Fiacré's spade: Another trip around the sun

Why yes, I did skip last week’s post. I’ve been busy as a bee in a bucket of tar. During gardening season, weekly posts are more of a guideline than a rule.

I was in the study this morning trying to catch up on my long-neglected email when I was presented with a story problem: if there are two cat trees, two cats, and one desk in a room, where will the cats be? Hint: not in the cat trees that were purchased for their accommodation.

Two cats, two cat trees, one desk

After three years of trying to figure out how to grow strawberries, we have succeeded. Here is one of the first special breakfasts of summer.

First special summer breakfast: strawberries and mini-wheats

We are also having strawberries with ice cream and with scones in the evening for dessert. I have started freezing pulp for jam. In previous, strawberry-free years, I was weeding at this time. There simply are not enough hours in the day.

We have been having a little ant problem. Let me clarify that “little” modifies “ant,” not “problem.” The problem is not huge but is persistently annoying. We can’t figure out what they want. If we knew what they were after we could clean it up and/or put ant traps where they were congregating. But no. They seem to be doing random walks, one or two tiny ants at a time, all over the house. One evening last week, the ants were having a party on the coffee table between our recliners in the living room. It occurred to me that the edge around the glass top was likely full of all manner of crumbs from the last 20 years, if not more. We commenced cleaning. We unloaded the crap from the shelf below the glass. I removed the glass to the kitchen to wash it with soap and water while Terry got a putty knife to scrape out the notch where the glass sat. By the time Terry returned with the putty knife, Bingo had concluded that all the commotion was obviously to make a space for him to play.

Wow! A new place to play!

There have been no more ants on the coffee table. I won’t see any for a day or two and think the problem is solved. And then there will be one. Or two. Or five. What do they want from me??

I saw a first-year male orchard oriole at the bird feeder. The juveniles are so different from the adults that I always have to look them up. I can’t remember if the yellow with the black throat is the juvenile male or the female. The juvenile had the misfortune of showing up when two Baltimore orioles were fighting for the jelly. There was an altercation.

Two Baltimore orioles, left; orchard oriole juvenile, top

The orchard oriole waited on top of the feeder

Orchard oriole first-year male

And eventually got a turn at the jelly.

Hope it was worth the weight

The chicks seem to be growing exponentially. Both the pullets and the meat chickens still have some down around their heads and necks, making them look like they have bed-head. So cute.

Still having bad hair days

These two pictures show the size comparison of the pullets and the meat birds. I can’t get over how big the meat chickens’ feet are!

Golden Wyandott standing behind a meat chicken

Ameraucana and three meat chickens

As I watch the meat chickens wander around the run on a sunny afternoon, I remember why I raise meat chickens. Their life may be brief, but it’s happy. They eat grass and bugs,

Foraging

And hang around the water cooler. They have all their little chicken hearts desire.

Gossiping by the water cooler

I turned 64 last Sunday. Friends came over to help celebrate. This is what a party looks like when the photographer doesn’t give the heads up to smile.