thisendoftheswamp

My first husband, also known as the Late and Unlamented, was worse than any other six people I know when it came to snakes. He didn’t like to walk under trees because he was convinced a snake would fall on him. This was probably the biggest reason mowing the lawn gradually turned into my job; he didn’t want to trim the edges.  On day the girls found what we call a King snake in the front yard. Their markings resemble a Diamond Back rattle snake, but are not venomous; they are probably related to boas. However,  they will coil and strike to frighten you away. “Don’t tell your father. He’ll go all to pieces.”

And of course, immediately it’s “Daddy, Daddy, come look what we found!”

He came out with the “S” volume of the encyclopedia under one arm, and a broom under the other. Immediately he started poking at the poor critter.  The snake had taken refuge between the roots of an oak tree,  and of course, it sprang out at him. He frantically began flipping pages in the book, and then thrust it at me. “There! There!  It’s a pit viper!”

“Oh, for the love of Mike! They don’t even grow in this country.”  (Actually, they do, but I wasn’t dumb enough to tell him that.)

“No, look! It’s curled up in the pit of that tree!’

“Well, you better watch yourself. Its mate is probably up in that tree.” I took the girls and went inside, with him hot on my heels.

When The Squire and I bought this house there were no proper screens on the windows, only those slide apart things that honestly do no good at all. They certainly don’t stop mosquitos, and we discovered they don’t slow down snakes, either. I went into the living room one  morning, the summer after we moved in, and discovered a brown snake on the mantle, curled back and forth up the corner molding, practically balancing on its tail. I was perfectly capable of handling it myself, but I went out to round up The Squire so he could do Manly Things for his bride. He was mowing the lawn, and slowed the tractor when I approached. I cupped my hands and hollered, “Can you come get the snake off the mantle?”  “Yeah. OK.” And then he threw the machine into reverse and looked at me. “What did you say?”

Someone else has remarked that might be a good thing to have snakes, because they catch mice. Just as well, because out cats are just about useless.

That’s another story.

We got into a discussion over on Arlo and Janis  https://www.gocomics.com/arloandjanis about snakes, of all things.  This is one form of wildlife that has never particularly bothered me.  They’ll startle me, if I come across one unexpectedly, but so will a Great Blue or a fox.   I can tell “safe” snakes from “dangerous” ones, and behave accordingly.

When I was a child we lived in housing which had been put up after WWII in an area which was farm land only shortly before. From time to time, Mum would find a garter snake in the flower bed, and let it curl around her hand and wrist. If I promised to be very gentle and not squeeze, she’d let me hold the little critter. She also pointed out how the head just blended into the body, and that meant it wouldn’t hurt me. “If you see a snake with an arrowhead, that’s dangerous, and you mustn’t try to touch it.”  Many times I’ve walked up when a bunch of men are fluttering around a snake, grabbed the poor thing, and walked off with it.

When I was married to my first husband, we lived in a very old house, which had a stone cellar. We also had at the time a passel of cats, a rabbit, a Collie dog, and a bantam hen named Loretta, all of whom would settle in a row on an old daybed on the back porch. One of our cats was wildly in love with Loretta, and would lay on his back, patting her under the chin. Loretta would gather up her skirts, look at Joe over her glasses, and scoot down a couple of inches. Joe would roll over closer to her, and try again. There were other shenanigans going on between the dog and the rabbit, and the rabbit and the cats, but I’ll leave that for you to imagine.

So – to get to the point here, one August morning the Gas Man came to read the meter, and I opened the basement door for him. A few moments later he came upstairs, leaned against the door, and took a deep breath. He glanced out onto the porch and watched Joe and Loretta in their ill-starred romance, and all of the other craziness, and then glared at me. “Ma’am, did you know there was a snake in your washing machine?” Apparently, the poor soul thought I had put it there! It was hot as blazes outside and the basement was cool, so the snake had come in to be more comfortable, fallen into the washer and couldn’t get out. I asked the man to help me, and he practically fell over trying to get back up the steps. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, hold the window open, and I’ll put him out.”

“Y-y-yes, ma’am.” And so we did.

Both in that house and this one we get snakes in the attic from time to time, trying to get warm in the late fall, and we can hear them rustling around. In the spring, the attic gets darned hot, and we hear them looking for the exit. It sounds as if somebody is dragging a body across the floor, which is pretty much what’s going on.

We have a stream beside the house and a large pond in the front, and frankly I’d deal with snakes than snapping turtles. Snakes don’t attack you!

To be continued:

About fifteen years ago we lost the big tree outside the den window to a storm, and replaced it with a Japanese Maple. The little tree did very well for a long time, but the rising sea levels have made this place even swampier than it was when we bought it. There is a new spring at the top of the walk and the water runs into the garden. Note, I said there is a spring at the top of the hill. Not the bottom, where sensible springs would be, but at the top. Jack and Jill live here!

And so, the poor little tree has drowned.

This morning The Squire and I discussed the likelihood of uprooting the skeleton and planting something else. I did a search for “trees that do well in wet, sunny places”. The first thing that came up was an artificial ficus tree.

The only thing that would worry me is that the pot might sink into the ground.

We couldn’t have company, but this is a one of the Squire’s absolute favorite meals. The original called for 4 chicken breasts, but we honestly prefer the dark meat, so I make it with chicken thighs from Costco. This, a baked potato and a salad, with Brown Sugar and Bourbon ice cream for dessert, was a feast.

Chicken in Caper Cream Sauce

4 boneless, skinless chicken pieces of your choice

1 teaspoon lemon pepper, 1 teaspoon dill weed, 1 teaspoon garlic powder, 1 teaspoon salt

3 tablespoons butter, 1/2 cup whipping cream, 2 tablespoon capers, drained and rinsed

Combine the spices in a small bowl (a custard cup works beautifully) and season the meat. I put 1/2 teaspoon on each side of each piece of meat, and rub it in, but I’m inclined to be OCD, so . . .

Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the chicken and turn the heat to high long enough to brown it on both sides, then cover the pan and reduce the heat, turning the meat occasionally. I use a meat thermometer, to avoid over or under cooking.  Set it for 165, and you’re perfect!

Remove the chicken to a plate and keep it warm. Increase the heat to high, and stir in the cream, scraping the bottom of the pan to get all the “goodies”, about 3 minutes. Stir in the capers, and pour the sauce over the chicken.

The Squire says that when I open my restaurant, this should be at the top of the menu. Figure 313 calories preserving if you use breasts, and slightly more for thighs.

What? No hats and gloves?

* Half of us are going to come out of this quarantine as amazing cooks. The other half will come out with a drinking problem. I won’t be the drinker. Maryland has closed the liquor stores. Just as well; guns store are open.

* I used to spin that toilet paper as if I was on Wheel of Fortune. Now I turn it as if I’m cracking a safe.

* I need to practice social-distancing from the refrigerator.

* Still haven’t decided where to go for Easter —– The Living Room or The Bedroom

* PSA: every few days try your jeans on just to make sure they fit. Pajamas will have you believe all is well in the kingdom.

* Grand daughter says homeschooling is going well. 2 students suspended for fighting and 1 teacher fired for drinking on the job.

* I don’t think anyone expected that when we changed the clocks we’d go from Standard Time to the Twilight Zone

* This morning I saw a neighbor talking to her cat. It was obvious she thought her cat understood her. I came into my house, told my dog….. we laughed a lot.

* So, after this quarantine…..will the producers of My 600 Pound Life just find me or do I find them?

* Quarantine Day 5: Went to this restaurant called THE KITCHEN. You have to gather all the ingredients and make your own meal. I have no clue how this place is still in business.

* My body has absorbed so much soap and disinfectant lately that when I pee it cleans the toilet.

* Day 5 of Homeschooling: One of these little monsters called in a bomb threat.

* I’m so excited — it’s time to take out the garbage. What should I wear?

* I hope the weather is good tomorrow for my trip to Puerto Backyarda. I’m getting tired of Los Livingroom.

* Classified Ad: Single man with toilet paper seeks woman with hand sanitizer for good clean fun.

* Day 6 of Homeschooling: My child just said “I hope I don’t have the same teacher next year”…. I’m offended.

* Better 6 feet apart than 6 feet under!

The author of one of the blogs I follow, A Joyful Chaos, posted yesterday about “The Daily Dozen” – chores she does every day, such as washing dishes, cooking meals, and picking up after her children. Sounds a lot like home, although picking up toys, etc., was always the job of the girl who left things around. The Squire would come home and demand “Whose books are those? Did your mother leave that hat on the table?”  And hop to it, kiddo!

Both Blazer and I take pills that have to be on an empty stomach; one for him and one for me, then he goes outside while I put on the coffee and fix breakfast for him and the cat. Shake the rugs outside and toss them in the dryer on fluff while I sweep the kitchen floor and empty the dishwasher. Now, there’s only the two of us, and we have enough dishes and cutlery to only run the dish washer in the evening.  As I empty it, I put the dishes for breakfast in the oven to warm up. Fix my coffee and go check the email and a few blogs.  Fixing breakfast is The Squire’s job; I fix dinner and supper.

I could do without a lot of things – we don’t have a washing machine, for instance – but my dishwasher, bread machine, and self cleaning oven are WON-derful! I can do all of these things the “old fashioned” way but it’s nice to have these helpers. She also lists things she does on a weekly basis, such as shopping, laundry, and such. I do one room a day throughout the week – kitchen on Monday, clear out one refrigerator shelf each week, and the freezer when we have five Mondays in a month, bathroom on Tuesday, etc.

Right now, I’m using my “spare time” to see if I can find the bottom of my sewing basket. Honestly, I’d rather make two new items than mend one! We’re not going to be able to get together with my nephew and his family, so I’m getting together a box of goodies to mail to them.  I made their little girl two dresses for her Bitty Baby. I gave the boys a kit to make a light house two years ago – I think – and I have some very nice things The Squire had purchased for me to put in it. A delicate spyglass on a tripod, and some seagulls perched on pilings. When we go to pick up the dough-nation from Panera on Thursday nights I stop at Target and see what sort of wonders they have in the “impulse” bins. I collected some Silly Putty, and such, and I’ll drop those in the package. Need to get a wiggle on, as today is Palm Sunday, so time’s a’wasting.

And again. And yet again!

I’ve been working on raking our back yard for the last week. We have two acres and are surrounded by woods on three sides so I’m not apt to run out of leaves to collect. I put down a huge old tarp, rake up a heap of leaves, then drag the whole shebang out to the compost heap.  Rinse and repeat.  I spend about an hour a day at this project.

The problem is that it has rained almost every day. Fortunately, it’s not been a downpour and there’s no wind, but wet leaves are heavy.  At least I don’t have to worry about them being blown all over the places I’ve finished.

This is a rather hazy picture of the feeders in our front yard, but I took it at 7 PM. I was watching out the den window this afternoon as a squirrel shimmied up the pole on the left, and then slid back down. The third time, he reached out and grabbed the finch sock, which did NOT please me, but he managed to swing himself up and onto the bracket at the top. From there, he scooted across to the top of the yellow feeder. I though he was going to reach down and raid that one, but instead he leapt across to the hopper on the right side. It is four feet from one to the other, as the squirrel flies. He managed to get inside the hopper and eat his full before he jumped back down.

We’ve had this arrangement for several months, and this is the first time any of them have figured out how to reach the hopper. We originally had the finch sock on another pole in the yard, but they climbed up that pole with no trouble at all, and managed to pull the bottom of the feeder off. I have no idea where it is, but we’ll probably find it when we start mowing the lawn. I’m more concerned about the little claws – and teeth – tearing the fabric than anything else. Niger seed is not cheap, but well worth keeping the gold finches happy.

Oh. The length of PVC pipe is where we stash our peanuts. The squirrels gladly go in after them, but the blue jays don’t like the tight space. There’s another one on the patio.

I picked this up after a Cub Scout meeting at our church. If you can adjust your eyes and see that all of the “a’s” are backwards, this is a lot easier to read. I love the way youngsters sound out words!