Can I Keep It?

Eeeeeek!

I was quietly stirring in the mushrooms to my smothered chicken for lunch when a slight movement caught my eye to the left of the range.  I snapped my attention to the line up of condiments and vegetables when one of these things didn't look like the others and ---Eeeeek!  There's a muss in the shugah bowl! ('Cause I was raised in Virginia and that's how we say it up there...) 

It just stared at me and nibbed the sugar, nonplussed by my presence.  "Excuse me, Sugar Pie," I implored, "But I don't believe I invited you to lunch today." 

Actually, Sugar Pie had caught me completely off guard and I squealed like a girl and screamed, "SHOOOOO DAMMIT!"

Sugar Pie has been here before.  She has escaped every device put out by the exterminator.  We discovered her cohabitation of the Hudarosa several months ago.  I had laid some chocolate out on the counter one evening to remind myself to make some cashew clusters the next day.  Sugar Pie thought it had been a treat I had left for her enjoyment and promptly munched a square.  Or two.

We call her "Sugar Pie" because she has a serious sweet tooth.  She only eats candy and sweets. Potato chips, pecans or other savories are safe on the counter top.  We could have given her the moniker of "Cheeky Devil" with equal ease.  She is absolutely not afraid of the cat, the dogs, Hud or the Furry Godmother.  Upon being discovered, she will calmly stare at you until you usher her away.

Tatia sent me this link to a pretty good idea to evict Sugar Pie:  http://strobist.blogspot.com/2009/03/building-better-mousetrap.html  .  It the most humane way of dealing with random randy rodents, but I'm not sure I really need another pet here. After all, we did just get the frogs a new fish friend.

I could have had a rat a couple of years ago.  The Hudarosa had been invaded by a colony of roof rats.  They took up residence in the bamboo on the north side of the den and ate our vegetables from the garden.  We had been feeding the birds, which according to the city official who came out to rectify the problem, is a big NO NO.  He said that in the city limits, you feed a few birds, but a TON of rats.  He thought we had plenty of natural food for or flighty friends, so it was unnecessary as well. 

Anyhoo... One day, the dogs have something cornered in the roots of the wisteria and I sauntered over to investigate.  A frightened pointy face peered out from the coil of vine.  And then he ran as fast as he could to the safety of my jeans, shinnied up my leg and trapped at the knee, rethought his plan, slid down my leg and ran under the shed.

I calmly went inside and took off my pants.  Eventually, I threw them away.  Every time I put them on, Hud would ask, "Oh, are those the rat jeans?"  At which point, I would remove them and put them in the wash.  

Live in fear, sugar bowl.  Live in fear.    

Random Acts of Photography

One last look...

 

The place is just lousy with scenes like this!

Random Acts of Photography

In the Smokies, we came across this very knobby tree suspended over the river...

 

I'm not sure, but I think I saw a gnome bathing under it in this pool right before I snapped this shot. 

 

In fact, I'm sure of it.  See his shadow?

Kiss My...

When Vickie referred to her neighbors by a rather unflattering term for someone's posterior, I thought she was being uncharacteristically rude...

 

But when we toured the grounds and met them, I knew that she meant that they really were a bunch of DONKEYS!

I think Kevin was a bit surprised that I actually could entice them to the river stone fence, for a few measly pieces of honeysuckle vine.  It took a while with soothing noises and the magical trick of holding your hand as if it contained a fabulous prize.  Shhhh.  Don't tell my secret, but it even fooled Jake who had jumped the electric fence and joined us on our walk.  He's kind of like our Zoe, which is why we do not have that type of fence.  In Zoe's little dinosaur brain, it would only hurt for a second, so why not take one for the team in a chance for freedom?  I'm not saying the ruse was an easy one to fool Jake with, but, well, you do the math... 

Eventually, my persistence paid off and there were plenty of velvety noses that needed a scratch.

The fence is composed of smooth stones gathered from the river.  It stretched around the entire property that housed the donkeys.  It was surprisingly sturdy for a bunch of stacked rocks.  But you know what they say...

"Good fences make for good neighbors."

 

Why Go to the Smokies?

The real reason most people travel through the hell that is Pigeon Forge to get to Gatlinburg is to hike or ride through the majestic beauty of the Great Smokey Mountains.  There are dozens of steep winding trails like this one.

They lead throughout the park and empty into gorgeous views such as this:

Some snake along the swift rivers mounded with water smoothed rocks.  Everywhere you look there is serene peacefulness.  It makes you understand exactly how small you are in the universe while embracing the fact that you are part of something much larger on the planet. 

For some people that is enough.  But not for me...

I come for the puppies!

*This is the adorable Zoey.  Thanks, Love!  My nose has never been so fresh and clean!*

 

Mountain Schmountains

Finally!  I got some of my pictures downloaded from our fabulous weekend in Gatlinburg!  My college friend, Vickie and her husband, Kevin, run the Johnson Inn in downtown.  They have these marvelous condos that we stayed in, but we also toured the Smokies and visited their beautiful home which you can only get to on the ding dang scariest backwoods drive. 

We arrived at her home and once I got over hyperventilating about nearly dying on the journey to get there, Vickie said, "Isn't this great?  Kevin built it himself!"  To which I replied, "Yeah, uh huh, LOOK!  PUPPIES!"  Because I'm all couth like that.  

Aside from home building, Kevin's hobbies include dog breeding and driving too fast on skinny little switch-back mountain roads.

So as not to get attached, Vickie doesn't name them.  I, however, am calling this one "Frank", as in "Sinatra".  You know, "Ol' Blue Eyes", because, well, he's got blue eyes...

Uh huh, did I mention she doesn't want to get attached?

The parents are Jake and Echo, a couple of handsome black and white Border Collies.

That's Echo with the stick.  She has a fetish about them.  Jake is in the back herding their other dog, Zoey.  Okay, he's not herding her as much as making advances.  She's in heat and he's noticed.  Perhaps he has a fetish about her...

Oh, yeah.  Vickie and Kevin have three kids, too.  Geeze, that's just like me.  I need a bracelet that will shock me every time I do that.  It's people before puppies, Furry G!  Their boys, Austen and Daniel are too old to want to sit around with a bunch of fogies listening them spinning yarns of their misspent youths but the charming Breanna was a captive audience.  I think we may have gotten a belly laugh out of her on the tale of the braided armpit hair, but, um, never mind.... 

And yes, I actually DO have pictures of the Smokies and a few other pets, but you will have to be patient. I have to go paint a monkey.  You know, a Furry Godmother's work is never done...

*Thanks, Vickie and Kevin!  We had a terrific time and yes, I am VERY impressed with your beautiful children and your lovely house in the hills.  Not to mention the doggies! You are, indeed, one lucky couple!*

 

I Don't Get It

For the past two years Carmen has pondered the question, "Whatever inspired you to do THAT?"

I don't know, Honey.  Temporary insanity?  A fluke?  No, not the fish itself, I mean a crazy chance.  The Indigo Girls have a song that rambles on about different choices and what those did to set them off on the road to discovery and pointed them in the direction of the crooked path they were traveling on...

I know that the Papillons are nuts.  A different breed.  A dog undefined by conventionality.  Weirdo weirdy weirdy weird. 

Woof.

Today, as Hud and I toured the vegetable garden to witness the freshly sprouted bush beans, chives, sorrel, and snow peas; words came out of my mouth that I never thought I would ever say...  

Zali!  Simone!  Stop eating my broccoli right now!    

They were tearing apart the young plants and fighting over the tasty tender heads.  What kind of a dog does that?  Crazy banana, orange, broccoli eating nut jobs, that's who does that.  Didn't you guys read your orientation documents?  Chase squirrels!  Beg me for a chicken coop!  BUT MY BROCCOLI?  ARE YOU KIDDING ME? 

That's when Carmen shot me the incredulous look.

"Remember when it was just you and Dad and me and the cat and a couple of hedgehogs?  Ahhhh, good times..."

Yes, I answered, but it's the choices you make in life that make it interesting.  Do you go this way or that?  Chicken or fish?  Papillon or a life of normalcy?

This tree is over by the garden.  It forms an archway entry into the path beside the gate surrounding the vegetables.  The proper name is a "Twisted Filbert" or "Harry Lauder's Walking Stick".  I could not commit its name to memory when we first got the Hudarosa and invariably called it the "Uncle Doody's Walking Hootie".  I have no idea why.

In the summer, it is loaded with bright green spade shaped leaves.  Lovely, but not nearly as interesting as in the Winter.  When it sheds its covering, the snake-like limbs contort into the most incredible curlicued designs. 

Sometimes people say to me, "An artist, huh?  I could never do that!  I can't even draw a straight line!"

"It's not the ones you can do with a ruler that matter," I reply, "It's all those crooked ones that count."

So, that's why, Carmen.  That is why.  Because the Indigo Girls sang that the crooked path that they were traveling on made them closer to fine...

 *For Tatia:  Yes.  One of the choices should be, "Cake or Death?"*

 

Daffy Dil

Try as I might, I cannot keep fresh flowers in the house.  Aida views them as a treat and munches them like potato chips at a picnic.

It's the habit of many a house bound feline, I know.  I would be more comfortable with the ritual, I suppose, if I knew it held a higher purpose.  Say, if she were practicing the art of flower arranging, I could chalk it up to the learning curve.  Maybe she is forging ahead with some new advant garde form of flower manipulation that I am challenged to understand.  Anything except that she was feeling peckish and merely needed a nosh.  

But every time Hud brings in my sunny bits of Spring from the gardens and I must leave them unchaperoned, I return to find them chewed and strewn about the base of the vase.  It's very disheartening.  Such lovely things to be wasted on a snack.

We have dozens of varieties of daffodils on Schytherbolle's land.  They came up before the snow and now light up the landscape with their cheerful glow.  This type is commonly known as, "Scrambled Eggs".

You don't think she heard me say that once, do you?

 

Random Acts of Photography

Dueling flowering plants in the vegetable garden...

It's forsythia v. weeping cherry.  My bet's on the yellow one...

Time the snowman scarecrow became a bunny.  He's got a runny nose.  Sorry.

The New Spiders Are Here! The New Spiders Are Here!

When Hud returned to work yesterday afternoon, he told the people there that he had confirmation that he lived in an alternative universe.  I had greeted him at the door with, "My spiders hatched!  I can't wait for you to see them!"  I drug him out to the crepe myrtle by the cars to see my newly birthed brood.

The spiders are so tiny, it's hard to make them out.  The evidence in this photograph is the presence of all the miniature webs.  I've waited patiently all Winter for this to happen.  You see, last fall, my favorite Handwriting Spider began to droop from her web as if she were having trouble hanging on.  She was about the size of a mouse -- the computer kind, not the furry variety --strong  and healthy.  To see her weak and feeble was distressing.  I sensed it was time for her to leave me.  The next day, she was gone, but my girl had left me a remarkable gift.  Hidden in a sticky web and covered in dead leaves, was a small brown pouch.  It looked like an upside down hot air balloon or a speed bag from boxing.  She had left me her children!

I guarded the precious cargo from any branch pruning. I checked it daily to ensure it's safety.  In February, it went missing.  I was crushed.  I thought I had failed my beautiful spider.

Imagine my surprise when I walked out yesterday and found them, spinning webs and voraciously eating small insects.  I was enchanted.  I trust they will stay through the Summer, keeping the bugs at bay.  In chorus with the birds, dragonflies and bats, they keep Schyterbolle relatively free of biting insects. 

I trust one of her offspring will learn to pull off a a well written web.

I could never make out what their mother was trying to tell me.