May 24, 2020

Yesteryear
One year ago today: May 24, 2019, almost Arkansas.
Five years ago today: May 24, 2015, St. Johns, the river.
Nine years ago today: May 24, 2011, jammin’ @ the trailer court.
Random years ago today: May 24, 2010, protected, right or wrong.

           Fiberglass handles are not supposed to break in ordinary usage. This is my 2001 hammer, after pulling an ordinary nail. I got my use out of it, but I think I wrote down back then that I paid a premium price for this tool because I expected it to last the rest of my life. (It almost did, ha-ha.) Let me count the number of places this hammer has lived. Two houses in the same town counts as two. Ten. This is the tenth different place I’ve lived in twenty years. This blog loves to point out insignificant details like that, but hey, I warned you it was a journal.

           It was a mild drizzle so I didn’t get up on the roof. But I repaired shutters, gave the raised planter another coat, and generally worked the yard with my assistants. Tilda & Laylay, who work for chickenfeed. Continually, I’m unearthing odd pieces of metal. Some rusted, some painted, mostly short stock like you’d find in a welding shop.
           To round off the morning, there is a logistics problem in the back yard corner. No matter where I place the planters, I either create a 16 square foot dead space, or make at least one perimeter of the planter difficult to work. The idea is partially to make the garden easy to tend with working height plants and no area more than a foot out of reach. I’ll likely opt for the dead space because I might get creative in the future. That garden is labor-intensive so expectation that I’ll create more.

Picture of the day.
Rarest hair – eye color combination.
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           Well aware of how messy the yard got through ordinary neglect for three years, I snapped this photo to illustrate progress. When’s the last time you organized your closet or garage? Same concept. This view shows the day’s effort. That darker colored fence panel was recycled from the parking area, note the tools hanging so neatly. This panel blocks any direct view from the main road a block away. There is now no way to snoop into the back yard without trespassing The planter, see the fresh paint, is leveled and lined with a layer of burn ashes, yard sand, and a sprinkling of line half-deep to the planned level. The hens immediately took to it.

           Um, and these chickens are not bothered by rain. I’m used to seeing a squawking fit but these gals will follow me around even in light rain. Today wasn’t bad. That is fresh lumber lying along the fence since I cut the new long & narrow Purple Martin hotel, it’s ready for assembly. In the process of drilling these ten new holes, which took far too long, I discovered what a messy mismatch of hole-cutters I got. This planter may yet get moved a bit, the plan is to have three of them parallel to the ecliptic, spaced two feet and three weeks apart. That’s half the growing time of what I intend to plant. What? Ecliptic, as in celestial navigation, you would not expect anything less.

           The seeds and diagram are ready but I will not pay $10 a bag for potting soil that is identical to the $1 brand at Dollar Tree. Since seeds are cheap, I may proceed with regular soil already in the yard. The difference is maybe twenty shovelfuls if it doesn’t pan out. In other plant news, the peach tree is showing signs of leaf infestation. It’s been properly treated to spec. What’s eating the leaves? It isn’t bad, maybe one leaf in fifty but what was the joke Churchill made about the lady who was just a little bit pregnant. I’ve looked very closely and it is not something easy to see, like caterpillars or spider mites. The holes are bored through the leaf, wait for pics.
           Taking some readings in the area where you see the planter, I compared them over a week to Almanac advice. The microclimate is ideal for watermelon, a plant I do not care for. It’s bland, I buy it once or twice a year only on sale. And usually mix it with something in the blender. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? How many watermelons will grow in 16 square feet?

           Zero. That’s what I know about chicken rituals and behavior other than what I see—told ya, we did not have chickens on the farm. You may recall my original fire pit before I got the barrel? That was just out of this picture next to the nearest leg of the planter. Many yard trimmings got burned down to embers, which I often soaked rather than wait forever for complete combustion. This black carbon sludge gets nasty in the damp, but the chickens loll in it and I think they may be pecking at if for diet reasons. Any chicken people in the room? Raise your hands, come up to the podium, we need your input. Nearly dead center in the photo rear, standing up against the fence, you see a restored shutter.
           What’s going on is the vacuum system I installed next to the shed door is slated for dismantling. It is taking up valuable space that will soon be shaded and it doesn’t need such a Florida luxury. The remainder of these shutters are destined as siding for the vacuum enclosure, which if all goes well, will be positioned conveniently nearer the burn barrel. The work area of my shed is covered with the sawdust of two years already. The scheduled drone flights this week are cancelled due to weather, but the same applies to the city overflights, making this week a bit of a draw. You’d love the wee portion of the electrical that is run into the lean-to already. It makes life easier. That is the nature of renovations. You often have to first build the table in order to build the table.

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