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Sunday, Mar. 1, 2015

Brazil Buzz

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

My mother always brought forth that old saying, "There is no rest for the wicked," when she became tired. Sometimes her workload was heavy and her burdens to much to bear.

There was not a wicked bone in that sweet woman's body. Geneva Siner Lynch's heart was as pure as the purist gold. We knew that what she drew from the Book of Isaiah sure did not apply to her.

We understood her torment during those times. Her children helped our good mother as much as possible.

Just the same as she, when I have too many chores to do and not enough hands to handle them; I say the same thing.

Today I was down in the henhouse giving the coop a good poop scooping the works.

This nut sang a little Ozzy Osbourne just to kill the monotony.

The flock of hens were in the chicken yard taking in some of the nice warm sunshine.

I do not know what that kid in the candy shop was doing. I wondered why "Bashful" forgot to crow today.

After this old farmer, of sorts, replenished the nests boxes with armloads of golden straw, supplied the feed station with ample poultry feed and filled the clean water container with fresh water this pooped scooper said those words, again. Imagine that!

Wicked or not, it doesn't matter, that was a good deed. I made my chickens happy. Now they can make me happy by showing me some Sartor Land eggs that truly are large.

When I arrived back to the little blue house at the end of the road, my buddy, Tootie Mae was overjoyed to see me. I gave her a look of approval for behaving so well, while; I did one of the dirtiest jobs that I do around here.

After I tidied myself up, it was "Toot Time!" Yes, indeed, Ms. Toot is a pampered pooch. Our baby received what she likes best, a nice sudsy bath. She stood in the water like a statue while Mom detailed her works, including ears, back to front over and under.

I sang a song about a doggy in the window. I could not decide which she disliked, the lyrics to the song or my rendition of it. I didn't sound good to me either.

I wrapped her in a fragrant smelling absorbent bath towel bearing her name and dried her off. We peered into the bathroom mirror. I thought of Sweet Pea and Olive Oil. Tootie liked what she saw.

The little dachshund is not much on height, but that girl is a long lean machine.

"Toot-Toot" gets a little fidgety when is time to trim her nails.

She dislikes the miracle nail tool that I purchased and the clippers, but trimming is included in the full deal.

Then, it was playtime. I brought out her red and white Radio Flyer scooter that I purchased several years ago at the farm store. The little metal toy is a perfect training tool.

I place Tootie's little brown front paws on the handlebars and, with assistance; she walks around the room, proudly. I think she likes it.

One of these days, before my eyes, in this living room a star will be born. Do you reckon she will get the big head and run off to find her fortune?

Today I plucked a lady beetle off of the inside of the front storm door. Folks they are on the move.

They are coming inside the cracks and crevices near you and me. The squatters will be with us until next spring.

So, arm yourselves, cleanout the dust containers of your sweepers, find your crack sucker and be ready to block them at the pass, like I do. I am a hunter and a trapper of small game, the inedible kind, included.

Now, why on earth I am still working on removing that old groundhog from beneath one of my outbuildings? The man at Lowe's suggested gopher bait. The box trap hasn't been a help. Someone suggested moth balls. He claimed that woodchucks hate them. I will give it a shot.

The large rodent, adapted for digging with his short but powerful limbs and curved thick claws burrowed deep, in a most destructive manner.

He was sunning himself a couple of weeks ago, within a few feet of me. I stood behind the brooder house and watched him.

The frog inside of my throat begged to be released and was. "Dennis the Menace" stood up and disappeared into his "temporary" home.

If you spot a grey furry groundhog with dirty feet wearing and old weathered shed, riddled and rough around the bottom, on his curved back give me a call. I can identify both.

Well, I am off to do some more of what comes naturally.

It's time to make sure our outside pets will be as comfortable and warm as we are this winter. Help those who can not help themselves, but give back!

I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by email at pmlsartor@aol.com.