Absence

Time is in the countdown before the A-Z Challenge
and my illustrious face will be missing. (I heard that sigh
of relief but honest, I always made my posts short).  I've participated 
in the A-Z every year but always tearing out my hair
because April spring is the busiest month of my year. 

What is it (I'm sure you're asking) that keeps an old broad
so busy in the spring. 
    1. Do you recall the post about the big tree being cut down? There is black
weed cloth that now has to be removed AND it's under a foot of dirt. Then I'll
spread black dirt and gypsum over the whole area for another garden.  Here's
a gardening tip........gypsum will improve hardened soil and clay. It makes
soil lovely to work with.

    2. I will then empty the 3 compost boxes (that are now filled with pure
black gold) and spread on all the gardens.

    3. Then it's "clean the chicken coop" that is filled with the missing
ingredient for the black gold and transfer that to the compost boxes. Chicken
poop makes one of the very best fertilizers.

    4. On Pat's birthday all-day rhyming bash,  I got 5 baby chicks that are
now peeping away in the living room.  Names are Larry, Moe, Curly and
Mildred. There's still one to name. Any suggestions?

I do have a crew of buffed men coming on May 19  to finish up the heavy
outdoor work  but I'll probably have most of it done by that time.

I'll be peeking in on you and I wish you all a Happy A--Z  Month.

Go'n My Way?

The early 1950's found me living in Morocco and caring for my
first two babies. Husband came home and announced that I could
begin house-hunting because he was being transferred to an air
base in the Atlas Mountains.

That was good news to me because I always preferred mountain
air to sea air and it would be safer getting out of the crosshairs
of the civil unrest of the revolution that was in it's early stages. I
was literally being followed by gunsights as I'd push the pram to
the market each day. I was always mistaken for being French and
it was the French they were fighting back then, not the Americans.

Early the next morning, I arranged a baby sitter, dropped husband
off at the base and continued up into the mountains to find us a new
home. That was an easy task as I found a pensione almost immediately
and began the drive home.

Bang, flop, flop, flop. A flat. Dang, dang. Even though I was
strong and agile at that time, I couldn't budge the lug nuts.  What to
do on this sparsely traveled mountain road and I could feel new
milk arriving and looking for a baby. (Only the gals know that
feeling)

A big black shiny caddy came around the bend and stopped. The
windows were dark and I couldn't see inside. For a moment my
gut fluttered in slight panic.  The window opened and I saw an
older Arabian gentleman wearing the red/white checkered
kaffiyeh on his head.  In almost perfect English, he asked if I
needed a ride to Casablanca.  I assured him I did and he said
something to the tune of, "hop in." Well, it was only something
 close to that and it was so long ago, I don't remember our exact
conversation.

But it was a pleasant exchange of words even though "in after-
thoughts," I knew I had made a huge blunder when I jumped
into the front seat in enthusiastic American style. Thank
goodness he didn't seem to notice or care.

Mist clouds my eyesight now when I recall all the acts of
kindness paid to us while we were guests in their country. That
was evidently the "old guard" and they are long gone. Times
have changed, governments have changed and nothing seems
the same. A new breed in all the countries and oh....
I just don't know. I simply just don't know...........................
 

What's to Happen?

Do you think we are living in scary times or 
is it business as usual for you without a care
in the world? 

Are you watching the presidential debates or do you leave that up to
someone else?  Trump said he may skip the debate tonight because of
Megyn Kelly but Joe Skousen says it's because Trump doesn't want to
get pinned down at this point with his answers to the Muslim
questions. That sounds more reasonable. Would Trump ever back
away from M. Kelly?  I think not. We'll see if he's there tonight.

I like Joel Skousen's political savvy, just as I liked his uncle, Cleon
Skousen, when he wrote "The Naked Communist" back in 1958.

Have you noticed how America has taken a flip-flop from the
times of the cold war?  Little kids used to check under their
beds at night to make sure there were no "commies" hiding.
Now, that kindly looking old gent and socialist,  Bernie Sanders,
draws in the young people by the thousands.

Do you think there will be an election in 2017 or do you think
there is a possibility of a national disaster?

Where do you think the stock market is heading?  Do you
think the Feds have scrapped the bottom of the barrel or do
you think they'll try a QE4? Everything seems to be in another
bubble right now. Will they burst and then fly around the room
backwards, like pricking a balloon? I have several
close widow friends who have their money tied up in the
market and naively trust a stock broker.  I suggested it may
be a good time to get out and buy metals. Nope, they trust
that "same as a shoe salesman," looking out for their best
interest.  Oh My God.

Just a few thoughts to ponder.

One of Those Days

That night, there was a warm rain and then it froze and froze and
froze. Next morning, the news showed hysterical shots of  cars
smashing and people falling. My chickens were bewildered as
they slid across ice and fell, another fell, they were all falling
in a skater's mish-mash.

With garbage bag in hand, I was trying to make my way up a
small hill to the alley garbage can. Seemingly from out of no-
where, a white knight in the form of a youthful, agile young
man ran sliding down the hill and said, "Let me put your garbage
in the can." He further explained he was a guest at the neighbors
across the alley. I expressed my thanks and I was grateful to
return to the house in one piece.

The next morning I was feeding the chickens and that same
white knight was again in the alley with his dog.  We exchanged
a few pleasantries and I asked him if he had eaten his
breakfast. When he said he had not, I offered him two warm
fresh eggs I had just taken from the nest. He came over in a
second and we were chatting about chickens, organic food
and gardens.

He was Gary from California and he was telling me about his
organic garden on the roof of his house that was in the heart
of a city. I envisioned a raised bed or two, growing the usual
vegetables, as he was getting his phone out to show me a
video of the garden.

OMG....... he showed me a video of a fairy tale garden.  The
whole top of this vast area was filled with small trees, lush
plants and greenery everywhere. It was magical. There was
even a greenhouse building that put my little greenhouse into
elf category.  It had been a small building, that was being
discarded that he took apart and revamped it into this. The
whole garden was rustic, it was wild, it was bursting with
the fruits of the earth, way up there, with only the blue sky
as a backdrop.

After we said good-by and he left to have his breakfast,  lol I
thought of countless questions I wanted to ask.  By that time
I was wondering how much reinforcement a roof would need
to support a garden of that size.

So dear friends, you never know what delightful conversations
will follow an encounter on a slippery-slope, in an alley, on
the way to the trash can.

Life is Measured by the Hole in the Shoe

Each generation has a rendezvous with it's destiny 
                 

May I be so bold as to suggest that the first 10 years of a person's life
sets the stage for the beliefs, goals, attitude and ambition for the rest of
that life. My life started in 1930, two months after the stock market
fell, ringing in the start of the depression. The 1st ten years of my
life surrounded me with a poverty never since seen in this country.
The only way to describe those ten years is just to say, poverty
reigned supreme. Think of scenes from the "Grapes of Wrath" and
that is how I remember my childhood.  I'm not saying it was all
gloom and doom as the human spirit can find joy in any situation.

Today I laugh at people who say they are poor while they are
surrounded with new autos, iPhones, TV's, computers and oh yes,
plumbing. No one seems to lack life's material offerings and free
 food is always available (although be it GMO's).

The word "waste" was never in my vocabulary.  I can't under-
stand why people go to a restaurant, pay for a plate of food,  eat
a few bites and leave it. Recently, I was trapped into going out
 to a family breakfast with a few members of the younger
generation.

I distinctly heard them order "extra bacon" and when
 the waitress came to collect the plates, they were still brimming
with bacon,  I quickly snatched bacon from the plates and questioned
"You're not eating this bacon?"  I know.......I'm an embarrassment
but in my memory, wasting bacon is a sin, yes, a sin right
up there with "Thou shall not commit adultry."  LOL

The other day as I was taking off my shoes,  I noticed a small
hole in my sock. Without even thinking, I got out my sewing
basket and a light bulb and was starting to mend my sock. OMG
what was I doing? I had just given generous Christmas bonuses
(enough money that a family could have lived on for a year back
in the 30's) to delivery people and people who had helped me
throughout the year and I WAS BEGINNING TO MEND A
SOCK?????  Crazy......huh? This time, almost embarrassed
for myself,  I tossed the sock and put away the sewing box.
My happy thought was, that I DO know how to weave threads
to make a sock look like new. I also know I could still cut the
perfect size cardboard to cover the big hole in the bottom of a
shoe.

DO YOU THINK THESE SKILLS WILL EVER COME 
IN HANDY AGAIN? 

The News

Do you want to hear the news, the Real news? Watch.   LOL

The Stash With Abash

The old Toker, Willie Nelson.  Whatta Guy

Willie does what he wants to do, dress as he wants to dress and
smokes what he wants to smoke. If he goes to prison for a while,
so what. At least he's his own person and look at all the lingering
songs he's given to the world.

He's right, you know. Marijuana is one of the all-time greatest
medicinal plants ever grown in North America. I can't think of
anything that it WON'T cure.  Actually it's the oil that is used
for healing. It was at one time legal in MT but the yayhoo
governor revoked it after it was voted in by the people. Now,
when it's put on a ballot, it gets rejected by the big pharma
worshipers.

I'm considering driving to CO to visit Marilyn and spend some
time taking advantage of the healing properties of the oil for
my skin cancer and glaucoma.

As I was looking at the presidential hopefuls, I at one time
was carefully scrutinizing Dr Ben Carson.....intelligent, soft-spoken
Ben until he said he supported mandatory vaccinations and
wanted a more extensive war on drugs. That did it for me. Bye
bye Ben. It only proves he's tightly in bed with big pharma and
probably even drives one of those BMW's Daddy Pharma gives
away to doctors at the big freebie conventions.  As a doctor I
thought that Ben would especially value the merits of hemp.

I just saw a video on hemp oil by an elderly seasoned grower
of the precious medicine who lives in Nova Scotia. (Pat, there
ya go) but he was afraid Canada would be closing them down
soon, too. Too bad. The governments want all the money for
themselves. Ha

I wish Willie was my neighbor. I bet he has a good stash and
it would be heavenly to listen to him sing too.  Deam on.....

Do you have any definite views on legal hemp. I just bet
you do. Wanna share?

Where's the Nickel?

Do You Ever See Nickels Anymore?

In fact do you ever see change anymore, you know
that loose stuff in your pockets...... the jingling stuff.
They used to talk about pockets that jingle.
 I recall an old song
.....I wish I were single again
Cause when I was single
My pockets did jingle
Oh, I wish I were single again

You might also hear, "He doesn't have 2 nickels to rub
together." That always confused me. Why would you
rub 2 coins together? Rub, rub, rub.

I think that one meant they were poor....most likely it
came from the depression when everyone was poor
 but a nickel could buy a couple of carrots, a
potato and an onion for a stew. Hobo stew, it was
called OR.......you could go to the nickelodeon.
Duh, guess how much it cost.

And in place of a "good-by" someone might say,
"don't take any wooden nickels."
hmmmmm  what meaning?  Maybe lookout for
scammers or don't accept a worthless token. ???
Beats me.

Restaurants and many public places that had a
rest room had nickel coin boxes outside of the
stalls. Women (in the days when there was a
division between men and women) would write
on the inside of the stalls. I recall one duezy......
Here I sit all broken hearted
Paid 5 cents and only farted

(I could never bring myself to use that word.
Proves I'm not a Lady anymore, Blue. Now
I've earned the title "Broad". )

Buffalo nickels, that's the name. There used to
be a lot of Native Americans and their symbols
on the coins.

War Nickels...... I remember the name but I had
to look this up. They were minted from 1941 to
1945 and have a large P over the building
(Monticello) on the back. Find one.

That's all I remember about nickels. Here's a useless
bit of information about the amount of silver in coins.

Dimes, quarters, half dollars or dollars, dated 1964
or earlier are 90% silver.

But half dollars dated 1965--1970 contain only
40% silver.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Don't take any wooden credit cards. Nyuk, nyuk

Gleanings from an Iconoclast

Political cartoonists have a rare sense of
humor. I love em. 

I know nothing about Kentucky except that I always got
confused if Davy Crockett was from Kentucky or Tennessee.
But I'm sure it is the latter. As for Kentucky, I don't know
 the govenor's name nor anything about him either but this
morning the radio newsman said the Kentucky governor
and his wife had adopted 4 kids from Ethiopia.

Newsman went on to say the Governor wasn't pleased with
this mornings political cartoon which depicted the Governor
hiding under his desk with the caption saying, "Sir, they're
 not terrorists, they're your own adopted kids. "

Iconoclast or not, it made me laugh out loud and it wasn't
a demeaning laugh on Kentucky or it's Governor. It just struck
me funny
If it's funny captions on political cartoons that you're hankering
for, take a hop over to "Penwasser Place" Al's salacious
humor always promises a morning snicker. I guess he recently
got in a little trouble at someone's blog. I didn't see what
it was but I bet it was a good one.

Hey, I'm an old broad. I appreciate a little salacity once in a
while.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yay for Craig's List

My big old tree........gone.

Here's my tree.
You can see how
the inside is rotted
away and would
withstand very
little wind stress.

I told the tree men
to leave the cut up
pieces by the alley
and neighbors could
help themselves
to fire wood
But, I hadn't
considered
the huge pieces
of the tree trunk. Snow may be visiting us this week and I wanted
the wood gone. Craig's list..... I'll try that. I entered an ad at 10 AM
and the wood was all gone by 2 o'clock.  The first man to call took
every scrap of wood. He came with a big trailer and 2 sons and they
had it loaded in a blink. He estimated some of the large pieces of
trunk weighed up to 300 lbs. But they brought a dolly and the
moving seemed effortless for 3 burly Montana guys.

I'm excited now because my head holds a vision for a new vegetable
garden, as I had given my old garden space to the chickens.

I'm impressed with Craig's List.  List at 10 and gone by 2 and even
on a Sunday.

Have you ever used that much-touted Craig's List?

Papercuts and Movie Buffs

Papercuts sting. Every time I get one, I think of an old
movie, "36 Hours," starring James Garner and Eva Marie
Saint. It takes place just prior to D-Day, June 6, 1944.
Garner, an intelligence officer is going over the plans in
a briefing when he gets a paper cut. He does the usual,
comments on it, puts the finger to his mouth and goes
on his way to a secret mission in Lisbon.

There, the Nazi's drug him, capture him, take him to a
phony U.S. Military Hospital, work on his body to make
it appear as if he had aged 6 years. When he awakens,
they tell him it is now 1950 (even with dated newspapers),
that they are in Germany and the allies won the war.
They make him believe he's had amnesia all this time.
Of course, all the workers in the hospital set-up, are
German actors for this elaborate ruse in order to get
Garner to divulge the D-Day date.

At first, Garner completely falls for the perfect charade,
especially when he sees his gray hair and advanced-age
vision but THEN he feels the sting of the PAPERCUT
they missed.

Of course, lots of intrigue and action follows.  I never
get tired of watching this movie but why does it always
come on the tube when I'm extremely busy. I suppose
I could somehow tape it for later but I forgot how to do
that so what the heck, I just drop everything and watch
it.
I love movies. Does that mean I don't have a life?
Maybe. If I see a movie advertised at the Cinemark,
a few blocks away, I toss off my apron, (yes I still
wear aprons) stuff a few bucks in my pocket and
get my movie fix for the day.

Anyone else have that habit?

When is a Tree Not a Tree?

After a tree is cut down, is it still a
 tree? I'd call it firewood. 
After a shady rock garden no longer
has shade, is it now a sun rock garden?

Dang Sam, I'm losing a big huge tree that shades a large
rock garden AND a portion of my neighbors house.  The
tree was old (next to ancient) some 30 years ago when I
bought this property and now, when the wind blows free,
it sends it's parts, like old bones, crashing to the land. I do
not want to think of deadwood piercing my neighbor's roof.

In 1865, gold was discovered in this area of Montana while
the Civil War was raging in the East. The first man to acquire
this particular chunk of land, ran cattle to supply fresh meat
to the miners.  My house was a log cabin house and my
neighbor's house was the bunkhouse. Years later, when this
land was plotted out to become Helena, the capital of MT,
the log cabin and bunkhouse were grandfathered in and the
block kinda carved around them. My neighbor had built
his house where the bunkhouse stood and that
eventually put his house far in the back of his land and
almost spot-on the lot line dividing our properties.

The old log cabin still stands beneath the added wood siding  of
my simple farmhouse. It was enlarged and an upper floor
added but I can envision the old log cabin when I enter the
cellar with all it's spooky ghosts.

Somewhere along that time, a tree seedling must have
taken root and the shade seemed like a good idea. No one would
ever plant a tree in that precarious spot where the tree is
sandwiched in among high-wires, fences, the alley and the
neighbors house. No, none of those things were there and I
often sit beneath that old tree and can see the cowboys lolly-
gagg'n aroung the bunkhouse after the evening meal, while a
lone harmonica wails out an old haunting tune.

I asked Brady, the treeman, how his crew would get the tree
out of there.

"Very carefully," he replied.
(ummmmm....we'll see)

I do know one thing. I'll get real misty-eyed, along with the birds,
as it's being cut down.

I'm really going to miss that tree, my old friend.

A Kiss in a Cup

Do you ever really listen to the words of songs?
I don't. I'm kinda a beat person and only feel
beats for dancing. When I do my closet-screeching,
the dog howls. I guess it hurts her ears,
poor thing.

One of my morning favorites is "Drink to me
Only With Thine Eyes," an old English troubadorian
ballad from "Song to Celia." I wonder why troubadours
gave up the Trubing business. They could add a
nice contrast to some of today's raucous music.
Can you imagine Troubadours in Montana?

1. Drink to me only with thine eyes and I will pledge
with mine. 
   The burned out bull-rider at the end of the bar,
watches the glassy-eye, hotsy-totsy rodeo queen
hoist her mug of Buds. "She's the one," he thinks.

2. Or leave a kiss within the cup and I'll not ask for
wine. 
    Did she just lick the mug or was that a kiss, as
she glanced in his direction and no one drinks wine
in a cowboy bar. 

3. The thirst that from the soul doth rise, doth ask
a drink divine.
    "She's so beautiful, " thinks the bull rider, "if I
buy her a beer, I wonder if she'll take a ride in my pickup.

4. But might I of Joves nector sup,  I would not 
change for thine.
    "Oh what the hell, it's late so I'll just take mah
roady, get my Border Collie and head back to the
ranch."

And life goes on in Montana.
~~~~~~~~~~~~



     

Reflection

Old age is the time for reflection or so we're lead to
believe.  Certain truths smack us right in the face,
usually kicked off by thoughtless remarks of our
issue.

My first truth is that our kids don't have a clue as
to who we really are or that we had a vibrant life
before they took that first gulp of oxygen. Often
 kid's remarks stop us dead in our tracks and we
think, "Why try to explain?  They won't get it."

For instance, child #3 (with all her fancy education) 
said to me, "You never went to college but you
don't talk like a hill-billy."  I opened my mouth
but was too stunned to reply so I let it go.

Were my kids really THAT self centered and
preoccupied NOT to notice that I took college
courses every chance I could get, for ten years?
They probably never did notice because my classes
were evenings and day time while they were in school.

I never intended to get a degree....it was knowledge
I was seeking. I doubt if young people today would
understand that. When I was advised to choose a
major, it always changed. English, psychology, horticulture...
but no hill-billy talk.

The whole economy was different and wives were not
expected to work. In fact, I never wanted to work outside
 the home, I just wanted to be aware of what was going
on out there.  I loved my life as wife and mother although
now I realize I must have looked to my kids, like the
boring, shades of gray, home-maker.  We were all June
Cleaver's back then.

Should I have tried to explain to my daughter? Would
she understand?  I don't know. What do you think?

Ninny

Dear Gentle People
How'sago'n. That is Montana lingo and
I guess it's one of those things that you
have to be here to understand. 

Then there is "ninny." That is a word from my childhood.
I still say, "Don't be a ninny." Most people don't know what
I mean so I wonder if the term is still used. It means a
"foolish person." Know any "ninnies?"

All this politically correct stuff has me completely baffled.
You go and use a certain word for 85 years and then have
someone tell you that you have to replace it with another
word OR you are a NINNY.

Take the word "retarded." That was the legal term for a
person with a low IQ .....way back when I was a psychiatric
nurse. I guess one never uses that word anymore or it's
Ninny Time again.

There is one word that has changed meaning completely
and for that, I could cry. Most of my fond memories of
nursery rhymes included a cat...... an adorable pussy cat.
Now the meaning of pussy is mostly a slang term for a
 part of the female anatomy, a word that brings on
snickers and gaffs. No matter, I still call my cat Puss
or Pussy. So there.

Thank you Donald Trump, for bringing political
correctness to the fore. You are making the hard-core
political-correctees look like a bunch of NINNIES.

Maybe It's Because

Today I am a copy cat. I heard Beate's
song and was immediately transported
back to 1949, when my husband and I
discovered our song, 
              Maybe It's Because
      I'll wager most of Beate's readers were transported
      back in remembrance of "their song." Great
      job, Beate.

When Louis Armstrong came to town,
it was as a dance band, not as a single
performer. What a guy he was as he'd
even visit our table inbetween sets. 
      It was easy to fall in love to his music but I knew
         I would marry Daryl the first moment I saw him.
         His father was a patient at the hospital where I
         was training and he came to visit his father. On
         that first meeting, he asked me to go dancing.
         I remember going back to the dorm, telling my
         room-mates that I had just met the man I was
         going to marry. They said I was crazy. Ha But
         we were married 3 months later, after graduation.

The rest really is history. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     

Franklin

Way to Go Fella's
Traveling across the country in a restored 1908 Franklin, 3 elderly gents were
re-stocking their vintage car with snacks for the road. Everything about this
car looked brand-spank'n new, including the leather trunk that sat on the
luggage rack.
The Franklin auto was manufactured from 1902 until 1934. It competed with
the luxury big boys but like many of the more expensive cars, folded under the
rigors of the depression.  I had never heard of that make of car, have you?

As the gentlemen closed the doors on this fine old car, one shouted back
to me,"Hope we don't hold you up on the highway."

Nope, it was my pleasure to wave as I passed them. LOL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Yesterday I wrote a post about a depressing subject but today, I don't know why I wrote it. I can get sad but I'm 
never depressed so it's gone, deleted, kaput.(In case you caught a glimpse)

Dupery Reigns Supreme

So you think government officials are like Jimmy 
Stewart in "Mr Smith Goes to Washington," pure 
of heart and fighting tooth and nail in Washington 
for bills that will benefit the people. Yeah, well....
sorry your lobectomy went haywire. 

I bet you think this post is political.  No, not
really. Maybe just some leanings in that direction.

I remember life in the 1950's....... I was at a 
cocktail party wearing a new black cocktail dress,
similar to the ones Audrey Hepburn usually wore.
Of course everyone had a fancy-named drink in
one hand and a cigarette in the other.  Cigarettes 
and booze in a smokey room. The talk was, "Buy
chemicals and plastics." Yup Froggy, that was
the beginning of poisoning the planet and I 
stood there like an idiot, only caring if I was
making an impression on the sad joker in
a pin-stripe suit. 

Up to that time, lawns were almost maintenance
free because white clover lawns were the choice
of the day.  Clover lawns were beautiful AND
(get this) drought resistant, fixed nitrogen from
the air, needed no fertilizer and tolerated 
compacted soil. 

Can you imagine NOT spending a red cent for
up-keep on your lawn? How much do you spend
now, with mowing, aerating, fertilizing, watering, 
power-raking, and often re-seeding in the spring?

So after the war, big campaigns for beautiful
grass filled the hearts and minds of the new
suburbanites. Buy "Round-up," kill the clover, kill
the bees and we all know what happens after we
kill all the bees. Let your kiddies and pets romp
in that brilliant green chemical grass. Oh, so 
Sonny has allergies, too bad, wonder how he got 
that.

I do small patches at a time. I lay down card-
board and cover it with black dirt. I keep it moist
and during the winter, it's all covered with snow. 
Then I mix clover seed with more black dirt
and add a netting if it's scorching hot come
summer. My yard is terribly large for me to do it
all alone but I'm gaining on it. Today I unloaded
15 bags of dirt by myself. Yeah for my Bliss Work.

What's my point in all of this?  I don't really know. 
Maybe I'd like to influence just one person to 
think of what we're doing. Are we going to end
up as we did in "Planet of the Apes" with the statue
of liberty mostly stuck in the sand?????

Who knows and only time will tell.

Always Carry a Big Stick

I got up this morning at the tip of dawn with an agenda on
my mind. Another wasp  nest in the greenhouse had to be
destroyed. I hate that. I'm really scared of those buzzy critters.

I tossed on a winter parka over my PJ's, tied the hood tight
around my face, zipped up and approached the greenhouse
with a big stick. DANG, the nest faced away from
the door, meaning I had to cross over the nest to get back to
the door once I poked down the nest.

My urge was to return to the house, mission UN-accompolished.
But what to do????? I can't use a poison in the greenhouse.
What if I tripped and fell during my escape? What if the sky is
falling on Henny Penny? Oh just do it, big CHICKEN.

POKE POKE. It was stuck tighter than I thought it would be.
I was using a walking stick. Who said, "Always carry a
big stick?" Was it Teddy Roosevelt? Who cares at this point.
I had to jump over that fallen nest as the wasps were beginning
to wake up and come zooming out. OMG....how could all
those wasps fit in that little nest? They were zooming all
over the greenhouse and I never realized how fast they
could fly. They were not happy with me, yet they were the
usurpers. Ain't fair.

Back in the house and nary a bite or a trip or a fall. Time
for my morning curds and whey. (I really do eat curds and
whey......it gives me wasp courage and makes me "Oh sooo
adorable."
ADIOS for now
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Where's the Mansions?

I was working in my
yard when a large
black car filled with
elderly people, stopped
and asked, "Where are
the mansions?" I directed
them and returned to my
hoeing.

Where are the mansions?"
Can't they see the one in
front of them? No. I
guess not because mansion it's NOT. It's older than the
mansions and there's a log cabin under the farm house look
but they want to see the glitze of conspicuous consumption.

Gold was discovered in Helena in 1865. Miners were dreaming
 of getting rich while soldiers from the North and South were
 engaged in their civil war. Most of the miners didn't strike it
 rich  and either returned home or went on to the next gold
strike. The ones who struck gold, remained in Helena and
built a mansion more grand than their neighbor's.

My humble farm house was/still is, a log cabin for the family
who owned most of the land that is now Helena. They raised
cattle, thus providing meat for the miners. The house next
door was the bunk house for the cowboys. They eventually
added the looks of a farm house OVER the log house, evidence
I still run into when trying to pound something into the wall.

I call the house a dump because it's still the same old creaky
structure with nary a closet. Thank god plumbing was added.
Haha     But it's a friendly house, full of ghosts. The living/
dining room (also was my studio) has windows facing all
directions and is never without sunshine. The yard is some-
thing special for me to work in.

I hope the visitors in the big black auto enjoyed the mansions.
I rarely walk through the mansion district as all the chemicals
from each property trying to "outgreen" the other, really make
me ill. I much prefer the dandelions and white clover found
in my neighborhood. LOL