Eat Wire, Bunnies!

Last time, I promised to tell you about Bob's plan to foil the bunny population. You may have thought he would resort to violent methods of extermination but think again. Only one animal can be dispatched at a time and one has to catch the offender red handed, and anyway, it is illegal to do so in the city. Bob found a saner, more mature option.

The Problem:
Butch, the outside cat whose name is only one letter different than his grumpy sounding vocalizations, had been missing for a couple of weeks and in that time the rabbits became bold and confident. Early in the morning, while the dew was still on the veg, they feasted on whole plants. The last victims were two of the three young, tender black locust tree seedlings. Only one was left to give mute testimony to the carnage.

The Solution:
As luck would have it, about this time Bob went to old friend Dianne's house to fix a table leg and while there mentioned he needed to buy some rabbit wire. Dianne produced a roll of used wire she was going to put out for the trash and ta da! the material for the bunny foiling cages was at hand. Not that it was an easy fix. The wire was lumpy and twisted and had to be tamed back into shape but then it was ready for its new life.

Each cage is a work of art, I think. Bob measured the wire using pi to determine how long each strip of wire needed to be to mate up with the round tops he cut. That may be the first practical use of pi I've witnessed first hand. Okay, so I am an English type, not a math type. It is genetic, I think. Daughter Sarah once asked her math instructor if she could write a little story about each problem rather than solving the problem... but I digress.

Using a needle nosed pliers, Bob fastened each section of the cage by twisting the wire around the adjoining wire until, after what seemed to me a gazillion junctions the cages were complete. They are big enough to get the plants through that irresistible to rabbit phase and should last for years.

And you thought this post was going to involve some violence.

Vegetable Gardens and the Joys of Manure

We have a big pile of manure in our yard and I am so happy. It is well rotted horse manure Bob and friend Dave hauled from a horse farm a few miles away. Bob is almost done spading, spreading manure and planting our main vegetable garden and what a job that was. The manure is wonderful stuff but it added hours to the job. Bob would spade a row, push the wheelbarrow to our other yard, load it with manure, push the barrow back, and unload it into the furrow all along the spaded row and then repeat the whole process. It should be good for Bob, if it doesn't kill him.

If the weather cooperates, we will have three lettuces,(Black Seeded Simpson, oakleaf, and arugula) four kinds of sweet peppers, three kinds of hot peppers, cucumbers, carrots, zucchini, radishes, and four kinds of tomatoes. We have some leftover from last season Kentucky Wonder climbing green beans and those will be planted last. We have found that when they are planted early in the season they develop rot and have to be replanted so it makes sense to leave them until last. We also will grow a few marigolds and zinnias just for fun.

A row of four varieties of Castor beans, which can grow up to 15 feet tall, will serve several purposes. Their large, fleshy leaves and spiky seed pods give the garden an exotic feeling while screening out the neighbor's back yard in the summer. Then, when they have died, the stumps will form the base for next year's bean trellis. How's that for a useful plant?

My mom discovered a source for rare and unusual seeds. The address is J.L. Hudson, Seedsman P.O. Box 337 La Honda, California 94020, or their website jlhudsonseeds.net Their catalog is a black and white booklet that is chock full of information about each plant. Their prices are reasonable and delivery is quick. Bob ordered their Castor beans and a packet of black locust tree seeds.

The tree seedlings were doing very well until some fiendish son of a devil ate every last trace of them. Probably a bunny.

I'll post Bob's solution to the bunny problem next time.

Rhubarb Upside Down Cake

I was shocked to see rhubarb selling for $3.99 per pound at the fruit market. It is such a reliable perennial anyone who likes its tangy taste should think about planting some. It takes a couple of years to establish itself but then, stand back. My mom gave us a few crowns to plant about 30 years ago and every spring we have more than we can use. I sometimes can it but it is best used fresh.

Old timers called rhubarb pie plant but it is makes a good cake, too. Yesterday I made an upside down cake from a few stalks that I trimmed off because they were in the way of Bob's spading. I removed the big leaves, washed and cut the stalks into little chunks and had almost 4 cups of rhubarb.

Here is the recipe I used:
1 1/4 cups flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 pound fresh rhubarb, cleaned and cut into 1/2 inch slices (3 cups)
1/3 cup butter
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup milk

Preheat oven to 350. Grease 8x8x2 inch baking pan.
Sift together flour and baking powder.
Combine 1 cup of the sugar and the rhubarb in a large saucepan. Cook over medium low heat to melt the sugar and to begin to soften the rhubarb. Stir constantly, 5 to 8 minutes. Spread into prepared baking pan.
Beat butter with the remaining 1/2 cup sugar in a big bowl until light and fluffy. Beat in vanilla and egg. Beat in flour mixture, alternating with milk, until well blended. Spoon over rhubarb and spread out as evenly as possible.
Bake about 35 minutes until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Cool for 5 minutes, loosen edges with a table knife and invert on a serving dish, or serve from the baking dish. Serve with ice cream, if you wish.

This cake is good enough that I'd pay $3.99 per pound for the rhubarb, if I had to.

Rhubarb is the main ingredient in some old time spring tonic recipes, probably because it appears so early in the spring and it is full of vitamin C. Can you imagine how welcome those first sprouts must have been when there was no fresh fruit available all winter?

I can no longer complain that no one asks for my opinion. This week I got a call from the Gallup Poll people. You may remember we were a Neilson Rating household only a few weeks ago so I guess the word is out. Bob and Chari are on the go to folks for public opinion.

I'd like to say I answered the Gallup call with pithy and useful answers but I cannot. First, they didn't really want me. They wanted someone 18 to 34 years old but when I said no one in that age group lived here they settled for the youngest household member and since Bob is the old guy here, I answered.

The subject was alcohol purchase and consumption. Daughter Sarah or stepson Hal could have supplied useful data since they both imbibe moderately, but all my answers were NO. No purchases of beer, wine, wine coolers, no consumption of same, within the last month. The interviewer was pleasant and seemed disappointed in my answers. I told her that I have some rice wine vinegar I could take a slug of if that would help...

After the call ended I realized that we do have some alcohol in the house. At Christmastime Helen, my friend from work, gave me a small bottle of homemade raspberry wine. I tasted it, of course, and it is yummy but so far I have only used a small dash of it to flavor a venison stew.

Why couldn't the Gallup people have asked me about my reading habits or gardening or my political opinions? Life is like that. I have answers but I'm never asked the right questions.

The Rye is as High as an Elephant's Eye

The winter rye Bob planted in our garden as a cover crop last year is quite tall. It has formed seed heads and it would be fun to see if we could harvest some rye but that is not to be. Bob will cut it down and turn it under to help nourish the soil. Most years he would have already done the deed but this year he is a little slow, garden wise, and the rye is thriving.

The practice of planting a cover crop to improve the soil is an old one even if the name for the practice sounds trendy: rye, or any plant used in this way is called green manure. Last summer, as vegetables were harvested and the plants died, Bob planted the rye, watered it a few times and then left it to overwinter. Come spring the garden is a striped patchwork of green plants that grow and grow and grow.

Rye has an impressive root system so you'd think it would be hard to cultivate but the roots aerate and loosen the soil so it breaks up easier than bare ground would. Worms love it.

In the interest of full disclosure I should admit that the rye is not as high as an elephant's eye unless we are talking baby elephants but I liked the sound of the phrase. Please excuse my rye humor.

The Nielson Ratings

This week we took part in the Nielson Television ratings survey. We were chosen at random from a large group so that statistically we represent thousands of households. They sent us three booklets, one for each television, and we were asked to make a record of when the television was on, who was watching, what was being watched and for how long. There was even a space for reporting that the TV was on with no one watching for those of us who use the TV for background noise.

This week was sweeps week when the networks try to put on their best shows in order to garner good ratings by luring in the Nielson diarists. We didn't watch anything we don't ordinarily watch, though, so that tactic was lost on us.

I was kind of alarmed to see that on Thursday nights I spend a LONG time in front of the TV. It is Survivor night, so the viewing begins at 8PM. Then, it's CSI, then The Mentalist, then the news and sometimes I sit there for David Letterman, too. And if I can stay awake, I like to see some of The Late, Late Show with Craig Ferguson. No wonder I often sleep in on Friday.

We both watch CSI although we are tiring of that franchise, especially the Miami one. Lately, the science has been so poor that we spend a lot of the show guffawing and objecting. My pet peeve is the way they investigate indoor crime scenes with only their flashlights. Why don't they turn on the lights and really look at the scene?

Nova is another show we both watch although the complaint there is that our station often advertises the wrong episode so we get situated for viewing and find it's one we've seen already.

Bob watches reruns of Star Trek: the Next Generation late at night. He eats his Heritage Natural Foods almonds and Rice Dream ice cream during that and it is his little treat for the week. Simple pleasures are the best, it seems.

I like reruns of Bonanza. I remember seeing most of them with my dad and can often remember some comment he made about the plot. Dad's been dead since 1974 so it's kind of neat to recall, almost word for word something he said. I didn't realize back then how dumb some of the plots were on Bonanza and why are Ben Cartwright's "boys" still at home with Dad telling them what to do?

I also watch Desperate Housewives. Daughter Sarah got me into that one recently and I enjoy it although I hear it is going to be gone after next season. Brothers and Sisters is on after that and I usually have that on while I do other things. I like to see Sally Field since she has aged gracefully, doesn't seem to have had plastic surgery and it gives me hope that I can do the same.

My parents were a part of the Nielson ratings when I was still at home. I remember my dad wanted to be sure to watch Mort Neff's Michigan Out of Doors Show so it would be in the diary. We watched The Man from U.N.C.L.E, Laugh-In, The Monkeys, The Flying Nun, and I think my sisters watched The Brady Bunch. That year, Nielson sent a five dollar bill along with the diaries as a small thank you. We got a very crisp one dollar bill with ours. I guess times are tough.

The survey was kind of amusing and we would do it again, if asked. We don't have cable or satellite so we probably aren't representative of the average household but we got our two cents worth in, anyway.

Nifty Chevy Hood Ornament

Bob made a nifty hood ornament for my 1988 Chevrolet Caprice. When we bought it a few months ago it had a cheesy aftermarket Chevy emblem strapped to the hood with a bungee cord. So tacky. Bob replaced that arrangement with a fancy acorn nut but that developed rust (drat rust, it's the bane of vehicles in Michigan) so he fashioned this new, improved custom bow tie emblem from a chunk of aluminium.

If you know us, you know we love 1980s box style Chevy Caprices. We bought this one from an old woman in Flint, who'd had a stroke and hadn't driven in a long time. She insisted she was still able to drive since she was able to see out of the inner part of her left eye and the outer part of her right eye but her sons thought differently. I feel for her. I hope I have the sense to stop driving if I become a danger on the road.

This is the second low mileage Caprice we have gotten from a Grandma type person. I told daughter Sarah that and she stifled a snicker. I had briefly forgotten that I have slipped into the Grandma category, too. I guess now the Grandmas are just shifting Caprices among us.

I hope there is, as we speak, another Caprice parked in the heated garage of a long lived Grandma who'll in about ten years decide to sell it to that nice couple, Bob and Chari. We are currently looking for another Caprice for one of the senior members of the Grandma club, my Mom. I hope we can find her a good one, too.

I wasn't always a convert to the Caprice club. When Bob and I first married I needed a new car and wanted to buy an AMC Pacer. Does anyone remember the Pacer? It looked like a small fish bowl on wheels and came in groovy 1970s colors. The seat adjusted so far forward you could drive with your nose pressed up against the windshield, if you wanted. The seat fit me perfectly and visibility even for a shorty like me was fantastic; the car was all windows. Well, Bob was very nice about it but he did point out that he wouldn't be able to drive the car since the pedals were so close together his foot depressed accelerator, clutch and brake all at once. Sigh... I saw a spring green Pacer in a parking lot last year. It is the only one I've seen in at least twenty years. Actually, they disappeared fairly quickly, starting with the back fenders. By the 1980s the only Pacers you saw were so eaten by the rust moths that parts flapped in the wind as the car chugged down the road and then even those sorry examples were seen no more.

Anyway, if you see me out and about in my blue 1988 Chevrolet Caprice take a gander at my hood ornament.