My New Mechanic

Amos will do a pretty good brake job for Friskies.

Tomato Jerks

Wasn't it just last week that we were griping about the bitter cold and unusual amount of snow?  It seems summer has brutally descended on us like a big, wet, wool blanket.  It occurred to me how ridiculous the temperatures have been when I looked at the long-range forecast and realized I was viewing temps in the lower 90's by the end of the week as "relief."

If the trend continues, we may be in for a long miserable summer.  I'm already missing being in close proximity to the lake.

Luckily my tomato plants don't seem to mind the excessive heat.  I was excited to see - despite some adversity in the form of an aggressive tomato hornworm invasion - a ripe tomato.  You might notice the lack of leaves on this Arkansas Traveler plant - a result of a nighttime munchdown from those voracious little green jerks.  They met their maker upon discovery the next morning.  At first I was squishing them (with a tiny bit of remorse - the moths they turn into are pretty cool), but then I decided to try chucking them out in the yard to the side of the house.  The fat caterpillars have enough mass to make a pretty long flight - right into the path of a mockingbird who just happens to have a nest in the vicinity.

All my tomato plants on the deck suffered significant damage, but this particular plant seems to have gotten the worst of it.  My two plants on the front porch remain untouched.  From what I've read and heard first-hand from other gardeners, hand-picking the worms off the plants is the most effective method of control.  The problem with that method is having to remain extra vigilant, and if you have to leave your plants for a day or two, just a couple of missed or newly-hatched worms can totally strip a plant of leaves and stems as well as tomatoes.  But, I seem to have caught them all for the moment, and the stricken plants are already putting on new leaves.

Tomato growers, be on the lookout:

House and Mouse Wars

Aaaaaaand....I'm back once again.  Despite any reports to the contrary, I am still alive, and despite my best efforts still somewhat sane.

So much blog fodder has floated by lately, but I've not gotten a whole lot of computer time or a whole lot of motivation to devote to the task.  I'm still mostly stuck in my own little personal bubble of battling this house, slowly plodding toward the big finish.  Marden has FINALLY finished the year+ long military class that's been keeping him so busy and driving me out of my mind, and now we're at last getting some good chunks of time together - a phenomenon which has happened way too little over the past year.  It's too bad it has to be spent on this house.  But, we'd be a whole lot farther from the finish if it weren't for the help of my parents - who are still coming to my rescue, despite the huge eye rolls and sighs from my brothers.

Mom spent last week here helping me while Marden was in New Jersey at the Army's beck and call, and we made some awesome headway - I painted two rooms and laid flooring with wild abandon while Mom cleaned, organized, put-away, and did an excellent job of painting doors and trim.  Not to mention she fixed all our meals - it's a great help when you don't have to stop what you're doing to make a salad or sandwich.  We're now down to finishing the flooring in the main part of the house, changing out the sliding patio door, laying vinyl floor and installing a new vanity in the small bathroom, and installing trim throughout the house.  Ok...when put that way, we still have a LOT to do....but it's still on the downhill side of what we've done.

One thing I discovered during Mom's stay - a mouse in the house can instantly turn two adult, self-sufficient, strong women into screaming little girls.  One night right after we went to our beds, exhausted from a long day, we both got up to investigate a big ruckus coming from one of the un-floored rooms.  Puck had cornered a mouse, but he didn't quite know what to do with it.  We didn't know what to do either, so Mom yelled, "Puck has a mouse!", and I yelled, "EW!"

Anyone should be able to tell pretty quick that I'm very much a critter-person.  I love animals, and have always had and likely will always have a menagerie of pets.  I don't get wigged out at bugs in the house (except roaches), and on several occasions I've gently removed spiders to the outdoors for my husband.  If it's not a brown recluse, it gets a free pass.  (Sorry brown recluses - you get a squish).  It used to greatly disturb hubby that I let those little black jumping spiders live in the house with us, but he's gotten used to my spider-tolerating  antics.  HOWEVER - I draw a big fat line at roaches and mice.  If I'm outdoors, a mouse can be my friend.  Indoors - it's war. 

Back to the mouse - Puck was alternating between catching the mouse and letting it go, while Mom and I danced around, following the battle in our pajamas and making noises like, "OH!" and "EEK!" and "GAH!"  During one of it's escape attempts, it ran into my bedroom and Mom saw fit to yell, "HAHA!  It's in YOUR bedroom now!", while I yelled, "NOOOOOO!" The mouse must've heard, because it immediately did a one-eighty for Mom's room, and I yelled, "HA!  Now it's in YOUR bedroom!"  Mom wasn't so smug then.  The mouse/Puck conflagration made it's way all over the house, pausing now and then for both combatants to rest, while Mom and I had short, frantic discussions on what to do, both of us being barefoot and unarmed.  It's difficult to keep an eye on a darting mouse while looking for a weapon, though at one point I did don a pair of flipflops and attempt what Mom could only describe as to Riverdance on the mouse.  The battle finally ended up as a cat-mouse standoff in a bedroom closet.  I could see Puck losing interest, and the mouse was terrified, looking to bolt, so I ended the chase with a whack from a piece of hastily grabbed laminate floor.  Anyone wanting to scream "animal abuse!" has never had a mouse skitter across their bare toes.  I suppose I'm a hypocrite for all of my "thou shalt not kill snakes" preaching while displaying extreme intolerance for mice, but I've never had a snake get in my cabinets, chew through stuff, sample my food, and leave little "presents" laying around.  To my knowledge there have never been mass snake infestations laying waste to crops and spreading diseases.  In fact, snakes are extremely important for keeping rodent populations in check.  And snakes can be pretty and don't have fleas.  So there.

Speaking of snakes - I offered the poor deceased to our pet corn snake, Orville, but he turned up his nose.  I guess when you're used to being served freshly thawed, sterile, white mice from the pet store, a freshly-killed wild brown mouse is below your standards.  I wonder if they're lower in cholesterol?  Orville evidently is not interested in health food.

Anyway - the house now seems a mouse-free zone, though I've set a few traps in cabinets just to be sure.  The former residents lived in such squalor we're probably lucky to have only seen one so far.  The adventures just never end.

Garden Update

Even though this year's garden dreams were utterly dashed by all of the house redoing, never ending packing, and epic moving, I did manage to plant a few of my heirloom tomato seeds.  To my great surprise they all sprouted, and (after thinning and culling) for the first time ever I was able to keep them all alive.  Most of the fragile baby plants survived the move and "hardening off" process, and I now have nine big strong heirloom plants grown from seed and planted in tubs.  (If you can't tell I'm quite proud of myself). 

I planted two Arkansas Traveler, Mule Team, Cherokee Purple, Mammoth Gold, and one Moonglow.  I'd have planted more but I ran out of containers and dirt - and believe me, dirt is hard to come by around here.

The most exciting thing is - I HAVE GREEN TOMATOES!!!  The rest have blooms, but no 'maters just yet.  Still, to have good-sized green tomatoes by June 1st is the best tomato luck I've ever had.

In other garden news, it took me hours and hours and buckets of sweat to re-plant my gooseberry bushes.  First, finding a halfway diggable, all-day sunny spot really narrowed down the options.  Second, "diggable" is saying way too much for this ground we now live on.  It took a pick, mega elbow-grease, and more patience than I thought I had to dig holes through rocks the size of my head.  Anything else I plant is going in a raised bed - this time not because I want to, but because without owning a backhoe it's going to be the only option.

Check out the ridiculousness of the rocks: