End of summer

I see that this is the first blog I’ve done for August, since the last two posts were really from the end of July. Alas, it is time to go back to work. Grumpy! Before you can bat an eye, the dame’s rocket and star thistle has given way to chicory and Queen Anne’s lace. The orioles hung around much longer than usual, far into July, but they have now flown south. The fireflies are gone. We have seven tom turkeys hanging around under the oaks, gorging themselves on acorns. Here are two of them.

Tom turkeys eating acorns under the fifth oak

Terry told me several times that he had seen beautiful blue butterfly on his Echinacea flowers. I wanted very much to see it and was excited when he called to tell me it was drying its wings on the fence around Nursery 1. “Don’t let it go anywhere,” I told him as if he could do something to prevent it from leaving. I grabbed my camera and rushed out. It was still there! After ten photos and several changes of location, I got close enough to get a good picture. At first I thought it was a black swallowtail, but it didn’t have swallowtails. I later identified it as a red-spotted purple, which is odd because it really isn’t purple at all. I can’t remember ever seeing one before. Pretty exciting!

Red-spotted purple butterfly that is not purple but does have red spots

The pullets are growing but are not big enough to put with the hens yet. They would walk right through the fence and might get bullied.

Black Star pullet

The Americauna look so cute when their fluffy beard feathers come in. 

Rosa Dolores perched on top of the feeder. Aren't her beard feathers cute?

The meat chickens got much bigger than we would have liked. We couldn’t get a date with the new butcher until they were 8 weeks old. Here is a picture of a hen (left) and a rooster (right). Look at those feet!

Hen (left) and rooster (right, with larger, redder comb) at the waterer

Seriously, look at those feet! They’re huge!

Huge chicken feet! Huge!

Hilda went soft on me again when it came time to thin the hens. Ruthie and Opal, the two surviving hens that we got from Turkey Man, were scheduled for butchering. “We could keep them and have 14 hens,” Hilda suggested.

I had to remind her that the coop was designed for only 10 chickens and that crowded chickens peck each other, eat eggs, and generally get into all sorts of trouble. Ruthie and Opal were never very tame. Two of the four chickens from Turkey Man, Bess and Pearl, had already died. It seemed likely that Ruthie and Opal were not long for this world anyway.

Ruthie

Opal's last day hanging out in the shade with Angelica

My buddy Rose. We still have her.

The new butcher offers more options than Todd did, since he has a bigger operation. We had all the meat chickens cut in half. That means I no longer have to coordinate with Hilda about when we both wanted to have chicken, since a 7 pound chicken is way too much for two people. Also, we got all the giblets separate from the chickens. Hilda made a wonderful liver pate, which you really can’t make when you get one liver at a time inside the bird. She also made stock out of all the necks.

And what was I doing while Hilda was in the kitchen? Part of the time I was at work. When I was home, I was sitting in my recliner with my foot up. This brings me to a little life lesson. It is effective and environmentally sound to kill weeds around the patio with boiling water leftover from blanching vegetables. When doing this, however, it is critically important to be sure you are not standing downstream. My mission was to kill a burdock plant growing under the deck. I started pouring the water and felt a sting on my right foot. In one of those quirky brain twists I have sometimes, my first thought was that I had been bitten by a poisonous snake. I quickly regained my senses and realized that I was standing in a stream of scorching water. I kicked off my croc and removed my sock. I hopped back into the house and put my foot in a tray of water while I Googled first aid for burns. Cool running water, no ice, 20 minutes. Running water. After considering my limited options, I put one foot in the shower and sprayed water on it. It felt okay under the water, but horribly painful the minute I stopped. I took some Tylenol and put my foot up. The pain went down as the blisters came up. By morning, the blisters had become one giant blister. You want to see the picture? Are you sure? The faint of heart should turn away now.

Second degree burn on my foot 

That was on Saturday, August 5. I broke the blister four days later because the pressure was building and pulling up the skin around the margins. By Thursday night, it was really, really, really painful. If I was going to see the doctor, I should do it Friday before the weekend. I called Friday morning and got an appointment for 10:40.

The nurse took me to the exam room, offered me a seat, and said, “What’s the problem?”

“I am a dumb ass,” I replied.

“I don’t think we can treat that,” she said.

“The symptom is a large second-degree blister on my foot.”

“How did that happen?” she asked.

I told her the story. When I was done she said, “Sounds like something I would do.” She followed up with a story of her husband and a pile of brush that he wanted to burn but couldn’t get lit.

“He got out the gasoline, didn’t he?” I guessed.

“Yes. He lost his eyebrows, but the burns on his arms weren’t too bad.”

The nurse practitioner gave me a prescription for a cream that worked particularly well on burns. She promised I would be wearing shoes by the beginning of classes. That was a week ago, and I’m not thinking I’ll have shoes on both feet by Tuesday, when I have a 3-hour lab followed by an 80 minute lecture. Sitting and walking are pretty okay. Standing—even for two minutes to brush my teeth—is a problem. How will I manage four and a half hours on my feet? Burns suck.