My first encounter with a guava

Since moving to California my familiarity with fruits like kumquat, persimmon, pomegranate, papaya and mango has grown.  I love kumquats, persimmon and pomegranates and am on friendly terms with all the others.  I will never forget the morning I set the breakfast table with homemade bread, fresh strawberries, blueberries, melon and pineapple.  Micah (4 or 5 at the time) came to the table, looked around and asked, "Where's the mango?"  Even a grandmother has to roll her eyes once in a while.  

Saturday a friend gave me some guavas from her tree.  I had to ask her how to eat it, never having seen a guava in my life.  So today I gave it a try.  Hmmmm.  Let's just say I won't be rushing out to buy a guava tree anytime soon.  But it was definitely interesting.  Maybe in a smoothie?  I even resorted to YouTube for How to eat a guava (always ready to believe I'm doing something wrong here) but even that didn't make a convert out of me.  Those seeds are surely high in fiber but kind of a hurdle to the palate.  Maybe it's an acquired taste?  

Aren't these persimmons lovely?  Friend Candice blessed me with them.  Yum.

In Catherine Marshall's book Christy I believe there is a story about how finding a persimmon tree with fruit on it saved a mountain family from starvation.  They were able to harvest and sell the fruit at premium price and buy what they needed to get through the winter.  That gave me a kindly feeling toward persimmons even though I had no idea what a persimmon was when I read the book eons ago.  I'll have to see if I can find that book and story.  Amazing how a good story can stay with you through the decades.  Hmmmm...seems like no matter what topic I start thinking about it always ends up back at a book.
  

Bunny rug

I have never heard of a four year old asking for a hooked rug but apparently watching me hook rugs gave Lucas the idea that he wanted his own rug.  And of course it had to be one depicting his favorite animal, a bunny.  So when he asked me if I would make him a bunny rug I said, "Of course!"   He immediately wanted to cut the wool strips for it.  I tried to explain that "these things take preparation and time" but what is time to a four year old?  He had a bee in his bonnet so we cut a few wool strips just to satisfy him that the bunny rug was on its way to becoming reality.

A few days later when he came to visit he looked around and whispered in my ear, "Where's my bunny rug?"  And a week later at his birthday party he opened all his presents with apparent joy but a moment later he whispered into my ear, "Oma, you forgot my bunny rug."  Obviously, this bunny rug was not the whim of a moment.  So Oma got to work.  It had to be a small bunny rug because large ones just take too long.  But small ones are doable and here, at last, is Lucas' bunny rug.  Of course Micah wanted a rug, too, and when I vetoed the idea of a ninjago rug (whatever that is) and a few other flash in the pan ideas he agreed to a squirrel rug.  That one is still in the works.  Thanks to my talented friend Mary Johnson of Designs in Wool for the delightful patterns.

Vermicelli, Rancho Del Mar style

OK, I'm warning you right at the outset that this post is not for the squeamish or faint of stomach.  I freely admit it's the kind of thing only a former biology teacher might appreciate.  But I'm posting it anyway.  It's part of your education.  Incidentally, did you know vermicelli literally means "little worms"? It really does.   

First off, let's look at some plants growing here at our house.

For instance, how about this happy, healthy fern?

Or this one...

Or this one...

Now look at this sad little guy...

Looks like he needs a shot of whatever those other ferns are getting, right?

In order to give him what he needs, I needed to get some worm compost from my little worm farm.  To separate the worms from the compost, I put a couple shovelfuls of worms + compost into a plastic tray with a grid on the bottom. 

Here's a closeup in case you're wondering if that really is a ball of worms.

 Then I put the tray/soil/worms in the wheelbarrow with a little soil in it.  And park them in a light area (not direct sunlight).  The worms hate the light and dive (I'm not exaggerating) through the holes in the plastic grid to get into the shade of the dirt below.  Thirty minutes or so later, there is only nice composted soil in the tray.  Repot sad little fern with this soil and in a few weeks he'll perk up.  Return worms to the worm box to continue their soil-producing work.  

Look at the beautiful soil they produce!

(Worms were escaping between my fingers while I tried to snap that shot.)

Looks almost like beautiful Illinois topsoil, doesn't it?  

I started my worm enterprise with a few red wiggler worms I found under a large potted fig tree at the townhouse we first moved to here in LA.  How did I know they were red wigglers?  They were red.  And they wiggled.  I went to college to learn stuff like that.  From that modest handful of worms there have come millions of worms that I've shared with a few other crazy people.  Worm power.  Awesome.  Or Eeewew-some.

Discovery

I've been seeking refuge from the heat on the patio on the west side of the house.  Obviously that only works in the mornings but it's shady and there's been a light breeze, wonderful for reading.  The last few days, however, there has been this annoying high-pitched screeching coming from somewhere near the patio.  It was grating on my subconscious like tiny fingers on a chalkboard so finally today I decided to follow the sound and find the culprit.  It led me right to the big orange tree where I looked up and discovered a wee baby hummingbird flitting around.  He looked to be about as big as the end of my thumb.  The screeching stopped when he discovered he was being observed.  I ran for my camera and stood there for quite a while with my neck craned and eyes strained but dang it, he was silent as a mouse and not going to give his whereabouts away.  His mama and papa zipped nervously around and I realized why they had been so aggressive towards all the other hummers at the feeder - they weren't just being greedy about the feeder.  I imagine it won't be long until he is out of the nest since he flitted quite well.  Then I'll climb the tree and see if I can't find the nest.  I know they are protected but I'd just like to have a peek at it and take a picture.  Only when the tenants move out, of course...

Until that time you'll just have to imagine the tiny bit of fluff with his abbreviated little beak.  Don't you wonder how his parents feed him?

He's up there somewhere:

Shock therapy

There aren't many things that shock me any more, especially in a good way.  But finding these flowers on the front porch today did just that.

Yesterday I had a dental implant which I had been dreading.  It wasn't as bad as I'd feared, for which I was hugely thankful.  This lovely bouquet is from the oral surgeon and my dentist, Dr. Peter Lam and Dr. Jack Ma.  Softens the sticker shock of the implant a bit - and just a kind thing to do.

For The Birds

Sitting here in the living room when I raise my eyes I see a row of birds (obviously not real ones) on the mantlepiece.  A friend once commented that I have birds all over my house.  It wasn't an intentional theme and I was surprised to realize the truth of her statement.  I do have birds all over my house!  I think the birds slowly snuck into my life while we lived on the farm and have been with me ever since, the flock growing every year.  Birds are just ubiquitous out in nature and I'm very thankful they are.  They add so much to our world.  In honor of the birds past and present in my life and home, here's an old Xanga post from May of 2006...

“Fully lined”

This spring when we started brushing the horse and dogs to get their winter coats off them, the
white fur was flying all over the pasture.  We collected buckets of it.   I predicted to Becca that
every bird’s nest on the farm would be lined with horse or dog hair this year.
The other day I was out mowing the lawn after a storm.  Under a tree I found a tiny nest that 
had blown down in the storm:

This year’s model is fully lined with horse-hair upholstery.  The
chassis is delicately woven out of grass with a bit of orange baling
twine thrown in for accent.  

Old pictures...

...can make your heart ache.  Haven't seen this photo in years but it made me long for home.

Farm stories

A couple weeks ago on a Saturday evening we had a young couple over for dinner and an evening of talk.  Pete and I usually enjoy asking questions and digging deeper into our guests' minds and hearts.  That night, however, for whatever reason, Pete and I ended up talking a blue streak all night.  At one point we started telling funny stories about things that had happened on the farm in our twenty years there.  And when we once get going on that topic, it's hard to shut us up.  Afterwards I felt kind of bad but it was just one of those "I'm talking and I can't shut up" moments I guess.  

When we got a thank you note for the evening from our guests, they mentioned that they had so enjoyed hearing all funny farm stories.  It made me think that maybe I should repost some things I posted years ago on my old Xanga blog, just to remind myself (and my kids who experienced it with us) of those things, funny, poignant, or just homey.  So here's one from August 6, 2006 about one of our critters.  

Ozzie's Praise

You can hear it as soon as you walk in the barn – a low rumble coming from somewhere amidst the hay and buckets.  If you wait a few seconds, the source of the rumble, a small orange tom-kitten named Ozzie, will come out to greet you.  Most kittens purr when you pet them, pick them up or cuddle them.  Ozzie purrs almost all the time, whether anyone is there or not, whether someone is petting him or not.  He just purrs because he’s happy with life. 

It makes me smile to hear him purring.  I care about my animals and it makes me happy when they are happy.  His purring tells me that he thinks he’s got a pretty great life here in our barn, as part of our “family”. 

God must feel that way about us.  The book of Hebrews draws to a close with these words:  “Through Him, then, let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, the fruit of lips that give thanks to His name.”  Continually offering up a sacrifice of praise to God is, in effect, sort of like purring – letting God know I’m happy with the life He’s chosen for me, the redemption He’s given me.   Recognizing Him as the source of my contentment, the wellspring of my unquenchable joy, no matter what my circumstances.

I think God smiles when He hears Ozzie purring.  “All His creatures praise Him…”