Monday, May 4, 2015

Great Aunt Matilda Prepares to Ride Again

You will be pleased to know that Great Aunt Matilda, she of the Severed Limbs post last fall, is still whinnying with us, unlike Dylan Thomas's poor old aunt. This is not exactly a heartwarming made-for-TV story of recovery and renewal, but GAM's two remaining branches, each of which sport a tiny little brand new leaf, have demonstrated yet again that given the very slightest opportunity, life will find a way. And I figure if I help her recover for the same amount of time I spent inadvertently letting her perish, why, she should be in sporting condition.  A tip of the large, ornately decorated bonnet to NanaBeast for inquiring after the old one's health.

Sunday, December 28, 2014

Christmas Miracle

My jade plant is blooming. A rose in December may be possible in England, but it stands the same chances in northern Pennsylvania as a snowball in hell. And here, even less likely--the indoor blooming jade plant. This thing is almost 5 feet tall and probably outweighs me, which explains why it has not left its south-facing window in years. It was started by a cat, now deceased, who, during her kitten rampages around the house, took a cutting from the plant of my friend, now deceased. Happy New Year, friends and pets on both sides of the great divide.

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Using A Fat-Old-Cat-O-Meter to Optimize Burn Rate & Fuel Usage in Your Woodstove

The beginning woodstove owner may question whether they are operating the stove properly, and getting the optimal amount of heat per stick of firewood. The Fat-Old-Cat-O-Meter is a simple tool that takes the guesswork out of deciding when to add another log to the fire, and when to open or close the damper (air intake). The large indicator on the Fat-Old-Cat-O-Meter is easy to read even with your glasses off, and because its working parts work as little as possible, it will provide reliable feedback for many years.

Fat-Old-Cat-O-Meter Guide to Fuel Usage & Damper Position in Common Situations

  • ·      Indicator lying directly on hearthrug: Fuel quantity ideal, burn rate well calibrated.
  • ·      Indicator off at a distance but still in the same room: Damp it down a little, you’re burning too hard. (See illustration.)
  • ·      Indicator hugging chimneystack in upstairs hallway: Fire has died down overnight. Add fuel and open damper.
  • ·      Indicator smoking: Close the stove door, extinguish the indicator without waking it. Fuel and damper probably OK. Do not operate woodstove with door open.
  • ·      Indicator in the dog bed all the way at the other end of the house: Did you get that firewood for free? Are you hoping to move your truck into the garage after the wood is gone? Damp it way down and don’t add any more logs until it’s nothing but coals. Wasteful jackass.
Good luck with your new woodstove. We wish you many years of comfort and energy independence!

Monday, November 3, 2014

I Go Out Walkin' After Midnight

This is our tipi. If you look carefully at its interior you will see an old brown Adirondack chair. And then you will know where the center of the tipi was until we were visited by this weekend's high winds, under whose influence the tipi started heading south, literally. Fortunately, when it got light out Sunday morning, John noticed the effect that the cover was having on the frame, and struck the mainsail before the whole thing sank.

In the background to the left you can see a side view of the partially fallen tree we talked about last time.

Thursday, October 30, 2014

Archaeology by Nonhumans

This fringe of roots is still attached to a tree that blew over in a hurricane about two years ago. The tree is still alive and growing aslant, with its limbs resting comfortably in the limbs of another tree some distance away. When the root mat flipped up, I naturally could not wait to look under it. There I found a rectangular stone box with fitted lid that I think may have been a water feature back in the Sheep Days (the earth is full of springs around here). I thought this was a sufficiently thrilling discovery to do for one downed tree, but this summer, as you can see on the left of the photo above, some helpful groundhog (Marmota utilis digibus) in the course of her labors, started tossing up terra cotta pipe fragments from the burrow she sited under the root mat overhang. You must admit, this is a very convenient spot to live, as it includes this huge covered porch. So I think the pipe shards are definitely associated with drainage, but I don't know if the groundhog hit a refuse dump full of broken piping (middens are another thing we have a lot of here), or if she is burrowing right through the old drain system itself, long since crushed by the weight of the world. In any event, water and marmots and the passage of time, and the passage of water and marmots through time, seem to be the theme of the day.

Sunday, October 26, 2014

Severed Limbs

Just in time for Halloween, Great Aunt Matilda has been reduced to a pile of severed limbs. She was the enormous and fabulously old Christmas cactus I inherited when my friend Rodrica moved away, and she did alright for a while, until the summer that my daughter was in the hospital and I spent a lot of time driving back and forth. Whenever I got home, I watered the plants, on the theory that I didn’t want my plants to die and who knew when I might be back again? Consequently Great Aunt Matilda began a downward spiral that I just this morning realized was caused by root rot. However, unlike GAM, I am not ready to lie down and die. I saw where Lestat the vampire is back again, and if he can do it, so can we. 

I partsed out Great Aunt Matilda, threw out her truly disgusting crown and nasty soil, and am presently aging off her cuttings in the nice warm kitchen, whence they will be re-planted into a scrupulously moist-but-never-wet, highly porous soil and given literally THE BEST SEAT IN THE HOUSE. Which in our case means against the back wall of the south-facing, upstairs media room, a place suffused with bright indirect light. If she likes violent video games, moody French cinema and TV crime dramas of questionable intelligence, all the better. She will be borne forth in her clay litter to summer in the tubercular ward, if she lives that long. She will be treated to kelp cocktails. She will be fawned over tirelessly. This is an explicit bribe. 

I only hope it works.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Welcome Home Delegation Arrives at Woodbourne by Balloon

Fact: no cup of perfectly balanced, tropical terroir coffee, steam-brewed by a free-range barista imported from Seattle and shaman-certified to have a wholesome aura can beat a cup of $7 a pound grocery store coffee that you drink while walking your own goldenrod fields with your own dogs.