After several setbacks, my lawnmower is repaired and running. I hope to make great gains this week. A replaced mandrel shaft, deck belt and sharpened blades and now Betsy is running like a top. She purrs like a kitten.
The job that I finished at the homestead this morning was a piece of cake. The tall grasses didn't have time to wave goodbye. Grass hay that will never be baled kissed the ground.
While I waited for Paul to put the finishing touches on my equipment, I spotted my new pink and white bicycle parked beside the upright freezer. Why wasn't this child of yesterday riding that retro looking easy rider?
Could it be the loose nuts and bolt and rotating seat, the fall or Paul's giggles that bruised my pride and set it aside?
I felt sorry for the attractive gift. The garage was hot. I decided to take her out for some fresh air. A short run through Restlawn Cemetery to visit the graves of friends and family always satisfies my mind.
I checked out the stone that waits for me. I didn't linger at that one.
I observed the good work of the mowing company. On the way back down the road, I dismounted my bike and tried to pick up a short section of the wrought iron fence that lies on the ground. I decided to go back in the evening with a helper, pliers and strong wire-a temporary fix.
It looks as if someone plucked the yucca plant from the fence line and dropped the fence to accomplish that. A cleanly cut stubble of the deeply rooted plant remains above ground.
My late father and I spent a total of nine mowing seasons tending to the needs of that resting place.
That cemetery has been a good neighbor to my family since 1939, the year of my birth.
Now let us get out of the graveyard and check out what is going on in the kitchen today. I am processing the remainder of some very nice peaches that I received last week. We just finished the last two pieces of a decadent pie made from the fruit and will freeze some to cover homemade ice cream later.
Peach trees produced, abundantly, this growing season. The climatic conditions were in their favor.
We are noticing hundreds of butterflies flitting about the flowers and spreading their beautiful wings. The cold natured wonders, in numbers, are doing their thing, living the good life, at the feeding sites and on the playground.
Some folks are dealing with, of all things, bedbugs. They seem to be everywhere, in the best of places and the worst of places, no place exempt of threat. That news gives me the willies.
That sure has me shuffling the covers and putting that Hoover in overdrive: pillow top, top and bottom and all cracks and crevices beneath, high and low and everything in between.
I give the house a good report card. No need for extreme measures like used in days gone by homeowners. For example, some folks placed coal oil (kerosene) in canning jar lids under there bed posts to prevent the bugs from reaching the mattress, bedding or them. However, the thought of the pesky bloodsucking bug's return and the threat of possible infestation bugs me.
There is no room here in my tidy house, no insects welcome for that matter.
I may have bats in my belfry and chicken hawks for friends, but I am smart enough to avoid and have no desire to hang out with bedbugs at night.
Tootie Mae uses up all of the extra space, besides; that rascal is too lazy to be a night hunter.
In case you travel or worry about the bugs, they are small, flat, and oval, reddish brown in color, and are known to have an unpleasant odor. It is nocturnal in habit, infesting houses and particularly beds. It feeds on man and higher animals.
The pest is known to carry dangerous diseases. I have heard some say welts and extreme itching in the area of contact is the worst of it. I tend to lean toward proven studies, not assumptions.
Did you know that if they show up in our space, two or more generation breed each year, depending on temperature and food supply? The larvae resemble the adult, and matures in eleven weeks.
I believe climatic conditions this year, in part, aided in bringing back the nearly eradicated bedbug, as certain conditions added to the numbers of busy butterflies, not to be out done by a world of other insects that dodged the heat.
I was reading The White House Cook Book 1887 edition "A Comprehensive Cyclopedia Of Information For The Home," by Mrs. F. I. Gilette and Hugo Ziemann, Steward of the White House.
Their poison recipe and antidote reads as follows: Corrosive Sublimate, Saltpeter, Blue Vitriol.
Bedbug Poison: --- Give white of egg, freshly mixed with water, in large quantities; or give wheat flour and water, or soap and water freely, or salt and water, or large draughts of milk.
Therefore, I am thinking the reason those darn bedbugs are still around, the White House crowd fed that poison to their bed buddies and then revived them. Some ran for office and the others ran for cover.
They sure picked a poor time to start breeding and traveling again. Could be they were tired after several decades of nothing to do.
With the economy the way it is, I seriously don't reckon we could afford all of the dope it takes to kill them, even if we could find it at Walmart.
I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by email at email@example.com.