Rancho Greeno Bloomo

This was one of our small coops that we have had for a couple of years. It was intended as a discrete breeding coop had we decided to raise our own chicks. Since we decided against it, the coop was sold to a local couple who wanted to start keeping a few layers for eggs.
In the rear is our 3,200 gallon water tank (fire suppression resource). Behind it is Wooly Pully.

Who is that masked man?!! Well, let me tell you, pardner, it's the Ol' Rancher himself and he's treading the halls of the local "Smart & Final". Later, he traded his N95 mask for one that Connie the Canner custom made for him and herself.

The new building at the corner of Olive and Main is nearing completion. At first (and being an old nostalgic), there was some doubt that the old dude would like a modern replacement. Such is not the case. This new store and office complex suits him just fine. Guess he likes angles.

This is part of Connie's Petunia collection. She has these and other flowers all along the front and patio railings. She's the resident "flower girl".

Here's one of our Barred Rocks relaxing after helping to dig a deep chicken wallow. There are two large deep wallows out by the garden boxes and the dirty birds felt the need to dig one at my patio gate. Swell. It has since been refilled and the birds were admonished to cease and desist with their unsolicited excavations as we have no desire for our ranch to become "chicken wallow hollow".

Meet "Frack" the llama. He makes his abode in the corral behind the "Antlers" saloon on Hwy 190 across the street from the "Eagle Feather Trading Post" (colloquially: "The Indian Station").

 

The "Eagle Feather Trading Post" (on Hwy 190 across the street from the "Antlers" bar and grill where Frack lives) is usually a pretty busy place. Not so much now. We didn't have to wait for a pump. Gas is 2.05 locally. In Texas, it's 1.17. In St. Joseph, MO, it's .79. What's wrong with this picture?

In case you have never seen a mature asparagus plant before, this is what one looks like. They are only eaten when they are young shoots. The hope is that this little group will expand and produce a small crop of shoots (which will promptly be cut, cleaned, stuck in a sauté pan with some garlic, salt, and butter, then wolfed down without delay).

If this big guy is any indication of how our gardens are going to grow this season, we are going to be awash in squash! This is probably the zucchini but it may be the yellow summer variety.

"Betcha can't do this!" This is Abbie oozling for attention. A friend, brother, and neighbor, Greg Donaho, stopped by to service Ol' Swampy" and took an extra few minutes to gab with the old folks. Abbie must have felt left out of the conversation and needed her share of attention. She wiggled and squirmed a lot while under everyone's feet. Silly coon dog.

Well!  It’s May 2020 and we’re working on 5/12 of the way through the year! Doesn’t that just make you want to binge watch “Cheyenne Bodie”, “Have Gun Will Travel”, and “Mavrick” reruns?!

It’s also time for the “Rancho Relaxo Report” so everyone can see what the Ol’ Rancher and the Ol’ Rancherette are up to.

The hunkerers (is that a good name for a movie, or what?): what with the current ado about trying not to kill anyone with a sneeze in public, you would think that two old people, like all those who are not let out to roam about at will, would be suffering from a bad case of the “hunkers” and pining to be back in their happy place. Not so. Let me ‘splain that.

For one thing, Rancho Relaxo is a “no-hunger allowed” zone (hunkering, yes; hungering, no). So, you just know that the old folks haven’t lost any weight during this virus event. We have food and having food gives us options and he who has options can do anything (kinda like a guy who can catch a fly with his chopsticks. Eh, Mr. Miagi?). That takes a lot of weight off one’s mind when he isn’t concerned about starving to death in the most prosperous nation on earth. We have chow to chew and chew we do.

For another, we have so much to do here at the ranch that we’re actually glad to have the opportunity to get to it (though we will be glad when we’re not worried about giving everyone “cooties” [thank you, Luvena!]). We call it “homework”. It’s just a matter of prioritizing our work load.

Since it’s spring time, the garden boxes have to be tended, seeded, weeded, and watered. Bird netting has to be installed, too.

And…the chicken coop has to be overhauled and the nesting boxes need fresh straw or wood shavings.

And...the lawn tractor won’t start. The likely culprit is the starter since it’s happened before. It’s not an expensive hit but it takes...time...to order the new part and to put replace the old one.

And…the Ranch Rhino has an unknown issue. It wants to start but fires on 1 or 2 cylinders and may or may not continue on to fire on all 4 holes.

And…the Coop deVille’s engine just froze up. Swell. That will take a while to straighten out. I was thinking it would take far less time to just dynamite the thing but I forgot that I plumb ran out of the stuff.

And…the small trailer that I pull behind El Quatro, the Honda 4 wheeler ATV, snapped off a tire valve (a great trick but no one knows how it happened). The valve should be here in a couple more days (eBay is our friend!). It will only take a few minutes to install it and air up the tire.

And…after the repair, the trailer will be used to haul compost up to the new 5’ x 5’ x 8” square above ground garden box. After that, it needs to be prepped and planted. The starts are almost ready to go. The plan is to make a truck patch with mostly “greens” in it. The main green will be collards (and you just know that Ol' Brown Thumb loves his collards). After that, perhaps mustard greens but a turnip or two might show up. If it’s successful, then, next year, the other garden box (twin of the first) will be added to this one. That one could have shallots and other shallow-root plants. We’ll see.

And…in all of that, we’re getting ready for the big annual October yard sale. Preparation for that starts the day after the previous one ends. It will be interesting to see if the plague has run its course by then. We never run out of things to do to prepare for the “big sale”.

And…the boat only needs to be serviced and it’ll be ready for the lake. Not sure if the lake will be ready for the boat, though. The little aluminum dust catcher doesn’t seem to want to service itself so we know who will need to do that. 

And…we’re still overhauling the patio. It was used as a weigh station and sorting depot for a ton of new goods acquired from yard sales and such. It’s nearing its normal state now but, there still much to do before we can have a “BBQ Sunday” in the shade.

Anyway, old Boy Sprouts like me need to….be prepared. 

The one that got away: Abbie has finally gotten the message that she’s welcomed to roam around just about anywhere in the back 40 (x .05). She just can’t get close to the big road (and, thankfully, she’s stayed with that).

So, you can imagine that it wasn’t very late in the day when, out back in the oranges, she up and began to bay her little coon doggie brains out. Of course, that caught the Ol’ Rancher’s attention and he just had to take a look see.

Sure enough, she had cornered a barking ground squirrel who had hunkered down (it’s the law, eh?) in a shallow hole at the base of one of our orange trees (probably no viruses there). She is rather predictable which means that, if the neighborhood didn’t mind her baying for hours, she would do just that.  Me being a good neighbor, it was decided to help Abbie extract her foe rather than listen to a coon dog baying all day.

There are a couple of long irrigation hoses in the oranges so that was the plan: flood the bugger out.  It didn’t take long for the hole to fill and it was evident that our foe hadn’t brought his scuba gear that day. Predictably, in a few seconds, a soggy squirrel rocketed out of the pool… but not in the direction that he was supposed to! He was supposed to head away from the hose and straight into Abbie’s steel trap jaws.

This surprise maneuver gave the fleet-footed fuzzer a split second lead. Abbie was on him quicker than you can say “Git’im!” and was right on his tail and about to catch it when it banked hard right around the trunk of a small oak tree.

The laws of physics being what they are, the smaller brown combatant was able to make an extremely tight 360° turn while the larger black and white pursuer took a longer and wider path (think: IJN “Zero” versus the USN “Hellcat”). This opened the lead by just enough to let the high-velocity varmint escape into the burn pile a few yards away (think: Br’er Rabbit). 

Abbie was fit to be tied and tried mightily to find a way into the brush pile. Had there been a bulldozer available, she surely would have used it. This is one of the few times that the enemy won the battle. The war continues.

Guard Chicken: the other day (when lots of things happen around here), I needed to haul one of my working girls out of the coop. She turned “broody” on me and needed to get some sunlight instead of being parked in an eggless nesting box. She protested by growling at me a bit (oh, yes. Hens can growl) then quietly acquiesced to her fate.

Well, there’s a big red rooster on the loose at the ranch and he happens to be king o’ the yard birds. When he saw me exiting the coop with one of his girls, he stormed towards me! He didn’t need to say anything (though I’m doing fairly well with my chickenese). I could tell exactly what he meant: “That’s not your hen! That’s my hen! You have exactly a tenth of a second ago to put her down! Do it!”.

Before I could try to explain to him that I’m old and don’t move as fast as I used to, he shifted into attack mode and headed for me like a bolt of lightning; all I saw was a blur! Lo and behold! I did move as quickly as I used to! I set Dirty Birdy Growling Gurty down so fast I almost bounced her! It’ll take her a week to straighten out her feathers! 

With Gurty between him and me, the newly enlightened bird herder managed to exit the combat arena without injury or further ado (but with enough adrenaline left over to share with a fighter pilot). With his mission accomplished, the victorious rooster proudly marched off with his hen in tow. 

The cockfight was narrowly avoided but you can be sure that it’ll be awhile before another stunt like that will be pulled again. You can also be sure that it’ll be when Ol’ Roo the guard rooster, is out front or way off in the neighbor’s yard!

To tell the truth, I am mighty proud of the big red proud and fearless rooster. I wouldn’t want him to be any other way. He takes great care of his (and only his) harem. He does a magnificent job. 

We got rain!: that’s no small thing. After this region suffered a five-year-long drought, getting the normal seasonal amount of rain is a really big deal. The area is now wonderfully green and my orange trees are hale and hardy. When our trees get adequate water, the oranges are almost as sweet as candy! Talk about “freshly squozed” orange juice! Nothin’ any finer from here to Caroliner (sic)!

Now, around these parts, we get rain but don’t get “cow-quaker” rain storms. This wonderfully evocative phrase describes a rainstorm so heavy that the cows shake. It refers specifically to storms in May, just after the cattle have been turned out into the fields from their winter quarters. What we do get is “soaker rains” which is a modest steady rain which has time to soak in. It isn’t like the “flash flood” rains that are experienced in such places as Arizona or the California desert areas.

This also means that the grass has stayed green longer and that we still look like a habitable land. Alas, a few  more weeks and that will all change and the savage pitiless heat will, once again, rule roughshod over us. C’est la vie.

Much grass!: of course, when you have a lot of rain, the grass will grow…and grow…and grow. That means that someone will need to mow the stuff.

Rancho Relaxo was beginning to look pretty shaggy so, the ol’ tractor driver tried to fire up the riding mower. Despite having a fully-charged battery, it was pretty hesitant but finally relented and jumped to life. Such hesitancy doesn’t bode well.

After getting most of the front mowed and the back badly needing to be mowed next,  Mo, the lawn tractor, decided not to continue participating and quit. All that was happening when the starter was engaged was ...nothing. It sounded like the starter was bad or at perhaps the solenoid was faulty. So, that ended mowing for the day.

Thankfully, friend, brother, and neighbor, Dan Freeland, noticed the incomplete mess. He grabbed his riding mower and weedeater and finished the job for us! The ranch looks livable again!!

There you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died) and Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells like freshly mowed grass and an overworked rancher: where things can get...interesting: where it’s all news to me: and, where...you just never know.

SHOWERS DE ABRIL

This is 5 year old Warner Phillip Howden displaying his new apron that his grandmother, Connie the Sewer (she can't quite get used to the handle "Connie the Sew and Sew" for some reason) made for him. It looks like he'll be a great help in the kitchen.

"Look, Ma! No bread!". Well, yeah. This is a strip-mined shelf at "Smart & Final" in Porteville after everyone decided that bread is the "in thing" and they should buy as much as they could (somehow not realizing that bread will only last a few days., *SIGH*). It has largely recovered but who knows if the panic will last or not.

"Mirar, mamá! No mas tortillas!" I have never...ever...seen a tortilla rack that had been stripped clean of those wonderful flat breads. It's a good thing that the old folks at the ranch already had plenty of them at home.

Speaking of bread, to the right is a freshly attacked hot loaf of home built bread! Notice that the hot heels never had a chance! We made bread with both of our bread machines since we just couldn't take a chance that one of them wouldn't be working if we needed it, eh? Since they were both working, we gave one to a dear friend and sister who is interested in making home made bread (she will never be sorry).

Not much to say except that it's just a pretty picture that I liked.
All of that green will be turned to "California gold" all too soon.
Try clicking on it to enlarge it.

Boy! Howdy! It’s April 2020! Doesn’t that just let the air out of your new bounce house?! This getting old thing is…getting old. Moving along….

It’s time for another Rancho Relaxo report so that y’all will never have to guess what the two goofy, unsupervised, old people are up to.

Lock me up: well….how’s that lock down thing working for you? So far, it’s working pretty well for us. I guess that, when you are prepared for just about every contingency, suffering a travel restriction during a world-wide plague (with all the nations in lock down and bodies piling up) is a just a minor inconvenience (of course, the Ol' Prepper may be a tad or two overly-optimistic).

 But, also, it may well be because we live in “Hicksville, USA” where our “social distancing’ is built in. Our nearest “real town”, Visalia, is about an hour away. Oh, sure; Hooterville is only 12 miles away but...come on…you know that it’s only pretending to be a real town.

At least it’s no longer “Orderville” like it was when I first moved back here in ’96. We would go into a place to shop and ask for help. The clerk/agent would almost invariably say, “No, sir. We don’t have that but…we can order it for you”.

Sure, we need a few perishables around here. So, we just hop in the hoopie and hustle down to the local "Aldi’s" or "Smart and Final" and pick up a whatever we need. In fact, staying at home has provided time to get stuff done but just in a different priority. This is to say that there is lots to do here; we call it "home work". It's not going anywhere so we just dig into it as a priority instead of it being optional. No biggy.

We almost feel guilty because we are able to actually get some…rest! Isn’t that amazing?!

Soakin’ it in: the heavens are releasing their treasure of rain on the valley. We’re getting what I call a “soaker rain”. It’s an easy gentle rain that (mostly) stays where it falls. That’ll do our orange trees much good. And, it’ll kick start the just-planted veggies in the garden boxes. After such brutally dry winter seasons, it’s a joyous occasion to have plenty of water.

If the old folks can break away (not impossible but unlikely), we’d like to see what this wonderful shower has done to the wildflowers in Yokhol Valley. That used to be an annual run where mucho bunches of pictures were taken of the awesome spring splash  brilliant colors of multitudes of flowers on a splendorous green canvas. We’ll see.

It’s 1 AM. Do you know where your coon dog is?: actually, I do know. She’s outside our bedroom window and barking her little black, tan, and white head off….at 12 AM ….and at 12:30 AM…..and at 1 AM. All of this barking is also keeping the neighbors awake. Bless their long-suffering hearts, they didn’t call me to advise that my coon dog was barking and keeping them up; they didn’t want to wake me, I suppose. They could have sent Nick and the boys over to straighten me out, too. My kneecaps will be eternally grateful they didn’t.

But, this barking was different. She was onto something and she was employing her coon-doggedness to the highest degree and efficacy. There’s just something about a full “baying” that gets your attention (and at 1 AM, how could it not get your attention?). So, knowing our little girl dog as well as we do, we knew that she meant business. 

So, the Ol’ sleepy eyed rancher unloaded his weary carcass out of the (nice, warm, soft) sack and slipped on his zapatas so that he could, peradventure, bring peace to the neighborhood (and prevent the neighbors from sight-ranging the their new grenade launchers).

Well, it didn’t take but a few steps to determine that Abbie had proven herself worthy of her “Princess Coon Hound” title. A quick flash of the high-powered tactical flashlight revealed a big ol’ coon parked at the top of the smallish evergreen tree not far from our bedroom (of course. Where else would a self-respecting coon be parked?).

Now….just as the previous time a coon was treed in our back yard, there was a slight temptation to ponder whether Ol’ Ran needed a new coon-skin cap or not. Since the masked bandit wasn’t going anywhere any time soon, it would have taken but little effort to march into the house to retrieve some “coon getter” artillery. Ah, but the neighbors….always the neighbors. Being the good neighbor that I am, that idea was quickly nixed. No worries. No reason to start a firefight in the middle of a perfectly calm evening.

I'm sure that it's safe to say that the old dude probably doesn’t need to make a fashion statement by showing up with a furry new cap (especially one that’s still bleeding). Besides, the next thing you know, he’d likely start wearing fringed leather britches, a fringed leather shirt, fringed leather moccasins, and carrying a black powder, muzzle-stuffer,  Kentucky long rifle, like Daniel Boone (is that sorta like living on the fringe of society?). Maybe next time, eh?

This is getting old: the other day (when lots of things happen around here), we were getting ready to go to the Post Office. Prior to departure, and car keys in hand, I went back up to my office to bring down a letter for one particular brother and an “I Care Package” for another. When I came back down a little while later, Connie the Inquisitor, asked, “Where’s Skip’s letter and Gene’s package?”. Not to be caught off guard, my lightnin’ fast mind gave me the immediate answer: “They’re right where I left’em”. After receiving the “You do know how to fix that, right?” look from Connie, it was back up the stairs to promptly fetch the patiently waiting items which were then given to her. “Um…where’s the car keys?” she further queried. OK…back up the stairs to fetch the car keys. This? This…. is getting old.

Drone Drama: or….”drone play”. When you fly a drone (especially when you have never done that before), you are…I repeat...are…going to experience…interesting things and happenings. You can perhaps express it this way: there are no un-crashed drones. If you have not crashed your drone, you will. It’s part of “drone life” (kind of like death and taxes; you just can’t escape).

Recently, I was assured by a friend that chickens hate to have something flying over them and that it was great fun to mess with their heads by parking a drone over them. That prompted yours truly to practice chasing chickens with his drone. Soon, the Ol’ Drone-ster found his little four-fanned flieger in a tight spot under tree and next to the van. All it took was to forget which lever was the “up” control and, quicker than you can split an infinitive, the petite chicken chaser was hanging upside down on a tree limb. I can’t really swear that I could tell for sure, but, it seemed to me that the chickens were all huddled together a short distance away and laughing their beaks off.

Anyway, it only took a small stool and broom handle to retrieve my birdie and she was none the worse for wear. Pay attention, Ran. 

Dough Si Dough: we’re in the dough. We’re also equipped with a couple of bread makers which is a combination that’s hard to beat. Boy! Do I love the smell of freshly baked bread in the morning (napalm….not so much).

This is to say that, since it’s spring time, we're awakening our bread makers out of hibernation and taking them for a stroll. That's not much of a chore given that we get to embrace the aroma of freshly baked bread and then cut off a HOT HEEL, slather it with REAL BUTTER, and stuff it into our faces. Actually, I do the stuffing. Connie the Canner eats hers far more like a human than the resident professional chomping champion does.

No go: Quatro, the Honda ATV, was having some sort of issue and just wouldn’t start (despite having a nice blue spark, a full fuel tank, and a new gas petcock valve). No amount of coaxing, wheedling, threatening, or begging could get it run. So, it was time to tinker with it (as if I had such a commodity with which to wrangle a recalcitrant four-wheeled piles of nuts and bolts into submission). Thankfully, on this  occasion (due to it being my “day off” because someone spread the plague to the world), I had the time to grab a ratchet and socket and “git after it”.

Come to find out, it had some sort of “vapor lock” (albeit not the classic one that involves high heat and the gas line). Gas just wasn’t making it to the cylinders. But, after poking, prodding, and tossing some gas into one cylinder, the little quadster woke up and was ready to work again.

The first thing that happened was that a healthy load of compost was loaded up and hauled to the garden boxes. They needed to be leveled out a bit with more dirt after the previous loads settled (and after my herd of chickens shuffled and modified most of it). Box #4 has not been refilled so there’s 7 or 8 more loads needed there. We’ll be getting some lovely rain this coming week so that chore will likely be postponed for a while.

Connie the Cutter: what do you do when you need a haircut (I needed all of mine cut) and the barber is on lock down? You awaken to the fact that your wife used to cut her children’s hair (for years and years) and that she has a working pair of hair clippers in the closet, that’s what! So, when called upon, she grabbed the clippers and a huge barber's cape and went to work!

After 15 minutes of hearing the buzzing of clippers, the snipping of scissors, and the feeling of shaving cream being cleaned off my neck with a razor, it was time to see the results. Guess what? She did a great job! The Ol’ Rancher no longer has to dodge the dog catcher when he leaves the house! Ain’t it great! And, wait, folks! There’s more! Ol’ Thrifty Dude saved 20 bucks! Whoohoo! Saving money is our friend! That’s one more hat that Connie can proudly wear!

After decades of having his hair cut by a professional barber,  Ol’ Shag wasn’t worried about what the haircut might look like after an “amateur” whacked away on his noggin. It must be his age or maybe his vanity died before he did (that could possibly explain the “no slave to fashion” look he’s been sporting lately). 

Roundup Time: we don’t have cattle, horses, sheep, goats, or hogs so “roundup time” isn’t necessarily a good thing. We've had to round up big messes made by high winds and such. During our annual yard sale a few years ago, we had to round up parts and pieces of one of our pop-up canopies. 

On the other hand, if we could round up all of the mangy brown ground squirrels, skin and clean them, cook them up until they were completely tender, then dig a big hole and bury them in it… that would be great! They have done considerable damage to the foundation of the pole barn and the big barn. Something needs to be done before they start declaring “squatter’s rights”. Grrrrrr.

Fill’er Up!: when gas prices tanked, what could a couple of ol’ preppers do but haul out their empty gas cans and head for the gas station? This round found only 10 cans (ranging from 1 gal. to 8 gal.) to fill. Gas is our friend because we have so many motors and engines to feed around where. We also topped off both cars and Quatro.

We just learned that gas in Texas is 1.41. If you live in California, that’s enough to make you gasp in amazement. If that price won't make you clap really hard, it was just reported that there are places in Oklahoma where gas is 1.00 gal.!

The irony is that gas is cheaper than probably any time in our history (when accounting for inflation and COLA) but  most of us are on lock down! Go figure! I’m ready to take a vacation and can’t go anywhere! RATS!

Big Bird: We had to make room in one of our freezers so the “big birds” had to be evicted. The “big birds” were the turkeys that were purchased as a “closeout” (natch) at .29lb. There was no way the old preppers could walk by such a deal and sleep that night.

So, Connie the Canner enlisted the aid of the Ol’ Ran the Hacker to dismember the birds so she could rearrange their parts so they could be stuffed into jars. That meant that the old dull guy had to break out his favorite sharp knife and get to cutting.

It’s great to cut something up when no one is watching. No one will ever know that they should be calling the police because there’s an old guy armed with a knife and who has the potential to accidently commit mayhem (though largely upon himself). 

And, no one can tell if you are an expert carver or an expert slasher, eh? So, it appears the appellation of “old hacker” will suffice for now since it’s rather innocuous enough (and no one will know the difference if there’s no blood left for evidence).

After about an hour per bird, Connie took the carefully-hacked chunks, stuffed them into a ton of jars, then canned them. They’ll all come in handy!

You’ll want to note that carving takes the most time; slashing takes hardly no time at all; hacking takes more time than slashing but less time than carving. Now you’re an expert in the matter of cutting things up.

Simmer on: after whacking and hacking (whacking is hacking but you do it more vigorously), there is still a lot of meat left on the bones. There’s really no sense in letting a good turkey carcass go to waste so it was time for phase two.

A meat cleaver was taken to the bones so they would fit into a large stew pot that had enough water to cover them. They were left to simmer for at least three hours because you are both cooking the meat off and also simmering the bones for broth.

After 3 hours, they were allowed to cooled then the broth was strained into another large pot. The meat was separated and bagged for use in gravy (as in, hot turkey gravy on toast! Whooo, doggies! My, but that’s good!). The bones were tossed and the broth was canned and stored.

There you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died) and Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-kook): where the air smells like freshly mowed grass: where things can get...interesting: where it’s all news to me: and, where...you just never know.

Rancho Mas Verde

Here's a few shots of the aftermath of the library fire. None of us old people were left untouched by this utterly unnecessary evil. Two young fools deliberately started a fire INSIDE the library. This was no childhood prank. This came from an evil heart that devises wicked imaginations. Two good men needlessly died because of this vile event.

 The new building that now stands in the place of the old "Porterville Hotel".

 Here is a shot of the almond trees in bloom just north of Hwy 190 and just west of Hwy 65.

 This is the highest I've flown the drone. Looking north from over my driveway.

Another shot of the front of the new building

To the right is the new "Fugazzi's" restaurant. They hope to open in a couple of weeks.

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Garden boxes 1, 2, and 3. Looking east. They were recently refilled with fresh compost. A few starts have since been planted.

 To the right is Roo who is acting as some sort of supervisor. That or he's just checking me out and hoping I'll leave behind a bug or two.

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This is the Tule River looking west from the Lower Globe Road bridge. After the previous flooding, there was a massive flow of sand and sediment in this area. It filled in one of the best fishing holes on the river. Two of the three largest trout that I've ever caught were from this hole. It used to be 2' to 6' or so feet deep. It's now just a shallow wading pool. 

Here's Tojo the little '85 Toyota pickup. We sold it to a local ministry that helps the homeless. We made them a very fair deal. Since we now have the Honda ATV with a trailer, we probably won't need the pickup. We'll see.

To the right: this picture was tossed in just in case you haven't see the guts of a Maytag dryer recently. It's actually fairly simple and straightforward to pull apart (especially if you are used to pulling laptops apart. Dryers are a piece of pie). You just have to pay attention.  The cycling thermostat needed to be replaced. All the other sensors and parts that were going to wear out anyway were replaced, as well. No old people were harmed in the process of fixing this dryer or the taking of this stupid picture.

Here's Abbie rounding up a genuine California Pocket Gopher. She doesn't quite know what to do other than try to dig him out. That won't work, of course. The gopher just goes deeper. But, it does keep her nose in shape.

Hey!! It’s March 2020!! Doesn’t that just over-torque the head bolts on your Ford “flatty” V-8, Granny?!! What’s up with the runaway calendar?!

Spring has just hit us like a 10 hp fly swatter! I’m not ready for spring yet! I have winter work to do to get ready for spring! This ain’t real! Grrrrr….moving along.

Raining: at least we’re going to be getting a bit of rain (a “bit” of rain is slightly more than “mad” rain where there are one hundred drops of rain equally distributed across the county and which make a mess of your car’s windshield). Getting a fresh rain is a good thing because, for some reason, we are terribly short on pluviculturists (people who try to make rain) in this region. Now, we are notoriously rain free most of the time so it’s a great wonder that the place isn’t crawling with them. Maybe they charge too much.

Rain update: we did get a nice “soaker” rain for part of a day but we need much more. Things got wet but we really need a couple of “frog stranglers” to get the ground ready for summer. Our orange and plum trees need a goodly sized drink of water.

Boxing: this rapidly budding trees thing has the Ol’ Rancher springing into action (sorry; couldn’t help myself) and getting his garden boxes ready for the new season. As usual, there just isn't enough energy to spread between chores around here. At this rate, I'll need to clone myself to get things done. *SIGH*. 

Oh, and what poor shape the poor boxes are in. Ugh. It’s not that they’ve been all that neglected. They just haven't been kept up to maximal standards. However, they are old and tired (I feel their pain) and needed an overhaul (yep). So, it was time to fire up “El Quatro” (“Quatro” for short), the Honda Recon ATV, and start hauling some compost.

We keep an ongoing compost pile out back near the orange trees. It gets added to and stirred from time to time (using the Ranch Rino). When it’s “ripe”, I use the compost to reload the garden boxes or what all. That is, if there is enough time and concurrent energy supply to complete the task.

Anyway, Qautro has a nice small trailer that hooks up to the ball hitch so I can haul quite a nice sized load of material to the boxes without having to use the wheel barrow. It takes about 4-5 trips with the wheel barrow to haul as much material that can be hauled with the ATV and trailer in one load. That thing is my friend! 

Of course, that stuff doesn’t just up and load itself then jump out of the trailer into the boxes. Someone…ahem…that would be me…has to grab the handle of a transfer shovel and get to gruntin’ (gruntin’ is not my friend). That means a lot of taxed muscles (meaning that my taxes are too high) which complain loudly by bed time (Ibuprofen is my friend).

As of this posting, 3 of the boxes are finished and the 4^th will likely have to wait until after the beautiful, wonderful, excellent, highly-anticipated rain clouds dump their liquid treasure upon us in a day or so. After everything dries out (and after a nap), the last of the boxes will get some attention. 

If last year was any indicator of things to come, the number one box will be our "green bean" and "green peas" box. I'm trying to sprout some Chinese snow peas so that I can make my stir-fry cooking adventures happier. Connie really digs the green beans and can’t wait for more to show up.

New items are some herbs and veggies, too. The herbs are rosemary and mint (planted in separate garden tubs) and the new veggies are the collard greens. Some seeds are bit old and may not germinate so the experiment is underway. The established oregano patch has shrunk somewhat but is still thriving. Spaghetti, anyone? 

Start me up: there are also a few starts. First, there is the use of a morning defibrillator so the Ol’ Rancher can get things off to a good start. That would be a nice hot (homemade) Starbucks coffee lattè. Then, the other starts; that would be red, orange, and green bell peppers, one Serrano type chili plant, a straight neck yellow summer squash, a zucchini plant, and 3 tomato plants to get things kicked off. These all came from “Lowes”. 

Seedlings are okra, crooked neck yellow squash, more zucchini squash, and zapolla squash (a Peruvian squash that is very nutritious and extremely versatile e.g. soups, stews, sautéd, steamed, and is even used in deserts) and Ol’ Ran, the planter, started those. The green beans and peas still need to be stuffed into the ground.

All we need to do is keep the chickens from raiding the boxes and cleaning up the seeds. It's likely we'll need to hang some netting of some sort to keep them out. They are indiscriminate and ravenous raptors without a conscience and can wreck a garden box in less time than Ali took Fraizer. They also taste great so they need to pay attention to the rules.    

Getting squashed: the zapolla are known to grow rather large (as in, if allowed to fully grow, it takes two men to carry one). We shall see. If they can be found, there are some seeds from the Japanese pumpkins that I remember saving, too. We grew some last year but didn’t really know what to do with them so they ended up in the compost pile. You use them like any other member of the squash family. 

Love me some collards!: my! But do I love collard greens! The hope is that there will be a nice large patch of them! It's difficult to find such a sumptuous mess of greens that are any simpler to prepare! Just toss in a ham hock of your choosing (we keep several to choose from here), however much bacon you like (we like bacon...a lot), or some salt pork, and cook the livin' daylights out them (about 3 hours) and you'll have a "mess" fit for royalty. Chase down a  big ol' pan of southern cornbread and a bowl of blackeyes, or pinto beans and you'll wind up being parked at the dinner table for a good long while. If your collards have been left out in the rain and hail at all, be sure and rinse the hail out of them before you eat'em. Otherwise, they'll be a tad gritty (and, nobody...nobody...likes gritty collards). 

Exhausted: for the past few months, we just couldn’t seem to make fixing Toyo’s exhaust noise issue a priority. Finally, the other day (when lots of things happen around here), we took it in and dropped it off at the muffler shop. The issue was that the flex connector that connects the manifold to the exhaust pipe was worn out. 60 bucks later, we were good to go. We can now drive with our heads sticking up high enough so people can recognize who’s driving the nice and quiet car. 

Goodbye, TOJO: after serving us very well for so many years, the little ’85 Toyota pickup is gonzo. We didn’t use it enough to warrant the upkeep on it. It’s been on “non-op” for a couple of years now and had sat forlornly for a few months awaiting a gas line repair. Now that we have “Hondo”, the ATV and trailer, I don’t need the picky-up truck to haul things around on the ranch. The little truck will be missed but I imagine that will fade when I get the big F250 Ford diesel truck that caught my fancy some months ago.

A local help-the-homeless ministry needed it so they got it. No doubt they will make good use of it. It runs fairly well but will needs some TLC since it has been sitting for awhile.

  

Abbie the Winner Dog: when we came home from church Sunday afternoon, my speedy, spunky, black and white, faithful, coon doggy failed to greet us as she usually does. Upon exiting the van, it became apparent that she was quite busy and utterly focused on her current hunting project at the next door neighbor’s house (a practice that is not encouraged by her non-speedy, non-spunky, rather slow, owner). It wasn't known how long she had been at it but her barking and baying was probably getting old to the other neighbors. Knowing that my coon dog’s nose knows what’s happening on her turf, I just had to find out what the ruckus was all about.   

It didn’t take long to discover that she had “treed” a critter of some sort as it took refuge in a 4” PVC pipe that acted as a front door drain of the neighbor’s home. I was pretty sure that it wasn't a bear or a bobcat so felt comfortable heading over for a closer look. Then, the high-pitched barking of a ground squirrel filled the air. This was a “no brainer”; a fuzzer was in trouble. 

Abbie was really jacked up and it was sure that she wasn’t going to be un-jacked any time soon. What to do? Hmmmm. Ah! There just happened to be a charged hose with a jet nozzle on it sitting within reach of the center of activity. You can imagine that it was hard to wait and see what was going to happen when a high pressure stream of water was introduced into the opposite end of the pipe that was harboring the little brown hole miner and land destroyer.  

With a quick pull of the handle on the nozzle, the brown bane rocketed out the far end of the pipe and directly into the waiting maw of a rodent-hating, ready-for-action, coon hound. The furry bugger didn’t know what hit him! With a “BAM!” and a shake, it was all over within a split second. Abbie – 1; Critter – 0. Go, Abbie! Peace and quiet returned to the hood as Abbie pranced off with her new trophy.

There you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died) and Connie the Canner (world's greatest side-cook): where the air smells like sun-dried bed sheets and fresh compost: where things can get...interesting: where it’s all news to me: and, where...you just never know.

RANCHO DRONE-O

  Above is Abbie stalking a gopher. I don't mind that she is using her stalking skills but a better application of her talents is to stalk coons and rabbits.

                                          Here's the hungry hen horde in full pecking array.

To the left is the drone-meister himself fiddling with his control unit and trying to figure out the complexities of flying a drone. Notice that he is in deep thought and is applying himself with great effort to make the stupid thing take a picture.

To the right is the official "drone throne". It will
have to do until the...um...convenience-oriented...drone pilot can fetch one of his gig stools from the barn.

This is the Coop de Ville with Dumbo, the trailer, next to Toyo, the Camry. Shot from the drone.

Ladies and Gentlemen......the drone. She's a little cruiser that takes a mighty fine picture. The table is a work table that has been newly re-purposed as a drone-platz. The little firefly weighs less than a half pound so it doesn't have to be registered with the FAA.

Did you ever want to spy on your neighbors? Me neither. But, when you're out taking your drone for a walk, you may as well see what it'll do (looking Northeast).

To the right, is the area directly across the street from us (looking south).









Below is a shot of the rear of Rancho Relaxo (looking south).
You, no doubt, have always wanted see our rear.

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To the right is another shot across the street but looking more toward the southeast. The main street is Highway 190 which leads to Springville (3 miles).

Well…it’s February! Doesn’t that just make you want to pick a peck of pickled peppers? Where does the time fly to when it’s in such a hurry?!

Things are moving along here at the rancho. We stay about as busy as a long-tailed cat in room full of rocking chairs. That’s not a complaint. Lots of folks don’t get to move around that much so we’re thankful to be able to do so.

The weather has been almost wintery. It tried but then it looks like it has given up on the matter. It’s already springy and we’re not even close to being prepared for that event.

No ham: you know it’s busy around here when the ol’ hamster hasn’t had an opportunity to work with his ham radio station. There is a really nice “Slinky” dipole antenna that needs to be finished and tweaked but there isn’t a priority to work on it yet. It shouldn’t take but about an hour or so. Maybe I can get to it soon.

Having time to finish setting up my radios for digital communications is also sitting on the shelf. The chips to pair the rigs with the sound card/modem are on the shelf, too. But there’s no way to get to it for now.

Up in the air: to be able to fly my drone legally, a recent “biannual flight review” is required. Every two years, pilots are required to fly with a CFI/instructor for an hour or so and do about an hour’s ground school instruction. It’s not a “pass or fail” test as such. It’s just a refresher of sorts so that pilots don’t try to fly with a brain full of rust.

So, the Ol’ Fokker lover called a CFI friend and scheduled a flight. Lots of things to talk about here. One is that I haven’t flown in 5 years. The highest I’ve been is near the top of a ten foot ladder (and it was day VFR at that). And, Rancho Relaxo doesn’t have any flight sims with which to stay proficient, either. So, Ol’ Rusty Ran had to focus (“Must focus!”, as Mr. Miyagi says).

Another thing is that the only airplane for rent within 50-75 miles was a Cessna 150 (an airplane that I swore I’d never purposely fly again so that it wouldn't have the opportunity to try to kill me). I’ve flown many hours in a “buck and a half” Cessna and thought that I had transitioned over to real airplanes (though I’m still having doubts about how to categorize the Cessna 172 mush-through-the-air wagon). With the exception of when I weighed 160 lbs and flying solo (try 1966), I couldn’t help but note (on no few occasions, in no few locations, and in no few of them including the 152) that they hate to fly and hate to climb even more!

Well, now I weigh in at close to 220lbs. To save weight, I wanted to fly in my bed pants and T-shirt since I’d be much lighter but Connie nixed that straightaway. I’m not sure why since no one would be laughing at her. Maybe she wanted to spare me the ridicule (bless her heart).  

And, the instructor was about my size. Do the math on that. Stuff in (38" cabin width) an overweight, middle-aged (OK, old), white dude, and another guy just like him for an instructor, and you have a pretty hefty load for a 100 hp pink-fundament hauler. 

Oh…that’s not including gas…gas is our friend. We need gas. The “Cessna One Thrifty” only holds 24 gallons of fuel (22 gallons usable) so that’s 144 lbs of fuel. The ship (depending upon the model) will only tote around 550 lbs into the sky. That leaves us at about 406 lbs of useful load (accounting for 144 lbs of fuel). You can see that, if we aren’t paying attention, we may have to leave some fuel (or one behind) behind. Otherwise, taking off with three cups of gas in the tank just  isn’t a comforting thought at all.

Thankfully, Lennard (sic), the instructor, knew that he wasn’t going to be flying with a lightweight so he didn’t top off the tanks. We had about ten gallons of fuel (this old dipstick used a dipstick to check) so that would give us more than an hour of flying time and a healthy reserve in case we wanted to shoot a an extra touch-and-go (which we did).

This is where things start to get…interesting. We did the walk-around pre-flight check, strapped in, fired up the Continental O-200, and, after all the steam gauges were in the green, taxied out to the active runway (which is “30” at Hooterville International Aerodrome). After the run-up mag check, and a radio call to announce our intentions, the little metal birdie was lined up on the center line of our (wonderful) 150’ wide runway (though it does make you feel rather small especially when you’re sitting in tiny SPAM can). The throttle was fully advanced and away we went with the wheels coming off the ground in a rather short distance.

What blew me away is that the bloody thing actually started climbing without my having to beg it or spur it to do so! I was almost stunned! I hadn’t seen a 150 climb like that since flying solo and with half tanks (53 years ago!)! Then, it dawned on my rusty noggin’ why. It was a really cool 50 degree day so the air was“thick” and “healthy”. Cool air is dense air and planes love dense air (and their engines do too). I couldn’t get over it! I told Lennard how happy I was that we didn’t have to take all day to gain altitude! He grinned and agreed that cool air was…cool.

After an hour or so of playing around with steep turns, stalls, slow-flight, and such, we headed back to the flugplatz for a couple of touch-and-go landings. Lo and behold; the landings were acceptable and nothing was bent or broken! It won’t take much practice and I’ll have my “greaser” landings back.

We taxied back to the hangar, parked the bird, and Lennard signed me off; I’m good to go. And, in addition to be "drone ready", as soon as the FAA sends my medical certificate (which should be soon), I will be ready to fly solo and carry passengers as PIC (pilot in command). Should be fun!

Droning away: the new drone is officially part of the family now. It gets its exercise once per day and then is caringly carted back in out of the elements like it was a princess or something.

The other day (when lots of things happen around here), it was finally hauled outside for its maiden flight. The ol’ Drone-ster had to wait for the weather to clear, enough time, and a good mood to strike, so the inauguration flight could be conducted. The basic instructions were reviewed, the batteries checked, and with all parts and pieces in place, the props were armed. The little buzzer fired right up and was itching to show me its stuff.

A push of the “auto-hover” button shot the little bumbly bee up in the air about 8’ or so. She sat still and awaited my next brilliant command. The “up” lever was eased forward and the new bird blitzed strait up like it was part rocket! Geeez! Talk about sensitive! It was immediately noticed that the ol’ ham-handed tractor driver is going to need to use a bit more finesse.

I’m (sort of) catching on, though. It’s a frisky little critter, to be sure so it’s a handful for lil’ ol’ not-so-frisky me. I’m trying not to be overly critical of myself and try to remember that roller skating took a while to become proficient at, too (i.e. without needing time to heal whatever body part that took a beating at the rink).

Certifiable: Hey! Hey! Hey! I’m certified as a drone pilot! I can now do more than practice! All of the hoops have been jumped through and the paperwork is all out of the way. To quote my old pal, Jackie Gleason: “And, awaaaaaaaay we go!” (wasn’t that in ’66?).

I can’t even express how delighted I am that I didn’t have to slog through all of the requirements for the Part 107 SAUS pilot’s certification. With a valid airman’s certificate in my wallet, the only requirement (after the initial Part 107 exam) was the biannual flight review and to produce the “special ID” to prove who I am. That wasn’t difficult given the fact that I’ve known the instructor since 1967 (but, to follow the rules, I provided the ID anyway and he signed me off). He worked for the FBO and designated flight examiner who gave me my check ride (June '68). That and he checked me out in a couple of other birds about 7 years or so ago.

The next day after the biannual review, I contacted the nice real estate agent that I had originally spoken with about drones. She was delighted and enthusiastic that I had called and is going to be advising others in her agency. That’ll work! “Ol’ Ran the drone slinger, at your service, ma’am”.

It dawned on me (and it should have dawned quite some time ago) that I’ll need to create a business card for the drone biz. So, if I can get my brain on board with the matter, I’ll work up something reasonably professional. All of the software to do so is on hand along with lots of card stock. There’s also three HP Officejet Pro and two HP Photosmart printers all loaded and ready to rock.

Hentopia: our girls are magnificent! Even though it’s winter time, they are producing eggs without missing a beat! We’re almost getting too many eggs! Contrast that to the season where we had more than 40 birds but were only getting about 2 dozen eggs per day! They were molting and what all and just weren’t laying. We thought that they had gone strike! Keep up the good work, girls!

Princess Pooch Palace: our perky puppy hasn’t had to suffer at all this winter. She’s a short haired dog so she doesn’t take to really cold temps (unlike Maggie who eschewed dog houses like they were inhabited by lions). Every winter, a flameless oil heater is used to keep her pooch hooch warm. She loves it! It gets unplugged in the mornings when I go out to turn the Cackle Posse loose. By that time, Abbie is awake and ready to ride herd on the birds.

Honda Rancher ATV: the Honda 250 ATV has been sidelined until I could get my wrench on it. The Honda Shop in Visalia wanted 200 bucks to install a fuel petcock. I found that to be a tad spendy since the part is only 10 dollars and I’m guessing that the time involved is only about 45 minutes. Reckon someone raised their rent.

 So, ol’ thrifty Ran had to order a new petcock gas valve and will now wade into the project. It’s not all that difficult but it does take time (and that’s a scarce commodity around here).

The little cart is a great help because I can get so much done in much less time and with much less effort. It’ll be great to hear its engine purr again.

Update: The petcock just came in the mail (the dealer was going to charge me about 100 dollars for it) and I just installed the thing myself in about 30 minutes (the shop was going to charge close to 100 dollars for labor). The Honda runs just fine now and the savings was about 190 bucks!

There you have it: another short episode of the long happenings at Rancho Relaxo, home of Rancho Ran, the world's foremost authority (the previous one died) and Connie the Canner, world's greatest side-cook: where the air smells like freshly-baked cookies and 2 cycle motor oil: where things can get...interesting, and where...you just never know.