RANCHO FERMENTO

 I can see clearly now....the mess is gone. It's gonna be a bright, bright, sun shiny day!

It too two weeks to "git'r'done" but we finally did it.

We can even get "Yoda", our '85 Toyota picky-up truck, into the carport!  We have no regrets though we are dealing with no few aches and pains in the various parts of our high-time airframes.

Yes! We have lots of peppers! We have lots of peppers today! I'm experimenting with pickling my jalapeños along with some hard-boiled eggs. We may even dehydrate some of them. 

We'll, things are happening pretty fast around the ol' ranch. Seems someone has managed to foist winter upon us far too quickly for the old folks around here to cope with (have I mentioned how fast time is whizzing by?). Why on earth does it take so long for summer to get here but winter pounces on us?

It's autumn and the skies are absolutely clear and gorgeous. The temps are marvelously cool and blustery winds are not to be found and peace has conquered our ranch. That makes the early morning pre-chores like drinking coffee and checking e-mail a real pleasure. This is one ranch hand that needs to greet the day but has to do so at his own pace and under his own conditions, don'tcha know. When I finally did make it out to the "back 40" (actually, back .75 but who's counting?), a light breeze was sauntering through the orange trees and teasing the leaves awake.

No wise man will hop out of the sack and rush into the hazards of life without warming up a bit...or two bits (I can do three bits on rare occasions). One must have his constituent parts (spirit, soul, and body) in alignment or not much will happen that day. An empty spizzerinctum tank does not bode well at any ranch but surely not at this one. So, one must insure that his  "spizz tank" is topped off or the day will be really long. A hot coffee latte' goes a long way in helping to fulfill this task.

This is especially true if you have to mount an attack against the vile murines (rodents....although I've seen a few humans who fall comfortably into this category) who have set themselves against you roundabout to overtake your property and homestead it without permission. After the first rain which softens our hard ground, the California pocket gophers burrow as if they were on crank. Mounds of "mine tailings" appear all over the yard in great contempt of your privacy. You'd think that there was a gold rush in progress! They're too selfish to split the profits with me, though.

Anyway, the ranch hands are now scrambling to be at least a half-step ahead of the "heavy rains" that are coming upon us with a wonderful vengeance. Now, "heavy rains" in California isn't at all like "real" heavy rains in other places like Texas (Houston just got 12" in two days! That's more than our normal annual total!), OK, WA and in many other parts of our nation. In other places, folks break out the canoes and rafts when they get heavy rains and it takes weeks to clean up during the aftermath! Here, we may get the 3/4" to one inch or so that is forecast. That would be maybe one inch for the entire time the storm hangs around which is sometimes a few days. The exception, of course, is the Sierra Nevada mountains; they got "heavy rains". One place just got 10" of rain and another got 6" of snow. Our snow cap is vital around these parts.

So, we break out our sponges and mops and we're good to go after a few minutes work. Contrast that to other truly wet places that get clobbered with an inch of rain per hour....all day long! These poor folks have to keep the "Coast Guard" on hand to help rescue the perishing!! To stay safe, the fish and frogs head to Nevada for the duration!

What this means is that we'll daily be working days-and-a-half to prep the coop for the "monster El Niño" that's now stalking California. It's supposed to be the most intensive "El Niño" we've seen in a long while and greater than the one from '69 (which brought serious flooding in this area).

Lowe's Hardware was our source for some nice 10' x 100' clear plastic sheeting which will provide a curtain to shield our cluck-a-sauruses against the soon-arriving monsoon season. Plastic sheeting is our friend!

After a long long day of toiling (did I mention that I hate toiling?! Did I mention that "toiling" and "toilet" are related for a very good reason?), the under-paid hands just now hung the drape around the coop with our last couple of ergs of energy then called it "quits". God knows we don't need any soggy layers around here so this should help our "keep 'Princess Lay-uh' dry" campaign on an even keel. Soon, we'll go on to the next project which should be right after the expected downpour (or right after my next day off). I think we've narrowed the "project list" down to only a few hundred items now.

You hadn't heard about "Princess Lay-uh"? Just let me tell you, neighbor! Since Rancho Relaxo appears to be the place of odd royalty, there was no reason not to hang a regal moniker on Connie's favorite Buff Orpington. This is already an odd name so she fits in rather well.

Contrary  to what some would suppose, a Buff Orpington is not a hen that works out at the gym all day. It's named after its color and after the town in England from whence they originate. I'm confident that "Orpington" is the old English word for "egg head" (though some sources argue that the root word is "bird brain") since their efforts have yielded hens that are not just another pretty wattle; they truly are good layers.

The folks who gave her and her siblings (one of which will surely be tagged with "Buffy" but that's soooooo pedestrian) to us had a daughter who made pets of the chickens. The young chicken hugger held them and doted over them. So, when she became part of our poop troop, she adopted us. Connie picks her up and pets and holds her for a bit when she comes to her. She's a pretty little hen but all of the Buffs are that I can tell (I see why they are so popular!). Now you know the skinny on our Rancho royalty. We can only hope that "Princess Abbie" doesn't get jealous and that other of our local critters don't vie for a place at the king's table.

Ol' Ran has stumbled across some interesting things lately. Actually, he stumbled across them some time ago but is just now getting around to implementing his findings (and it isn't even a day off!). As part of our current "looking out for the old folks" routine, we have been canning, dehydrating, freezing, and pickling just about everything within reach (or is slow moving). It probably isn't possible to do that without running headlong into another part of food preservation: fermenting.

Fermenting is an ages-old method of keeping your food from spoiling by controlling the conditions and time it takes to rot. My first stab at it was ...uh...rotten. The simplest recipe (and one that would take some real effort to botch) was Kimchi. You just slice/shred some cabbage and veggies, pitch them into a bowl, toss in some of your favorite heat, cover with water, cover the bowl, and, in about three or four days, you have fermented Korean cabbage.

I mean....just how simple can it get? No one can screw that up, eh? HA! My Kimchi was curing along nicely and was presenting the nice bubbles and such that are concurrent with the "working" of the friendly fungi found freely floating around the farm (aren't you glad I'm not talking about sea shells?). Then, we had to head south to Harbor City to see the kids and grandkiddies for a few days. Connie always remembers their birthdays so that put the Kimchi program on hold. I  suspected that you can't just put fermentation on "hold". I was correct.

When we returned, it was easy to note that the experiment didn't get the memo that I would be gone. So, I immediately learned that Kimichi doesn't do well after about a week of being ignored. My nifty edible experiment had gone from a wonderfully bubbly fermenting bowl of Kimchi to a pot of rot with all of the flotsam and jetsam of the U.S. Navy's 6th Fleet in it. Isn't that interesting? I reckon  that it developed a rejection complex and just died of spite or something. It didn't spare me the foul stench of decomposition, either. I could have sworn there was a gack-eating Klingon with major gastro-intestinal distress in the vicinity. Strike one.

OK....I've never been known as a "quitter" even after an entire strike out. The head of cabbage was once again herded to the chopping block where it was noticeably reduced in size by my favorite "Shitzu Shredder" knife, a special martial arts knife made especially for chefs (well...that's what they said on QVC). Then, I rehearsed the recipe using all of the same ingredients and hardware. The bowl was covered and the clock was ticking. Tell me: just exactly what can go wrong at this point? It's about as difficult as loading earwax on a Q-Tip, right?

Have you ever heard of "perceptual filtering" and "perceptual blocking"? That's when reasonably intelligent humans stop seeing things right in front of their faces. It's one of those situations where the brain says, "It hasn't been here so it's not supposed to be here, so then... it isn't here"; the item is no longer visible. It can happen when you're distracted, busy, multi-tasking, sleep deprived, inattentive, under attack by the Gypsies, or just plain stupid. I'm not copping to anything or making any excuses. However, when I remembered to check my Kimchi....a week later....the U.S. Navy's 6th Fleet, utterly undetected, had returned with the U.S. Navy's 7th Fleet and had defiled my cabbage.  Chef-0; Compost Pile - 2. Strike two.

My lightning-fast mind knew that folks have been successfully fermenting things for thousands of years. So, not to be deterred by foaming flops, I switched to something that, hopefully, wouldn't be hidden in plain sight and that the time line wasn't so critical. 

That would be "Kombucha". "Kombucha" is fermented tea discovered in China around 221BC. No doubt it was an  alchemist looking for ways to convert mundane things into gunpowder (including his mother-in-law). Later, in 415 AD,  a Korean physician named Kombu got involved with it and they added the term "cha" which means "tea" in Korean. Actually, I first thought that "Kombucha" was a dirty name a sodden borracho from 1880 called someone: "Hey, kombucha! Get off my burro!"

The recipe is something that you stumble into by sheer accident because nobody has any idea what that is. Thankfully, it, too, is a "no brainer" and, so far, I'm typecast. You brew your tea like any other iced tea project. Then, after it cools, introduce a "scoby" which is what some folks call the "mother". It's the fungal fermenting starter/agent. After a few days of leaving it alone, you sip it and see what you think. Home run! It was actually not only potable but rather tasty what with the sweetness of the sugar and the tart of the vinegar that was being produced. In fact, you have to remove the "scoby" or you will end up with a strong potion of vinegar that will cause your tongue to move to Alaska without you.  

That was a treat but the new wore off rather quickly for some unknown reason. After a couple of jugs of that I was ready to try something else. The "scoby" had set me back about seven clams and I didn't want to just toss the bloody thing since it was still active. Well, when you assail an overweight, middle-aged, white guy with such heavy thought, he is sure to meet the challenge with aplomb (or faint from exhaustion...I was lucky).

What to do? Easy...just grab some apple juice. Everyone has heard of apple cider so why shouldn't Ol' Enrico Fermenti have a go at it? That was simple enough. However (why is there always a "however"?), when you have fermentation, you have the digestion of sugar by a bacterial or fungal agent. That produces the nice carbonation and a wonderful sharp vinegary tang to the cider. Included in this process is the conversion of sugar to C₂H₆O which, if you skipped a few chemistry classes (or haven't sat in one in ...oh...50 years or so), is ETOH, which is ethanol which is alcohol which is ...booze.

OK....that is not at all what I had intended to do with my almost-spare time. "Ran the rum runner" does have a nice ring to it but that's not what I want to be when I grow up. I knew I had to dial things in.

The first simple batch fermented for about 4 days. Then some of the golden "elixir of Kings" was ladled into a large mug which then touched the lips of "der braumeister" . To quote ol' Jed Clampett, "Whoooo, doggies!" Man! That was some smooooth stuff! The carbonation was perfect and the smoothness was unequalled! So, I finished off the mug and refilled it.... just to be sure that I had a reference point....of course.

It's sho' 'nuff easy to see why the Mennonites grew so many apples and why they were called "the smiling Mennonites". Why not? You have your "Quakers",  "Shakers", and "Dunkers". Might as well have "Smilers" and it certainly has no particular sinister inference that I can tell (I'm making this up so all you "Smiler's" be sure not to send any hate mail). Anyway, this experiment was getting rather enjoyable and quickly at that.

Being successful brewing this batch of cider resulted in learning that you don't have to wait forever for it to turn into "Kickapoo Joy Juice"! In only a few days, you will have at least some ETOH. Let's put it this way: by the end of the second mug, I was a real mellow Mennonite! Ol' Ran needed to pay attention or he could end up as a really goofy lab rat.

I can see it now: after a few rounds at the demijohn,  "Ol' Ran, the Singing Ranch Hand" would start letting his inner "Fogerty" loose on the place. That would probably mean that Connie would hear me yowling "Proud Mary" for the first time in her life. Perhaps he would flood the farm with his cover of "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin'" thereby proving that Medley has nothing on Minnick. That high octane apple juice really does effect the brain cells that way so it's probably a good idea to keep the cork in the tun.

Sooooo....decisions, decisions. It appeared that Ol' Ran was going to have to moderate his brewing to accommodate his palate....and tonsils....and tongue....and adenoids....and uvula (they all get a vote) and his sobriety. The best way (until I spring for a hydrometer to measure specific gravity) is to simply taste the stuff every step of the way until you have a bit of carbonation and a bit of tang. Then .....just don't drink a gallon at a time, stupid.  Otherwise, there is just too much potential of being hammered all of the time with your home-made hammer ("If I had a hammer...I'd hammer in the mornin'...I'd hammer in the evening......". See what I mean?).

I found out on one website that you can expect the really hard "good stuff" in about two weeks of it being ignored then let it sit quietly for another week before you throttle a bottle of it. That's probably good to know if we ever endure another depression at which time your home-made commodity becomes part of the local currency. "Applejack" is another story altogether and is processed quite differently and your "currency" will be of a larger denomination (you bootleggers paying attention?).

A third lesson is that, if you let your keg sit long enough, it will make truly wonderful apple cider vinegar. My first bottle of ACV is on the shelf now awaiting initial test runs (...you comedians...don't go there). Connie drinks vinegar-laced "swamp water" because of the health benefits so it's likely she'll be the first guinea pig. There's no way of immediately assaying the percentage of acid in the vinegar but I'm willing to bet a beer barrel to a ball bat that it's more than the 5% stuff you haul home from the store.

There you have it: the update from the ranch. Stay tuned and don't touch that digital frequency determiner as things could get ...interesting.

Rancho Boggo

Here's proud Gandma "Honey" with a couple of the newest additions to the clan. On the left is Miss Moira and on the right is shiny new Warner Phillip. Their parents keep feeding them so I suspect they will have grown considerably by the next time we get to see them (down in Harbor City). 

Here's Miss Moira enjoying life (since no one has advised her that she can't). She must know that she's such a cutie because she kept getting in front of my camera. 

This is the talented Missy, Cosette. She's an 8 year old bundle of ability to do just about anything including gymnastics (most of which hurt my eyes just watching). Being a "ham" is one of her best assets. 

Speaking of "hams", taking the stage must run in the family because little brother, Kuyper, gets in on the act whenever possible. He's tough to upstage and is a tougher act to follow. 

Well.....see what I mean? Here she is again hopping right in front of the camera! She's a cute as a button and sharp as any of the others in the Ginzu Group into which she was born. No flies on her pies at all. A really talented little pork shoulder to be sure. 

 This is leader of the "brat pack" (though not a single one of the Howden children are even close to actually being a brat), Thatcher. He has the newly acquired sobriquet of "teenager" and, as you can tell, he's lovin' it!  

Freshly minted Warner Phillip doing a little "granny shoulder" time. Looks like he's scouting out a place to burp. 

This is Thatcher's next younger sibling, Liesl. Like all of the Howden youngin's, she's talented and intelligent. She's not at all pensive in this shot. I just happened to catch her reading something. 

Kenny Leghorn on the job as the head Coop Keeper. He's pretty good about not letting the hens have any time to themselves. He's good at keeping the Pecking Crew as productive as any straw boss I've ever seen. 

Why......yes, in fact...I am talking to you! Dearest furry, loving, perky, bright, adorable, Princess Abby....we understand that you are bored. We know that you love to play fetch and tug o'war .....aaaaaall daaaaay long (when you're not protecting the ground from being sunburned). But, we are unable to accommodate those pastimes for now. It's just part of the hazards of living with energy-limited old folks. 

What we don't understand is why you think that shredding whatever object that you target with your canine teeth is an acceptable remedy to your boredom. We already have a 6 hp wood chipper that can handle that job and it's much more discrete in the matter.  It doesn't obliterate cherished and valuable items and is far too mannerly to ever arbitrarily obliterate a pair of expensive ski boots or expensive speakers. And, it's rather polite in that it does't leave steaming land mines everywhere. It never offends us or sends us to the brick wall against which we flatten our foreheads in an attempt to dissuade ourselves from hocking it to the Huns. So far, your cuteness and hyper-love puppy act have done well in keeping us from selling you to the Gypsies or trading you for a well-behaved slug. However, I recommend that you pay attention and forsake your foolishness as our patience has worn through enough to be able to read the date on a dime. 

Life is full of surprises. You just "pays your money and takes your chances". Here is the aftermath of the storm that blew through on Saturday morning just prior to opening up the second day of the big annual yard sale. We lost a 13' x 13' pop-up canopy as did another vendor. Another vendor had a smaller canopy that was damaged but not destroyed. Life goes
on. We still had a great turnout and had
a lot of fun. 

This is "set up" time at the ranch. It took almost two days to get our stuff together. My guess is that the old folks at the ranch have learned their lesson and that this is the last of the big back breakers. 

Here are dear friends and church family, James and Fern Hill. They are master "sale'ers". They are setting their sail and making ready for the weekend event. 

More of "Stuff Row". Lots of goodies. 

Here's Dumbo doing its part. Dumbo and Wooly Pully were both indispensable. 

Just about ready. This is looking from the driveway back toward the house (just off to the right). The shot below is just to right of this one. At the far back is the house.  

Still looking north towards the house while in the driveway but a bit more to the right which is eastward. 

 180 degrees from the picture above (looking SW). 

Looking north from near the highway. The house is directly in the rear of the picture and is hidden by the trees (shade is our friend). 

Same shot as above but just to the right (east) a tad. The little town of Springville is actually north of us. It's just over the hill in the background (about where the clouds are showing). To get there, we must first drive east around another hill. After 3.5 miles of winding road, we are in beautiful downtown Springville. 

Well.....after only three years (my! How the time does fly!), it appears that "old man Winter" has finally arrived. Thankfully, he was dragging a sky full of rain clouds with him. Reckon he was on an extended vacation or perhaps a sabbatical. Maybe it was merely a hiatus from his tough job of shoveling rain and snow on the various regions. In any case, our dear weathermen are rejoicing once again now that their forecasts include more than two temperatures and two sky conditions (dark and light).

That also means that it rained here at the ranch ......actually......it poured down like an Oklahoma "frog strangler".....precisely in time for our annual huge "Apple Festival" yard sale. I mean....just what would we have done without the torrential rains with gusting winds that took down a couple of our canopies? How would we have faired had we not had deep ponding  in our front yard and soggy goods to sell?

The turnout was ...uh.....dampened (I know. I know. It's a cry for help) so the foot traffic was down....way down. Compared to our previous sales, it was almost like we were wearing clown costumes while selling buffalo burgers at a vegan nudist colony. Guess folks didn't like "bog sale'ing". I suppose I wouldn't either.

Still, lots of folks (most of whom had to have been retards) defied the weather and got some really, really, really, good deals from our dozen valiant venders. That's also because the sellers really, really, really, wanted to sell their stuff. In some cases, the sellers threw stuff at the shoppers and hoped that they wouldn't duck. It was a real "house cleaning" event because all the wives wanted a clean house after this gig and that wasn't going to happen if "hubby boy" lugged it all back home.

The second day was the opening day for the "Apple Festival" so things picked up....sort of. The traffic on the highway was noticeably light so everyone knew that this would not meet the level of participation that we had last year. The festival itself suffered as well. Hopefully, things will remain positive and folks will return with high expectations next year.

We had covered everything up as before except for the clothes on the large display ring. That was because the chance of rain was rather low so we figured that all would be well. Silly us. Our "Indian rock" forecasting was rather lacking because it started pouring cats, dogs, and an occasional coon at about 5 AM when I woke up my coffee pot.

Connie, ever the one to be positive and to make lemonade out of lemons, said, "Hey! Our clothes are freshly washed in natural, clean, clear, pure rainwater! We can charge double!". I had to admire her spunk so I told her, "You make the signs, Hon". She must have gotten sidetracked because I didn't see any signs that day.

The good news is that we had a great time of food and fellowship! We even had musical entertainment! The food was BBQ'd pulled-pork and Brother Ran's "Boy Howdy!" special pulled-pork recipe! It was all trimmed with home-designed pork and beans, chips, and tater salad. No one starved during the event! The music was "Duggin's Citrus Express" which is Jim Duggin and Susan Newsom. I've played bass guitar with them a lot in times past so it was a reunion of sorts. Also joining the tune time was guitarists, Jim Bailey and James McCartney. We had a great jam!

Connie wanted to give us one last shot at harvesting a few more greenbacks by opening up on Monday. That wasn't unreasonable despite the additional stress on the aging airframes. Last year, we actually did very well during the week following the official yard sale. In fact, our proceeds while "closed" that year surpassed those received during any one day this year. Thankfully, the herculean efforts this year did culminate in our ability to pay for very nice Christmas gifts for the family. That's "OK" in my book.

So, open we did. Up went the signs and Connie manned her station while James and Fern Hill manned theirs. A third seller, Leanne Chapman, completed the bill (guess who manned his office and was slaving away on computer repairs?). Sales were surprisingly light so a lot of stuff ended up being given away. By the end of the day, it was agreed that the party (and the self-abuse) was officially over.  

The chickens didn't seem to notice the wet weather. It would seem that, despite their having been fed like royalty, they haven't increased in intelligence; they're still stupid. Nevertheless, they are happily pecking, clucking, laying, and mindlessly doing their part to add to our compost pile out back. We're harvesting about three dozen eggs per day now and have clients clamoring for all of them.

There was a discussion about perhaps adding a few more cluckers to our clan. Tending to such an increase may not fit into our already over-extended personal energy resources and time-strapped schedule. More feathers means more beaks to feed and more beaks to feed means lugging more loads of Layena and scratch. The eating of more chicken chow means more chicken mess and more chicken mess means more shoveling for Rancho Ran and Canning Connie. So, we're thinking that we don't need to take the advanced class on doing the "Poop Scoop Boogey" nor do we need any more practice lobbing around 50 pound sacks of fowl fodder. The matter may be reconsidered after we add the new 20' extension to our run and/or if the demand appears to warrant reconsideration (read: if we can at least break even on the deal).

The ham shack is progressing albeit rather slowly. That's due to the demands on my playtime because of the yard sale and such. A nice small but deep shelf was added (purchased at a yard sale, don'tcha know). It's the right size so that some of the heavy gear (e.g. a power supply) can be parked on the top and smaller stuff on the lower part. 

There's plenty to do including soldering my dual-band VHF/UHF mag-mount mobile antenna together. It needed to be overhauled and now it merely needs a few minutes of soldering to be functional. Maybe on my...next day off.

 I finally made a few contacts on the 40 meter phone band but the noise level has been extremely high so even those were limited. At least the SWR on that band is dead flat at 1:1. Not bad for a glued together 40' chunk of 300 ohm TV twin lead and an antenna tuner. Most likely, an 8' section of twin lead will be hung vertically at each end of the dipole. That will create an antenna similar to a "curtain" antenna. It's still a simple "bazooka" folded dipole but the extensions are vertical. It should help tune the 80 meter band and will further help to lower the SWR on the higher bands as well. 

The head hamster hopes to string his new 100' long G5RV dipole soon so he can optimize his performance. That will require a 20' ladder, nerves of steel, and some hardware. I have the ladder and hardware. So far, I'm dealing with nerves of a lesser tensile strength than steel. Not sure how to resolve that issue.

Then, he'd like to fire up the ancient Yaesu FT-101E tube rig (from '78) and give it a go too. The Yaesu FT-817A QRP (low power) rig will have to wait until I have the time to dial in a long wire antenna or buy a pre-tuned trapped vertical. There are at least 5 antenna tuners hanging around so there are options.

It is the assessment of this old ranch hand that the people of our nation need a checkup from the neck up. Connie and I recently went to Lowe's and were utterly stunned to find, not Halloween or Thanksgiving goods for sale, but Christmas decorations! Is it just me or was there a time when we took holidays in the order the calendar presented them? Halloween is still almost two weeks away! Thanksgiving is more than a month away! What have these people been smoking? If this keeps up, it would take little imagination to see a huge Christmas sale the fifth of July!

There you have it. All is well at the Ol' Ranch. The yard sale, the computer biz, the chickens, the church, the dog, the bees, the trees, the old folks, and what all, are doing well and prospering. Stay tuned to the next episode of "Rancho Relaxo". Things could get....interesting. 

Rancho Trabajo Trabajo Pendejo

Here's Abbie the Guard Dog at work. Notice how she lies perfectly still and keeps her ear to the ground. Her eyes are shut fast so she can focus all of her attention on listening for Gypsies and other ne'er do wells who would trespass her realm. Methinks she must have taken lessons from the premier guardian of the ranch, Maggie the Wonder Dog. 

This is Abbie in the official "Guard Shack". Wouldn't you know that I would catch her right at break time. 

Here she is again holding down the fort. Actually, she's only holding down a couple of square feet of the fort. The size of her realm and its duties seems to vary from day to day. 

Abbie ready to spring into action.......right after the stretching exercises. A good guard dog has to stay in shape, you know. 

 I forgot to get a decent picture of Wooly Pully's new high-rise stake sides so I'm using and indecent one. The sides are 48" and allow for some real options. We can now haul at least twice as much to the dump thereby saving us 20 dollars per trip! There are also new slab sides making it a materials hauler as well.

Would you believe that Lovey Dovey is back yet again? This dove is amazing! This her sixth go around for raising chicks here at the ranch! The first time was at our back door. After that, all other brooding was done on the front porch in one of the hanging flower baskets. Her chicks will be up and gone in only a few more days. 

Well.....it's September again and after only a fleeting 12 months. And, a strange September it is; it's cool. It's not supposed to reach below a day time high of 95 degrees until the third week of the month. That isn't happening; we've been experiencing day time highs of high 80's to mid 90's. So it means we're actually experiencing October weather. That's interesting (but nice and well appreciated). We were supposed to have the hottest August ever recorded but ended up with the coolest one. And, September is continuing with program. Another forecast that will likely come true, though, is for a few days of triple-digit temps. I shouldn't wonder since that's then norm.  We'll see.

So, we're cool but we're still suffering a sere September (don't you just love alliteration?). When I was a boy, this area was known for its "dry heat" but now we're known for our "parched cool". Guess we have to have something to put us on the map. Maybe we can also drum up a "Chicken Sitters Convention" and make Springville the go-to place for "chickening".

In any case, these old-but-new chicken sitters had an opportunity to have a "mini-union" a couple of weeks ago. Connie's son, Tracie, and his family flew into LAX from Seattle to visit for a few days. The clan congregated at her elder daughter, Trixie's, home in Harbor City which is adjacent to Torrance which isn't far from LAX. 

It was nice to see the grandkiddies and notice how they've grown (it's amazing what happens when you feed them). It was also a great day for Trixie's eldest son, Thatcher, who was gleefully elevated above his siblings by turning into a teenager overnight. His sister, Leisl, will not be outdone so she will give diligence to correct that "problem" in only a couple of years or so.

However (why is there always a "however"?), the 200 mile trip down there seems to be getting longer and longer. It's almost like driving to Washington. Ugh. After a couple of days in a MO-tel (a southern version of a northern mo-TEL), and after the 4 hour trek home, we are bushed, beat, and barely able to bounce if we fall. We felt like a living room rug after spring cleaning. Since we returned Saturday evening, we still had to finish editing and printing the bulletins for church, get our song list ready, stage stuff like the guitar and computers (for recording) to be put in the van, and such prior to getting any sleep. Even without a "cheatin' heart", we walked the floor until after midnight. Double "ugh".

All in all, it is always worth it so see the young'uns . We don't see them that often due to the distances involved so we see them only somewhat rarely (this sentence may be related to "How much wood would a woodchuck chuck..."). It may be awhile before we can break loose again. Seems like the work around here is never ending what with full-time tending of Rancho Relaxo, full-time computer business, and full-time ministry. We still manage to do some part-time Ebay and Craig's List selling but not as much as we'd like.

Music? Not in a long long time. I used to play at local jams and benefits but there just isn't any time left for such things. So, I just play for my own amazement here in the living room. The Fender Stratoblaster, Fender Telecaster, and Les Paul (Epi) are on hand and ready to make enough noise to insure that the dog doesn't get to finish her nap. The Martin Special Edition D-16M is always close too. The big "dog house" bass sits patiently in the corner awaiting the call for a good Bluegrass workout but no one seems to do much of that around these days. I used to play for my supper but now, I'd gladly play for donuts and hot coffee.

One change is that I cut the big 120 watt Crate GX-212 loose. It was just too big for the living room and I really don't need to peel the paint of the opposing wall with that big acoustic hammer. Connie just doesn't take kindly to old guitar players who wreck her paint job and her ears at the same time. So, I sold it to a fellow old picker who needs it for his church down in Bakersfield. In its place is a really nice "Fender 25R" 25 watt amp with a 10" speaker that has more reverb available than my old 1965 "Fender Deluxe Reverb" ever thought about. I doubt if I'll need a leaf scorcher for outside gigs any time soon anyway. If so, I'll just barrow the big Crate air mover from the friend who bought it. 

A nice workaround is that I fired up my Laney "Linebacker 50" bass amp and ran my guitar into it and the Fender at the same time. The big 12" bass speaker picks up the bottom end really well so the combo makes for a bigger than expected sound. That really blessed my heart and most of my vital organs.

Connie is getting ready for the canning season. This season's harvest is already starting to come in and we're flooded with bell peppers, zucchini, Mexican squash, and what all. She will be freezing some, canning some, pickling some, and dehydrating some of it. The rest will help the "Feed the Needy Chickens" sustenance program around here.

Speaking of chickens, our feathery friends are now in high gear and producing as expected. The pampered pullets are now happy hens with a purpose. We get about 3 dozen eggs now but that number is expected to increase as the newer pullets mature. Our egg factory produces all sizes of eggs. Some are huge while others are quite small since we have Bantams in the mix. 

Boy! Do they have our number when we enter the coop! They gather around and get ready for the feast we bring in. In fact, some already know that the containers we carry are loaded with goodies so they fly up to the rim to be first in line for chicken chow! They "clean their plates", too. Not much is left after the pecking crew is finished.

We make regular "greens" hauls from a local supermarket where we get boxes of trimmings from their produce department. It does help with the overall feed bill to be sure! "Layena" pellets and chicken scratch round out their diet. That means that our cluckers are happy, healthy, and contented so they lay peaceful eggs (I should suppose). 

Our ever-faithful big Ford Freestar van, which has hauled more than its share of chicken feed, produce tailings, and wood shavings for nesting boxes, is now affectionately called the "Coop de Ville". We recently gave our faithful servant a complete servicing. She's up to snuff but our mechanic noticed an issue with the license plate light not functioning as required by law in CA. Come to found out, when the body shop fixed the storm damage we incurred two years ago, they pinched the license plate light wiring which produced a "short" (grounded them). Instead of simply fixing the issue (which would have taken only about 20 minutes), they simple removed the two lights! That means that we have been traveling around for two years at night trolling for a ticket! That includes traveling roads, streets, highways, and Interstates like I-405 and I-5. Thankfully, the body shop stepped up to the plate and fixed the issue under warranty. We're good to go anywhere now without getting issued a "ticket to the ball".

The Princess Abbie report: well....what can I say. She's cute, she's intelligent, she's friendly as clown at a birthday party, and she's a real pain in the kazoo. For reasons unknown to humans, the goofy pooch delights in finding things that appeal to her then dragging them off to be gnawed on until dead. The other day she lugged off a pair of ski boots that had been staged for our yard sale at church (you know. The one we held on our day off). Why would a dog chew off the top of a fiberglass boot? It's like she's practicing for the next rock gnawing contest or maybe a reality show like "Dogs Eat the Strangest Things". On another day, she commandeered a box of old but still useful Bose speakers, dragged them to the front yard from the e-waste pile, and chewed them to pieces. I didn't know they were even there so I was a bit miffed at her for destroying a 200 dollar set of speakers!

Then, she pulled a brand new tent canopy out of the carport stack of "things that Connie and Randy are going to store when they make room for it" and shredded the plastic sleeve. Those tatters were mixed with the shoe box she commandeered and destroyed. And, those shards were mixed with a stuffed something-or-other that had been disassembled into strewn puffs of ugliness across the yard. All a fella can do is shake his head, sigh, and grab a rake.

At least she's good at staying up all night and barking at every coon, coyote, spook, spirit, haint, wraith, and rabbit that catches her attention. Not long ago, and at midnight (of course), she was all excited about something. I grabbed my tactical flashlight and headed out to see what she had treed. The best that I could tell, she could hear a dog off in the distance who thought he had treed a critter or cornered a Gypsie. That, in turn, ignited Abbie's coon dog instincts so she figured that there just had to be at least a frog in her territory that needed to be treed. So, she started baying up her own tree. I think I'm going to just trap some varmint like a ground squirrel and keep it for her to practice on. Maybe she'll get the picture and I'll get some sleep.

Then, her highness, prone to keep guard only during the night, has given herself to sleeping most of the day. We're now calling her "Princess Schlaufenhund". Then, after struggling to stay awake long enough to greet us when we go out to the barn or coop during the day, she parks her cuteness in the dirt and takes another nap. It would appear that she's channeling Maggie the Wonder Dog who would rather die than be clean. Fortunately, she is a "short hair" dog and can shake off most chunks of royalty-defiling trash. At least we feed her "Purina Dog Chow" so she can stay strong and filthy.

You should see her when we go out to feed the chickens. She really digs chickens for some reason and wants to go into the coop to check our "her" flock. We let her come in but she can only go so far because her electric fence collar stops her. She stays on "high alert" watching their every move but not barking. It's a hoot sometimes because she'll stick her head in the door and the chickens will peck her on the nose! After that, she runs around to the side of the coop and commences her yapping routine and belly aching about not being allowed to participate. I'm starting to think that her full name is probably "Abbie Coaxialwheedletoucan" which, of course, would be Aztec for "Stupid pero that barks at chickens".

The un-floated boat....after three years in drydock....I'd rather not talk about it until my next day off. 

The Ham Radio Shack. Ah, now we're talking. After appropriating more equipment at one time than I've ever owned in my entire life as a "Hamster", I still haven't made a single contact. There is a reason for that. Part of it is that I just don't have time to tinker much. I've been able to build a couple of functional wire antennas but haven't had time to do anything but get them tuned and tested with my "MJF-949" and "Dentron Super Tuner" antenna tuners. Both antennas are mounted in the top of my barn (only one is mounted at any given time). Both work but have physically different lengths because one is a 40' "doublet" dipole and the other is a 30' "Slinky" dipole that's about 50' or more if uncoiled. That means they each have to be "dialed in" for resonance for a respective band. That takes time.

I can quickly tune up a nice 11M CB mobile whip with an 8' counterpoise for the 10 Meter band but...wouldn't you know that.... the wave propagation (skip) is the stinkiest it has been in many moons. So goes life.

Also, a decent station should have a good ground system. The first choice for grounding is a short and wide grounding cable. That can't happen because my shack is on the second story of the new barn. So, I now have a super-neat MFJ-931 artificial ground which will tune a "counterpoise". It simply makes sure that your signal doesn't stay in the radio shack but heads back out to the antenna via a tuned circuit. Next will be to run the actual 66' wire counterpoise out the window and hook everything to the ground system...which takes time.

I have only fired up the full-featured Icom IC-706 and the small monoband HTX-100 rigs so far. In fact, I haven't even turned on the Yaseu FT-101E that I got some months ago. Once I get the details worked out, I may be able to at least reach out to Porterville. We'll see.

So, stay tuned, neighbors, and don't touch that remote control. Things could get.....interesting.

Rancho Radio Swampo

Here's Grandma Connie with two grandkinders Moira Alise  and shiny-new Warner Phillip. They are the two youngest of the Howden's 6 youngin's. Their mother home schools them and they are every one brighter than the average search light and that's not a joke or an exaggeration.

Here's some of the "Poop Coop Group" featuring the "Peck-Apart-Pullets". We're up to almost two dozen eggs per day now and that number should double soon! Let's see....where did I put that omelet recipe book? We have Barred Rocks, Polish, Rhode Island Reds, Sex-links, Buff Orpingtons, Leghorns, Araucanas, and a lone Silky (and would be looking for a partridge if there were a pear tree nearby). There's been some chatter about bringing aboard some Guinea fowls but that could happen later if and when we let the critters free range. 

Chickens are really goofy creatures. Here are a couple of the Rhode Island Red pullets wallowing in a shallow bowl area they scratched out. They're taking a "dirt bath" by slinging dirt up on top of themselves and enjoying it (which leads one to call them "dirty birds").

OK...before someone accuses Ol' Ran of smoking some of the green zucchini leaves from his garden boxes because of the goofy title, I need to 'splain some things. But, before I do, I need to advise that I was going to complain how fast the time was blitzing by and that the year is already half over. But, I can't do that now. That's because that happened last month!  So, time has flown by so quickly that I missed the half way mark for the year. How revolting. 

Anyway, let's start with the "swamp" part of what's happening at the ranch. We had a major stoppage in our septic system. "No biggy", says I. I've handled such things prior to this time and managed to save the day without having to call the "Rooto-Rooter" dude. Ol' Ran grabbed his trusty garden hose and the expandable line bladders and went to work....and work I did. After quite awhile, the line was finally cleared. That was a mighty fine thing since it was midnight at the oasis and we had already sent the camels to bed. The farm hands were mighty bushed from a long and busy day.

Alas, the self high-fiving bliss didn't last long at all. A few days later the Clog from the Black Lagoon was back for a rematch and, with a vengeance, was looking to exact a costly payback. Little did I know just how much lighter my bank account would be after his second defeat.

Connie and I had dashed the 3.5 miles to beautiful downtown Springville to drop off the mail and pick up some chicken feed. I doubt if we were gone more than about 30 minutes. Imagine our surprise when we entered the rear door of the house and encountered at least an inch of water! My lightning-fast mind said, "This could get interesting". Needless to say, the rest of the day's scheduled and unscheduled festivities were immediately cancelled and put on hold for the duration.

We mulled the matter over and after extrapolating the "givens" (including the given that I didn't have the time, gumption, or spizzerinctum to mess with this any longer), I called for help. Thankfully, Mr. Rooter-Tooter was "Johnny-on-the-spot" and was there within a couple of hours.

The septic tank had been pumped out about 5 years ago so we were thinking that just the two of us couldn't have filled it up again even if giving it our best shot. However, the symptoms were screaming at me that it was full again and that there was a better-than-average chance that the 4" line was compromised in some way.

After Mr. Tooter and the Sucking Crew (they do music gigs at night) finished their toiling (better them than me! I'm not into toiling nowadays), they confirmed my diagnosis. We now had an empty 1,500 gallon septic tank and a routed-out-but-still-broken pipe that will need to be fixed at some point.

Considering that the ack-ack hit from the invoice froze my diaphragm (which made me hypoxic and slightly exopthalmic), I may come out of my anti-toiling mode and just dig a hole and fix the dang thang (sheeeese. That almost sounds Vietamese.....like....I'm on my way to Dang Thang for a hot bowl of Pho). I can do it for about 40 bucks and a pound of sweat whereas the pros want 160 dollars. Prior to parting with any more moolah, I'm going to give it the ol' Jack Benny for now (i. e."I'm thinking. I'm thinking"). Fie on you, evil Clog!

Let's talk about the "Rancho Radio" part now: most folks know that Ol' Rancho Ran is a "hamster". That, of course, means he is a licensed amateur radio operator/Ham and has been for mucho años. And, there is a nice "ham shack" in the upper forward part of the barn waiting to be used for this purpose. However, though blessed with a gift of gab, he hasn't had a transceiver to throw words at. That has recently changed.

In Ham radio, there are different bands on which one may blabberate or on which to use CW (morse code). Some are HF (high frequency), VHF (very high frequency), and UHF (ultra-high frequency). I have a couple of dual-band VHF/UHF HT's (handy talkies) but haven't used them hardly at all.

This preface is so you can understand that my new gear plus my existing HT's will cover all the Ham bands! With the Ham rigs, SW (short wave) equipment, a couple of CB radios to cover the 11 meter band, and my ICOM IC-R7000 VHF/UHF receiver (receives up to 2.0ghz), I can go just about anywhere on the spectrum for a peek. 

Now the good part; a friend of mine who owns a hanger just two doors to the north of ours recently passed (we're not to the good part yet). He was a Ham radio operator and had all kinds of equipment. The guy was a retired professional avionics technician and had all the best gear available. Not long after he died, his nephew contacted me regarding his uncle's equipment. Connie and I met him a few days later at the hanger and was I shocked!

When we drove up, there was a huge display of transceivers, test equipment, cables, wires, microphones, RTTY gear, several mobile Ham antennas, watt meters, two ICOM automatic antenna tuners, power supplies, and boxes and boxes of what all! 

A transceiver that I've wanted for a long time was there in the midst; it was an ICOM 706 MKIIG. Just one Icom IC-706 MKIIG transceiver sold new for 1,200 dollars! But, wait! There were two of them sitting there! I almost needed to tidy my didy! Added to that, there was an ICOM IC-735 HF transceiver to boot! 

Also parked in the crowd of equipment was a little Yaesu FT-814A that sells new for about 650 dollars. It's a QRP (low power) rig that has an output of only a watt more than a CB radio (5W vs 4W for CB). All in all, there were seven transceivers in the lot! 

Not everyone knows that Ol' Ran the Ham is a "QWERP TWERP" which is a "QRP" (low power) nerd that thinks that any power over 10 watts is too much. I started with low power early on before the ink was even dry on my new Ham ticket. I built and operated 10MW and 100MW transmitters (9 volt) and used them to communicate all over town. Later, in 1978, I had a Heathkit HW-7 QRP transceiver that ran about 2.5 watts output on 40 meters and a bit less on 15 and 20 meters. I let that little cutie get away from me and I regret it to this day. The little 2 watt NorCal NC-40 QRP transceiver I just got in the new lot of radios helped to take away some of the sting, though. 

The gentleman advised that he really didn't want to mess with having to sell everything separately and shot us a price for the whole shootin' match. I almost fell over when he quoted a price that was less than one new radio! Of course, the answer was "Yes!".

Long story longer: after we loaded everything up in the van I uninstalled the second 706 MKII from his uncle's 1956 Thunderbird. It was great just to get to sit in one again. I hadn't sat in one since 1967 when I got to drive my friend, Eric's, '56 T-Bird. The battery was dead so I didn't get to hear it growl. Perhaps at a later date they'll fire that baby up and that hefty high-compression, short-stroke 292CID  V-8 can pump some memories into my brain.  "I am T-Bird. Hear me roar!".

Now, all that the Ol' Ham Hand has to do is string up an antenna, hook up a transceiver to a power supply and an antenna (not yet functional), spin the knobs on my antenna tuner, and get to talkin' or tappin'. There should be a window of opportunity to do that on my ....next day off.

There were 4 really nice automatic code keyers in the deal but I really prefer the semi-automatic keyers. Not sure why. Guess it's because I had a couple of them and got used to using them. At least one of the keyers is a collectible since only 400 of them were ever made. They're also vintage. I'll likely sell one and pick up a "bug" keyer. We'll see.

Time for some chicken checkin': 

It's probably not possible to explain to someone why you would have an affinity for a stupid, feathery, fertilizer-producing, omnivore that lives to lay eggs, make loud screeching noises (B'GAAAK!!), chases coop-mates around trying to snatch their food from their mouths, and such. Maybe it's a cry for help but.....I love chickens! Can't you hear it now? "Hi. My name is Randy and I'm a bird brain" "Hi, Randy". *SIGH*. 

Perhaps it's "Kenny Leghorn", the rooster, crowing early in the morning that endears me to farm living with its attendant critters. In any case, if it is a malady, I really don't want the cure. It's just a hoot to watch the birdies flock around the goodies you toss to them and see them shred the stuff like a new "Kitchen Aid" food processor. Maybe it's the gathering of the eggs and thinking that every day is Easter. After all, our hens lay blue, green, light brown, dark brown, and white eggs.

These well-fed healthy feathered friends are all happy as a preacher with a new microphone and seem to be rather tame at this point. They certainly aren't afraid of us at all and even eat out of our hands. Some even approach you and demand food from you!  You haven't lived until you've been mugged by a Buff Orpington.

"Kenny Leghorn" is the ruler of the roost. He sort of slipped in and we've let him stay around at least for now despite the fact that we gave away three other roosters. Our neighbor, Ken, advised that he loves to hear the rooster crow in the mornings. So, we named after Ken and let him take over the roost! We're not sure how long this will last given that there was absolutely no intent of selling fertilized eggs or raising baby chicks. The last thing on our minds was having a herd of mother cluckers running loose around here with their brood of coyote bait following after them. We'll see.

As a quick aside, Lovey Dovey just raised two more chicks in the flower basket on our front porch. They flew off yesterday to join the rest of the local coo'ers and just before I could get a nice picture of them (I did get one but I used the cell phone and the pic was lousy). It's really neat to hear the doves in the morning and evening times. Lovey Dovey and her mate have been around here for probably 5 years or so. It's great!

We have to wear old rubber shoes when in the coop. At first they were "chicken coop shoes". Then they were "coop shoes". Now, they are just "chooze" which is a combination of the others and bearing a humorous exonym inference.  

And, you really don't want to wear your "chooze" into the house (at least not while Connie is looking). The penalty for this particular "Thou Shalt Not!" is severe. Let's just say that the "good news" is that there is a 15 minute intermission during the flogging so that Connie can use the rest room. This is one of the times when you really have to pay attention.

The Princess Abbie report:

What can you say when your pretty, once well-kempt, princess coonhound turns into a dirty dog? There's probably no happier or healthier pooch that ever chased its tail than our girl-pup. But, she's a dirt lover! It's almost like she's getting some coaching from Maggie on this little trick. Maggie's full-time job was resisting baths and staying dirty. Abbie is quickly learning to do much the same (though she does love water). It's not uncommon for her to show up at the door covered with grass and dirt! What are we going to do? Are we going to shampoo and shine her up just to watch her do a hog wallow within 30 seconds? Not today. We're just going to let her abdicate her throne and be a "farm dog". She'll remain as happy as a frog in a new pond (she'll need to lose the pink collar, though).

She has this "thing" with streaming water that is wild to watch. I'm not sure what she's thinking but she attacks streaming water with all of her might! I tried taking a video of her doing battle with the hose but the audio was muted somehow. I'll try again later. It's something else to watch her leaping and snappping at the water!

Whatever her antics and whatever her state of cleanliness, she's still our darlin' doggy. You could say she's 5 pounds of sweetness and love poured into a 3 pound sack and is a real keeper.

Well, farm fans, it's that time of night that I need to hurry off to bed before I turn into an overweight, middle-aged, furry pumpkin in public (at least not without a support group at hand). Remember: stay tuned and don't touch that round knob that changes channels. Things could get....interesting.