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18 05, 2018

Changing Colors?

By |2018-05-02T21:54:29-05:00May 18th, 2018|Friday on the Miller Farm, Miller Farm Friday|0 Comments

A Blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara

I came home one day to find a lizard on the fence post. It caught my eye because it was bright green. A week later I saw a brown lizard on the bench.

I wondered if perhaps it was the same lizard. I know anoles change colors.

If so, why did it choose to stand out on the fence post and blend in on the bench?

Then I thought about human behavior.  Why do we sometimes choose to stand out and be different and other times we want to blend in?

I haven’t come up with an answer.  Any suggestions?

14 05, 2018

The Return of the Hummingbirds

By |2018-05-02T09:48:52-05:00May 14th, 2018|A Writer's Life|0 Comments

One of the things we love about the house we bought on our return to Texas was the certification as a Wildlife Habitat House.

Maintaining that environment became our goal as we settled in. We had an unusually cold winter this year. Several days of temperatures below freezing are absolutely not a normal winter in Texas.

Neither are April days in the low 50 degree and high 40 degree range.

A few hardy birds and one or two hummingbirds stayed around, but most of our wildlife disappeared. It’s May and warmer temperatures have returned.

That means bullfrog serenades, cardinals and swallows swooping down and around in their mating dance, mosquitoes buzzing for prey. (Hate that part since I am major mosquito bait.)

Baby squirrels play chase one another and mama shimmies up the bird feeder pole to shake birdseed down to her babies.

Dogwoods, Japanese magnolias, peach trees are filled with blooms. Four o’clock plants are popping up and soon will be bursting with red flowers.

Our hummingbirds are back at the feeders in large numbers. We have five feeders around the yard. One or the other of them always needs refilling now.

Last year I worried that we’d lose our large population of hummingbirds when I started making their syrup instead of purchasing the commercial nectar as the previous owner did. This year it doesn’t seem to matter. I prepare hummingbird syrup at least twice a week.

Unfortunately, carpenter bees have also returned. More about these ugly critters next week.

11 05, 2018

Finishing Strong

By |2018-05-02T15:39:21-05:00May 11th, 2018|Friday on the Miller Farm, Miller Farm Friday|1 Comment

A Blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara

The school where I teach has a long tradition of celebrating May Day including a May Pole. The kids learn to skip around the pole holding streamers as music plays.  At the end, there is a pattern of colored streamers on the pole.

If done properly, it looks very neat. This year was a little rough. Practices were held as often as possible but some of the students still struggled.

After the festivities were over, one of the students asked the teacher in charge, “So how did we do?”

The teacher looked at the pole and said “The last 18 inches look great.  Let’s just leave it at that.”I think I will adopt that philosophy about the school year.  It was a rough start but I plan to make the last “eighteen inches” look pretty good.

So to all my fellow teachers and students out there – here’s to a strong finish.

7 05, 2018

A Tale of Canna Lilies and Irises

By |2018-05-01T10:37:57-05:00May 7th, 2018|A Writer's Life|0 Comments

The urge to dig in the dirt attacks me every spring no matter where I live.

I miss certain elements of all my gardens. Things like the columbine and poppies of Colorado, Tennessee irises, rhododendron in Connecticut, and the lilacs of Kentucky to name a few.

Often I was able to transplant favorites from place to place. Sometimes the climate differences between states meant plants couldn’t thrive in the new locale.

Our return to Texas last year meant a return to familiar gardening with an added benefit I was able to reunite a favorite garden flower (canna lilies) and my antique birdbath.

When we lived in Texas before our move to Colorado, I transplanted Rose of Sharon, cannas, and monkey grass from my family home in Austin to our home in Houston.

Because canna lilies love the Texas heat and are prolific, I shared plants with friends and family. One of those friends let me come dig some of the cannas I’d given her for my new garden here.

I inherited the birdbath, which has been around since 1930, from my family home in Austin, where it sat in the backyard with cannas around it. After the birdbath moved to Colorado with us, it’s returned to our backyard once again surrounded by its cannas. I added the butterfly plants to attract Monarch butterflies to our wildlife habitat.

Hurricane Harvey’s floodwaters were too much for a very large, tall pine tree that stood where the flowerbed is now.

The same friend offered clumps of her Aunt Reece’s irises for the birdbath bed in the side yard. I’m sure they’ll thrive beside the lemon tree.

The previous homeowner left that birdbath and the one on the ground. The swan is a holdover from our antique shop days. Altogether, the little flowerbed invites the robins and cardinals to stop.

The yard is a work in progress. Soon the hot days of a Texas summer will limit my gardening, but in the meantime I’m enjoying myself.

Digging in the dirt is a great stress reliever for me and the fruits of my labor bring immeasurable reward. Who doesn’t feel a sense of joy and peace walking in a garden with the aroma of flowers and the sound of birds chirping?

30 04, 2018

My Favorite Poem

By |2018-04-13T18:23:11-05:00April 30th, 2018|Make Me Think Monday|1 Comment

April has been National Poetry Month. All month Poets.org has provided opportunities and activities to celebrate poetry and poets.

I couldn’t let the celebration pass without posting one of my favorite poems about a realio, trulio, little pet dragon named Custard. I read Ogden Nash’s poem The Tale of Custard the Dragon to my children and grandchildren so often they can quote it even today.

I love Nash’s nonsensical, humorous style. Reviewers criticize him for taking liberties with spelling and rhyme. I find those liberties delightful because I relate to the same habit.

Just ask my children and grandchildren. I’ve always called them each by a nonsensical name: Brooke became Brook E; Abby – Abby Me Gail; Faith – Faith-e-foo; Morgan-Morgan from org; Landry-Landy Pandy, J.B.-J.Beetle; Sara-Sa-RAH; and Stephanie-Steph-fon-ey.

I’m reminded of the poem every time I sit on the back porch and see my metalwork dragon. Named, you guess it, Custard.

In case you haven’t read the poem:

The Tale of Custard the Dragon

Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.

Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called hum Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.

Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio daggers on his toes.

Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.

Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
and Blink said Weeck! which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.

Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.

Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.

Belinda paled, and she cried Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.

But up jumped Custard snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm,
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.

The pirate gaped at Belinda’s dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets, but they didn’t hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.

Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim.
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pirate.

But presently up spoke little dog Mustard,
I’d been twice as brave if I hadn’t been flustered.
And up spoke Ink and up spoke Blink,
We’d have been three times as brave, we think,
And Custard said, I quite agree
That everybody is braver than me.

Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio little pet dragon.

Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.

If you enjoyed The Tale of Custard the Dragon and would like to read other poems by Ogden Nash, check out this chronological list of all his work: http://www.ogdennash.org/ogden_nash_titles.htm

27 04, 2018

Make Way for Ducklings

By |2018-04-26T11:13:13-05:00April 27th, 2018|Friday on the Miller Farm, Miller Farm Friday|1 Comment

A Blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara

I arrived home from Bible Study last Monday and Rachel told me, “The ducklings are in the furthest Bantam run.” To be fair, she had asked about getting ducks. I had just absentmindedly said “sure.”

This is how Tipsy, Topsy, and Turvey came to live on Miller Farm.

Tuesday morning I went out to check on the various fowl in the back yard.  The ducklings had managed to escape their run and were visiting the chickens.

I hope this is not an omen of things to come.

They are really quite cute and very different from chickens.  They have rounded beaks and walk with their necks stretched out.  It makes me think of an elegant swan rather than a goofy chicken.

Ducks also have webbed feet.  Of course I knew this but now I’ve seen it up close and personal.  They use these to get around in water – like a pond – which is not found on Miller Farm.

We have a small tub for them to use for now. Eventually we will get a child’s swimming pool.

I can’t help but think of Robert McCloskey’s children’s book, Make Way for Ducklings, the Caldecott Award winner in 1941.

Perhaps I can write another one titled The Ducks of Miller Farm.

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