Something New: Week #4

Last week was Week # 4 of my Something New- ness. What did I pick? A couple of weeks ago I mentioned having seen the new Movie The Big Year. I really liked it. It's about birding. Birdwatching. Ornithological capers.

I think know I have always watched birds. In the air, on the ground, on the water, wherever. But I have never taken the time to write down a list of "seen" birds. So, here's this weekend's beginning list:

• duck(s): Indian Runner
• peacock(s): Black-shouldered
• cattle egret
• sparrow
• hawk (with over 250 species included in the hawk family, I can only tell you it was not a red-tailed hawk.) This one was swooping onto a fieldmouse.
  
• pigeon
• cardinal
• crow
• turkey
• mourning dove
• killdeer
• blue jay
• downy or hairy woodpecker:

And I have already noted a date in April for hunting (with camera) for the rare sighting of whooping cranes only just down the road from us. No kidding!


I am excited.

A Poem

A Dream of Autumn
by James Whitcomb Riley

Mellow hazes, lowly trailing
Over wood and meadow, veiling
Somber skies, with wildfowl sailing
Sailor-like to foreign lands;
And the north-wind overleaping
Summer's brink, and floodlike sweeping
Wrecks of roses where the weeping
Willows wring their helpless hands.

Flared, like Titan torches flinging
Flakes of flame and embers, springing
From the vale the trees stand swinging
In the moaning atmosphere;
While in dead'ning-lands the lowing
Of the cattle, sadder growing,
Fills the sense to overflowing
With the sorrow of the year.

Sorrowfully, yet the sweeter
Sings the brook in rippled meter
Under boughs that lithely teeter
Lorn birds, answering from the shores
Through the viny, shady-shiny
Interspaces, shot with tiny
Flying motes that fleck the winy
Wave-engraven sycamores.

Fields of ragged stubble, wrangled
With rank weeds, and shocks of tangled
Corn, with crests like rent plumes dangled
Over Harvest's battle-piain;
And the sudden whir and whistle
Of the quail that, like a missile,
Whizzes over thorn and thistle,
And, a missile, drops again.

Muffled voices, hid in thickets
Where the redbird stops to stick its
Ruddy beak betwixt the pickets
Of the truant's rustic trap;
And the sound of laughter ringing
Where, within the wild-vine swinging,
Climb Bacchante's schoolmates, flinging
Purple clusters in her lap.

Rich as wine, the sunset flashes
Round the tilted world, and dashes
Up the sloping west and splashes
Red foam over sky and sea--
Till my dream of Autumn, paling
In the splendor all-prevailing,
Like a sallow leaf goes sailing
Down the silence solemnly.

The Great White Pumpkin

Back in May, my family began its most recent competition:
The Great White Pumpkin Contest.

I sent out an email this morning to the competitors,
and here are a few replies I have received so far:

We have a slight problem...
There is technically enough time to grow one batch, extract new seeds, and grow a second batch. Granted, they would be small... but we're after quantity right? Since these technically come from the same 10 seeds, I might be able to make a thousand pumpkins or more.
Do we need an extra rule?

I, and my class, have successfully kept ALL the seeds in the cup you gave them to me in….does that count?

I harvested and destroyed (trying to get more seeds) about 14 pumpkins (see attached).
However, I refused to shade my patch and relied on water instead (this killed the pumpkins).
I did have one plant revive itself from a root, but it has not produced any pumpkins and has also died (due to a freeze)
Unfortunately, I do not believe I am in the running, although I had a great time tracking my progress on the pumpkin blog (well, until the plants all died!)
http://punkin2011.blogspot.com/

That's nothing! I had squash bugs bigger than that.

I tied Brian.

I think my seeds got mixed up with Brian's. Brian, yours died.

I did witness several small, cute little pumkins on Brian's one remaining plant immediately after the freeze. I'm sure this would earn him extra credit.

Melinda, You have some great gardening skills.

She gets that from me.

Some of these are close enough to count as pumpkins, right??

I placed my pumpkin seeds underneath my pillow while I slept every night for months, and yet no pumpkins. This whole gardening thing is beyond me.

And there we have it: a season of family fun & games.
The Great White Valenciano Pumpkin Award will be announced Monday, October 31.

Wordless Wednesday

Places I Have Been:

I was reading a blog this afternoon about someone who might not be so thrilled about her family's move to Arizona. That got me to thinking about all my moves. I have lots of them!

Pryor, Oklahoma to Oklahoma State = good move

Oklahoma State to University of Connecticut = good move

Connecticut to Central Coast, California = trying move

Central Coast, California to Connecticut = good move

Connecticut to Cairo, Egypt = VERY trying, yet good move

Cairo, Egypt to East Lansing, Michigan = good move

East Lansing, Michigan to Oklahoma State University = GREAT MOVE!!!

Oklahoma State University to Kansas State University = meh

Sorry, Kansas folks. My heart bleeds orange. I really miss Orange Power and University Avenue. And I miss fresh the Connecticut autumn and seafood from both coasts and Egyptian foul and tameya and great MSU Friday Marching Band rehearsals. (the whole community comes out for these!)

As for rural Kansas? I love my neighbors, my Lutheran friends, our rural life. I miss my family tremendously. Who wants to drive 5 hours to nowhere? (Apparently, not many.) I hate the wind, I hate the dust, I hate the bugs. I love that our kids loved their late teen years here in rural Kansas. I love that our College Boy prefers to run on our country roads over the "city". I love that cyclists know where we live, and stop by for chats. I love (sort of) that everyone knows our comings and goings. That's good out here in the middle of nowhere. I love knowing the seasons of the farms and ranches. I know what's being planted in the field across the road, and I know what's being harvested as well. I know when the heifers south of us are calving, and when the ewes west of us are welcoming their little lambs. On any given night or early morn, I know the moon's position in the sky, any given week. I love that I can see the stars - I can see the stars and know exactly what time it is according to the stars. I know sunrise, and sunset.

And finally, after all my moves and all my observances: Home is where you hang your hat. Mine is hung here, and I have found the good in all things rural Kansas.