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Diary #845

This is the time of year when the pigs, guided by their amazingly acute sense of smell, start spending a lot of time under the apple trees, feasting on drops.  Then in the late afternoon, when they know dinnertime is approaching, they head back to the east paddock, where they know I’ll be bringing their dinners.  Last week I heard them through the open window, and managed to catch them heading toward dinner; the fuzziness is due to the window screen because I knew if I took the time to go outside, they’d already have passed.  Bonus: y’all get to see and hear Louie being a drama queen when Cicero just looks at him too hard.

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I haven’t forgotten that I estimated Lost Angels would be released around June, but long-time readers know that I’ve never been especially good at estimating when my books would come out; The Essential Maggie McNeill came out six years after I first announced I was working on it, and even The Forms of Things Unknown was much later than originally announced.  The main reason my books tend to come out so much later than my most hopeful predictions is that I’m not working from an advance, which means I need to prioritize my bread-and-butter writing first.  But another part is that I’m a rather moody person (I know you’re shocked at this revelation) and will sometimes procrastinate some step or another for months until I get into the right frame of mind.  But this time, I have what I believe to be a better excuse:  Chester Brown has been busy with other projects, and since he does these covers for me out of friendship I don’t like to hassle him as though I were some kind of entitled ingrate.  But I recently decided to email him to ask if he was still busy, and he replied that he was, but if we waited until he wasn’t the cover would never be done.  So he included a rough sketch of his cover concept and I was pleased and excited by it; I shot back a little input, and I suspect it won’t be terribly long before he is done.  So I’m not going to make another estimate which will probably also be wrong, but I will say that I think it’s not improbable that it will be out this year.

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Diary #844

I did realize that a full-grown turkey could not live comfortably in a henhouse with chickens, but what I did not realize was just how much trouble it would be.  First, he injured himself trying to get through the chicken door, so I had to let him in and out through the walk-through door for the past couple of months.  He also kept trying to flap his wings inside, which meant every day I had to deal with the feeder getting knocked loose (and the feed consumed 50% faster), most of the water being dumped on the ground, electrical cords being knocked loose, and nasty shit getting everywhere, producing a reek that was intolerable even by chicken standards. But then I realized that in addition to all that, the hens were pecking him so badly he had bloody sores under his tail and on his back between the wings.  So last week I shooed him out into the paddock, which was not easy; he whacked me with his wings (which are much stronger than one would expect) and kept running in every direction other than the one where I wanted him to go.  That was through the open gate, which meant several of the chickens took advantage of it even though he wouldn’t, which meant they needed to be shooed back in once I finally got him out.  He then spent several days just lurking outside the fence, staring in with an expression I interpreted as the avian equivalent of a child with no money pressing his runny nose against the window of a candy store.  But on Saturday he started wandering around a bit, and on Sunday he was up in the north paddock hunting for bugs in the grass.  He later joined the pigs and goat eating the corn I throw over the fence; I’d been giving him some separately from the pigs, but on Sunday he joined them so I just doubled the amount.  All in all, this looks like the way to do it, should I choose to raise more large fowl in the future, but next time I’ll do it before the injuries start accumulating.

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Diary #843

We didn’t have a bumper crop of plums this year, but the ones we got are plump and juicy.  I made a plum pie, and though Jae loves plum pastries I find them more tart than I care for. I do like plum bread, though, and plum sauce, so I think I’ll make some this week.  The tomatoes are just about big enough to make fried green tomatoes; this year I bought only two of a cherry-tomato variety and four of a table-tomato variety, but the former grew so quickly and so large they’ve really overwhelmed the latter, so next year I’m only going to buy one and plant it in a separate planter so the table-tomato plants have more room to grow.  I’ve never had a green thumb and I don’t particularly like digging in the dirt, so my gardening is limited to plants I can basically ignore other than ensuring they get enough water.  And that typically works out just fine for me.

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Diary #842

One really nice thing about the climate here at Sunset is that when I pick blackberries, I can wear a long-sleeved top to protect my arms from the thorns; in Louisiana and Oklahoma it’s much too hot for that.  So when I noticed late last week that there were plenty of ripe blackberries, I put on this old work shirt of Matt’s that I have used as a light jacket for almost 15 years, and in half an hour I had what you see here.  And this represents only about a third of what was there; because I’m the only one eating them I didn’t bother with anything but the biggest, nicest ones.  Another nice thing was that, since it was overcast (as it so often is here), I was not fooled into picking some of those that were still somewhat red, as happens regularly when it’s very sunny; as you can see, all of these were at the peak of color, which is also the peak of sweetness.  On Saturday I made a blackberry pie, and it was one of the best ones I’ve ever made, as sweet and flavorful as one could wish.  There are also lots of plums on the trees, and it looks like I’ll be getting enough tomatoes and apples for my needs as well.  So because I know this year’s weather was a fluke of the changing climate and it may not be this way next year, I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts.

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Diary #841

Chekhov and Yellowbird gave me this cool egg rack last Christmas.  Typically, I use it to hold regular “large” size eggs (and put the extra-large and jumbo ones in the basket at the bottom).  But right from the start I realized that it would be an excellent way to hold undersized pullet eggs once the young hens started laying.  And as you can see, they have!  When I first started keeping chickens 20 years ago, I realized that when a recipe calls for x number of eggs, that meant large-grade eggs, so if I wanted to use pullet eggs in a recipe more would be required.  So while I still had my last carton of store-bought eggs around, I measured the volume of a typical egg and discovered it to be 1/4 cup.  So if a recipe calls for 3 eggs, that really means 3/4 cup of eggs, and if I want to use pullet eggs I just crack them into a measuring cup until I get to the right amount.  If I’m cooking something less finicky (for example, just regular scrambled eggs) I just use 2 for 1 at this stage, then later when they are just small rather than tiny I move to roughly 3 for 2.  And if I want to use normal-sized eggs for whatever reason (or give them to friends), the eggs from the mature chickens are still stored in the cupboard like usual.

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Diary #840

I reckon it’s a good sign that one of the buds of my magnolia has already opened, considering that I only planted it two weeks ago.  Though it has been unusually cool this summer, it has also been sunny, with an unusual number of rainy days; even though I’m not much of a gardener, I would think that’s a good combination for young plants.  It certainly seems to be good for the tomatoes, too; by the end of the month I should be able to make fried green tomatoes, a treat I missed out on last summer due to weird weather killing the plants early.  I also couldn’t make much salsa last year, and in June I used up the last of the batch Grace and I made together two years ago, so I’m hoping this year I can make at least enough to last a whole year.  I don’t know about the other fruit yet, but I should be able to tell in a few weeks; the return of autumn feels even better to me when I have enough fruit to make the autumn recipes I enjoy.

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When we buried Jonathan in the pit near the propane tank, I decided to plant a tree over him, but I couldn’t decide what kind of tree I wanted.  I really miss the crepe myrtles which are so commonly seen in the New Orleans area, and I’ve seen some beautiful ones in the nearby town of Hoquiam.  But when I talked to a nursery about it, they told me it takes about three years for them to get established, and even a single hard winter in that time can stunt or even kill them.  The lady told me that if I wanted a southern flowering tree that would grow well here, I should consider a magnolia.  Grace liked magnolias very much, and when I mentioned to Chekhov that I was thinking about getting one for the spot, he immediately told me that he had seen them at Home Depot in Aberdeen and offered to buy one for me.  So on Sunday the 19th he brought it in his van and we planted it together; it wasn’t difficult because the soil over the grave was still very loose, and it only took a few minutes of fairly light effort to clear a properly-sized hole for the root ball.  Yellowbird is an avid gardener and advised me to water it every day without rain until the rainy season starts again in October, but luckily we’ve had several rainy days in the past week (unusual for this time of year) so that took care of the watering on those days.  Then on one of the days I was watering it last week, it occurred to me that the area beneath the tree would be a fitting place for most of Grace’s ashes; I’m going to give the tree a few months to be sure it’s taking well, then I’m going to do a little ritual on the Day of the Dead to bury the ashes.  And from now on, I will think of her every time I see it bloom.

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I’m not sure why Amazon decided people who send gifts from others’ wishlists don’t need to be thanked, but that’s exactly what it has done.  It used to be possible to send a sender a “Thank You” email, which may be superfluous if the sender and recipient know each other in real life, but is very important to those of us who receive gifts from those who admire our work online.  For several years now, though, I had noticed that though it was still possible to send such a message, the gift sender rarely received it.  Then some months ago I realized it was no longer possible to even send one; when I got three anniversary gifts recently, I decided to dig through the “wishlist help” to see if they’d merely hidden the function in some submenu somewhere.  But no; I soon found a clear statement that it was not possible to send it at all.  So I really hope the readers who sent me a DVD of Sinners, a collection of four Kurt Vonnegut novels, and The Lensman Anthology, all see this and accept my thanks for your generosity; I never want anyone to think I take such gifts for granted, even if Amazon believes such respect for one’s audience is somehow outmoded.

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Diary #837

I wanted to show y’all how big the turkey has grown; remember that when he arrived he wasn’t much bigger than the other chicks.  That’s one of the other chickens who were still inside when he arrived in front of him in the video, so you can clearly see the difference.  Of course as soon as I came outside with my phone he refused to either strut or vocalize, despite doing both regularly nearly every time I go into the coop; maybe I’ll get a video later so you can get the full effect.  Just before I took this video I found the first pullet egg inside the henhouse, so all four of the new arrivals should be starting soon.  I’ve already got lots of little green tomatoes, and it looks like my fruit trees and vines will be productive this year; given the forecast for the rest of this month, and the fact that we’ve only had a couple of days that could be called “hot” this year, it looks like it’s going to be a cool summer, more like the prevailing norms for the last few centuries.  And I’m quite content with that; given the troubles of the world at large, it’s comforting for at least the natural conditions to be normal.

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