Symbiosis

We have been in our new home for about 8 months. While the home, and neighborhood, is certainly not new, it is to us, so there are always surprises.

One of those surprises happened last weekend.

First of all, our family has been through one of those weeks that no family should have to go through. And so it was we were rushing out to deal with an urgent situation when a man in a pick up truck pulls into our driveway blocking our exit.

A well worn, wiry, middle-aged Asian man jumps out and approaches our car. My mind is on the task at hand, so I really do not have an interest in talking to this guy, but I'm blocked in, so I ask, "Can I help you?"

Another man, a bit older, balding, and with a paunch, hops out of the other side of the truck.

"Are you the owner of this house?"

"Yes."

"Can we have some of your bamboo?"

Our home, affectionately known as The Compound, sits on an acre of land, squeezed in between two neighborhoods well inside the city borders. Of the acre of land, approximately half is populated with bamboo. We have two separate "bamboo forests" on the property, the front one and the rear one.

The bamboo is so think in the front that I half expect to find a family of pandas out there. A few weeks ago a tree fell within the "forest" and I did not discover it for several days. I can honestly answer the question, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear it does it make a sound?" with a resounding "No!"

Maintaining this aspect of our property is a lot of work.

So the Greatest Woman on God's Green Earth (GWGGE) and I share a glance at each other and I turn to the two Asian men at my car window.

"Yes. Of course, but could you come back tomorrow. We have some urgent business to attend to right now."

They agreed, moved out of our way, and we were off.

The following day, while I was out walking the dogs, the older Asian man shows up at the house. The GWGGE gives him instruction and he begins cutting.

I arrive at the house, go out to see what's going on. A lone, balding, Asian man in business attire is hacking away at our bamboo, but only the dead stalks per the instructions. It turns out he is Ming, the lead pastor at the Vietnamese Catholic Church around the corner from The Compound. I go back inside to do the rest of my morning chores.

A while later I wander back out to the front to see how the Vietnamese pastor is faring. And when I do, I am shocked to discover a platoon of Vietnamese bamboo lumberjacks thinning out our Bamboo forest. I report my findings to the GWGGE and we have a bit of a chuckle about the whole thing.

Just before the lumberjacks leave, the pastor invites our family to their annual crawfish festival and their Sunday community luncheons filled with traditional Vietnamese fare. I can't wait to go!

A Butterfly Effect

I am a HUGE fan of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. If any of the three LOTR movies comes on television, there are only a few things that will tear me away. And by few, I mean somebody better be dying!

There are a number of scenes that involve butterflies or moths. Moths/butterflies are messengers, in the movies at least, for the eagles. My favorite moth/butterfly scene from the trilogy has got to be the final battle at the black gate. The key moment starts at about the 3:00 mark in this clip.

The eagles are almost always associated with a sudden and unexpected turn of events in Tolkein's books, and they are always on the side of good in the movies.

...

Nearly everyday, our dogs get a nice little walk, usually just over a mile. On our last couple of journeys we were led out of the gate by some brilliant reddish-orange moths. To be honest, I've been a little nonplussed over their consistency in behavior and presence.

My walk this past Wednesday was something a bit different, though.

The dogs were leashed as I walked to the gate. The reddish-orange moth was there again to lead us out the gate. We walked down the road to the end of the block, more reddish-orange moths lined our path. As we approached the corner, a massive Monarch butterfly met up with us, and guided us for almost a quarter mile!

It guided us around the corner.

It led us down the street.

Amazingly, it continued to lead us around another turn.

Finally, it flitted off over a fence.

It was about this time, I started looking up to the skies. I was a little freaked out. At any moment I expected to see the Great Eagles of Middle Earth bringing about a sudden an unexpected turn of events.

But, alas, I was just walking the dogs. And they did not suddenly behave themselves on the walk, so maybe that butterfly omen is one to remain in Middle Earth, and not here and now in this world.

Pity. It was a really magnificent butterfly.

Don't Kill the Bees

A couple of weeks ago, on a Thursday, I went to the nearby grocery store to purchase a few things so we could grill some burgers and hot dogs. We were having just a few friends and family over to the house and did not quite have enough food to feed everyone.

I took my teen-aged son with me. Actually he insisted. Apparently I do not buy the right junk food.

In the mean time, the greatest woman on God's green earth (GWGGE) went to the home improvement store to get some things to keep the mosquitoes at bay.

The boy and I were almost done with our shopping trip, finishing up in the beer aisle (no good outdoor gathering is complete without some nice cold beer) when I get a call from the GWGGE. Here is how the conversation went, as heard by the grocery store shoppers around me.

Me: What's up?

Me: I don't know?

Me: Get the natural stuff

Me: No, the other stuff

Me: No! the natural stuff!

Me: We have to protect the bees, Honey!

Me: No! DON"T KILL THE BEES!

Me: Okay

Me: Okay

Me: Bye, love you.

Needless to say, strange looks from the other shoppers combined with a slightly embarrassed teenager meant that we quickly made our way to the checkout line and out the store.

Fast forward a couple of days later...

Shadow, the dog, loves to bark at squirrels. He loves to chase squirrels. He loves to hunt squirrels. But I think he learned to hunt from those shows on the Discovery Channel where they tag the prey and release it, because, he looks very confused when he catches his prey. Up to this point, Shadow was 0 for 3,486 in his hunt for squirrels. He has cornered a bunny rabbit, a few toads, and a number of insects, though.

There I was in the back yard and Shadow is, much to my surprise, barking at squirrels. But something is different this time. The squirrel seems to be taunting him, staying low on the tree. Suddenly, Shadow jumps up and pins the squirrel by the tail against the trunk of the tree.

I bark the command, "Leave It!"

Shadow, in his confusion, and in one motion, drags the squirrel to the ground and turns to look at me.

He looks back at the squirrel on the ground. Looks at me. I say sternly, "Come here!"

Shadow looks back one more time, not quite sure what to think of his fallen prey, and trots over to me.

I put Shadow in the house, and go inside to report the events that just occurred to the current occupants of the house, GWGGE and her sister. The younger son was in the house, too, but since it was only 11:30 in the morning, he was still fast asleep.

Together sister-in-law and I go out to the fallen squirrel and ponder its condition. It is alive, but there is something wrong with the way its legs are moving. After much consideration of the previous events, we determine that Shadow did not mortally injure the squirrel, but that the squirrel was sickly before its encounter with the dog.

Sister-in-law returns to the safety of the house as I go to do what a man's got to do.

I put the squirrel out of its misery, and add its carcass to the growing collection of critters now buried in the Pet Cemetery out behind the workshop.

All events as traumatic as this require closure for those involved. We had to come to conclusions about the poor squirrel's death, Shadow's innocence, and the distastefulness of the deed I had to do. In the course of determining Shadow's innocence we decided the squirrel was already suffering from some sort of neurological malady prior to the events detailed above. I think the final conclusion we reached came from sister-in-law, who said, "I think it was the bug spray you sprayed a few days ago that made the squirrel sick."

Some related news on bees and pesticides:
25,000 Bees Found Dead In Oregon Parking Lot, Environmental Organization Says
Oregon Issues Temporary Pesticide Ban Following Bee Deaths
50,000 dead Oregon bees to be honored in memorial service

Digging Rocks

About 2 months ago, we bought a new home. It is the biggest home Sue and I have ever lived in as a married couple, and it sits on just short of an acre of land. The previous owners had essentially stopped taking care of the grounds about a year ago, so now we have to catch up. Some of our tasks are mundane, some require thought and planning, and some are just plain back breaking. Today's main task was in the back breaking category.

Our back yard has several pathways that are filled with small river stone. One of those pathways leads from the pool to the section of the yard where the pool equipment is hidden behind a fence. We decided that that particular path was in such bad shape; full of weeds, stones spilling into the grass, edging material wandering out of place, that the whole pathway needed to be moved. The other pathways were salvageable and could be refreshed and made to look good. Sue started the project last week. Here is where she left off:

So with a hoe, a wire screen to filter out the dirt, and a flat shovel, I dug into the project. Scoop after scoop of rock and dirt and weeds, till I filled the wagon...twice. I used the load of rocks from the first load to refresh one of the other pathways, but I ran out of time and energy to redistribute the second wagon load. As I finished filling the second wagon full of stone and dirt and weeds, I questioned the point of this exercise. 

But here is the result of scooping rocks: a nice clean path ready for sod and stepping stones instead of the unruly river stone.