Posted by
William D. Dannenmaier on Saturday, July 10, 2010 5:01:27 PM
Cut worms destroyed most of my tomato and green pepper plants. I’ve tried all of the “home” remedies. Nothing worked. In desperation I’ve purchased bacteria advertised as a killer. Reading the instructions, they said, wear long sleeved shirt, long pants and rubber gloves, but what got my attention was the order that if you got any on your skin, to wash it off immediately and then call the poison hot-line. When finished, wash the clothes you were wearing immediately. I didn’t believe I got any on me or my clothes, but I followed the instructions. Stripping in front of the washing machine, I told Sheila this was probably overkill, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. Only days later did I read an internet article on that poison. It is harmless to people! Ah well, I was clean.
Father’s Day was interesting. Our shepherd, Sheba, had disappeared two days earlier. Old and crippled, she seldom strayed from the home area so the boys began a search which lasted late into Saturday night. Finally they heard her under the house, wedged into a position under the front room. She couldn’t get out: the boys couldn’t get to her. The result? Sunday morning, our crowded office, the front room, had to be emptied of furniture, then Stephen pulled up the carpet and plywood and cut through the flooring about where they thought she was located. They were close, close enough that Stephen was able to reach her after he got down into the hole. One thirsty dog was pulled out. She must have crawled under to hide from a thunderstorm we had two days earlier. Anyway, flooring is replaced, the room is approaching normal and we have a happy three dog family again. Happy Father’s Day, to me.
Reading the above, remember that “happy” is a relative term. If one doesn’t mind stumbling over dogs sleeping in doorways or narrow hallways when walking through a dark house or being awakened at five in the morning by a beast barking for food, which she then looks at and walks away from, and other minor matters, then I’m happy to have all three back: all three fat, contented, obstructionist beasts. Bigoted women might say they are a lot like husbands.
For the weekend of the Fourth of July we had family: two sons, two daughters, two son-in-laws, three teen-aged grand daughters, and two grand sons (one twelve and one eight). It was a great four days. As Sheila said, “We had four days of laughter throughout the house.” Sheila, needless to say, spent all of her time cooking. It was amusing to listen to sixteen and eighteen year old girls complain about being fat (which they were not) while shoveling food into their mouths. The creek was a favorite outing although Stephen took Nick, age eight, to Grady Yate’s pond where he caught six blue gill. I took the girls to Bob and Kathy Conner’s home where they picked blueberries. (They didn’t do a bad job, in addition to those they ate, they filled three one gallon buckets.) I believe it was a happy and “rememberable” experience for all of the young people.
I was really pleased to have the young ones experience the Fourth of July at the Furnace. It is a remnant of a wonderful past in the United States. During the day, there are bands playing and children occupy the playground and creeks while parents sit in the shade. As evening comes and the crowd gathers, all visiting politicians are given five minutes to explain why they should be elected. And it is a crowd. Our little community center, which exists on donations and the profit from “whole hawg” barbecues and whose meetings are routinely attended by fewer than ten people, puts on a show that fills the area, with parked and double-parked cars packed along the roads and on lawns a half mile in all directions. It draws a crowd estimated at two to three thousand people, all in good humor. As people gather around the ball park, the center of the fireworks, little children race about the grass laughing and twirling and chasing each other until the sun sets and darkness covers the field. This is our past, a place where people could gather in good humor and children could play in safety. I’m glad my grandchildren had an opportunity to experience it.