Our grandson is 4, and is at that stage where, if he takes an afternoon nap, he can’t go to sleep for the night until after 10:00, and if he doesn’t nap, he is a real pill until bedtime.
When Son and his family visited over Memorial Day weekend, we put on a vinyl recording of Beatrix Potter’s The Tailor of Gloucester narrated by Meryl Streep, with music by The Chieftains, for grandson to listen to one afternoon. Son listened to the same recording when he was a small boy, usually at bedtime. I was tickled to find Son and Grandson sound asleep on the sofa shortly after starting the recording. They didn’t even get to the part where the Tailor sets free the mice that Simpkin, the naughty cat, had imprisoned under the tea cups, before they dozed off. I have always liked Simpkin. Grandson was so tired after traveling to us that the nap didn’t interfere with his usual bedtime.
What helps you sleep? Who is your favorite Beatix Potter character? What do you remember about naps as a child?
I’m always confused by the array of claims on the packages as I walk down the toilet paper aisle, with enticements that I can really get a great deal if I only buy so and so’s product. “18 of these rolls = 82 smaller rolls” announces one Charmin package, while the next Charmin package claims “24 = 108”, and yet another insists that “12 = 48”. Cottonelle, on the other hand, goes for broke claiming that 12 Family Mega rolls = 128 regular rolls.
I just can’t get the math to work. I have taken enough statistics classes to know how to lie with numbers, but I just can’t figure out how the companies arrive at these claims. I wonder if they used another product quality as an enticement? “This package will fit under your bathroom sink and leave enough room for the iron and boxes of tissues and cleaning products” or “These rolls will fit in your toilet paper dispenser without getting stuck because they aren’t too big in diameter.” Now, those are claims that resonate!
What advertising gimmicks are you susceptible to? How good are you at doing math in your head? What are your favorite or least favorite ads or commercials?
Crops are in. Finished up Monday, Memorial day. Just had a few acres left so I got to run the big tractor myself. Of course with Bailey; she never misses a ride. Got a flat tire on the digger, won’t be too hard to get off and fixed.
I went up to plant and had Kelly meet me later with more seed. There was a little confusion about where she was meeting me. All my fields have numbers and I have maps of the fields in the tractors and a photo of the map on my phone. And she knows I was going up the road to start planting, but I would be ‘Above the barn’ when I was ready for seed. I texted her something about meeting me at the gates, which, I knew was a pretty vague statement as there are gates all over the farm and the one I meant hadn’t exactly been a gate for 15 years, so I shouldn’t have even called it that. To add to the confusion, the FSA office numbers the fields one way, and the Co-op has decided to number them a different way. So, I have two maps to keep track of who’s calling what field what number. Anyway, we found each other. Here’s the last pass of beans to plant.
Corn is all emerged, soybeans are coming. I’m worried about the first field I planted because we got a hard rain after that and it really crusted over. Some beans were coming up, but the fields planted a week later look about the same as this one. I finally made the decision to drag that first field. Last week I mentioned how I like to drag them, but I knew these beans would be coming and I wouldn’t want to risk breaking them off with the drag. Well, it seemed like less than 50% had emerged, so if dragging it breaks up the crust and the rest emerge, I’d be ahead, right? We’ll see what happens or if I need to replant.
Now’s the time we’re watching all the fields closely to be sure everything is emerging. If there’s any issues and we need to replant, it needs to happen as soon as possible. It’s already late for most crops. The Co-op has been out scouting for weeds in order to know what to treat for. I’m looking at germination and seed placement in the corn. At the rate I plant corn, a planting population of 35,000 seeds per acre (determined by which gears I install on the planter- to adjust the speed of the row units), in 30” rows, there should be a plant about every 6”. And if there’s not, why not? Did the seed not germinate? Did the planter miss it or drop a double at the next place? Seed placement and germination are critically important to the final yield. In the perfect world, all the kernels would emerge within 36 hours of each other. A kernel that comes out 4 days later than its neighbors will be behind all year and will not make as much grain as the others. There are examples of flagging and marking the plants from emergence to harvest, and the plants that come out later never amount to as much as the rest. It’s fascinating! Next week I’ll measure out 17’6” (that’s 1/1000ths of an acre) and count the plants to get final stand populations.
Remember, the corn grows out of the kernel, which remains in the ground. Soybeans, the seed comes up as it emerges. I just geek out over all this!
GDU’s are 487 to date, +71 over normal. Won’t be gaining many this coming week… rather cool forecast.
Oats is growing well and the rows are filling in.
Had another oil leak, this one in a hose in the tractor. All I could tell was it was dripping underneath. And if I got down there, not sure I’d be able to get back up. And you can’t see anything anyway. I called John Deere and a nice mechanic named ‘Cutter’ came and fixed it. A hose for the power steering. From the hydraulic pump in the rear of the tractor, under the cab, up the dash to the steering wheel. He pulled up the cab floor and removed a lot of other stuff to get it done. Haven’t seen the bill yet. Somewhere between $100 and $10,000 I predict.
I have two, 250 gallon bulk oil containers: One holds hydraulic oil and one holds 15W40 engine oil. I just ordered another 100 gallons of hydraulic oil. That will last me a couple years. Didn’t ask the price of that either. It just is what it is.
Chicks are really enjoying being outside. Ducks are still hanging in there although one of the black ones has a sore foot. And there’s one of the creamy white ones trying to hook up with a female mallard. She already has a mate and he dutifully tries to chase the other guy off. This creamy one, he does have a mate; she’s sitting on the nest. Hmmm, little inter-breeding going on there in the first place. Wonder if he’ll be a good father?
We have ducklings! Mama (one of the mama’s. It seems to be a community nest) was out in the yard with 9 ducklings this morning. Kelly had a good idea to just put her in the pen with the chicks. The kids are so small they can get through the holes in the snow fence for now, but they also won’t go too far from momma, so they should be OK. This protects them from dogs, Or falling in a hole, or whatever momma might get into. So we’ll see.
Meanwhile there’s STILL a white duck and brown duck sitting on a nest so I don’t know what’s up or who’s hatching next.
There was a dead raccoon in the field the other day. Turkey vultures were circling. And the next day, a dead turkey vulture was there. They may be vultures, but they’re not cannibals. Which reminds me of a joke. Two actually. Two cannibals are eating a clown. One says to the other, “Does this taste funny to you?”.
We were in Medora, ND last weekend to hike in Theodore Roosevelt National Park. It was a busy weekend in Medora, as the 36th Annual Dakota Cowboy Poetry Gathering was being held in the community center. We didn’t attend this year, but we did several years ago. Cowboy poets, singers, and musicians perform, and lots of poetry is read aloud.
There are many cowboy poetry events all across the western US from, ND to CO to TX. All the poets we saw in Medora were or had been working cowboys, and their poetry reflected their experiences working cattle and being out on the range. The National Cowboy Poetry Gathering in Elko, NV seems to be the most famous, and was started in 1985 after Willie Nelson got funding from the National Endowment for the Arts.
Themes for cowboy poetry include ranch work, cowboy values and practices, western landscape, references to the past, and issues with modern , urban life. Most cowboy poetry rhymes. There is very little free verse. Here is a classic example by an anonymous poet:
Oh, music springs under the galloping hoofs, Out on the plains; Where mile after mile drops behind with a smile, And to-morrow seems always to tempt and beguile,— Out on the plains.
Oh, where are the traces of yesterday’s ride? There to the north; Where alfalfa and sage sigh themselves into sleep, Where the buttes loom up suddenly, startling and steep,— There to the north.
Oh, rest not my pony, there’s youth in my heart, Out on the plains; And the wind sings a wild song to rob me of care, And there’s room here to live and to love and to dare,— Out on the plains.
Another example by an anonymous poet.
The bawl of a steer To a cowboy’s ear Is music of sweetest strain; And the yelping notes Of the gray coyotes To him are a glad refrain.
And his jolly songs Speed him along As he thinks of the little gal With golden hair Who is waiting there At the bars of the home corral.
For a kingly crown In the noisy town His saddle he wouldn’t change; No life so free As the life we see ‘Way out on the Yaso range.
His eyes are bright And his heart as light As the smoke of his cigarette; There’s never a care For his soul to bear, No trouble to make him fret.
The rapid beat Of his bronco’s feet, On the sod as he speeds along, Keeps living time To the ringing rhyme Of his rollicking cowboy’s song.
Hike it, cowboys, For the range away On the back of a bronc of steel, With a careless flirt Of the raw-hide quirt And the dig of a roweled heel.
The winds may blow And the thunder growl Or the breeze may safely moan; A cowboy’s life Is a royal life, His saddle his kingly throne.
Saddle up, boys, For the work is play When love’s in the cowboy’s eyes, When his heart is light As the clouds of white That swim in the summer skies.
What are some of your favorite poems? Do you like rhyme or free verse? What topics would you write about if you wrote poetry about your job or profession?
In late March-early April, Husband and I started our pepper and tomato plants. I knew we would be gone most of April, so I made sure that the timer on the grow lights was functioning well, and we only went down to water and thin seedlings. I often feel tied down by the garden. A friend came to water when we were gone.
Most years, I would check on the plants obsessively, making sure everything was perfect for the plants. We pride ourselves on being successful gardeners. Well, this year it didn’t happen.
The peppers were pretty pathetic this year. We grew five kinds, mostly sweet varieties, and they just wouldn’t grow. We have enough of them to have a variety, but they are so short and puny!
I had to buy San Marzano paste tomato plants because the ones I started just died after germination. The Brandy Boys are good, as Husband fertilized them as they were languishing in the backyard as we hardened them preparatory to planting.
I always dismissed claims that you should talk to your plants, but this year makes me think I can’t travel in April or May just so I can cosset my seedlings.
What is your most dismal failure? What is your experience starting seedlings or growing a garden?What ties you down?
Today is the first day of “Summer of Love”. Ten years ago, the owner of my company unveiled a summer employee appreciate program. The main components are no dress code (seriously – the printed instructions say “if you can’t get arrested wearing it, it’s good”), 7 half Fridays off with pay, food trucks on Wednesdays and dogs allowed on Fridays. There are usually three summer concerts as well on the big lawn of Building One, complete with snacks and beverages (of the alcoholic sorts). Most years we’ve received t-shirts or hats. It’s a lot of fun.
For opening day of Summer of Love I’m in shorts and one of my State Fair t-shirt collection. YA actually went to the Memorial Day Mini State Fair yesterday. Friends had gone the night before and said it was more robust than last year. But in looking over the website, it didn’t look that much more robust to me, so I passed. I don’t need any pretend state fairs… I can’t wait. (I already have tickets for this year – bought them in January.) YA has reported that the mini state fair was exactly that – mini.
And, of course, zories (flip flops). To get ready for spring and Summer of Love, I got my zori bin out and straightened it up and re-organized it by color. My current zori count is 45, although unbelievably enough I don’t have any red ones; the red ones bit the dust last summer. Guess I’ll have to make a trip to Old Navy soon!
In the Events division at my job, the process of getting a travel program going is divided into lots of pie pieces. We have the folks who source the hotels and write the programs, the folks who program the program websites, the folks who book the air, the folks who write and design the communications, the folks who manage the participants, the folks who go on site and run the program. Then there’s what I do; from the time a program sells until the participants arrive at their destination, I oversee all the other pieces of pie, getting all the details wrapped up tight so the program runs successfully.
Over the years I’ve been corralled a few times into doing work in other departments; I’ve been successful but I don’t like it much. A couple of months ago we got the opportunity to bid for a big piece of business with a client that I’ve worked with for 15 years – in fact I’ve done 46 trips for their various regions. As you can imagine, this opportunity has taken on a life of its own – specs from the client, questions back to them, a preliminary presentation made. The number of meetings has been alarming, especially since I really don’t have that much input. Others involved are excited to be doing the work, love the corporate lingo and are happy to be jumping through all the necessary hoops. I completely understand this work has to be done but it doesn’t ring my bell. So I smile, answer any questions asked of me and multi-task. It really makes me appreciate zoom meetings.
The notification that we made the initial cut and have a presentation date slated came down on Tuesday. We had a meeting on Wednesday – I knew this would be the meeting in which decisions were made about who would be part of the presentation. I’ve been dreading this prospect for weeks; while I certainly wouldn’t be tasked with heading up the presentation, I worried that with my overwhelming experience on the account, they would think I would be handy to have in the room. Not my cup of tea and the idea of flying to the east coast for two days for this presentation doesn’t excite me at all.
They didn’t ask me. I can’t tell anybody at work how relieved I am not to be part of the presentation team. But I can tell you all – I am very happy to stay home. I’m not even going to grouse about the fact that there are two “practice” meetings that I have been asked to attend, even though I’m not practicing. Phew!
What topic could you give a 30-minute presentation on without any preparation?
Last November there was a post that I clipped part of and have kept on my desktop. I don’t remember what we were talking about but this string always intrigued me:
Part of the reason it has stuck with me is that it reminds me of two books. My dad loved everything written by Edgar Rice Burroughs, especially the John Carter/Mars series, so I’ve read quite a few as well. In the Gods of Mars series, the Therns have bamboozled another species, the Barsoomians, luring them with the promise of a journey to paradise, when in fact, they just get captured and eaten. My father and I had some long conversations about this; he thought it was the best justification for being a vegetarian he had ever read.
The other book that our conversation reminds me of is The Sparrow by Maria Doria Russell. Also science fiction and a similar scenario in which the traveling Earthman discovers that the dominant species eats the non-dominant, although to his eye, they are both sentient beings. There is also a VERY disturbing sub-plot in which the Earthman is basically kept as a pet and from his (and the reader’s) perspective, abused and maimed, although his “owner” fairly easily deflects and explains those actions away. And it was believable. Way too believable. It took me a few years to work up the nerve to read the next book in the series.
Even though all these memories got dredged up back in November, I still thought it was a funny exchange. Although I’m pretty sure I’m already the pet of my cat Nimue….
What’s the most exotic animal you’ve ever fantasized about getting as a pet?
Monty Don, of craggy face and deep rich voice and calm confident demeanor, is the BBC’s in-house gardening expert, worth knowing if you are a gardener. And worth knowing if you are into travel. In addition to his weekly garden show, he has done several series where he helps non-gardeners develop their small yards and, my favorite, when he gives tours of great gardens of different countries, such as France and Italy. Of those I love the French tour most, in part because he travels around in post-WWII era Citroen, one of the more visually memorable cars. The French gardens are the highly structured masterpieces of topiary and shaped hedges and large fountains and looping pathways. The Italian ones are about as structured but do not appear to be so, cultivated randomness.
But it is the old English gardens which impress and irritate me. Garden on the English tour means large expanses of hundreds of acres where every tree, pathway, line of sight and folly has been developed to look ancient and natural, when it is not. The long lines of sight built into the landscape are masterpieces of faux natural. The beauty impresses me, but the bending of will to man irritates me, done by genius such as Capability Brown (1716-1783), original name Lancelot Brown. (Marketing was an art even in the 18th Century.) Brown’s face is shaped much like Monty Don’s, by the way.
Then there are the woods 20 feet off my patio, owned, except for the first 5-6 feet, by the city. Capability would rub his hands in glee on how he could change that abhorrent disarray. Not that I do not have a similar impulse, having been raised on a farm where the woods were managed as graze and woodlot. Our roads through the 85 acres still appear in my dreams.
My woods here is as wild and uncontrolled as woods in a city could be, mostly because of the ravine. Various parts of both Mankato and North Mankato are designated as Upper and Lower, meaning on top of the bluffs or below them where the ancient river Warren carved out a deep and wide valley in a matter of a few days.
The header photo shows the tangle at its worst or most glorious. They are the end of the woods where they point out into a small field of corn or soybeans, a la Ben. Those trees are not shaped that way by the wind, in fact they are bent right into the prevailing wind. I assume their need for sunlight made them arch out and away from the tall trees. It is a favorite place for deer to bed down. But even they struggle to navigate through my woods. There are several tall trees reaching their full maturity, about which there is a mystery I will not delve into. But when the leaves are gone (I took these pictures in April.) you can see the tangle of fallen and rotting trees down the sides of the raven, which gets deep very quickly, or up among the standing trees. Or you can see my corkscrew trees, as I call them, species unknown to me. They reach up like a middle finger in the face of Capability.
Trees are in all stages of life and decay.
Many visitors live or walk through the woods or the apartment building’s strip of grass.
Just three days ago I realized that at the base of one of the mystery trees a pair of squirrels have raised almost to maturity a litter of, I think, five kits. I caught them venturing out to explore, but only on their tree so far, and took this photo through the window above my computer.
I have sketched several parts of my woods. These two trees now are mush on the ground.
This spring a thick branch on one of the mystery trees broke in the high winds and got caught as a squirrel beltway. The next day the squirrels tested carefully before venturing out on this wonderful shortcut across an open space in the upper trees. Now it is their jousting ground and a trysting place, observation deck, escape route and attack route.
I could show and tell more, but I have overstayed my welcome.
Thoreau said he had traveled much in Concord. In what small area have you traveled much?
One of the upshots of the “more flowers, less grass” way of life at our house is mulch. We like the look of mulch around all the flowers and now that the front yard and boulevard are essentially all flowers, that’s a lot of mulch.
“A lot of mulch” and “very small Honda Insight” aren’t usually phrases you see in a sentence together. That’s because you can only put 8 2-cubic foot bags of mulch IN a Honda Insight if you want to continue to see out the back window. (You could transport more if you used the backseat and not just the hatch but that lesson learned was ugly.) If you go through 25-28 bags of mulch in the spring, that means several trips to Menards. Yes, I’ve looked into having a boatload of mulch delivered, but one of the things I know about myself is how unhappy I will be with a mountain of mulch that might get rained on before I get to it, is taking up driveway space and is also making me feel guilty until it’s all gone. And the savings isn’t that great anyway.
Mulch trips are in the morning – it’s cooler, plenty of room in the parking lot, not too crowded in the store – so for four mornings in a row, there I am, with my mulch on a big cart. There is an older woman who works the first register shift every morning and she is NOT a happy person. Could be that she resents working so early. Maybe she resents still having to work at all at this stage of her life. Might even be that she’s just not a morning person.
I try not to take this personally, but I’m a chatter. Every morning I say “good morning”. Once I said “Eight of them (the bags), if I counted right”. Couple of times I’ve said “see you tomorrow”. Yesterday was “Thanks”. Nothing from this woman. Not even a smile, which I would have thought would be helpful in a customer service role.
The mulch trips are probably over for this spring but I have determined that if I need more, I will probably just leave this poor woman alone when I go through her lane. It won’t hurt me and maybe it will give her a little relief at 6:15 in the morning. Of course, it’s not as much fun.
Tell me about a time you’ve gotten GREAT customer service!
Trail Baboon 