AUGUSTO CON GUSTO

 I've gotta tell yuh, when I saw this chunk of orange sitting where "Coleman's" used to sit, I was rather miffed. One of the last tangible connections to a lot of great memories disappeared overnight. Sure, I know that the only thing that is consistent in life is "change". But, I don't have to like it. There was no opportunity to experience one last steak sandwich and batch of hot fries. I'll be bummed for awhile then I'll get over it.

NOTE: click on the pics to enlarge them

This big beauty is the Peruvian zapolla squash plant. It has taken over the south half of the #3 garden box. Its fruit can weigh more than 25 kilos each! We won't want for squash around here any time soon! That's especially when you consider the other dozen squash varieties that are planted. Squashies are our friends! 

Speaking of "friends", this is my newly found friend, Mr. King Snake. The little guy got all caught up in the bird netting near the garden boxes and got himself wound up in it and couldn't escape. Thankfully, Abbie the coon, 'possum, fuzzer/squirrel, frog, lizard, gopher, chicken, snake dog was on the alert and directed my attention to it before it just up and died (like the rattlesnake did not long ago). It took about 15 minutes to untangle the gorgeous brown and white reptile but it was worth it. He was set free out in the "back 40". 

This is interesting. This is the first year that this little peach tree got serious about granting a real harvest of fruit. Then, to spite me, it loaded one limb so heavily that it snapped. if that doesn't make you walk like an Egyptian, the Stellar Jays have damaged and otherwise wrecked at least half the good fruit. Though they are still ripening, the peaches are soft enough for the birds to peck into and ruin. We'll still get a handful of peaches....I hope. 

This is what happens when you don't pay attention at Rancho Relaxo. It's especially true when you have, for whatever reason, a yard full of deep grass (or, in our case, deep green leafy stuff consisting of thousands of varieties of vegetation some of which is probably lawn grass). This is the big "Craftsman" GT3000 getting jacked up so the Ol' Rancher  (who had nothing else to do on this 100 degree day) could untangle and detach his bloody garden hose from the mower blades. Way....to....go....Ran. 

Here's your heavy lifting helicopter for the day. This big baby worked for at least three days hauling water from the lake and local ponds to the fire up  the hill on Bear Creek Road east of SCICON. This is the venerable Sikorsky CH-54/S-64. 

To the right is the restaurant at the "Central Fish Market" at 1535 Kern St in Fresno. We went there for lunch after getting Connie the Canner's wrist fixed at the "Sierra Orthopedic Center". I've been dining here for decades because it's one of the best Japanese food places in town and it has its own atmosphere that makes it special. What makes it noteworthy on this day is that no one is here! It's the first time ever (since 1983) that I've been there and had the place to myself. I didn't think anyone would believe me because the place is always bustling with customers. So, I took a picture (several, actually) as proof

Well, we do call them "dirty birdies for a reason; they take dirt baths. Under one of our plum trees near garden box #1, is one of wallows they haunt. You can see one of the Wyandottes, one of the Rhode Island Reds, two Barred Rocks, "Roo", the Rhode Island Red rooster, and lil' Chick-a-Dee (in the right foreground). She catches on quickly and takes to the dirt like a pro.  

This particular dirty birdie is on Connie the Canner's black list and may want to duck because she's also on Connie the Cooker's menu. The dumb cluck excavated most of the planter's contents including the geraniums. If that isn't enough to starch your booties, she also whacked another large potted plant nearby this one. Connie shooed her away. We're pretty sure she said, "Cluck you!" when she left. If she does that again, there'll be an extra four pounds of fresh protein added to our diet. 

Chick-a-Dee is now on her own. Broody Mae stopped being a mother hen a few days ago so she's taking care of herself. She's a bit skittish still because she's the smallest of the herd and can't stand up against the big biddies. Oh, but she will, in time. It's amazing to see how big she has gotten in so short a time. We fully expect her to follow the big girls into the coop at night but, until then, she's sleeping in the apple tree. 

Here's faithful watch hound, Abbie, practicing her ear-to-the- concrete "listening for the enemy" posture. No enemy has ever snuck up on Rancho Relaxo. 

Here she is once again practicing her famous security protocol. 

Here she is again but wallowing in the chicken's dirt bath digs. Our hope is that she isn't going to identify as a chicken. We could probably use the eggs but this really won't work for me. 

This is Abbie again but hiding in the tall grass and under a large zapolla squash plant. You know, she may actually be getting some idea of how security works. If she stays still, she's almost undetectable. No bad guys can fool my pooch! She's alert and ready (and staying cool in the shade while she's at it). 

Well! Besa mi mucho! It’s August…already! It’s only 145 days until Christmas! Can’t we just reopen the roller rinks?!

All is still well here at the rancho. Oh, yes; things are still “moving along” here at a brisk pace. Our pace doesn’t seem to be subject to wind or weather. If it picks up any more, we’ll need to wear jetpacks on our backs! Wahoo!

The good news is, excepting Connie the Canner’s broken wrist and some minor issues with gophers and such, we are really blessed and things are peaceful here. She has a follow up appointment in about a month then another surgery scheduled in about six months. The wound is healing well and the swelling has gone down significantly though not as much as we had hoped. Range of motion is still limited but she's doing hand exercises which help maintain mobility. 

She's able to do light-to-medium house work and I help with the heavier stuff, of course. It's surprising to see how much she has recovered and how much she can do.  

Dishing the Dirt or Dust on the Saddle: if there’s one thing that our region has in abundance of, it’s dirt and dust. There’s so much of it that we’ve started calling the thick layer of dust found on the entirety of our computers, cars, cats, and canines, “Springville insulation”.

Now, computer dudes have never cottoned to having dust in their habitat. That’s largely because it’s unsightly and unhealthy and because computers are really expensive air filters that collect an unbelievable amount of dust (and cat hair, human hair, dog hair, and, if one is available, Yeti hair).

So, you can imagine what was going through the Ol’ Grand Exhausted ‘Puter Poobah’s mind when he started noticing that his shop wasn’t going to pass the “white glove” test any time soon! There was dust everywhere! This is a significant revelation because there are two large healthy “Honeywell” air purifiers on top of one of my large computer stations. They are on duty 24/7 and are supposed to be on top of dust suppression around here and have been doing a great job so far. The placement is purposely up high for efficiency sake.  

A quick consultation with Connie the Housekeeper was in order. She looked into my pretty brown eyes (she says I have pretty brown eyes) and said, “Did you clean the filters?”. My response was immediate: “Er…uh….I uh….well, uh …no, uh. I didn’t”. Being merciful and not wanting me to run out of stumbling while mentally searching for a good lie to use as an excuse, she asked, “When was the last time you cleaned them?”. My response was immediate: “Er…uh….I uh….well, uh…I don’t recall”. Well, there you have it. There was no guessing what (unexpected) project would be eating up the next hour of my precious time.

The big 33 gallon “Craftsman” air compressor in the barn was kicked on and the air hose and the long barreled nozzle were attached (in the heat). The two big dust and lint collectors were hauled out onto the back porch (in the heat) where they were disassembled and the filters removed. Holy moly!! Those things were filled to the brim with dirt and the pre-filter sponge covers were completely caked!! They must have been ignored much longer than had been thought (which makes sense given that the Ol’ Rancher has a masters degree in ignoring things).

After being blasted clean (in the heat), they were reassembled (in the heat) and replaced on their high station in the shop (in the cool). They are no longer dust shifters; they are dust filters. You can bet that ramped up the rancher’s mood a notch or two.

The astute will notice that none of this took an hour. However, after disconnecting, hauling, disassembling, cleaning, re-hauling, reassembling, and re-stationing them (while mostly in the heat), it took the remainder of time for the ol’ compressor jockey to recover from the abuse.

!@#$%^& or &^%$#@!: Once in awhile "stupid" will walk onto the ranch and grab ahold of the first person it sees. This time, it was Ol' Ran the Lawn Mower Man. He’s the guy who is experienced driving everything from a lawn tractor to the nimble John Deere 860 and 860A self-loading scrapers and the big Westinghouse LeTourneau WABCO 222F and 222G 22 yard self-loading scrapers.

After making a (too quick) pass around the yard to curl a hose and check for small sticks, small stones, and small children (the grass was pretty high that day), Ol' Ran kicked the tires and lit the fires on the big healthy 26HP Kohler powered “Craftsman” GT3000 lawn tractor. About three-fourths of the way around the yard on the first pass, the big tractor stumbled, started groaning and making ugly noises, then stopped dead in its tracks all in about 3 seconds. My lightning-fast mind said, "Well, this can't be good".

It didn't even take a full dismount to see a hint of light blue hiding deep in the grass. It was.... the other hose. I wondered what happened to it and now I know. It had been lurking in the deep grass until it could spring up and wrap itself around two of the three blades on the mower. That left me with the large chore of clearing up the tangle (large chores are not my friends when it's 103 degrees outside).

The tractor had to be jacked up and the hose had to be unwound. After about 20 minutes in the blazing sun, the hose was freed from the blades. Of course, the 50' hose had been whacked and shortened by about four feet. The cut loose section just needs to be spliced back to the main hose. Thanks, Ran. *SIGH*

ECHO Model SRM-266 or Eatin’ weeds on purpose: Some time ago (but longer the other day and longer than not long ago), the big rancho ECHO weed eater bit the dust (when it should have been eating weeds). Its operator was been able to get by using alternative means until he could no longer find an excuse to not buy another one.

After deciding it was time, the Ol’ Rancher and his side kook moseyed on down to Porterville Agri-Home to talk the owner/manager/friend, Corie, into selling us another one. Since the homework on which one to purchase had already been completed, it was a piece of cake to convince her of the one we wanted and to assure her that the ink was dry on our cash. She pulled it off the wall rack and had one of the mechanics give it a “first run” for us as we handed over the bills. In no time at all we were headed back to the rancho to put the new power tool to work.

When we got home, it was put straight to work despite the mid-day heat. The ECHO worked so well that it was difficult to stop. So, the old farmhand didn’t stop but just keep on knocking down the weeds until the front yard no longer looked like it had been leased by the Adams Family.

The yard looked great but there was a ton of muscles that were screaming and rebelling the next day. The sting of the sunburn on my face helped to distract me from the pain.

 Okra: it’s what’s for dinner or “Pass me the okra and nobody gets hurt!”: Our okra is finally starting to bless us with the rewards of our labors. After a few cuttings, there was enough of a harvest to whomp up a mess of fried okra so it was added to the evening meal.

After coating it with cornmeal, it was promptly tossed into a skillet with a couple of tablespoons of melted bacon grease in it. Let me tell you, neighbor! That there is some good eatin’! This is one okra lover that can hardly wait until the next harvest comes around so that he can do it again…and again! Okra is my friend!

If you decide to try this at home, remember to just use cornmeal (no flour; nein; nyet; nada) and to always use lard or bacon grease if you want the authentic “Okie” okra flavor and want the okra to “speak to you” (speak to your tongue, actually). If you really want to knock your culinary socks off, add a skillet full of fried “taters” to the meal (if you use potatoes, I will hunt you down and ‘splain the difference!). And, if your main dish is beans and bacon or beans and ham hocks, you will smile so much that, if you weren’t stop-drilled at the ears, you’d smile the top of your head off!

Well....there you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo: home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died): home of the Yo-Yo Twins, home of a retarded duck, home of Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells, where alliteration reigns supreme, where being modern is optional, where there are no slaves to fashion, where things can get...interesting, where it’s all news to me, and where...you just never know.