Another terribly Exciting Day.

Today I got a birthday cake from a friend. It was devil's food, three layers, with Kahlua frosting and chocolate chips. Fucking fantastic. So that was breakfast. I was smart enough to pass it around or I would surely have eaten the whole thing by lunch.
It was a long and boring day. I don't even have a good idiot story. It was windy as fuck, and a bunch of empty boxes blew all over the parking lot and I had to chase them down, but that was seriously as exciting as it got. Now I'm at home on the couch trying to decide which beer I'll have. I really want a Bell's, but it's not cold yet. Hmmmm...
The b.h. was kind enough to leave a loaf of bread on top of the fridge last night, so our resident rodent didn't have to wake us in order to get a meal. I'll try to remember to post a picture of the bread tunnel at some point. It's comforting, at least, in it's smallness.
Oh, now I hear geese. Between them and the daffodils that are sprouting up in front of the house, I can't figure out how it is possibly January right now.

Big Bird & Vermont.

For the past several days, we have had what I believe is a Great Blue Heron hanging out in our pond. We see these guys for most of the year, but since Kilgore has taken to chasing them (as much as he can when he is a couple hundred feet below) when they fly over, none have been visiting our pond this year. I tried to get a picture of this guy, but my point and shoot digital was simply not meant for long-distance wildlife photography. It's too bad. He's pretty cool looking.
There is also a family of kingfishers out there, but they never hold still long enough for me to get a picture.

I finally loaded up the Vermont pics. Most of them are from the Museum at Shelburne, because the ones from the fist couple days were on the card that crashed. Anyway, here they are, in no particular order:


I bought this coffee because I liked the logo. Turns out the coffee is pretty fucking awesome as well.



This one is from the Shelburne Museum. Another self portrait.



More photos later. The computer is acting up.

I'm having a really weird day. Can't describe it- don't even want to try, but suffice to say that I watched Rude Boy and then drove to the theater to see the Sex & The City movie.
I'm glad I went. I needed to get out of the house. Say what you will about that show, but it was well written, and so is the movie. I find it amusing that people are talking so much about it. Aside from the usual "chick flick" remarks (whatever- it is,and we're all aware of that), there are people who are really, really pissed off about it. Why? Because it enjoyed the highest grossing opening weekend ever for a movie about women? I love that men have the balls to be "tired of" the hooplah, of the fact that women are so excited about this movie. As if we should apologize for getting in the driver's seat when everybody knows the vaginas belong in the back. (Even my spellcheck is in on the act. It doesn't like the word "vaginas".) Whatever. Has it even occurred to anybody that if there were more movies about women- real women, with opinions and jobs and lives and female friends who aren't exactly like them- then this one wouldn't stick out so much? I don't get it. In any case, my enjoyment had nothing to do with feminism or politics or any of that. I just thought it was fun.
It had rained (yay!!) while I was in the theater, and my drive home was like a reverse game of Frogger, with frogs leaping all over the road and me swerving to try to avoid flattening them. When I pulled into our driveway, a large clump of kudzu ran in front of me, camouflaging a large and presumably happy beaver. No rain has left them nothing to dam, so now I guess he'll be getting back to work. Which means that the b.h. will have to do the same.
I just got a text message from the b.h.:
"Sometimes two people who can't sing will accidentally harmonize. This is not the case right now."
I'm sure he regrets quitting drinking.

Also, this beer kicks total ass.

Betrayal.

"This was not part of the deal!" I shout, hurling a pine cone at his head.

He ducks his head briefly and says nothing.

"Seriously, why would you do this to me? After five years? We have never once had a fight- not even a disagreement. I know you didn't trust me at first, but things have been going so well."

He remains unmoved.

"You are such an asshole," I hiss, not quite under my breath, hitching the hose up over my shoulder. He looks at me blankly, completely unapologetic.

I turn my back on him, watering the lantana. I am seething with rage.

"I gave you strawberries!" I know this argument is futile, but I have to say my piece. The dog is pacing nervously at my feet. He has seen me like this before and he doesn't like it, but he knows there is nothing he can do.

The turtle floats about five feet from shore, munching the last of what used to be a two and a half foot tall Canna contemplatively. I squirt him with the hose and stalk off in despair.

I heard somewhere that there is good eating on one of those. He is very lucky that I am a vegetarian.

So Much for the Wellies.

So I scored a whole lot of water plants again today. They are all on sale, and as Barb is keen to be rid of them all, I got them for a song. Eighteen of the, in fact. One Calla Lilly, several Cannas, some Pickerel Weed, Elephant Ear, the beautiful if grossly named Bloody Dock, Lizard Tail, and a couple of Water Lilies. There were lilies when we moved in, but once we started feeding the turtles and fish, feeding frenzies knocked everything loose and it all disappeared. This time I planted everything off to the side, away from but still well within site of our deck, so we can feed the animals and still enjoy the water garden.
As soon as I got home today I went straight to the water's edge and began unpotting the plants. I used the long staples that you would use to keep landscape fabric in place to loop through the root balls and, kneeling down, plunged my arm into the water to secure them to the bed of the pond.
Now, you have to understand that the pond grosses me out. More than I can describe, and for multiple reasons. I like to enjoy it from a distance, but due to the massive quantities of fertilizer and pesticide that I am certain wash into it every time it rains (not from us, but from our neighbors), as well as the massive amount of goose, duck, fish, turtle, and beaver shit that are surely mucking up the bottom, combined with the snakes and algae and pond scum and old metal and garbage and fish hooks that I know are just under the surface, I have no desire to touch the water ever ever ever, and in fact do not allow even the dogs to set foot in it. So I'm kneeling on the shore, screwing up my face and steeling my resolve and jamming these things into the much at the bottom, and I realize that they have to be spaced out better. Which means that I have to put some of them farther out. I stood up, and since I was wearing waterproof shoes at the time, I allowed my toes to breach the water line. Then I moved out just a little further to put the water Iris in, and well, I think you know where this is going. I finally got tired and hot and frustrated and said fuck it and waded in. My shoes were fine until my socks got soaked, at which point it all got very squishy. So I hurried and put as many plants in as I could. I figured fuck it, I'm wet and I'm not going through this again, so I ran down to the other end, far away from the house, and stuck in a few more. Then I came back, and as I was standing there trying to decide what to put in next, a heard a splash. When I turned around, there were three turtles wrestling for a freshly plucked Canna leaf.
I turned to Wyatt and sighed, and hanging my head in a not-unlike Charlie Brown fashion, trudged into the house. I removed my shoes and all of my clothes and put them immediately into the wash machine on the hot water cycle. I'm out of the shower now, beer in hand, but the rest of the plants are still littering the yard. I can't bring myself to go out there.

More (Giant) Beaver Shots.

The b.h. shot this at dusk today. These guys are starting to get used to us, I guess.

The Call of the WIld.

I bought a new bird feeder a couple weeks ago. It is much larger than the last one, and it holds a lot more seed. Also, because of the way it is constructed, more birds can feed at the same time. The result is that the daily bird party has gotten much larger outside our window. There are at least two (and possibly three- I think they have a baby) woodpeckers. These are in addition to the red-headed, Woody Woodpecker guy that I often see on the other side of the house. No bluebirds yet, but I suppose they might be out of town for the season. We have the usual cardinals and mourning doves, and a whole lot of others I can't yet identify. I love watching them. I often find myself stopping whatever I'm doing *cough* internet porn *cough* to look at a bird identification web page. I think I will have to get a book.

Damn. Now I have another hobby.

A Constant Struggle.

Now that the beavers are back, the b.h. is once again having to clear out the drainpipe in our pond every day. And then, every night at dusk, often when we are returning from a walk with the dogs, we spot the beavers out there packing it back up again, and he shakes his fist in their general direction and curses loudly.
Right now he is out there with a length of PVC pipe trying to loosen a giant clump of pine straw. I daresay (and I only dare because he is outside) that he enjoys this a little.

Busy, Bigger, and Back.

The beavers, that is. We haven't seen them at all this year, and last year there were only a couple sightings of a very small pair - more like big bunnies than small dogs, they were back then - and who could blame them? Without much water, building a dam was rather beside the point.
Cut to Sunday morning. Five hours after we arrived home, I am awakened by an unfamiliar sound. It is very loud, and it seems to be coming from all around me all at once. I am momentarily confused, and then I realize that there is a very heavy rain falling on our tin roof. Fabulous. Wyatt grumbles as I roll over and burrow a little deeper under the covers. When i wake up again in another five hours, it is still pouring. Fabulous. This is the most rain I can remember having at once. By the end of the day. The pond in front of our house is back to a level that it hasn't seen this year. There is no standing water in our yard, though, because the ground is soaking it right up.
And today, not twenty minutes ago, we pulled into the driveway and saw a familiar ripple on the surface of the pond. At first we assumed it was the dozen or so ducks that have been hanging out lately, but then we saw them: The telltale lumps on the surface of the water, preceded by small branches that seem to be moving on their own.
"Oh no you don't," the b.h. says, giving the beavers the frowning of a lifetime through the car window. His voice is low and menacing.
"There are two of them," I say quietly. "And they look big."
"I will kick your ass" threatens the b.h. in a low voice, craning his neck to keep an eye on them as we round the curve in the driveway.

The Week in Photos.

That's a week starting last Wednesday and ending yesterday. I am SO far behind. Anyway, enjoy.

Here's Robyn Hitchcock in all his purple-trousered glory:


This is the monstrosity that is growing across the street. I think they're really trying to get it done (or at least presentable) before the golf tournament here in a couple weeks. Too bad the people coming to the tournament all have to come past our little shack on their way. A.J. suggested a large "We're here, we're queer, get used to it" banner for our patio, which I would totally do if only our landlords didn't drive by here every day.


This is the goose that sleeps on what used to be our pier. I don't know if it's Marge or Homer (no telling the sex of a goose long distance, is there?), but it's one of the pair that has chosen us.



P.S> Z, working on that tag - been busy!

Planting.

That's all I've been doing that's worth talking about. I've planted two kinds of tomatoes, pickling cucumbers, basil, dill, oregano, thyme, fennell, moonflowers, and some mixed four o'clocks. So far. And our meyer lemon tree (which was a gift from J and her s.o. for our wedding) is blooming. The smell is nothing short of intoxicating.
I've also spent some time trying to tame the flower beds around the house, in hopes that this year I will finally plant all of them. The problem with renting is that it's difficult to want to bother with the whole blasted yard (it's pretty large, and not at all tended prior to our presence) that we will eventually have to evacuate. But I've been getting to it a little at a time for the past couple summers, and this year I'm feeling particularly ambitious. In the meantime, progress is being made on the ridiculously overpriced condos from hell across the street. The guys who are putting them up have taken to communicating with each other by whistling very loudly, which as you dog owners may guess, tends to rile up the dogs. Which would already be annoying if it were late in the day, but since it generally starts at the crack of dawn (about an hour or two after I have fallen asleep), it actually pisses me off quite a lot. That and the trash which is constantly strewn about and regulary makes its way across the road and into our yard are really starting to get on my nerves.
On a lighter note, the geese are back. I think these may actually be *our* geese - the ones we call Marge and Homer, who are not afraid of us, and who will make their way across the pond whenever they see us come out, in hopes of getting fed - but I don't know if geese actually return to the same place year after year. If anybody knows about goose habits, I'd love an answer.
Also, the ducks are catching on. They aren't quite as aggressive as the geese yet, but they do stop by at least every other day. Photos to come.