Pear and Cherry

click here for Boxer's Birthday Card
click here for my Karmic Kitchen Peeps Challenge Entry

Palm Sunday

Weekend in the City

V called and said i should come home; all the trees are blooming in the city. I packed up 5 hens and one giant puppy into a smallish car and headed out around 5 pm. The mountains were blue and shrouded in mist. I watched them fade in the rear view mirror. The weekend people are coming in; the traffic thickened northbound a little more every twenty miles i travelled south. Some of them were packed to the gills with bikes and jet skis and the dreaded forest destroying 4 wheelers. Im glad i live on the rural side of the county, not the tourist side where the lake and all the rental cabins are. Lots of boats are headed north too. Theres a big bass tournament this weekend just over the border in North Carolina. And then there is the big news:


The Georgia Legislature passed HR 1773 this week, naming Blue Ridge as the trout capital of jawja. why?

...."According to the resolution, Fannin County is home to 13 bodies of water that have been designated by the Georgia DNR as trout waters -- actually over 550 miles of pristine streams, including The Toccoa River's diverse tailwater, which can be fished all year. Fannin County is also home to the federal trout hatchery in the Chattahoochee National Forest....."


30 minutes away from Chickory my ears pop with altitude change and the landscape opens up to a sunnier sky. Somebody flashed their headlights and i slowed to 65 just in time to innocently glide by a county mounty. A wreck in the next half hour turns the northbound into a parking lot for miles backing all the way to the super slab I-75. I switch to an urban station for the big bass and prepare for a hell for leather street gauntlet. I like this. I enjoy traffic and frenzied lane changing and driving nuttiness now because i know it will only be for a few days and then i can return to the chill life for restoration.

Atlanta is in full spring flower and its beauty is the counterpoint to the country. The city is a beauty of manicured lawns, landscaping and hardscapes of brick and wrought iron and rock; spring bulbs and pretty people walking their pretty dogs through glittering canyons of high rise condos. The parking lot at Saks and Nordstrom are filled; and the Tavern at Phipps is overflowing with a see and be scene. When i reach my destination - home -i find the pear and cherry in full flower and the lilac and clematis ready to bud out. Eastern Redbuds and Tulip Poplars are vibrant in color too as are the camellias. The one in our front yard is heavy with flowers and looks like it might fall over from the weight of them.

Here i have a sample of flowering pear, quince and white cherry blossoms; violets ; and what everyone calls a tulip tree, but i don't know for sure.






Tonight V and I are going to a concert at the Fabulous Fox Theatre to see the "Jimi Hendrix Experience Tour: Celebrating the Music and Legacy of Jimi Hendrix". The venue is like an incredibly ornate Egyptian ballroom with a dash of moroccan architecture and the acoustics are pretty good as it isnt too large. I love going there and we can take the MARTA train with only a few blocks of walking from the station. I hate parking downtown. Ive had my car wrecked twice by valets.

It will be a fun people watching crowd there will be a lot of rock in rollers and their mols (like me and V) and the line up of players sounds promising too: Eric Johnson, Kenny Wayne Shepherd, Living Color, Johnny Lang, Joe Satriani, Robert Randolph, Los Lobos, Ernie Isley and Billy Cox who played woodstock with Jimi. Im pretty excited, not just about the show, but about having a date with V. Now that we spend so much time apart, our times together are more eventful and much more fun. I will try and get some photos of the "scene" for Moi's fashion blog. The theme? I dont know, maybe aging hippy chicks?

A Whisper of Spring

On monday, there was snow and ice. It fell quietly and melted immediately. This time, V left the pup with me and took Trout back to ATL with him. The dogs had a fight over a pig ear, and Koby ended up with two puncture wounds on her face. I was severe with Trout and hurt her already fragile feelings. I think she realizes now that this pup is a part of our family, not a visitor, and she is alternately thrilled to have a playmate and blue and withdrawn. The pup must be managed constantly, there is no fencing here and miles and miles of wilderness around us for her to get lost. She hears the call of the wild now and then and puts her hound nose to the ground to follow a trail to adventure. She is excellent in responding to "come". I smell of liver as i have treats at all times ready to reward. V deserves much praise for the good training he has done with this pup; now i am just reinforcing what he has taught her.

The day moon floated in the rare blue. Its been a rainy winter and its been hard on me. The mountains are, in many ways, a lonely place. Light and radio waves are blocked and there is a sense of isolation. I drove to Lake Rabun last week and felt the shroud of anxiety lift as i entered a bright valley along the way. I see the recession in rural towns in a way i never do in the city. There isnt any work and store fronts that once offered the little extras in life are empty now. I read in the paper that the park service had relaxed the maximum time a campsite could be occupied. There are families that have been living on the lake now for months.

I worked on my raised beds yesterday. I have three, with a system of PVC hoops and plastic to make a quick greenhouse when the weather turns. The mountains have their own microclimate; sometimes the only place on the georgia map with snow will be my western corner of the county. The cohuttas are snow capped even today, but that may change as we are scheduled to hit the upper 60's. My beds are a mixture of compost ive been cooking a year now, fortified with hen manure and the loamy earth from decayed trees in the wood lot. I add some of the ash from my fire pit and commercial planting soil, some mulched leaves and a bit of sand.

I have swiss chard, spinach, onions, red sail lettuce, romaine, butter crunch and bibb started. Leeks and cauliflower, and some collards for the hens. Today i will put in my seeds for carrots and the fancy radishes i picked out for V - they are called the easter egg radishes because they are pink, purple, red and white. One of the carrot varieties i chose was "purple haze" which has a purple skin with the traditional bright orange inside. I also have the sunshine mix with the bright yellow carrots. In the field, there are little wild yellow carrots with the sweetest fragrance. What a great perfume they would make and i would if i could figure out how. Maybe i could just cut one up and rub it on my neck.

I'd like to try beets too. Im going to get a hydrator and make veggie chips this summer. Beets make some of the best chips, but judging from last year, finding ways to use zucchini will be time well spent. I also love the hydrated green beans. They are so sweet and crunchy this way. i really dont like them cooked that much. This year i might not do pole beans and try a selection of bush beans and peas instead. This will be year two of the garden, and i am still trying to figure out what works well here and what i like. I grew okra last year and really couldnt give it away. I only like it breaded in corn meal and fried so this year i wont grow it. I did like its flower though. Kind of like a pale yellow hibiscus with a maroon throat.

Koby conked out appropriately in a garden bed.

The hens hang out on the deck in the late afternoon. Ive spoiled them terribly. Easter and Vera are hoping for some pasta.

When i see the first star pierce through the sky, its time to go in. I have an exhibition in May, with 3 other artists, so i am painting in the evenings. I'm doing a series from the garden scans i have taken. When it's time for bed, i cuddle up in the quilts and read the blogs and news feeds. Safe in my little pumpkin cabin, i meditate on the sorrows and the beauties, and prepare to start the whole process over again.

Jerome

Consider the life of saint jerome
who went off and lived in a cave
sainthood may come when you're all alone
no temptations to misbehave!

Today's Garden Scan

THE WINNER OF THE ART GIVEAWAY IS KARL!

FOR THE OFFICIAL REPORT AND DRAWING :CLICK HERE

The Executioner's Song

I came home last night to find Ethyl prolapsed, which is when the inside of a chicken is hanging outside of her "vent", the opening that she poops and lays eggs through. I picked her up and examined the situation; read through several threads of what to do on backyard chickens forum and decided this was a cull. Many people had managed to save their birds with prolonged, involved care, which included special diets, keeping them in a separate pen, breaking the laying cycle and washing the feces off their bottoms several times a day and more. I knew that i was not this person.

Not that i wouldnt go to extraordinary steps if i thought the hen would be viable. But let us be honest: the likelihood of her returning to laying well and not prolapsing again was not good. I informed mr. chickory (V) of my plans to which he completely balked. "give her a chance!" he cried. So i went to the store and bought some Preparation H, Pedialyte, yogurt and honey and returned. I washed Ethyl in the tub with warm water and some antibacterial soap; it was pretty rough, her entire bottom was red and raw and it smelled bad. I cleaned her up, blew dry the area applied the Prep H and pushed the innards back in. I held it there for a few minutes, and let her go only to have it pop back out only this time bigger and redder. The poor hen would let out a pitiful little screech as she strained to expel what must have obviously been quite uncomfortable. I tried the honey and again the insides popped back out. I gave her some pedialyte and yogurt which she refused, and then put her to bed in a carrier with some old towels i heated in the dryer.

Of course, V was not involved in this process. I tried throughout the evening to push the outs in and it just wouldnt hold. When i saw him next, i just shook my head no.

"We could take her to the vet" said V. "They could sew it up in there".

"and how will she poop" i asked?

"maybe Angela (our vet) can put her down for us"

"and charge how much? How much is it worth to avoid seeing blood"

"can't you break her neck?"

"im not sure i can get it done right the first time. do you want to see her flapping around paralyzed?"

"leave her out tomorrow and the hawks will get her"

"bad idea. it will train the hawks that our yard is a great place to pick up lunch"

I looked through the backyard chicken forum where i found this post. I read it to V and we couldnt stop laughing. It is a post on how to kill a chicken, written by somebody under the handle of "the city chicken":



.......I don’t take chickens to the vet (hundreds of dollars) and I don’t let them suffer and just die a slow death if they are terminal. The only way I know how to dispatch with a chicken is to chop its head off. I have never tried wringing their necks or the like; not confident enough to get that right. Dropping a hatchet, however, is a more detached feeling, because you don’t really have to feel the body at all. You just whack the hatchet and it feels like going through wood. But the process I take in order to chop a chicken’s head off is somewhat involved. I don’t just grab it and chop. First I put an old sock over the chicken’s head. This makes the chicken nearly fall asleep, as they are simplistic creatures. Also, with the sock, I don’t have to see it’s little face. Then I lash the chicken to a board in a certain way (if you really want to know I can tell you, but it’s all rather macabre.) Finally, after all these preparations (that I won’t go into) I drop the hatchet. The chicken can’t go anywhere because it’s legs are lashed to the board. Yesterday, however, the wire around its legs broke off of the board after I decapitated it. (Note to self: next time use stronger wire.) It started to flap around quite a lot, and sort of hop away, because its legs were still tied together but not tied to the board anymore. I had to get in there and grab the body by the wings and pin them back like I’ve seen people do. Then what do I do with it? I hadn’t planned for this possibility. I looked around frantically and saw a plastic bin and so I threw the body under that, and grabbed a nearby heavy flower pot and set that on top of the bin so that there was no way the bird was going to be able to flop out of there........


I went to her website and looked at the diagram which is similar to what i drew above. I got up before V this morning, went down and saw Ethyl was awake, but hadnt eaten and wouldnt drink. I rolled her up in an old towel, made some coffee and sat in the sunroom with her just stroking her and loving on her. I had made my decision and waited for V to get up.

When our eyes met, he knew i had decided. We built the execution board. V was worried the axe wasnt sharp enough. He suggested an alternative: the big paper cutter at the office. Bad idea said i, this will be messy and how are you going to secure the bird to the cutter? and, do you want to do this at the office?

"i hate this" said V.

"so do i, but honestly honey, what if we had to eat our chickens to live? we'd have to kill them. "

"I'll become a vegetarian"

"what about protein?'

"i'll eat fish"

"you dont have a problem cutting a fish head off"

"no. a fish wasnt a pet that i knew."

"chicken tacos dont grow on trees. Ethyl is a pet yes, and a food crop. now buck up and lets get this done. This is the right thing to do for her. it will be quick and painless and over. now c'mon."

I cut the toe of a white sock and fit it over her head. I couldnt help but smile at the odd familiarity of the scene - like westerns where someone is hooded before being hung. I pushed her head between the two nails and stretched her out long and tied the legs to the other nail. I didnt want the malfunction the 'city chicken" experienced so i wrapped the twine around Ethyls body several times.

she struggled a bit and the hood fell off. i didnt like the look on her face. she was almost certain to understand she was in mortal danger.

A long moment passed. The axe came down once, and then again sending Ethyls head into a soft landing among emerging spring columbines. The body did indeed flap and struggle, for almost a minute. But i mostly watched her head gasp for breath with no lungs to fill. the light died out in her eyes. I bagged her up as i was worried the dogs might dig her up if we buried her.

V did not linger and the look he gave me killed. He's mad at me. I am sure he is at his office right now, changing his power of attorney. I can see him in the hospital grasping the wrist of a friend or family and in desperate whisper say

"don't let Peanut pull the plug!"


It is a beautiful moment when you can say what you are out loud without regret. No i am not going to nurse this bird for weeks maybe months on the off chance she might return to a full laying life. However, in the future, and especially now that we have made the execution board, i will not ask V to assist me if we should have to cull another chicken. I am confident i can do all of it myself, and should have done so this time. Next time, I will say what parents say to their children: "Where is Rover? He went to live on a farm where he is very happy"

*************************

Ethyl was one of the two hens on top of the pecking order. The social structure of my flock will shift in the next few days and it will be interesting to see who emerges to take the second position. Ethyl was a brick of a bird, virtually impossible to tell her apart from Edith. She was a Plymouth Barred Rock, a good hen that rode nice and quiet in the car. Her eggs were brown and longer than the others. I will miss her but she will always be remembered as i have lots of movies of her happily scratching in the yard. She will most certainly reappear one day in a painting or drawing, and she will be shown for the lovely thing she was.

One more step up the ladder of country hardening up.

Mixed Media Chicks

A home design store, Davonshire, ordered a set of my baby chicks pieces. I am very happy about the project, but as always it is difficult to pay myself fairly and then have the piece be affordable after the store marks it up 50%. I've taken my photographs of the chicks at 3 days old and mounted them onto canvas or sometimes to board. I add the collage elements and then paint over the photograph using molding paste and paint to build up the texture. the entire piece is then sealed with UV protective varnish and dropped into a silver leaf floater frame.

To celebrate my big win over at Yoborobo this weekend (i won "myrna") i am following Yobo's lead and offering a giveaway of "Easter", the first chick in this post. All you need to do to enter into this giveaway is to tell me in the comments you want your name in the hat. I will have mr. chickory draw a name out and that person will receive an unframed wood mixed media piece of the chick. The winner can choose to have a different chick if they prefer. Good Luck everybody, the drawing will be on Friday!

* Boxer, you are ineligible for this contest. You will receive an "easter" with your purchase of the Red Pyle Rooster.

Red Pyle Rooster

In Like a Lion

this time, i was ready
i perched the old grey mare
at the top of the driveway
ready for my get-a-way
in case of a chocolate emergency
or a cut paw

the snow this time was
large
individuals dropped heavy with water
branches cracked and echoed through the forest
and a big limb dropped just as i turned off the video camera

trout dug up a mole
and i startled a huge grey heron
saw raccoon tracks on the creek bed
and started a new painting
lost power
cleaned the chicken coop
and had tomato soup in a coffee mug

trout and i played rough
i kicked snow at her
she nipped my glove
a formation of crows
called in approval
i saw the black and white dog again
trout wont let me meet him
she runs him off the place every time he tries
he watches us from the road
i think he is lonely and scared
i'd like to pet him
and offer him something to eat
but he cant stay
i guess it is how it should be
another exercise in country hardening up

tonight i am safe in the little pumpkin
the news is a joke
diane sawyer is too light and the reporting
too lame
the real story is never told
i'll switch to 804
the 70's music channel
steely dan, america, led zepplin and
tv theme songs
"we finally got a piece of the pie"

tomorrow the snow may melt
and the sun may reappear
by the weekend it will be in the 60's
i have loved the winter lion
but my seeds crave
the spring lamb