February 8, 2020

Yesteryear
One year ago today: February 8, 2019, first major planting.
Five years ago today: February 8, 2015, ask the ticket-taker.
Nine years ago today: February 8, 2011, Win 7 – drivers cost extra.
Random years ago today: February 8, 2014, better than the pros.

           We could have a miracle in progress. No, not the Trump thing, but close. This morning, for no particular reason, I lifted the nesting box and found an egg. That means at least one of the hens got away, probably the red one, she’s the better layer. This would be fantastic news. I immediately informed the neighbor and guess what? He’s heard the distinctive cackle of the white hen. He says if they are traumatized, which is likely, they will roost somewhere high in the trees. We now have indirect but firm evidence that both hens may have survived the raccoon attack. This, just after I sent out all the e-mails announcing the bad news. Make no mistake about it, we have not, repeat not seen the chickens. I’ve spread their favorite food around, orange-flavored budgie seed. Alas, that’s not proof-positive as the squirrels also love that stuff.

           Agt. R was over for an hour and identified another ton of plants that could have been weeds for all I know. This photo shows a pecan tree ready for planting in the front yard. It’s predicted to grow 75 to 100 feet tall, so it is set back from the power lines. These were on sale for $25 so I got this one and two peach trees. Those will probably get transplanted tomorrow in the back somewhere. I took cuttings from the hedge plant, I can’t recall the name. It sounded like some TV manhood pill, crape myrtle or something. I planted two sets, on in the ground, on in a planting box. If it takes that’s the hedge I’ve been wanting.
           You know, for being a free country, the US has an ever-expanding set of laws governing that freedom. Did you know in Dade Country, where I used to live, it is illegal to cut down a tree measuring more than 18” across at chest level. This applies to all trees, even one you planted that is your property. There are even regulations on how you are allowed to trim it.

           More progress with my potential bass show. Potential I say, because I’ve not made any decision. I have 89 tunes I can sing and play, that’s four times the number when I last tried. That’s why I needed a guitarist who could sing. But I have more than enough and I have not even gone back to see if anything I’ve dropped over the years is now suitable again. Do I have any examples of drops? Hang on, I’ll check. Be aware much of my music is chosen for adaptability to good bass lines, not by artist or style. Here’s one, Patsy Cline’s “Back in Baby’s Arms”. Great bass line.

           And here’s one some guys will have to chew on. When Agt. R and I went to pick up the trees, there was a gorgeous blonde babe buying some horse feed. I took one look and saw a rich broad way out of my league. She walked past us in a pair of jeans that would not quit. So imagine my surprise when she slammed the gate of her pickup and walked back over to the tree stand. Seems she developed a sudden interest in trees that flowered. She was scoping us. Then guess what happened? Some hayseed walked out of the store, saw this going on, recognized Agt. R and used that as an excuse to horn in. She just as quickly turned and left. I don’t think a babe like that is from around here. My question is what we did to attract her attention. If I find out, I’ll bottle it and sell it.

           This photo of my mini-washer is not until tomorrow, but I need the picture now. It looks like a toy but I’ve washed loads of blankets and jeans. When I moved it to the new laundry area, it quit on me. I finally found the cause. A faulty GFCI outlet, now replaced. This washer does not have automatic water fill, you have to turn it off and on. But it has a super effective spin dryer on the right side. Stuff comes out of that almost dry to the touch. That’s the big $700 dryer in back that I picked up for, what was it? Twenty bucks?

Picture of the day.
Butler Oilomatic.
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           Just before dusk, I too heard the white hen’s cackle. We looked everywhere. This could be something amazing. It isn’t imagination when two of us hear the same sound, just not at the same time. It was an echoless sound in the distance, and it is entirely possible another hen could be involved. But we know of no other chickens in the locality. We checked all the trees, hedges, porches, everything. Those two yappy rat dogs next door will bark at anything—except an intruder like the raccoons. Not a peep. Plus, we had seen the aftermath of the attack, the torn open hatch and the scattered feathers. Still, we have us a first-class mystery in the making.

           Something else unexplainable. From my yard, you can see the intersection one block over. It is a street that goes nowhere. Around twenty blocks long, one end goes to an abandoned gravel pit, the other end is a dead end at the court house parking lot. The road zig-zags and is not a shortcut to anything, and there is another much better main road just a block further. Yet around half the time if I drive out that way, a string of traffic appears. I keep forgetting to keep my camera handy. Today was a record. I waited at that stop sign as 26 cars went by in both directions, mostly spread out to maximize my wait time. For no reason. I just find it a mystery how they know when I’m in a bit of a hurry. But then, I remember this is Florida.

           We are still in the aftereffects of that windstorm. Further north, it blasted Georgia with rain and the usual number of people drowned in their cars. This clip shows how the wind threw my birdfeeder hanger up around the tree limb and there is remains, flapping around. The dish is the anti-squirrel device. The thought is if the hens somehow miraculously survived the raccoon attack, they may be hiding out this storm in some sheltered spot we cannot find them. Increasingly, we are finding clues they may have made it, which none of us has ever heard of happening. When the coon gets inside the coop, it will kill them all, not just what it can eat.

           Here is another out of sequence pic because this is tomorrow. It solves a question today. The neighbor’s wife was watching me measure out the shed foundation, shown here. You know that oddity of a triangle shape I’ve written about before? Turns out, my lot is three feet shorter than I thought and technically, the chicken coop is in the next yard. The huge tree had not yet fallen over, so the owner built his fence three feet back. If you look closely, you can see a fencepost set in place at center of this picture. This will leave a wide gap between the fences, but I could not wait longer on this.

           Finally, I will have the privacy a man should have in his own back yard. It is not so much that I’m afoul of any bylaws as that I’m against snoopers. My attitude is not rebellious simply because I think there should be a body of law over certain situations, and that is where you’ll find me in disagreement, but not in active opposition. City Hall, in my opinion, should take a proactive role in matters that concern public safety and at all other times a reactive position. That is, they should keep the streets and parks safe, watching for any threatening conditions. But as for anything on private property, they should not act before anything is wrong. I can’t define it all now. Basically, I think for example, if a man has a regulation burning barrel or pit in his yard, he should not have to get a fire permit every time thereafter.
           I’ve not forgotten the lady across from Agt. R who had some skateboard ramps and such for her kids set up in her back yard behind a chain link fence. She got a citation. My fences you cannot see through and they are six feet tall. This next photo shows the panels leaning up but not yet installed. I will get out there before sunrise tomorrow to avoid attracting attention. The early risers in this neighborhood are all good people. Oh, and the neighbor now believes me that Jamus really moves in high gear. The bike frame and brakes got a little neglected, but that sucker is nearly effortless to peddle up to 18 mph. And you can sustain that speed with one foot thereafter. This is the bicycle where the right peddle crank arm is longer than the other. It’s like turbocharging. Here are the fence panels in the back yard--they are not attached yet.

ADDENDUM
           What a mess that wind made of my north fence. I’ve decided to make rails out of the longer pieces and use deck screws to get it basically in place again. It was held by braces only so this time I will sink two-foot fence posts. That has to be done before Monday morning and of all things, we got another mini cold spell. I further measured the chicken run and will do a take off list which includes some arrangement to frustrate any burrowing animals. There is an air of optimism that the hens may have survived. This is an equal-hen environment. If only one had survived, she’d still get the chicken run. I’m pricing materials already.
           Things were different not that long ago, all hens were not equal. It reminds me of the tale about the professor at the all-girl college. First class, he says all the girls with pretty legs sit in the front row. Those with pretty faces get the second row, and the rest had better do their homework. Are things different now? Not really, except liberals force people to act out in public as if they were. One thing certainly has changed. The caliber of professors has sunk to all to hell.

           It’s not all work around here, it’s that I’m so far behind. The chicken Taj Mahal just got nicer. The church up the road curbsided three perfectly good rolls of tarpaper. That’s enough for the bathroom, the henhouse and the shed if I ever build it. Here’s your picture, I also got all that flex hose you see. It’s for a pool vacuum but it is destined for a sawdust collector. The church also threw out a perfectly good Polariod OneShot. These are far too expensive to operate, but it might have one of those prized radar rangefinders inside. In this same haul, I got some adapter cables, a set of clothespins, a beauty of a capo, a matching set of luggage, and a Snark.
           The Snark is one of those tuners you clip on your guitar neck. I never owned one because the are too much gizmo for me. But free is altogether different. I’ll check it out, there was also a package of guitar picks I can’t use and a set of plant stands that match the ones in my front yard. And some three prong adapters. You can never have enough of those. Maybe tomorrow some pics.

Last Laugh