These are our germaniums that, despite neglect and drought, are still thriving! I hit them with a bit o' water from time to time along with a handful of 15-15-15 fertilizer.
Looking back the other direction (north)
The front of Rancho Relaxo. Next week, our groundsman will be whacking off the lower limbs of the trees so that we can see more of the place.
Here's "Tojo" and "Wooly-Pulley" ready for duty. This morning was "dump run day" so we filled the trailer up to the gunwales, tarp'd it, then strapped it all down. I'll be tired for a couple of days.
The largest of our apples trees that we planted four years ago. It produces little fruit and little growth. I think I'm going to invent a new species and call it an "apple-less bush".
Another shot of the germaniums. I call them "cock-a-maim-iums" for some reason or another.
Connie's Pansies. They are thriving!
Flowers are our friends!!
Pansies from the opposite direction
Tojo and Wooly Pulley
This is a 15 year old apple tree in the back yard. We do get apples by they are usually smallish and are not, by any means, in abundance.
This is looking north over in "Triple R" on "Mustang Drive". We're on our way home from a service call.
Pleasant Oak Drive eastbound at Montgomery Ranch.
Pleasant Oak Drive still eastbound about 1/2 mile short of Lower Globe. Tom Maino's huge pond is on the immediate right.
Lower Globe at Hwy 190 looking north. Notice anything unusual about these pics? Yep...they're all filled with GREEN!
Here's the clucking crew doing obeisance to the "Flock Master". Naw....they're just gettin' down on the collards.
Holy moly, Ravioli! It’s April! And…guess what? I finally
did it; I took a day off…so’s I could get some work done around this place! Things
were just getting too far behind and something drastic had to be done!
One of the things accomplished was the removal of the dreadful
eyesore that used to be our carport. It was a real mess and someone (guess
who?) needed to pull a “Johnny Five” on it (“Disassemble!”). After a couple of
cups of soul-stiffing java, the entire cover and skirting was deftly removed
(ain’t I just a real professional puller-offer?). That took enough time and energy
to earn the ol’ puller a nice lunch provided by my faithful side-cook, Connie
the Canner. Speaking of energy, I’m still trying to figure out when I stopped
being a “mover and shaker” and became a “crawler and a trembler”.
Then, a couple of days later (hey…I don’t get in a hurry
around here. My hurry’er is stuck in low gear), I grabbed my trusty Craftsman
12 volt power drill and a nut driver and pulled the frame tubing apart. Once
disassembled, it got stacked alongside the driveway until another opportune
time arises (another day off, no doubt) and it can be hauled to storage
(probably the pole barn). It was break time anyway.
Its removal will aid greatly in the old folks’
renormalization of the front of their home (pictures…some day). Local folks
will soon think that humans have returned to their neighborhood and all will be
well. The nightly parade of neighbors with pitchforks and torches won’t be
missed. Of course, we’ll miss the myriad cars coming in from all over
California to take pictures of what they thought was the filming of the
disaster flick, “It Fell From Outer Space!”. They all thought that it was a
real “Twitter” scoop, no doubt.
Of course, most of y’all don’t believe in “UFO’s” and space
aliens. My response it is, “Oh, really!” (no relation to O'Reilly). If we just look around for a second, we
find ourselves eyebrow deep in proof that brain sucking aliens have already been
here and gone! They strip-mined the entire planet leaving us with more-ons to
rule over us less-ons (thank you, Smothers Brothers!) ! Proof positive!!
Moving along…..Princess Abbie Report: thanks to our ever
vigilant (well…mostly vigilant…well…usually vigilant….uh….sometimes vigilant)
short haired coon hound, we are never quite sure what to expect when she erupts
into a fit of baying. The other day she treed the pickup….again. “OK”, says I.
“It’s another rat and she wants to snatch it like she did the other one last
year”. Never wanting to deny a good coon dog an opportunity to catch
“something” (given the paucity of coons lately), I popped open the hood to see
if a rat would show its head. Can you imagine how surprised Ol’ Rancho Ran was
when, right there at the back corner of the engine compartment sat a …..bunny
wabbit!!
Of course, bunny wabbits don’t usually hang around for a cup of tea
and a bit of jawing. That thing blasted right out of the compartment and away
he went! Apparently, it was Abbie’s day off because she watched it as
it bounded for freedom and from her unyielding mandible. Part of the matter was
that she still had on her electric collar. However (there are just too many of
those around here) and for reasons we’re still trying to figure out, she had earlier
been sauntering around the entire neighborhood totally oblivious to the shock
collar! One minute the collar seemed to be in control and in another, she is in
control wandering off and getting into mischief (despite a new battery and the
collar testing OK and after tightening her collar).
Then, a couple of days later, it must have been her day on
because we heard her baying like there’s no tomorrow. Only this time she treed
the refrigerator. The good news is that I just knew there wasn’t a bear hiding
behind it. That meant there was no need to fetch my blunderbuss for protection.
Abbie just wouldn’t give it up so I started “shaking” the
fridge (don’t try this at home…it takes too long to clean up frozen stuff that
gets flung from the freezer). Then, I rocked it back on its side (ditto… you
slow learners paying attention?). When that happened, the barking stopped and
there was a flash of black and white that tore past the rear of the ice box
(you old people still call them that, eh?). In the blink of an eye, she had a
mouthful of the too-slow rat (probably so full of my rice that it could hardly
waddle)! She garnered my fullest praise but still wouldn’t let me take her
prize until she was through making sure it wasn’t moving. Then, it was mine to
haul off (‘cause Connie …doesn’t….do….rats…at all…nowhere…. no how… no way…no day).
Abbie -1; Rat – 0.
Chickening Report: my gals are pretty close to being up to
speed on their production. We’re stalled around the 3 dozen per day mark. The
thinking is that I need to count beaks and see just how many cluckadillos are
still in the game. Between theft, natural attrition, and predation (Gus…..you
ain’t my friend no more!), we only have a partial eqq squad doing all the work.
The obvious solution is to just get more layers. Actually,
there’s not much of choice. Hens only stay in max production for a couple of
years then they slow down and then aren’t worth the upkeep. We’ve had most of
our clucks for two years so it’s time to start making some decisions. “Craig’s
List” will likely have a listing for “free chickens” before too long.
In fact, we just lost one of our pretty buffs. She was the
usual buff color but also had a gorgeous creamy white trim. She hadn’t been
feeling well for a few days and would sit away from the crowd and was all puffed
up. At first there was a concern about her being “egg bound”. That’s not a good
thing but she didn’t seem to me like she was presenting the usual indications
for having that issue. Nevertheless, being the good Flock Master (or Flock
Monster, depending upon who you ask, I suppose) that I am, I checked.
Now, dealing with an egg bound hen is probably
not for the faint of heart….or the non-bird brain….or even those who have a
brain (note to you comedians [and you know
who you are]: this is not a straight line). If you have no detestable fortitude, this job is not for you. You’d do well to grab a nearby bullet (I recommend
the .357 hollow point if you don’t have a minnie ball handy – technically a Minié
Ball, for you purists and lead lovers) and clinch it between
your teeth prior to proceeding. Then, you grab your lubricant (just about
anything short of Penns 10W-30W will work) and….go to work unplugging your hen. Side note: it helps to have long fingers,
too, in case any of you guitar pickers and piano players want to raise
chickens.
Anyway,
after making sure that the egg canal isn’t obstructed (or, if it is, it is
properly lubed so as to facilitate the….flow of production), you may take a
break and pat yourself on the back for not…uh…chickening out (Heheh! I crack
myself up!)…and for not violating the closest couple of acres by containing
your temptation to hurl you Hostess Ho-Ho’s into the next county.
Of
course there are bragging rights, too. I mean, just how many people can say
that had been that intimate with a chicken factory without having their medals
awarded to them posthumously? You are among the sweet elite.
Rancho
Relaxo Update: it’s been tough on the rat population around here. Between them
parking their furry carcasses in our car, van, and pickup, they occupied our
garage and barn. That there, as they say in English, is not allowed at our
place. Rats are not our friends. We’ve implemented the “Rancho Relaxo Rat
Reduction Regimen” using products available from “Lowe’s” and “Home Depot” and information
from “YouTube”. We’re so desperate around here that, if Granny Clampett was
still alive, we would have checked with her for advice on how to win the war
(we were gonna tell her they were Yankee rats!).
When
I say “desperate”, it’s not a joke: imagine the look on our faces when we
discovered that a rat (all by his lonesome) had eaten through the bottom of our
(plastic) 5 gallon can of “Mazola Corn Oil”. It leaked out all over the floor
of the garage and into the front driveway (this is a great time to say, “SWELL!”).
Since I have no plans to cook anything on my garage floor, this is not a good
thing.
Or,
imagine how face-contorting is to find that the same critter had eaten into several (plastic) containers and sampled
the goodies therein! The little furry bugger even gnawed holes in four of our (plastic)
2L water storage bottles which irrigated our concrete floor and making a mess. He
even got into our rice and flour stores (plastic containers, of course)! Grrrrrr.
Our new motto is, “No more plastic!
Glass is our friend!”.
The good news is he met his demise at
the hands of some strategically-placed rat killer bait (bwahahahahahahahahaha!). We gave him an indecent and ignominious
non-burial the other day. He got himself tossed into a trash bin out in the
back forty (minus 38) so that the other critters couldn’t get him. Rancher -1;
Rat – 0.
The chicken run/coop has a couple of large
traps, too. Our pest control guy was most helpful in helping us with this
effort. He advised that we aren’t the only ones suffering this plague and that
we just need to stay on the offensive. The Ol’ Rancher still needs to get his
wire mesh in place to block the holes in the coop. He hopes to get to it….soon.
*SIGH*.
At least there’s a new roll of chicken wire on
hand. And, I found my electric staple gun and it’s ready to rock. It just needs
a user that’s also ready to do the same. “Rockin’ Ran” sorta has a ring to it,
I suppose. But, it looks like my rocker may be missing on a few cylinders; in
fact, it may be missing altogether. Let’s hope that it just needs a good tuneup.
We’ve had a blessed spring with lots and lots
of wonderful rain. That also means that we’re still not quite ready for the
searing Valley heat (we never are). It arrives like a hurricane of heat and
smacks us in the face like a sledge hammer. You stand there suffering a
sunburned face and swampy armpits when, two days prior, you had on a sweater.
We have plenty of irrigation water with which
to keep Rancho Relaxo greened up, though. The temps around here will not tarry
in the temperate territory for much longer.
We’ll be firing up Ol’ Swampy” and the A/C units and bracing for the onslaught
of summer.
Ol’
Ran, the music man, will get the opportunity to keep his bass guitar in tune. We’ll
be pickin’ at the pot luck at “Mission Bell” trailer home park on the 10th.
Then, there’s a gig at “Centennial Park” (across from City Hall) on the 14th. That’s a
fun run. I’ll be playing with “Duggin’s Citrus Express” (as usual). They’ve had
that spot at least once per year for a few years now. The lead singer, Sooz, may
be out of town visiting relatives in Spain (Spain…is really out of town, eh?).
That means that Ol’ Ran will need to be the front man and lead singer.
Now, I’m not a “round mound of sound” like Kenny
Price (Hee Haw Gospel Quartet and “I’ll Be Walkin’ On New Grass”) but I get by.
The good news is that my vocal cords are (mostly) in tune and I’ll have my
trusty song book with me. That’s so I don’t have to rely upon my memory for the
words. There’s no way I’m going to depend upon such an unreliable body part. If
we just mosey along and not get in hurry, we won’t reach the end of my song
book prior to the end of the gig.
In my fervid search for something to do around
here, there is a hope to grapple the revitalization and remodeling of the radio,
rod, and reel revetment (commonly alluded to as my “radio shack”) located
upstairs in the barn. Radio Ran really does adhere to the philosophy of “efficiency”.
However, I’m pondering the matter at this point. There are too many things in
my small shack!
Efficiency would seem to preclude gobs of radio
gear and fishing gear gracing the place at the same time. It’s a tad irritating
to have to move three tackle boxes and a store of bobbers and line to get to my
soldering box or my stash of RF connectors/adapters or my electronics toolbox.
A few months ago, I even had a difficult time trying test a couple of CB radios
for a friend. There was too much fishing gear on my work table. Ugh! There was
hardly room to breathe! Sheeese! It’s a good thing the little refrigerator was
moved out!
The fishing rigs that I’ve already overhauled
are sorted and are neatly placed in the rafters (I just love the word “neat”,
don’t you?). But, there was only room for about a hundred of them so there’s no
room left. There are probably 40 or more that need to be cleaned and serviced
and several more yet that need to be rebuilt/repaired (and I just hauled two
more home from a yard sale today). There are fifteen tackle boxes that need to
be unloaded, cleaned and then refilled and a couple of large cardboard boxes of
tackle that need to be divided up between surf, trout, and bass fishing too. What’s
an aspiring fisherman dude to do?
Our bees are thriving (the one remaining box,
that is). The “bloom” is happening so the little honey makers are rejoicing and
being as busy as a bee can be (how much wood….). This may well be the first
season that we can harvest any honey after four years of little or no bloom. We let the bees survive on their efforts and tried to help them with some sugar water.
There you have it, friends, family, folks, kith,
kin, cool cats, and neighbors; that’s the latest from Rancho Relaxo where
things can get…interesting and where…you just never know.
