Category Archives: bug

Wet Weekend

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Creek Saturday morning we awoke to rain! This is an occasion as we have been in a severe drought since last spring. The 14 inches of snow we received in the past 2 weeks, melted to 4 inches of liquid according to the rain barrel at the greenhouse. Now with this rainy weekend, we received another 2 inches. River barges started moving on the rivers again after sitting idle for 2 months. The melted snow running into the northern streams have made their way to the Mississippi, Missouri, and Illinois Rivers. Creek beds have filled once again in Missouri. The 2 creeks on Boone Hollow Farm were running with a cold rush, a soothing sound to the ear. I walked the plank to get over the creek and up the hill to the greenhouse. We cleaned the barn while the rain watered our earth. Late morning the rain subsided, and finally the sun peeped out of the clouds. A chainsaw was used on old trees near the barn, trying to avoid storm damage to the outbuilding and roads. Working alongside the half-full creek bed, I lobbed small limbs. I hauled the twigs to the huge bush pile down the gravel road while the tree frogs croaked “its spring!” Honey bees and flies buzzed about the warm afternoon air. Nature’s critters tell us.
My brother wanted to bring my grandpa out for a visit. This was their first visit to Boone Hollow Farm, so a countryside adventure for both this fine Saturday afternoon. Cellular telephone service is hit or miss, so I hoped they heard my directions okay. I explained several times before, “we are between Chandler Hill Vineyards and the Daniel Boone Home off Highway F, look for the huge barn on the right side.” Our labrador, Midnight chewed on sticks and chased after two barn cats up the larger trees while I cleaned up the limbs. He would follow with such enthusiasm walking near the gravel path alongside the wheelbarrow. But when a white SUV pulled onto the gravel road off the highway, and he recognized the sound of the vehicle. It was my father’s old SUV, and in it was two of Midnight’s favorite persons, Grandpa Earl and my brother, Steve. Grandpa took care of Midnight as a young pup. This overgrown Christmas gift became my father’s hunting companion when Midnight was too much for my 97-year old grandfather to handle. Now Midnight is Steve’s duck and goose hunting companion. Midnight ran to greet his buddies, and stayed at their sides their entire visit. Grandpa could not make the walk up the hill to our greenhouse, and it was too muddy to get a vehicle up there. So that will have to be their next trip to Boone Hollow Farm. But the farmer chat while the elder sat on the farmer neighbor’s bushhog was so refreshing like that spring rain heard in the creek bed. It backed me up 45 years ago, when jaws jabbered during the farm visits in Franklin County, where my Grandpa and Uncle Lloyd made their father’s farm into a weekend get away for their families. That circle of life again, Dean and I making a weekend refuge for our family now. And Grandpa was able to enjoy it after the weekend rain.

A Jocund Season

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So I relearned a neat word yesterday at the Toastmaster’s meeting, “jocund”.  It means “high spirited” , “joyful”, “cheerful”, … “chirpy”, which is another appropriate word to describe the season we are in.  Have you ever noticed how the birds chirp and chatter just before a cold front or snow storm comes?  They are busy about filling themselves with seeds and any bugs in sight before they “hunker down” (as Farmer Dave says on the 550 AM radio station in St. Louis, Dean & I’s wake-up station every morning) to protect themselves from the cold air.  Full bellies and colorful, warm feathered jackets.  Serene and quiet in their nests while the world is as white as snow.  Well, I think we people do the same.  We chirp and chatter making this a jocund season “noisy”.  Yes, lots of fuss over holiday gifts and food celebrations.  What kind of noise or song are you creating?  I hope it is one of good cheer, merry wishes, feeding each other good seeds, while sharing the peace, hope, and love that Jesus’ birth gave mankind. I hope for a serene and quiet moment for each of you during this jocund season! Birds in the Snow

They Are Mine Alright!

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So these are my grandchildren, Libby, Ella, Brendan (in the back) with Eli and Hannah (in the front).  Yes, they are mine alright.  They are loud and rowdy when they get together, like they had not seen each other in ages and catching up with each other’s news.  They see each other fairly often as their mothers are best friends and sisters.  I love my grandchildren despite their loud presence.  I have actually learned to relax with children as I get older.  It is guaranteed, they will bring a smile to my face and make me belly laugh when I am with them.   Angels they are not, unless they are sound asleep on their pillows.  This photo was taken on Easter at my parents’, their great-grandparents’ home in Pike County, Missouri.  Libby is a precocious 8-year old, smart as a whip, and will say things as she sees them.  She is a sponge with science subjects such as plants, likes to garden and camp.  Libby thinks she is the ultimate authority on some matters; therefore, it is her parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and teachers who instruct her differently with her reluctance.  School of hard knocks, you know.  She reminds me of her mother, my daughter Elisabeth.   I adore them both.  Then there is 6-year old Ella.  She is one investigator, discovers and researches things.  Inquiring minds want to know!  She is a peaceful child, though can let stubbornness ruin “the  moment” unless Mom or Dad steps in.  Ella resembles me in so many ways.  My Dean calls her “Mini Anna”.  Then there is the 1st born grandson, my 5-year old Brendan.  Reading in full sentences since age 4, on the go as a new adventure character, wrestling with Dad, yet makes time to cuddle with Mom.  Now there is one long word to describe 2-year old Eli … whirlwind!  Maybe another word … tornado!  Eli is into everything!  And definitely has those “terrible two” moments.  But he will bring a smile to my face when he says “I like ‘hot cream'” rather than ‘ice cream’ or when he sits next to me and wants to read a book.  Well, I just love to read to children, especially my grandchildren.  And finally, there is my 1st grandchild, Hannah who will be 11-years old in November.   Her nickname “bug” dubbed before she even walked fits her well.  Hannah loves nature and animals, bugs included.  I have a ladybug stepping stone her mother and her designed for me when she was a preschooler.  Hannah is a “social bug” now, loves to be in the know of the raising teenage movie and singing stars, and has limited access to online chats.  I imagine a cellular phone would be her 1st choice for a birthday or Christmas gift.  See if Mom & Dad are ready for that yet!?  Meantime, journaling and creating art are great outlets for her.  Mine, five wonderful grandchildren!

The Big Dipper and the Northern Sky

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My Dean & I so enjoyed our stay at Valhalla Resort on Island Lake outside of Detroit Lakes, Minnesota.  It was a peaceful vacation, time to slow down our pace.  Our stay included meals with friends, walks, swims, and fireside chats with tales of old.   Friends shared stories of our childhood sparking laughter one after the other.  One evening turned into a 1:00am departure from the dwindling campfire.  A night owl called to us, or maybe he was talking to the rabbit hiding in the bushes.  Bugs chirped.  All dogs and cats had long since retired to their favorite beds.  As Dean & I walked to our lakeside cabin, we saw the Milky Way.  The Big Dipper shone so brightly in the clear northern sky.  It brought to memory my father sitting a boat nestled near the dock for that particular summer night, telling a young audience how to tell time from The Big Dipper.  My friends recalled this, too.  It seemed like yesterday …  Dad seemed to explain it so easily that we understood it. Here are a few web links on telling time with the stars: http://www.johnpratt.com/items/astronomy/telltime.html, http://www.av8n.com/physics/star-time.htmhttp://www.physics.ucla.edu/~huffman/dtime.html

June Bugs

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This June the Japanese beetles made their way to our yard.  (They are not really June bugs, but they arrive in June in my world.)  And of course, we have much for them to munch on as our greenhouse is still in reconstruction.   These shiny metallic looking green bugs seem to love our basil, and tasted the hydrangeas,  geraniums, and hibiscus.   We are thankful as the plants’ temporary home, our green screen house seems to capture the little critters.  And while they mate on the screen, we capture them into jars that become their coffins.  Dean & I seem to have conquered this bug invasion, but are on guard everyday, morning and night for the next  couple of weeks.   Beware!

The Ambiance and Menu

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The ambiance and local menu tonight was colorful.  My huge kitchen is decorated with vases of our cut flowers and the fireplace mantle is overcome by beautiful blue hydrangeas from my parents’ yard.  Dean & I’s  dinner plates were filled with roasted spring root veggies and beef  farm fresh by friends who allow their cattle to graze in their farm’s natural pastureland.  I sit on my patio listening to the evening chatter of the birds and crickets until the summer night sky is dotted with fire flies. I needed some beauty in my life today.

My feline companions bat at the moth and June bug on the patio screen hoping to get a hold of them.  Celine and Lily will need to stay inside as the neighborhood Great Horned owl visits our tall backyard maple tree some evenings.  This may be one of those evenings.  We protect our animals from harm with barriers like screen doors.  Maybe similar to how our God sets up boundaries for us.  I take in the beauty of our green friends, the plants we care for everyday.  Tonight I will not water or trim or plant.  I will sit and enjoy the greenery.  They endured the sudden hail storm yesterday.  Our elephant ear , banana trees, and birds of paradise have ripped leaves now.  These plants will come through after some shedding.  Is not life like that?  We get hammered by hard blows,  unwarrantly and needlessly.  Yet, we rise again to be ourselves, probably better people for it if we allow.  Thank you God for the beauty my eyes behold tonight, and the reminder that the heart heals.

Why Did My Plant Die?

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Dean & I have been to our eyeballs with green, green, green.  Every now & then, one of our greenhouse plants is brown!  This can be from a number of causes … pests, too much water, not enough water, root damage from a transplant. We are learning more about greenhouse pests, slugs and aphids, and natural methods to eliminate them.  We use beer for the slugs.  They must want a drink served in recycled jar lids, and find themselves swimming in the fermented drink which they eventually dissolve in.  Yuck!  And then aphids dislike dish soap, pepper spray, and lady bugs.  The last resort will be buying some lady bugs.  Gobble them up, ladies!  

I found this gardener/author, and thought to share his humorous poem about “why did my plant die?”  Enjoy!

A poem by Geoffrey B. Charlesworth …

Why Did My Plant Die? 

You walked too close. You trod on it.
You dropped a piece of sod on it.
You hoed it down. You weeded it.
You planted it the wrong way up.
You grew it in a yoghurt cup
But forgot to make a hole;
The soggy compost took its toll.
September storm. November drought.
It heaved in March, the roots popped out.
You watered it with herbicide.
You scattered bonemeal far and wide,
Attracting local omnivores,
Who ate your plant and stayed for more.
You left it baking in the sun
While you departed in a run.
To find a spade, perhaps a trowel,
Meanwhile the plant threw in the towel.
You planted it with crown too high;
The soil washed off, that explains why.
Too high pH. It hated lime.
Alas it needs a gentler clime.
You left the root ball wrapped in plastic.
You broke the roots. They’re not elastic.
You walked too close. You trod on it.
You dropped a piece of sod on it.
You splashed the plant with mower oil.
You should do something to your soil.
Too rich, too poor. Such wretched tilth.
Your soil is clay. Your soil is filth.
Your plant was eaten by a slug.
The growing point contained a bug.
These aphids are controlled by ants,
Who milk the juice, it kills the plants.
In early spring your garden’s mud.
You walked around! That’s not much good.
With heat and light you hurried it.
The poor plant missed the mountain air;
No heat, no summer muggs up there.
You overfed it 10-10-10.
Forgot to water it again.
You hit it sharply with a hose.
You used a can without a rose.
Perhaps you sprinkled from above.
You should have talked to it with love.
The nursery mailed it without roots.
You killed it with those gardening boots.
You walked too close. You trod on it.
You dropped a piece of sod on it.