Rancho Mayo

 Here's some shots of the yard sale conducted during the "Springville Rodeo". It isn't at all close to the size of the one during the "Apple Festival" but we still had a good time. The temperature was perfect too!

"Get your stuff here"! Connie raised the limit on everything so people could buy as much as they wanted to. 

There is a missing pop-up in this picture. The wind removed the canopy on the one just to the right of the tan topped one. That happened the previous evening just after closing down. 

 Here's the new chicken run! She's all finished and is occupied by the Cluster Clucks. They are diggin' it! It's 20' x 10' and increases the total run length to about 37' with coop (at the back right in the picture) being another 10'. 47' should be enough for those yard birds.  

Construction was done by a  tradesman who is a neighbor that lives just down the street from us! Amazing! He's doing a lot of other tidying up around here since Rancho Ran can't seem to get it done. The place is looking great! Guess who will get to eat the marred fruit from the plum tree in the front of the run? More free chicken food!

This is the cantaloupe crop covering most of the compost pile. I haven't watered them yet but the irrigation water is now on so I can drag a hose over there to it. That needs to be done anyway since that's part of the composting process. 

For all you guitar players out there: if you've ever wondered where music stores get guitar picks, you now have an answer. They come from plastic laundry baskets that are sold at Wal-Mart. 

Well, boil them cabbage down and turn them hoe cakes 'round! It's May....again! The days seem to zip by like they're on fire at one end and are running for help! At least it has been a hospitable though brief April. There have been few if any complaints and we did need the nice April showers that bring May okra starts.

However, this new month appears to have taken offense at April's congeniality and has vowed to make  up for it. Just what we need, an evil month of May (I much prefer a merry merry month). High temps (the ones without rain) are supposed to arrive for a visit then make way for milder weather with a chance of "mad rain". Mad rain is that slight smattering of rain that leaves your car looking like it was doused with a pail of mud. You take one look and it makes you mad! Seriously; there isn't enough rain to even wash off the dirt! But, there's real rain ....somewhere.  

 Thankfully, these average temps will attempt to stabilize our sweat glands. If any sense of climate normalcy decides to take up camp, then we can expect to see the red stuff in the glass tube wait awhile before climbing to the 95 degree mark during the last week of May.

There is a modicum of comfort knowing that we have a river full of snow melt runoff only a half mile from here. If needs be, the old folks can head down and get cooled down without having to pay the utility company a hundred bucks to keep the summer sun from rendering us into a molten puddle of cellulite.

Back when we were neighbors to the Flintstones and Rubbles, we boys (though I seem to recall relatives referring to us as "hooligans") would head to the creek (aka Tule River) for relief on hot days. Despite the ambient temperature being north of 108 degrees, the water in the river was still....icy. It took an all out defiance of common sense and a blood-curdling Rebel yell to fling our young bodies into water that all but had ice cubes floating in it. After the initial shock that frosted our corneas and stopped our heart for 20 seconds, and after our blood begin to slowly circulate again, we feigned bravery but quickly found a hot rock on which to perch while we dried and waited for our blue flesh to thaw.

Of course, it didn't take long for the blisteringly hot rock to turn your drippings to steam. You then had no insulation against the lava that was swallowing your carcass starting with your cute cheeks and your bare feet first (real hooligans don't need no stinking towels). 

That precipitated another wild tossing of flailing body parts back into the river for survival's sake. It was only somewhat less of a shock the second dipping but after a few cycles of alternately canceling the forces trying to kill you, you adjusted and just went with the ....flow (I know. I know. I signed up with "Cornballs Unanimous" for help).

Connie the Canner is one busy lady! I'm not sure I've seen too many wives who work as hard as she does and who still remain human! She's already preparing for storing our garden harvest and it's just now starting to take off and grow! There are a couple of new dehydrators at hand that will surely help. There a lot of new canning jars, too! Those came from a...yard sale (natch!)!  

Then there's the freezing of things, storing of things, vacuum sealing things. If you think I'm kidding, she just stuffed and  sealed 200 pounds of rice into 5 gallon buckets! I usually pay attention when I'm around her while she's working so that one my shoes doesn't get parked in storage.

And, wait folks; there's more! The songs for church are prepared for and printed by this erg-oriented lady. Then, she calls our piano player with the song list and keys in which they are to be played. And, guess who's the director of the new chicken run project! It came out perfect so that'll give some idea of the talent that's on tap here at the ranch!

For our anniversary, she got a gorgeous blue and white all cotton lounging ensemble (sheeese...sound's like something from the "Price is Right"). That's the technical description. We just call'em "jammies".  She's one comfy gal, let me tell you! "Comfy Connie", I call her! You almost have to pry her out of those things. She was wanting me to make a new policy so she could wear them to church! Sounded like a great idea to me! But, I'm not sure just how far we can take "come as you are" at our fellowship. I'll think about it.....HEHEH.

So....let's talk turkey. Actually, let's talk chicken. Our feathery friends are doing quite well, thank you. There was a noticeable decrease in their egg production when Rancho Ran failed to maintain his astute injections (to prevent "moron-itis") and pulled the plug on the lights in the coop. It was staying daylight longer so I thought the artificial lighting could be eliminated without affecting the hens. They thought it was Alaska and that it was midnight and just stopped laying. *SIGH*. Well, my light came on so I plugged their lights back in and all is fairly well now that I had a long talk with them. They're not all that bright but they do seem to understand words like "chicken noodle soup" and such. We're pretty sure they'll shape up.

Talk about spoiled! They are proudly in charge of a new 20' chicken run extension. They can stay in shape by running laps, eh? That makes the total run length about 37' and another 10' for the coop. I need to be mindful, though, not to spoil them so much or they'll be demanding a swimming pool and sauna! Can you imagine what would happen if there was a chicken union?!

The hope is to add a dozen pullets soon so we can increase egg production. That will happen after the pullets increase in size a bit and can hold their own against the Sharp Feather Nincompooper Assassin Club. Seems big chickens harbor murderous thoughts against smaller chickens. So, if a pullet is put in with larger hens, the pullet is found the next day breastbone up with a beak hole in her back. The good news is that we have a couple of separate cages where we can keep them for awhile until they learn karate and can defend themselves.

Not sure why we like chickens so much. They're stupid, they're far from being fastidious, they're two-legged reverse-kneed head-bobbing vacuums that gobble down anything that'll fit in their not-yet-deep-fried gizzard. And, they're not warm and fuzzy so they're non-cuddly. Why anyone in their right mind would try to be a chicken whisperer is beyond me (ah, yeah; the "right mind" part).  I think they call folks that have an affinity for fowls "Bird Brains", but I have yet to confirm that. This deep mystery will be pondered while their mind-bogglingly delicious eggs are devoured for breakfast and for lunch (fried egg sandwiches! Oh, my!).

Perhaps it's the part about free fertilizer (free is my friend) that will either make your garden grow like you're Jerry Baker or burn it to the ground like the Waffen SS. Thus, the difference between green thumbs and brown thumbs, I suppose. In any case, it takes a special ....very special....really very very special... type who will horde chicken manure for those special gardening moments.

 Our quickie yard sale went well. It was a throw together gig without a lot of advertising. Some of our usual sellers won't be here in October during the "Apple Festival" so they asked if we could do it during the Springville Rodeo (like we used to do before we got....OLD and ran out of energy!). Springville is only a real town twice per year so we pay attention during those two times. So, we did that. It was worth it since we  got rid of more of our "stuff" to make room for more...stuff.

The Princess Abby report: well, she done did it. She had her pups and was a great pup keeper. I am mighty proud of our little pooch for diligently staying on the job and protecting them with all alacrity. Now, our post puppy princess pet is back to her normal behavior of maintaining her barking practice, hole digging (gophers, don'tcha know), and shredding unattended items that have the gall to be within her reach. She's one happy dandy diggy doggy and we aim to keep her that way. She hasn't lost any pep in her step and is the old bouncy coon chaser that we knew from the beginning.

She consistently wins the tug o' war battles that we wage. Seems she has more spizzerinctum than I do. Most of the time her opponent throws in the towel knowing that, if he doesn't, she'll still be tugging far after midnight. Other times, she'll change her grip and I get the rope and toss it afar. That doesn't last long since she's faster than a race horse and has the rope back to me before I can take the three steps to the back door. Her name needs to be "Quickie" instead of "Abby".

We put the pups on Craig's List on a Sunday afternoon after church. Later that day, someone called from Bakersfield (you know; it's that little known berg south of us where Buck and Merle used to hang out) asking about the pups. They came up that evening and fell in love with one of the little guys so it had a new home. The next day, a couple from Porterville (you know; that almost a real town just west of us where nobody in particular hangs out) came up, fell in love with a bundle of fur, and away they went. 

Amazingly, another call came from Buckersfield (sic) and they wanted two of our critters! When they got here, they brought along two more family members who must be "dog people" since they went gaga over all of them. So, they took all four of the remaining doggies! That was a hoot since two of the pups were both the largest and smallest of the litter. We called the largest one "Bubba" and the smallest one "Roentgen" but they have new names now, for sure. That left us as a "puppy free zone" ....for which we were most thankful. Methinks that we'll just be one kind of "sitters" at a time around here. We'll just make it chicken sitters for now.  

The list of "Things to do this spring" is a mile long. However, from all that we can tell, we've managed to accomplish about 1 inch of it so far. If it weren't for the fact that time flies so quickly around here, it could be a long year. Anyway, it's not for lack of trying. It's just that, for every inch we go forward, the list gets two inches longer! Sometimes we're in the mood to just fling open the doors and park "yard sale" signs everywhere. We could then blow everything out and just start all over from scratch. That thought didn't go very far when struck with the revelation that we would find our stuff at yard sales all over the region and just buy it back within no time. I might as well face it.... it would be better to be addicted to love than yard sales. *SIGH*

The garden boxes have been planted although not completely. And, it seems our adversaries, the slugs, are underfed and lacking nourishment. Some garden traitor has apprised the slimy gastropods of the location of our goodies and they brought their friends and neighbors along for a feast. My small okra plants look like the coconut palms on Peleliu after the First Marine Division routed the Japs. Tomorrow is a "city day" so we'll head to Lowe's and grab some slug bait.

Even the hardy cantaloupe plant's leaves are showing signs of a slug fest. They will likely grow so fast and large that they will notice little if any long term effects. That's nice since I was hoping to be a melon head later on this summer.

Also in the mix are different kinds of pepper plants and squash. This farcher (a farming rancher, eh?) isn't planting a garden that doesn't have zucchini and yellow crooked neck squash! Squash is my friend! So, there are plenty of them. Usually, one large plant is plenty to feed an entire community. Reckon I must have been hungry when I planted them because there are several of them ready to cover the entire box...and lawn....and ranch.

No garden would be complete without at least a few tomatoes so we have eight plants. That should keep us and a crowd in BLT's for awhile. Most likely, we'll dehydrate some and perhaps can a bunch. There could be some home made salsa too. And, there will be plenty of chopped tomatoes for TACOS. And, you know that TACOS are my friends!

The Ranch Rino (a Ford 8N tractor that may be as old as I am) started on the first attempt yesterday. She's a real strong work horse and a handy gadget to have around the ranch. It shouldn't be a surprise that I love that little pile of 30 horsepower. It isn't a real tractor like the ones I used to drive when younger but she does work for her oats.

Those big bruisers were the real deal. Some of the models have faded from memory but some of them remain glued to the old noggin. Some are: Moline G1000, John Deere 2010, John Deer 3020, John Deere 5010 (there are two models and I drove the four wheel self-loading scraper model), Ford 4000, Ford 8000, Farmall 706, Caterpillar DW-15 rubber tired tractor with scraper, LeTourneau "Super C Tournapull" rubber tired scraper,  International Harvester TD-9 crawler, Caterpillar D-4, D-6, D-8 (pulling a scraper, pulling a ripper, and as a "push Cat" with a dozer blade with a push block in the center), John Deere 860 and 860A self-loading scraper, Hancock 292 self-loading 10 yard scraper (yes... a smaller one), Westinghouse LeTourneau 222F and 222G, and an 18 yard Michigan self-loading scraper (probably a model 210). 

I miss the smell of diesel smoke and having a ton of muscle under my fanny. There's something about the big iron that gets into your blood and I don't know how to explain it. But, I don't miss the heat and dirt. A career in sales and other professions wasn't an accident. 

At some point, we'll need a tractor with a front loader so that I can more thoroughly work my compost pile. It keeps getting larger and larger so it needs to be regularly addressed. Hopefully, it will come with a nice disk so I can break up the fallow ground out back and disk in some of the cured compost. There are some ideas floating around as to what to plant...on my day off, of course. 

Not much happening in the "Shack". I'm nearing completion for the 20 minute installation for my digital PSK31 mode operation. It has only taken a few months to close in on those 20 minutes but, hey, progress is progress. All that remains to be done is to swap the controller chip in the "Signalink USB" integrated USB sound card to match my transceiver and I can get on the air. It only takes a few minutes but trying to track those minutes down has been a formidable task. The "Digipan" software is installed on the computer but the operator, moi, needs to review the tutorials on using it. So, soon (a really really subjective term), station "WA6IXI" will be ready to communicate in the modern world and be a real station! 

Other than that, the rig and antenna are operating nominally. I can tune all the way from the 10 meter band down to the 80 meter band with my 33' center-fed dipole. That's pretty good considering that the half wave length for a dipole antenna for 80 meters is 132'! That speaks highly of the MJF-949 antenna tuner that must tune out the capacitive antenna reactance for the missing 100'. It  does so by using a "T Matching" network that adds series inductance and capacitance.

That's the news from Rancho Relaxo. Don't touch that thingy with all the buttons on it that changes the channel; things could get.....interesting.

Rancho Abril

These little guy's camo is working great! You can hardly see these two baby doves! Lovey Dovey is out fetching bugs for them. She's really good at it since she's already reared 10 other hatchlings! Soon, she'll leave the nest and they'll get hungry and attempt to fly off and be on their own.

Not long ago, one of our clients dropped off this Sharp "Aquos" 40" flat screen TV as e-waste. He advised me that his daughter said that it worked but that he hadn't a clue as to what that meant since he was leaving it for dead at our place. So, the temptation to tinker was great enough to coax Ol' Electro Dude to hook the DVD player and a portable stereo system up to it to see for himself.
Guess what? The audio was defective. However, everything else worked just great! All I did was use the composite input instead of the antenna input and the audio is fine. So, since it had HDMI capability, I swapped out the "little" 26" monitor for the big one. Would you believe...I can see and read my e-mail without squinting?

Here's the "Fang Gang". They've just been fed and, like their owner, know exactly what to do....park it and take a nap. They're not making much ado now but, most of the time, they keep the "Poopy Puppy Posse" on their toes, believe me!

Here's some of our Pecking Crew: 

Clara the Clucker, whose low-grade clucking sounds like she's muttering and complaining that someone else's eggs won the blue ribbon at the fair.

Growling Gertie,who protests the intrusions upon her brooding by pretending to be a pit bull. She's good at it, too. If I were a pit bull, I'd back down.

Polly Pecker, who fiercely guards her eggs and uses her beak like a rapier to defend her omelets-in-waiting.

Pecky Sue, must be Polly's sister because, she too, will give your knuckles a good piercing if you aren't paying attention.

Eggy Peggy, takes no offense at the pilfering of the products of her laboring and merely scoots her feathers to one side so that you can retrieve her bounty. This hen is my friend. 

Screaching Scarlette, is the one who begins her verbal offensive when you approach her egg cave. If you didn't know what was going on, you'd swear that the Ol' Rancher was disassembling her one feather at a time. Is there such a thing as a "pyscho chicken"?

Well, good golly, Miss Molly!! It's April!! Can you believe that?! I haven't even come close to wearing out March and April is here! It's as if the time machine is broken and is out of control! Can anyone explain that?! Oh, never mind. One or more of my dear friends would only confuse the issue with a bunch of facts. I'm not sure I'm up to that much truth all at the same time.

Here we are again in the throes of a marvelously mild spring. Skies are blue and filled with puffy white clouds. The grounds are green while trees are blooming like crazy. Our bees are dancing for joy for the bountiful bloom (actually, the dancing is to show the other bees where the best pickings are but I won't tell if you won't). 

While we're relishing the coolness, the forecast for Thursday is for temps seriously crowding .....grab the Kool-Aid, Martha.....90 degrees! 'Scuze me?! I can still feel last summer's perspiration and I'm going to have to go for a swim in April?! When I was a youth (and all you old people remember when that was!), we didn't head to the Tule River until the last week of May when the temps hit the mid-'90's (and when a case of beer didn't weigh as much as it does now...when did they sneak all that lead into the cans, guys?).

The garden boxes are trying harder than ever to make something grow. I guess it would be a good idea if we helped them out by planting something. Our grounds-man, friend, and brother, Gary Laird, will be helping with that matter next Thursday (if the Creek don't rise. I'm not too worried, though. I heard they opened a casino so that ought to keep them busy). After laying some chicken wire across the boxes (to protect from axe-toting gophers), we will haul a bunch of seasoned compost up to the boxes and we'll make them as fertile as the Nile Delta (and without the crocs). Actually, he may have to do most of the hauling since my hauler needs an overhaul. I hope to return it to service within a few decades or so (hauling heaving stuff just isn't my calling....fluff and stuff is my friend).

Despite that particular deficiency, I still had to cart the many boxes of compost-ables stacked in the back yard to the compost pile (which some Three Stooges understudy put at the far reaches of our property). You would think that I would have sense enough to dolly a few at a time prior to there being such a large pile of them. You would be thinking very normally but very incorrectly if so. I was under the powerful spell of the procrastinator's favorite old adage, "never do today what you can safely put off until tomorrow". My spirit was willing but my flesh was weak. For that dereliction of duty, I'll probably get busted from "Captain Fertilizer" to "Sergeant Skat".

After that bout of sweat production, a ton (well, it felt like a ton) of fresh compost from my marvelous heap of ex-heads of cabbages, ex-tomatoes, and a previously-living chicken had to be hauled to the front for use on the trees and vines. After having already chased my chickens and herding my puppies, and having been up since before 5AM, I was exhaustipated (try looking that up in your Funk & Wagnalls....but I bet you can still figure out just how exhausted I was). There wasn't enough oomph remaining to motivate me to buy tickets to a good skunk wrassle.  

Speaking of compost: the beautiful large pile of compost has been stirred and watered and has been doing its thing for almost a year. It really is a sight to behold to witness the restructuring of organic materials into a thriving heap of usable fertilizer. I doubt if there could be too much better of a mix to be had. We're using veggie matter, chicken doo, cellulose/paper/cardboard matter, sawdust from the floor of the coop, and such. Most of the materials were...free. Around Rancho Relaxo, free is our friend (it helps to keep those fives and tens in our wallet where we can keep them nice and warm and safe).

With all of that free material parked out back (i.e. low overhead) and doing little but ...vegging, wouldn't you know that my lightning fast-mind would come up with another income stream? It dawned on me that we could set up another sign next to the "eggs for sale" sign and computer sign to advertise our excellent product and fetch a respectable markup. What do you think about this for a sign: "Rancho Marvy Doo. The doo that can do what no other doo can do for you". Has nice ring to it, eh? One of our clients advised that we can come and collect all of the horsey hockey we want from his horses. The neighbor two houses down has goats. We have cows in the 15 acres a couple of lots east. My thinking is that I can add this variety to the mix and make our product even better! We can call it, "Rancho Marvy Zoo Doo! There's nothing you can't do with our doo!" (and, that oughta do for now). Anyway....now you know some of the things the Ol' Rancher thinks about in his ...fertile...mind while he's toiling away (I know. I know. It's a cry for help).

Springing forward....we always know the season no matter what because "Lovie Dovie" makes her nest on the front porch. She has returned and has another two cutie chicks in the making. They just hatched a few days ago. In less than two weeks, the little winged fluff balls will be standing totally bewildered on the edge of the nest and wondering what happens next. Their empty tummies will shout for them to do something and they will flutter with all their might to a spot within about 20 feet of the nest. Sometimes they land on something and sometimes not. After however long, they disappear hoping to not be found during the September 1st opening day of "dove hunting" season.

Our mini-yappers are growing like we've been feeding them the same stuff that Pete Rose was accused of nursing. The little buggers eat like horses and take down 8 cans of dog food per day (plus snacks). There will be individual mug shots on Craig's list....soon! We fed them dry food today for the first time and they cleaned their plates. That will surely help the currency drain at the ranch. 

It's brings great joy to hold a cute little puppy and have it lick your face and snuggle into your neck and shoulder while you lavish it with attention and love. There is another emotion that is evoked altogether when your learn that your cute cuddly critter has a severe case of "PPP"; that would be "Poopy Puppie Paws". You have to scramble around looking for a towel or such with which to clean Grandpaw. I wish I knew enough of "dog speak" to say, "Watch your step, dummy dogs!". Alas, I do not so the once fresh and clean T-shirt headed into the wash. So, Ol' DRR ("Ol' Dummy Rancho Ran") learned yet another lesson in life. I truly thought I had already completed most of such lessons. But, just when I learned the "Poop Coop Boogie", I had to learn the "Poopy-Pawed Puppy Polka" *SIGH*.

Life at the Rancho is not all as hectic as a princess prepping for the prom. The over-worked and under-paid Computer-Rancho-Preacher Dude likes to start the day reasonable early. Most days, crack-an-eyelid time is, oh...6:00 AM to 6:30 AM. There's an occasional 7 AM tossed in if the one man geek squad stays up too late. Lastly, it's a 5 AM bounce out of bed (oh, sure...you believe that, right?) on Sunday which makes for a long two days (which is what it seems like to me). 

That's "writing and editing" day so I can get my books published and another one re-published (the first publisher retired). The redeeming factor  is the nap secured on Sunday afternoon. No phone, no food, no pets (can I get big "Amen!" from all you Roger Miller fans?) and the door is bolted and blinds screwed down tight. It's "Z-Time" at the ranch.

It seems that it takes awhile for the ..um...mature...folks to get their ducks together. I made life easier by only have one duck (life is far far less complicated that way). I named him "Einstein" but he's not a deep thinker so he doesn't often find the line the first time around.  Nevertheless, I relish my early morning time. I check my e-mail and sip my coffee wondering what I want to be when I finally wake up. The peace and quiet of early mornings is my friend.

There's nothing like a nice hot cup of coffee in the morning. Some folks are "coffee snobs". They care about the grind, the pull, the roast, et. al.. Me? I'm more of a "coffee snot". I don't really care about the details; my coffee merely has to taste good. There are many blends and brands on hand so "Rancho Espresso" comes behind in no good brew. The big Braville "Roma" espresso brewer doesn't sit idle but the preference is for the little "Krup" espresso maker. No muss, no fuss. Just throw some coffee in it, punch the button, and out comes a bunch of espresso coffee. When I need less than a bunch of the stuff, I just break out the "Roma" and get a shot (so, yes, I've had my shots...teehee).  

Speaking of "mature folks", surely most of my fellow calendar challenged friends remember having breakfast for supper. I hadn't done that in quite awhile and simply had the "hongries" (I need a big "Amen" from you Buck Owens fans) for breakfast at about 4 PM today. So, Ol' Ran whomped up a real doozie (I'm pretty sure that Jethro Bodine and I are kin even if it's shirt-tail). There were 5 fresh eggs (but you knew that) cooked sunny side up, fried taters (close kin to potatoes but prepared differently..usually with a lot more grease), sourdough bread toast (extra dark, please), and...drum roll...SPAM.

I've had some of that mechanically-separated mystery meat hanging around for awhile and wanted to use it up before it became puppy fodder. Rumor has it that they trim the meat from just prior to the oink but I don't really know for sure (reckon you probably could eat the oink if you just put enough salt on it). It was slabbed out, tossed into a genuine polytetrafluoroethylene-coated frying pan, and fried to perfection. The next thing you know, the plate was clean and its flowers were gone.

Now, let me tell you, pilgrim; that there was some really good eatin' and a heap o' calories to boot (which is the main reason we're actually "cereal killers" around here most of the time)! There must have been a confluence of warm spring weather, a tired body, and a couple of slippin' cogs to make me want to hunker down with a fork and a knife like that. Connie almost accused me of "mantling". 

It doesn't happen all that often due to caloric concerns but we do have "Popeye's Savor the Flavor Day" here at the ranch. It happens when we have "stood all we can stands and we can't stands no more" lack of real food and defend our severely-abused appetites with a good breakfast or a great grilling session in the afternoon. I have a "fatted calf" in the freezer so.....it won't be long before some of his parts will be found on the barby and passing between my lips and teeth. 

There has been a bit of progress in the ham shack. The head hamster made a few contacts on the 20 meter band not long ago. One was a guy on vacation in Bonaire (from New Jersey) which is one of the "ABC Islands" (Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao, off the coast of Venezuela). That's not bad for a station running about 100 watts of output power to a home-built 36' center-fed wire dipole antenna that's strung up about 30' or so. I'm still disappointed in the 40 meter band performance (despite an almost perfect SWR) but the hope is to mount a multi-band trapped vertical antenna to see if that will help (probably on or about my next...day off). It most likely will help since it has a different (i.e. omni-directional) radiation pattern than the dipole. Not that either antenna changes the shape of the mountains overshadowing the ranch. C'est la vie.

Well, neighbors, that's about it from "Rancho Relaxo". All is well with the critters and critter sitters so life is good. So, stay tuned and don't touch that dial so you can be ready for more of the adventures of Rancho Ran and his side-cook, Connie the Canner. Things could get...interesting. 

RANCHO SPRINGO

This is shot looking east from "Triple R Estates" in Springville. We're east on Palomino Dr.approaching Mustang Dr. 

Lovey Dovey is here again this season. We walk by and she just parks and stares. The "Coop de Ville" is in the background. 

This is Abbie the very next day after having her pups. She's taking a break for a few minutes but was right back to work in no time. She's a great pooch mommy. 

Here's our gang of fangs. It would appear that the little guy in the back left is camera shy.

Wonder how long it will take to teach them to hunt or to herd? 

Look at the fur face! It has a built-in bandit mask. 

 What a handful of cute, eh? 

This is the cool chicken roost that our contractor, Rob Sanford, built for us. It's rarely without an occupant. 

This was taken during "coop cleaning day". With all the roosts available, they wanted to take over my wheelbarrow. 

Here you can see the rabbit hutch that we use for quarantine purposes. We've since removed it as it became a "fertilizer acquisition depot" and, therefore, way too much trouble to contend with.

 Even chickens like to gather at the "ol' waterin' hole". The tank doesn't look all that large. But, at 8 lbs per gallon water weight, that thing is heavy!

This is a shot showing one of the other roosts that Rob built for us. There's another one like this but smaller inside the coop in the background. 

There is much breed diversity in our bunch of hens. When you open a carton of eggs, it's like Easter because of the different colors! 

Another shot of the roost. It's covered in feathers at night time. 

Well! Squeeze my "Charmin" if it isn't March already!! Feel old yet?

Our March blew in like a roaring koala bear and the (super) El Niño, capable of monumental rain and flooding, let loose of a few ounces of its precious precipitation on our dear rancho. I'm not sure the gophers even noticed (but, this isn't an election year for them so who cares what they think, eh?).

Never ones to complain, we "Spring-villains" (near kin to the Porter-villains) are thankful for each drop that falls. That's  because each splash received represents about half of last season's total rainfall amount. We would "high-five" the clouds if we could reach them.

"Stuck Duck Pond" (the rather ineloquent-but-accurate sobriquet given our nearby sort-of-a-lake, "Success Lake"), is now showing signs of normalcy. The snow runoff along with the metering of the outflow has at least allowed the water level to drown the spillway. Methinks the fishermen can now scoot across the lake without dragging the bottom of their boats. The water level was so low ("How low was it, brother Ran?") that the bass were polishing each other's scales do to overcrowding (baddah boom). Thaaaaat's pretty low.

 Our beloved procreating post-partum princess pooch (alliteration is my friend) has turned out to be a terrific mother. She blessed us with seven "coolers" (a cross between a Coon Hound and an Australian Heeler) and has made sure that they are all fat and healthy and all black and white. With that kind of camouflage they would certainly blend in with a dirty snow bank somewhere. Abbie could hide them there and the Gypsies would never find them.

Talk about piles of smiles! These little cuties take the cake! They just recently opened their eyes and ears so they can now see and hear whoever is "oohing and awwwing" over them. Connie was oohing and awwing over one while it was pee'ing over her. Looks like housebreaking will start early around here. Connie is pretty good at such things. After all.....just look at me! No spots on the carpet for me for at least 8 years! Anyhoooooo.....all seriousness aside......three are spoken for so far and we may keep one as a "Chicken Dog" to guard our hens. That's our reasoning for now given the fact that Abbie has abdicated her position of said commission and turned into a chicken chaser.

But, what can you expect of hunting dog? Silly us for confusing her with a guard dog. So, we'll keep the little yapper in and around them so they are fast friends instead of a quick lunch. I may appear that the shepherding instinct of the heeler will kick in and it'll be a great chicken sitter. That or a rather confused dog will be tracking itself down all of the time so it can herd itself. Cross breading is an interesting thing.

It is advisable to check with her if you feel a need to examine one of her pups as she is quite adamant that you do so (supposing that you don't like doggy fangs clamped onto your forearm for a couple of hours while you digest her message). Once permission is granted, you still get the evil eye and must mind your P's and Q's.

 Speaking of chickens......I truly didn't know that chickens were cross bred with pigs. It becomes very evident when you see just how much these feathery piglets eat....every single day! They are walking, squawking, eating machines!! If we weren't getting the produce tailings from a local supermarket, our eggs would have to sell for 9 dollars per dozen just to break even on the food bill! You should see them empty the "chicken scratch" feeder! 25lbs....shot in a day! That's on top of the damage they do to the "lay pellets" and warming up on the produce! Sheeese! 

On the other hand, that's probably why we get so many eggs per day. They are good at it. But, the eggs are an adjunct to their vocation which is to devour anything and everything in their path. They undoubtedly spring from the original chicken, the "Hoover Bird", noted for its voracious appetite and large eggs.

 The Ol' Ran the Rancher and his side-cook, Connie the Canner, are hale and hardy (though a bit tasked for energy at times). Effort is taken to insure we have our daily dose of Veeta-Vita-Vegemine (assuming that we don't ...forget to take it. *SIGH*). It's good stuff. Our next door neighbor, Lucy Ricardo, turned us on to it.

We had also thought that perhaps the old "three squares a day" eating regimen we learned about in the 1950's would help. But, we're ending up with "two rounds" instead. Being a life-ling "meat and potatoes" man, I had to re-examine the matter and may become a "beet and tomatoes" guy for awhile. Being referred to as  “His Rotundity” absolutely does not have a ring to it (although "Randy the Roundal" does and may work at a side show. I could use the extra income, don'tcha know).

We actually do get a lot done considering that our work schedule occasionally includes a nice nap (naps are our friends). I don't even mind hard work and lifting heavy loads but truly do mind hauling heavy things somewhere to be parked. If you see my good friend, Maynard G. Krebbs, around, please advise him that I could use a bit of help with the... work.

 The other day, I took my new Echo 266 weedeater out for a stroll after riding my lawn tractor for awhile. The first thought that entered into the Ol' Rancher's mind was, " Man! Wouldn't it be nice if it had a seat like the tractor?!". You know you're tired when........

  There was quite a bit of whacking left to be done but Ol' Ran shut down the Echo and took a nap. He had completely run out of spizzerinctum and needed to reload. A ton was needed but, sadly, only a few pounds showed up. The Echo took the rest of the day off. Connie had also ran of gas so she joined me. Usually, the "Rancho Twins" work really hard so that we can have a day off so that we have the time to get some work done around here. We deserved a bit of repose, I suppose.

  Thankfully, today was a "rainy day" schedule so that means that it was a "computer day" for the Computer Dude. Other than heading out to the cluck stop to feed "the girls", fill the egg basket, and a trip to the compost pile, the Dude played with broken computers until late.

 That, of course, didn't account for the bulletins for church that had to be completed. Thankfully, it doesn't take all that long since "Side-Cook Connie" is also the head proofreader and folder. And, the four big stout printers make it much much easier than before when we had to fight with the printers to force them to obey (still not sure why they were so recalcitrant but they are gonzo now).

 You would think that we have enough to do to keep our "Kumhos" rolling. But, spring cleaning (that would be last spring's cleaning) is upon us. Our winter cleaning isn't even done! In fact, we didn't even have a winter, for corn flakes!! My vines are supposed to have some sleep time but they barely got a nap out of the deal! The compost pile needs to be turned; the burn pile needs to be burned; trees need to be trimmed; wind-torn carport tarps need to be hemmed; weeds need to be eaten; rugs need to be beaten; gophers need to be dead; bees need to be fed; the list goes on and on....and on. Too many nap-free days is not good for ranchers they say.

When I was just a young boy, standing to my pappy's knee.....my pappy said, "Son....all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy". I'm not sure why I didn't heed his wisdom but so far, I don't seem to be too much the worse off.

Of course, Connie's wisdom also keeps me sharp and from getting too dull around here. She's always trying to make me a swell'er feller. For instance, she'll suggest, "We need to blow this pop stand and go have some fun somewhere". Or, "It's prime time for nap time". I mean....how can anyone disagree with that?! That also means that we're overdue for a trip to "yonder". Not sure where that is but it's a good bet that there'll be some fish and chips waiting for us when we get there.

That's the latest news from Rancho Relaxo. Don't touch that monitor; things could get interesting. 

Rancho Composto

Well! Tickle my Elmo if it isn't February already! It slid into town like butter across a hotplate (only quieter). I was really getting used to January. I mean, after all; it's the month of my birth. Seems to me that a feller should get to spend at least a little while fellowshipping with an old friend, eh?

Moving along down the timeline.......Man!! It's green around here! The frogs in our ditch out front (which carries run off from around our side of the road) are croaking. The croaking is a mating cry to ensure more croakers next season. I mean...who would want to run out of croaking, eh? The problem is that the little buggers overrun our place like the Sioux vs Custer. One would think that that's not such a big deal, right? One would be wrong. Two would be even wrong'er. These critters crawl up the exterior walls and flood it with froggy doo. Isn't that just what we need? More crapola. *SIGH* It's rather unsightly and it drives Connie to distraction knowing that her preferred home of  peace and love is a house of frog feces. Maybe we can call Moses and get rid of this plague.

The gophers are goph-ing through the soft soil with ease now. They insure that Ol' Ran will have yet another chore to add to his list in having to fill in large holes that are a menace to those who prefer to walk on the ground without stepping into craters and wrecking their ankles. After the previous three years, I was expecting dried gopher pelts (who knows. There may be a market for them on eBay).  

Nevertheless, the place is alive again! It's almost....almost ....difficult to imagine the utterly arid condition we have had to endure (living in the Gobi Desert hasn't been much fun and the memories will be around for awhile). We lost a few of our trees and such but the losses were measurable and sustainable. I doubt if we will immediately notice the loss of a couple of orange trees. But, it could factor in later on down the turnpike. It is likely that a few new (orange and other) trees will soon be trying to suck up nourishment from our deficient soil. Anyway, it's not bad at all considering what others lost.

The compost pile is a beaut. Not long ago, I boarded the Ranch Rhino and mixed the pile up really well for its first time. I'll keep working on it until I have enough for the entire ranch. When the time comes, you can expect to see a disc behind the strong and healthy "Ranch Rino" and Ol' Ran the Tractor Dude tilling in some of that good stuff into our lacking soil.

There's river water in our irrigation ditch again. That means that my work has started for this next growing season. I love it but my body hates it. I'm working on a way to convince my body to cooperate or to just bribe it in some way so that I can get (the many) things done prior to spring (it's already going to be 70 degrees tomorrow!).

The sprinklers will all need to be overhauled or replaced (my body's first option). It may be surprising to note that the cheapest plastic WalMart sprinklers actually do the best job (in the long run). I was shocked to find that out but I can't come to any other conclusion. They work great for awhile then they break. When they do, you simply toss them and replace them; three bucks and you're done.

You would think that paying five times as much for a "quality" metal sprinkler would be the best route to go. That has not been my experience. All ...as in a-l-l of my expensive brass jobs have failed to meet the simplest of requirements (I make few demands of my sprinklers, don'tcha know). That requirement is: just keep working without making the Ol' Rancher spend all of his time tinkering and fooling with it to make it function properly (and failing usually).

My vines need to be dressed (I just hate nude vines, don't you?). Three apple trees need to be replaced. One plum and one nectarine tree need to be replanted. The huge burn pile needs to be....burned. I'm not sure what the hurry is given that it's been there for four years without molestation. After checking with the fire department for permission to use the burn permit (and a quick jump down turn around, a couple of passes through a few hoops, and doing the hokey pokey at least once), burning takes all day and requires pulling a couple of hoses into place as a safety measure. Safety measures are my friends but pulling hoses is not. Maybe if I up the ante to a half gallon of ice cream my flesh will yield its recalcitrance and follow me around for awhile whilst I do some pulling.

The "experts" (here....you can have a couple of grains of my "Morton" iodized salt) have forecast that "No amount of prayer can change the climate to end California's drought". Ah, yes. Real believers, I see. Assuming that they are correct (and presuming that people aren't going to pray and will believe them instead), the nation's breadbasket will be brought to its knees and America will be plunged into a food crisis of epic proportions. That's what "they" say. Should be...interesting, eh?

The prediction of catastrophe (more experts talking since I prefer not to "shoot from the hip") is actually far from being remote. The take-down of California has initiated a cascade of events that will hit the bottom of the hill with such momentum that it will be unstoppable and inescapable. It may be even more than dreadful than first thought and, if it happens, everything will be fundamentally changed. We will be a nation that is almost 100% dependant upon the federal government for its existence. No worries, though. The Delta Smelt are safe.

On the bright side: we here at the ranch....have "options" (have I mentioned that options are our friends?). We're preparing our garden boxes and will enliven them with some of our recently-acquired "organic nutrition". That, of course, is bountifully supplied by none other than the harmonious efforts of the occupants of the "Henhouse Hilton". That would be "the Girls" who labor diligently to supply us and our clients with fresh huevos and the Ol' Rancher with fresh fertilizer.  

Fresh fertilizer is our friend since it makes your "maters" grow like crazy. In fact, here at the ranch, we expect to call our maters, "Crazy Maters". All I have to do is make a sign and everyone in the area will flock to buy them. Uh-huh. 

The idea, of course, is to coerce the garden boxes into producing....produce. If I can get the color of my thumb to change from tan to at least light green, we (read: "Connie") should have a great canning season later on. 

Raising chickens is amazing; we toss in boxes of leafy vegetables, tons of chicken scratch, and more tons of high-protein lay pellets, and our feathery factory cranks out tons of crapola and a few eggs. It's a good thing we upgraded our shovel collection to include the big scoopers. I reckon I shouldn't complain, though, since, if we had no chicken doo, we'd have no doo at all.

How about an update on the "Princess of Wails"? She's doing great and is the life of the ranch what with her antics of barking and keeping the dog house from being empty. She's still our goofy pooch whom we love very much. One of her improvements is that she is learning not to jump up on you while you are wearing your clean jeans. We were getting tired of her pouncing on us and whacking our slacks with her dirty paws.

The other day, Connie noticed something peculiar about her. "Is she getting fat?", she asked. UH-OH!, says I. "YUP", says I again after analyzing Abbie's noticeably enlarged  belly for a moment. 

Now, the rest of the story: there was a transient white Australian heeler in the 'hood not long ago and he was awfully interested in our pooch. He wasn't the other heeler we called, "Blue" (his real name is "Gus". We found out he was not a stray but belonged to a neighbor). When we quickly realized that she was in first heat, it was too late (yes, I know. We should have heeded the urgings to take preemptive actions). So, she's now Miss Princess Preggy Pooch. Reckon we didn't expect our princess to lose her royal reputation quite so quickly so we just procrastinated.

The good news is that we already have homes for two of the new puppies. We are hoping, therefore, for a bit of mitigation from the well-earned-and-expected flogging from our dear neighbor, Joyce (the one who apprised us of the need to get Abbie fixed). Rumor has it is that she's a bit of an old softy and sometimes removes the glass and nails from her cat o' nine tails if she likes you. Anyway, I can hardly wait to see what a coon dog and heeler mix will look like. I think we'll just call them...."Coolers".

Yesterday was a real "work day" here at the ranch. We keep our coop as clean as possible and use a technique called "deep litter" to aid in that endeavor. That results in placing the old litter into trash barrels and hauling them off. Well...the last time I checked, there weren't all that many young and able "haulers" handy. So, guess who had to don his "Ran the Hauler" hat and git'r done?

It doesn't sound like work until you realize that these are 30 gal. barrels that are at least half filled with compostable stuff and that they weigh about 60-70 pounds or so each. They had to be hoisted into the back of "Tojo" (the ranch Toyota pickup) and then lifted out and emptied onto the compost pile. It's enough to scare Maynard G. Krebbs out of his scalp. The bad news is that only about a third of the material was hauled off in the half-ton pickup. Now you have it from an official doo hauler: chicken doo is heavy doo.

Included in that job description was the hauling off of the large pile of empty cardboard boxes in which the (chicken) produce comes. And, wait folks, there's more....there was the large (toooooo many large things stacked around here) pile of boxes containing heavy compost materials (i.e. stuff the b'gaaks won't/don't eat and organics we toss out). After being the head hauler for a couple of hours, I was totally thrashed and aching from places I had forgotten about. I didn't have the energy to suck the guts out of a "Fig Newton". It was "break time" so I converted the outdoor work attire for the indoor work attire (that would be my jammies. Jammies are my friends). After a handful of Ibuprofen, the rancho honcho did computer and other inside work for the duration (i.e until his body stopped screaming that it was going to assassinate him and sell all the body parts to the Gypsies). Then, everything was stuffed into bed for a mucho-needed night's rest.

Still no plans to float the boat or even fish from the shore. I just bought another bag of lures from WalMart (close-outs, don'tcha know) so I need to quit tricking folks into thinking that I do such things as take a day off.

I did get the SignaLink USB Soundcard modem and the 1:1 current balun/choke for the dipole I'm building. Most likely, I'll quick-build a 20M-15M-10M "fan dipole". Then, the next step is constructing the trapped/loaded 40Meter top wire for the antenna. By doing it this way, I can use the other bands while trying to find the ....time....to wind the inductors/traps (you tune out the capacitive antenna reactance with series inductance). This type of antenna is quick (I don't need a time-chewing project) and easy (easy is my friend) and doesn't take up a lot of space (which makes it Connie's friend). I call it my "Win-Win Antenna Project".

 Well, friends, neighbors, kith, and kin, that's the latest from Rancho Relaxo. Don't touch that URL; things around here are likely to get...interesting.