Second Annual Pulling Party

The Second Annual Garlic Mustard pull was a success, though it was planned at the last minute due to changing weather forecasts. We ate, we pulled, we drank and ate more. In truth, I drank too much. I guess the excitement at all the noxious weed being yanked from my woods was very exciting. We uncovered a tiny baby deer, didn’t see it until we were on top of its speckled body. It could hardly stand, must have been fresh from the womb. It stumbled fifty feet or so, and we left it alone, hoping the mama found it. So far no one has reported having contracted poison ivy, though there is plenty of that plant out there. In the photo see a good portion of all the pullers except Christopher, who took the photo. Jada Blake, the lovely child in front, was listening attentively to Gina B. explain how she used to play ant hospital, which seemed to involve pulling the legs off bugs and then fashioning little stretchers for transporting them. Meanwhile, I sober up and continue to pull.

The Scent of An Animal

Paw Paw is his name, though I can't say he answers to it. In some ways he is an ideal cat, soft, cuddly, gentle, willingly takes pills, makes interesting facial expressions. His poo stinks, though, always has stunk much worse than any other cat I've known. He can fill a room with the smell of his poo and then some. And now he has something called "Inflamed Colon Syndrome" and this means that sometimes he doesn't make it to the litter box. Each new day we are greeted by a new poo pile on the rug or bare floor. The cat takes prednisone every other day, and we're experimenting to find the right food. Right now we're giving him food made of wild animals, Call of the Wild. It's got no grains, just vegetables and potatoes and meat. I'm not sure it's working but it's not as expensive as some other foods and both cats like it so much that I bought a second bag. Meanwhile, there's the smell

In an unrelated matter, I watched a chipmunk outside my window pick a slug off the ground with two hands, as though it were a loaf of bread, and put it on a big flat rock. Then the chipmunk wiped the slug off with his hands, wiped his hands on the rock, then wiped the slug again. Then the chipmunk popped the slug into his mouth and chewed. And chewed for a long time, like ten minutes, just chewed and looked kind of stunned.

Cousin Sonia Visits Michigan

Cousin Sonia made her annual sojourn from Boston to the fly-over country. After she missed her first flight, her replacement flight was grounded due to tornados and storms over Chicago. Chris and I finally retrieved her from the St. Joe cottage, dragged her everywhere she wanted to go, wined and dined her (well, Mary & Nancy wined and dined her and us and then we gave her a beer the next night), and made contact with all my siblings. George was mowing his lawn when we got there, he'd been cleaning up the mess from a shed he had torn down; Tom had just gotten his boat in the water and took us for the first pontoon ride of the season with toddler daughter Kennedy; Sheila had just lost thirty pounds and was showing off her new figure; Mike had just installed a digital converter box for his daughter Kellee and was very happy with the result; Kellee was out playing with her ducks when we visited her, plotting out a bigger garden. Sonia always seems to view us, her midwestern cousins like some kind of slightly less sophisticated species, and she takes great interest in our progress. After our full day of socializing, she said, It's interesting, seeing everyone just working hard and dealing with their problems.

The Back Yard

Chris was burning some scrap wood this weekend, in the burn barrel. I can never burn wood that might have any purpose whatsoever in the future. The plywood he burned had been leaning against a tree for a year, so I suppose it wasn't much good anymore, but still, I imagined one could patch a hole with it, or one could use it to build a temporary three-sided donkey shelter should the donkey barn burn down. Chris said that while he was working in his pole barn earlier, some kids threw rocks at the building. He chased them back to the trailer park, scared them pretty bad, I imagine. Chris does resemble Stephen King. Mostly I've been pulling garlic mustard out back, but today Kellee came over so we investigated the wild flower situation, found a few marsh marigolds the deer hadn't yet eaten. Tonight I found a half dozen prison inmates loafing near my garden. One guy threw a brick into my woods, so I marched up and told him cut it out. Then they just wanted to talk about gardening. One guy told me he'd been growing pot since he was four years old and we talked about soil quality. I asked them if they had any creative writing classes in the prison, and they said no. I'm trying to work up a plan for some creative writing with the gals, who reside in the other side of the prison, but I'm not sure I'm up to hearing what the guys have to say in their deepest hearts.