I don’t do it, the weeds win. Hell, sometimes I look at what’s not hoed and think maybe they’ve won already.
I hoed. I weedeated (weed-ate?) around the wood shed, wasting time until the day’s big event.
I made a scramble for breakfast: egg whites, onion, tomato, cheese, and a green pepper THAT I GREW MYSELF. With cheese on top. Of the scramble, not grown on the pepper. As I finished off my meal, I heard it: the rumble of a big boy toy.
And now, for your entertainment, forty in thirty-nine.
Since even before we moved out here, the small pond in the back yard had been troublesome. In a nutshell, it’s too small and too shallow, and won’t hold water. Sure, it’s pretty in the winter, when there’s so much rain we have standing water in some places on our property, but when it’s hot and dry and the pond is a smelly puddle with dead fish floating in it and clouds of mosquitoes hovering over it it’s a different story.
The pond takes up prime real estate in the back yard and gives nothing back, save the occasional fish I caught for the kitties and the sound of frogs in the evenings.
Or did, until yesterday.
Time to fill that fucker in, starting with the big pile of dirt and unburnable shit
the previous owners for us to deal with in the field.
I have to admit, I felt pretty bad for the fish I knew would die, because there were a lot of them.
The loader / backhoe combo can move a lot of dirt quickly.
I sure would like one of those for my tractor.
Hint to my wife: they’re under $3000.
The second guy showed up to start turning all the dirt into a level yard.
Dear Santa, I’d also like a Bobcat to play with.
As the pond grew smaller and smaller, I realized we had an emergency on our hands.
Something WAY more important than fish.
Time for a break so I could become…
Fred Austin: rescuer of herps.
All the action around the pond brought out five midland water snakes, which I caught.
Unfortunately, one of them had a heart attack or something and died, but…
..I carried the other four IN MAH BUKKET down to Goose Creek, where I released them.
Mighty pretty, ain’t they?
This picture is for the person who’s itching right now to tell me I’m wrong, that I really
caught copperheads, which are venomous. Note the round pupils in the eye. Pit
vipers have elliptical pupils. Also, the colors are wrong for copperheads. These are midland water snakes.
In all the times I’ve driven by Goose Creek, I never noticed how pretty it is.
Looks mighty fine for kayaking, but I hear rumors of rampant moccasins back in there.
For several weeks, three dogs came around the house regularly, a large black one, a medium brown and white, and a small beagle-y one. We’d see them most days, these canine stooges, crossing the back forty. Sometimes they’d stop for a drink in the pond, sometimes not.
Always they’d run from us if we called to them.
A couple of weeks ago, the brown and white dog got his ticket punched by a car in front of the church next door. He lay there dead for two days, then one Wednesday before services someone from the church dug a hole next to him and rolled him into it. I think he was the glue of the group, because I never saw the other two together again.
This past Wednesday, the beagle decided she likes it around here, and more or less took up residence on the front porch. She’s a little leery of men, but friendly without being all doggy and licky and in your shit the way some dogs are. Like the two kitties that don’t belong to us (who don’t care for her, and hilariously kick her ass daily), she migrates back and forth between our house and the woman two doors down. It’s like the strays can tell who cares about animals.
If you live in the area and would like a free dog, email me. The woman two doors down is considering keeping her. She’s going to check the paper to see if anyone’s missing a beagle mix, but like I said, the dog’s been around for weeks. Though she’s wearing a collar, I think she was probably a drop-off.
Damn people.
Cute, but not for us, this was waiting for me when I got back from releasing the snakes.
I started a thread on a message board, about the snakes, and someone wanted
to know where Mister Boogers was. He has quite the fan club, you know. I went to take
a picture of him, and woke him from a nap.
After a little while on the computer, it was time to go back out into the garden to hoe some more. Hoeing, I have concluded, is a never-ending task.
I picked sugar snap peas and spinach from the garden. Robyn shelled the peas.
Very cute peas in a pod, no?
The squash is coming in nicely.
As are the jalapenos.
It looks like we’re going to have more tomatoes than we know what to do with.
The green beans are getting ready to start, uh, beaning.
The corn is quite happy. Quite weedy, too.
Did I mention the corn?
Onions, which were weed free one week ago.
The black beans look very happy, but show no signs of producing beans.
There’s a certain feeling of accomplishment in turning a bunch of packets of seeds into food.
Blueberries! Only they’re green right now.
The dozer guys were finishing up by now.
The final product. Two guys, six or seven hours on heavy equipment.
For three hundred bucks. Goddamn, I love living in the country.
At the end of the day, I found that all my outdoor activity had made me a redneck.
