aging, grackles, and fire ants

 

The pecan trees are blooming. I've told all three of my trees to stop fooling around and I expect some pecans this year.

We had a small burial Saturday evening. Grandgirl Autumn's hedgehog Penelope, Autumn's companion for the last three or four years, reached the end of her life span and died last week. Autumn asked if she could bury her here and so we did, next to where my Emma kitty is buried.

I had my hair pulled back in a ponytail because it has gotten so long it's always in my face and I hate having hair in my face obscuring my vision and getting in the way and just being a general nuisance when Autumn remarked on how white it was at my temple. When did that happen, she asked. It's been happening for a while, just not very noticeable with my hair down. At nearly 73, my hair is still predominantly brown but the gray has been steadily creeping in, especially this last year. I may be in for a shock myself when I get my summer cut.

This morning I've got the back door open listening to the birds chirp and twitter and the woodpecker out there who has found a nice sounding board as he tries to attract a mate. The wind chimes are singing in the slight breeze. I can see the bird bath from where I sit and right now there's a male cardinal getting a drink. Cat is crouched under the yellow ginger thinking she's going to get a squirrel if one comes for the peanuts I threw out.

And what is up with the grackles this year? Usually they swoop in in a big flock, forage for a couple of days, and then swoop off to annoy another neighborhood two or three times a year. Not so this year. There are two or three scouts that are plaguing me and my sister over our bird feeders. I'm having to chase them off constantly as they are big and loud and greedy and bully the other birds and eat all the seed and if I don't chase them off, next thing you know they've sent out the word and there's a dozen or more. I am not feeding grackles.

Sunday I spent the day killing fire ants. I forget how many times I filled the 5 gallon bucket, at least four, maybe five, probably five. I treated 22 fire ant mounds, an unusually high number, from a few small start ups to mostly humongous incubators and still missed at least three. After breakfast I mixed up two more 5 gallon buckets going back over the mounds at the edges of my flower beds and retreating the survivors trying to salvage eggs and regroup. Didn't get the mounds I missed because I used all the orange oil before I got to them. The stuff is expensive, about $30 for a quart, but it usually goes a little further than this year. I've probably got about 50 fire ant bites on my feet for my trouble.

As generally happens, I wrote the above yesterday and then ran out of time to post before it was time to walk the dog and go to yoga. I led the class last night and probably will Wednesday because Abby texted me a picture of the shingles she broke out with in and around her black eye that her son accidentally gave her with his elbow last week.

Some pics around the yard...

Isn't this the prettiest little viola?

The byzantium gladiolas are starting to bloom

as are the clasping leaved coneflowers.

A volunteer squash in the compost pile which I think is probably an acorn squash.