COVID-nobody is safe

"How the hell did you get COVID, you haven't been out of the house in 40 years?" was my son's reaction to my latest health news. I got a similar response from my daughter. These two know me too well.

While it is true, I seem to have a reputation as a home body, I'm not squirreled away in isolation, afraid to be with other people. I just happen to enjoy my solitude. Living in Arkansas among the trees and wildlife really suits me. It is a chosen lifestyle. I love it here. I always have. Going on 18 years in the Natural State, I am always thrilled to glance into the backyard to see the deer foraging on a honeysuckle bush, watch a frog dance in and out of our tiny pond next to the front porch, or check out one of the local stray cats I feed, scamper up a tree. 

It is easy to take these pleasures for granted. They really do define me. Home is where my heart is. And, I am happy here.

I admit that I haven't had much of a life outside of the home but that was also a choice based on a once-busy lifestyle. When I worked for a newspaper, I was rarely home. There were lots of people to interact with and I found myself going to many places I never would have gone to otherwise. I was always busy because I loved my job and was always ready to run out to cover a story at a moment's notice. I did that for 20 years. When we came here, I wanted a change. Yes, it was a financial struggle, but the peace of mind was so worth it. I came to love my own company, became a crazy cat woman, and relished my life in the woods.

My reclusive lifestyle, however, has run its course. I've recently made the decision to get out more. I felt it was time to open up my life again to new people, make new friends, and explore new possibilities. 

Maybe my timing is off, because three days after a weekend get together with friends, I started getting sick. Oh, the irony. I had been so diligent about protecting myself from COVID. I admit that I wasn't unhappy with the suggestion to stay at home. I did it anyway. But things have changed; the country is now open and seemingly doesn't take COVID very seriously anymore. I am still not around hoards of people and have gotten all my vaccines and boosters. Rarely is anyone seen with a mask these days. And I never even considered wearing a mask to a party with friends.

And then last Tuesday, I thought I had a cold or allergies. Those are big around here and the older I get the more susceptible I am to blooming of things. 

But the following day I realized this was not just a cold. More indescribable (because they are just gross) symptoms appeared. I took a test, and voila, it was positive. Frankly, I was not surprised. I knew this was not just a cold. That was a week ago and I am seeing improvement; there are moments when I feel great followed by explosive sneezing, non-productive coughing, and what I like to fondly call, liquid face where every orifice in my face leaks. (How gross is that?)

Because I am vaccinated, I suppose this could have been worse. I know it could because so many thousands of people have died from this virus. So many people still die from it. I'm grateful to not be one of them.

I'm not angry that I contracted this virus. What I am angry about is that it should not have gotten this bad. Had the inept, disgraced, twice impeached ex-president done his job, COVID would not have taken so much from so many. The virus replicated into so many different variants because we didn't stop it when we had the chance. I should not be sick right now because COVID should have been a thing of the past. But, with all the lies, innuendoes, and complete irresponsibility that has fueled this disease, if there is any blame to be assigned, Donald J. Trump is the man we must look to. 

Little is said these days about Trump's inept response to the initial COVID outbreak or the more than a million dead that has resulted. His lies about COVID have been diluted by so many more lies, cheats, and dastardly deeds.

With cold weather coming and predictions of more illness on the horizon, I guess I'll go back to my hibernation strategy. That's OK.  

Then and now, not so different

I was born and spent my early childhood in Chicago. I now live in Arkansas, in a little house in the woods.

While these two places may seem like polar opposites, there are similarities. And one place definitely reminds me of the other.

When I lived in Chicago, on the south side of the city, it was a very long time ago. My family lived in a neighborhood that was not unlike a small town. Yes, neighbors’ houses were a little closer together, but that was OK back then. We had close friendships with our neighbors.

There were vacant lots sprinkled throughout the vicinity where we kids used to play. I remember birds butterflies, and wildflowers, the likes of which I hadn’t seen until moving to Arkansas. I remember the first time I saw a bluebird here. It occurred to me that I hadn’t seen a bluebird since those days so long ago. The colorful birds and the sounds emanating from the trees filled with them brought me back to another time. But that was a summertime memory.

Contrarily, I awoke this morning to the sight of huge snowflakes alternating between drifting randomly and falling steadily from the sky. The snow began slowly, but soon began to add up to a blanket across the landscape. It is a scene that always makes me smile. It reminds me so much of my life at five- or-six years old when I woke up to a snowy scene. It always meant a day full of fun.

We don’t get much snow in Arkansas, so when we do, it is an event. The view out my window was one of complete serenity, so different than what was expected. This was to be a horror—with predictions of ice so thick it would compromise electric lines and snap tree limbs. We have been through that here already. An ice storm of 2009 was one to remember, when our electric power in our all-electric house was out for five days. Everyone who lives in these parts remembers, fears, and dreads a repeat event. This thankfully was not that.

I certainly remember what it was like to go outside to play. Snow meant sledding, snowballs, building snowmen, and shoveling. But as an aging adult, I had to settle for a quick trek to fill the bird feeders. While my time outside in the snow paled in comparison to the time I spent outdoors back then, I remember what 19 degrees felt like. I recalled being so cold I could hardly feel my hands and feet. Socks and mittens were drenched. Back then we put them on the oil stove to dry. I’ll never forget the feeling of my feet; when they warmed up they were as itchy as an infestation of chigger bites—well almost.

In the city, our family lived next to the railroad tracks where a huge hill made the best sledding spot. And, it was right in our own backyard. Winter was so much fun.

While I’m not so enamored with the coldest season these days, admittedly I do enjoy when it snows. That old oil stove is just a memory. Today, the house is partially warmed by a fire blazing in a wood stove. It smells much better.

While life as an adult is very different from those innocent, carefree, happy times as a child; and Arkansas’ life is far from the hustle and bustle of the city, there really are similarities. I suppose my life and penchant for nature illustrate the connection between these two opposing times and places.

Like enjoying bluebirds, I also delight in the beauty of snow.

 

It won't be long now

It is almost time. In fact I've heard that hummingbirds have returned to the area already, though I haven't seen them buzzing around our front porch quite yet. I filled the feeders and hung them in their usual place. Now I wait. 

This is always a happy time of year for me, when the hummingbirds return from their winter respite. Hah, some respite. These formidable little birds fly more than one-thousand miles in the spring and fall every year. Some travel more than 300 miles in a day. I figure, the least I can do is reward their long journey with a little sweet nectar upon their return. 

I've been feeding the hummers every year for the 16 years we've lived here. 

Interestingly, my first hummingbird encounter was "in the wild" when I lived in Illinois. I was photographing nature scenes for an assignment in Kankakee County many years ago. This particular area along the Kankakee River was a lovely prairie remnant with spectacular patches of cardinal flowers, asters, grasses and more. Hummingbirds were thick as they buzzed about, pausing to partake of every flower and then scurrying off to the next. I wish I could harness that kind of energy. 

I had never seen anything like it before. It was like stepping back in time to a pre-settlement era. The beauty and diversity of the prairie plants, some as tall as me, hosted a plethora little winged creatures. In addition to the hummingbirds, there were several varieties of butterflies, dragonflies, damselflies, and bumblebees to name a few. 

The only other time I'd seen a hummingbird, was simply a close encounter. If I had not been looking in the right direction at the right time, I would have missed it. A hummer was visiting my neighbor's butterfly bush. I'm sure it returned, but I had only seen it once. 

When my husband and I vacationed in Arkansas, I was amazed at the wildlife, colorful birds, and hummingbirds "in the wild." 

When we finally moved here, to our little house in the woods, one of the first things I did was buy a hummingbird feeder. I have several now, both in the front and on the deck. No matter how much sugar I have to buy or cleaning necessary, it is worth it. I love these little harbingers of springtime.

I didn't think I'd experience 8" of snow and below freezing temperatures in Arkansas, but,...

 S - N - O - W!

The heavy snow, biting temperatures, and predictions of more of the same this year, is really nothing new to me. Truth be known, I get a little sad when Arkansas winters come and go without snow. Last year, there were only a few flakes, and I admit, it was a tad disappointing. Snow certainly is beautiful, especially in the woods. As the sun shines, the newly-fallen snow glistens, causing it to look as sparkly as diamonds.

As a Chicago-born transplant to the Natural State, I'm no stranger to cold winters or plenty of snow.

Looking back, I guess snow has always played a part in my life. I was born during a December blizzard. My mother tells me that while we were bonding the hospital, my father couldn't even get to the hospital to meet me for days after my birth.

And I remember being pregnant with my first child during a blizzard. On the day that morning sickness had subsided, so had the snow. My husband and I took a ride around town and marveled at the canyons formed by the snow plows on the country roads near where we lived. Snow was piled as high as the street lights. I'd never seen anything like it.

I remember how much fun it was when I was a kid.

My family lived on the south side of the city, next to a set of railroad tracks. Because the tracks were elevated, there was a huge hill, practically right in our own backyard. We lived there when I was about 5. Over and over again, my brother and I would scurry up that hill dragging our sled so we could ride back down. The challenge was to see how far we could glide each time. It kept us busy for hours.

I also remember the big snow of '67, the epic snow storm that shut down the city. I was in high school at the time. It was the only time our school ever had a "snow day." We were tough kids back then. As the story goes, we walked five miles in the snow, uphill every day to go to school. Actually not true. We took a bus because school really was at least five miles away. That day though, there were no buses because the roads were packed with cars strewn in every which way as they slid around in chaos, stopping where they were. Cars were stuck in ditches and slid into one another, making it impossible to plow the streets. Even heavily-traveled expressways were shut down. And, it was cold!

But, for me, the snow wasn't always a pleasant experience. I know the other side of winter too--the one currently being experienced in all parts of the south. I am hearing reports of road closures, hideously long travel times, blizzard-like conditions, plummeting temperatures, and dangerous power outages. The pictures are terrible and remind me not of my childhood play, but of my more haunting adult wintery experiences.

I worked in downtown Chicago for a time. I can still remember my feet being so cold I could barely feel my toes. I recall more than once, stepping off a curb onto the ice only to have it give way beneath me, plunging my feet into an icy abyss. The freezing cold slush may have only been a couple inches deep, but it was as shocking to my system as being completely submerged into a frozen sea. Just as bad was the feeling when my skin began to thaw. It was accompanied by that annoying intense itching, second only to an infestation of chigger bites.

I remember trying to breathe what little warmth my body possessed into a scarf just to keep my nose from freezing. I remember getting off the train at Union Station only to have to walk to my office across the bridge over the Chicago River, hoping the bitterly cold wind in the aptly-named windy city didn't carry me away or freeze me in place.

But my worst winter experience occurred on a beautiful spring day and freak snow storm that left me stranded in my car. For nine hours I waited to be rescued, all the while, having very full bladder, which was the worst part of the entire ordeal.

It was April 2, 1975. The day began in the 60's. There were eight days in a row that made it feel like spring would be early that year. I dressed accordingly for work that day.

I lived in Aurora, IL and worked in Downers Grove, IL, western suburb of Chicago. It was about a 20-mile drive home. It was a crazy day. Seemingly out of the blue, the temperature fell like a rock in the afternoon. It also began to snow, with that wet, heavy, quickly-accumulating snow. It was also very windy. Blowing and drifting snow caused white-out conditions as the inches kept piling up.

At the time I had worked at a check-printing plant. I was not alone in thinking we should close early, but the management would have none of that. So, we stayed until 5 p.m. I lived the farthest away.

The snow began to pile up in what would result in the "biggest snow of the 1974-75 snow season that recorded 52.2 inches," according to Chicago Weatherman Tom Skilling.

It wasn't too bad driving, at least for me. I had a Toyota Celica with studded snow tires. It was the last year before those were banned. If I'm not mistaken, I should have already taken them off my car, but just hadn't gotten around to it. I think April 1 was the cut-off date.

Thankfully, I was able to maneuver through the heavy snow, and had relatively little trouble stopping at intersections. I loved those tires.

Then at one point, the traffic just stopped moving. I was in a long line of cars that suddenly were stationary. Fortunately I had gas in the car, and a jacket in the back seat. Most importantly, I had my favorite eight-track tapes with me. There were no cell phones back then. There was no way to get in touch with anyone. So I just listened to my music, wrapped the jacket around my legs, and told myself this wouldn't last very long.

It was starting to get really dark. It was really cold too, even though the car was running and the heater was on full blast. Finally, some guy appeared on a snowmobile. He stopped at each of the cars, one at a time. When he got to me, he asked if I was alright, if I had any medical conditions. I told him I was fine. He advised me to keep my windows ajar and to turn off the car now and then, so as not to become asphyxiated from carbon monoxide. I asked what was the hold up and how long would we be stuck here. He said two trucks had jack-knifed, one in each direction, unable to climb the incline of a bridge just up ahead. Once they were moved, we could get on our way.

I felt a little better, except that ever since the time I left work, I had to go to the bathroom. It was starting to get serious now. I wondered how much a bladder could hold before bursting.

The wind continued howling and blowing the ever-increasing piles of snow. It was drifting up against my car. I kept opening the door periodically and removing the snow from around it. I realized if I wasn't able to move soon, I'd be really stuck. I observed the people around me. There were two guys in front of me in a pickup; two guys behind me in a car. One by one, guys were getting out of their car and walking toward a billboard just ahead of us. It dawned on me, they were relieving themselves. I wasn't the only one that had to go potty. I thought about traipsing up there myself, but the thought of wading through what was now more than a foot of snow in a short skirt, heels and panty hose was not my idea of a good time. I looked in the back seat for some kind of container. There wasn't any. I was probably more worried about a bathroom than a warming station at this point.

Finally, nine hours into my ordeal, another snowmobiler came by. It was a fireman who said he was going to help me make my way to the fire station, about a quarter of a mile from where we were parked. Our location was also just outside a new shopping center that was in various stages of being built--Fox Valley Center. It was way too far to get to on foot in these conditions. For that matter, so was the fire station, but we were going to try. So we left my car in what I was beginning to think of as its snowy grave. The fireman held me up as I attempted to walk in snow way above my knees. I'm short--it was very difficult. Without him I couldn't have done it. I clung to him with each step. There were drifts up to my thighs in some places. He helped me navigate them. Finally, we got to the station where there was a bathroom, thank goodness. There was also a phone. I was able to call my roommate and my mother to tell them I was alright. A fire squad ferried several of us to the Sears store. They were already out of food, but had a little coffee left. The store was new and hadn't opened yet, so they didn't have provisions for wayward travelers.

I ended up spending the night at one of the tables in the snack bar at Sears talking with a couple of guys who worked at Fermi-Lab. I think I put my head down on the snack table and fell asleep for a few hours only to be awakened at dawn by one of the guys who said they were taking us to our cars. When I got there, I noticed I had a flat tire. There was also a local farmer with a front end loader that offered to pull my car out of the snow for a fee. I gave him a few bucks and off I went, flat tire and all. I couldn't wait to go home to my bed. When I got there, I called in to work, telling them I wouldn't be in because I had just gotten home. No sympathy. In fact, they seemed suspicious, as if I was lying. I think they were a little miffed that I wanted to take the day off. I was annoyed, but too tired to think about it. I got regular tires put on the next day and went to work.
This wasn't my only experience being stranded in the snow.

West Lafayette, Indiana (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Two years later, when my husband John and I were returning from our honeymoon in Florida, we hit a freak snow storm. It started snowing in Kentucky and by the time we got to Lafayette, Indiana, the traffic was no longer moving. Since we couldn't go any further, and I had been in this play before, I convinced him to turn around like many others were doing. We drove the wrong way on the interstate to get to the last exit where we maneuvered our way into town.

We passed trucks stopped along the way, cars in the ditches, and huge snow drifts that we almost got stuck in ourselves. Finally, we learned that the interstate, I-65, was shut down at West Lafayette. Had we not turned around, we would likely have been stuck in our car. We found a motel with a vacancy and checked in for the night.

The weather was as bad as it could get. It was snowing, blowing, and the temperature hovered around zero. This was way too similar to what I had been through just two years earlier.

Sleeping was out of the question. I don't think either of us had ever been that cold. The wind howled through the night and drove the snow in through the cracks in the walls and windows. There was actually snow inside our room. The heater wasn't great either. We huddled and shivered for hours. Finally, with the light of day, we decided we would do anything to get home. Home was north, but the road was still closed, so we took a different route south, then west, and north again on I-57. We were finally able to make it home after going way out of our way.

The bottom line for me, is, I paid my dues to live in Arkansas. It would be easy to say that I never want to see snow again, but that isn't quite the case. I love the snow, as long as I can stay home and enjoy its beauty. That is what it is all about for me, living in Arkansas. I am drawn to the beauty of this place. I love living in a place that only gets a couple inches of snow at a time, it melts quickly, and doesn't happen too often.

While friends and neighbors complain about the snow, I am just happy to be stranded in the comfort of home, rather than on the road in a strange place. So even if it snows, I love it here.

I've never been more proud to be from Arkansas

Living in Arkansas makes me proud today as I watched this video from an interview with U.S. Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg. National Public Radio Legal Affairs Correspondent Nita Totenerg interviewed the notorious RBG as she has been dubbed, just a few nights ago in Little Rock. For the first time in years, I felt exuberance and hope for the future. It reminded me of another time.

Seeing Justice Ginsberg introduced by President Bill Clinton transformed me back the early 1990's, with all those feelings of hope.

As a Correspondent for a daily newspaper, I was fortunate to be able to write about current events, including President Bill Clinton's campaign in 1992. With my friend Michelle, I attended a huge campaign event in Chicago, where we were just two in a sea of people--more people than I had ever seen at one time--gathered in Chicago's Daley Plaza. In fact, there were so many people gathered to hear the young Governor from Arkansas speak, that it was one of the biggest crowds the city had ever seen. 

Following his remarks when the crowd began to disperse, there were so many people that it was a little frightening. Michelle and I got separated. My 5-foot 2-inch self was surrounded by hoards of people, most of them way taller than me. I couldn't see past any of them and at times I was no longer standing on my own two feet. Instead I was shoved along with everyone else. We were no longer individuals, but moved as one, like a giant tsunami wave. 

Thankfully, it was an exuberant, happy crowd. In fact, there was a feeling in the air that day that was noticeably jubilant. When I was finally able to meet up with Michelle, both of us had plenty to talk about as we escaped the throngs of people so we could make our way back to our car. 

Everywhere, people were smiling, laughing, and waving to strangers. Chicago isn't a small town, and generally passers by don't even make eye contact with one another. But not this day, it was different. The presence of Bill Clinton was intoxicating. 

After the last few years of feeling doom and gloom from a President that isn't fit for office, it was tearfully moving to watch Bill Clinton once more, in the above video. To a crowd of his home state supporters, he introduced the woman he named to the U.S. Supreme Court of the United States, Ruth Bader Ginsberg. 

The video shows footage of her swearing in during those good times back in 1993 in the rose garden. 

What a remarkable choice for a Supreme Court Justice. Thanks Bill Clinton for your intuition, your instinct, and your amazing political savvy. 

There could be no better member of the highest court in the land than Justice Ginsberg in my opinion. She is so intelligent, resilient, capable, remarkable, and renders opinions that completely fair, as they come from her knowledge, experience, education, and common sense. 

She has already achieved so much in her career. Her belief in the living genius of our Constitution and the meaning of "We the People," will be her legacy for future generations. She has worked so hard, been through so much, and continues to inspire us all. She, like the man who named her, lift my spirits and hope for a brighter future at a time when it is needed most. So thank you Justice Ginsberg for all you have done and all you continue to do.

The Ozarks is a winter wonderland! Who knew?

I was born in Chicago during a blizzard. 

Perhaps that explains why I can't help but love this weather.

Winter in the Ozarks

The American Goldfinch is probably my favorite bird. While his winter feathers are muted compared to the bright yellow he wears in the summer, this splash of color is a a welcome scene in the winter landscape.

Still wearing some of his yellow feathers from summer, this American Goldfinch posed in appreciation of the sunflower seeds that are always readily available at our house.

This Tufted Titmouse awaits his turn at the birdfeeder. Since the snow started falling, it is a very busy place.

This is not quite as inviting as it was during the summer months, but with the first day of Spring only 104 days away, I can wait as I enjoy this beautiful winter season in the Ozarks.

This looks more like a scene from the North Pole than the Arkansas Ozarks as the ice-encrusted magnolia buds await Spring

          

Rain is done; back to watering

'Bout Time Creek after about 8 inches of rain

This summer has been spectacular, in my view. With cooler temperatures--right now it is a comfortable 69.6º at 10:00 a.m. It may reach 75º at the hottest part of the day. I call this perfection, especially for the middle of August in Arkansas. The windows are open and the breeze feels heavenly.

We have finally had enough rain! After two weeks, the rain finally ended a couple days ago. In fact, I had to water my plants again. They are now spoiled after enjoying such a good soaking every day. The Ozarks experienced a very rainy spell--like nothing I have seen before--at least not during an Arkansas summer.

It rained nearly every day for days on end. Some areas north and south of us were inundated, receiving far more rain than we did. It resulted in flash flooding that destroyed property and even took lives. That wasn't the case here. In fact, the dry creek bed that traverses our property flowed at hardly more than a trickle. 

A few years ago, my husband, John, named our creek. One spring after a heavy rainfall--13 inches I believe--the water rushed like a torrent, draining areas of higher elevation. It sounded like Niagara Falls. He said it was 'bout time there was water in it. So he started calling it 'Bout Time Creek. The name stuck. By the way, I haven't heard it like that since.

Our total rainfall was nowhere near what others received. Unfortunately we didn't monitor rainfall totals over the entire event. Rather we simply noticed two inches here and three inches there. I think the most was four inches at one time. Other communities north of us received two and three times that amount in one day. Here, the ground was so deficient it never really got saturated to the point of becoming mere runoff which explains why the creek never raged. The photo above was taken just a day after the last rainfall. 

I loved waking up to the sound of rain and going to sleep to it as well. I never had this affinity for rainy days before, but I now look at rain as nurturing and so necessary to the survival of all living things. I have come to really enjoy a good rainy day. At times I sat on the front porch enjoying it and watching the birds, seemingly frenzied, as they scurried back and forth from a nearby tree to their feeder and back again. In my mind, they seemed to enjoy the moody days too. 

Some of my friends began to complain about the dark and dreary conditions. I just couldn't relate. 

I suppose I remember all too well what it was like just a year ago when temperatures hovered over 100º for days on end. We couldn't get a drop of rain to save our lives. I watched clouds form overhead only to disappear before my eyes. I didn't think it would ever rain again. I was afraid our well would run dry or all our trees would die. I watched all my plants that I so carefully planted and cared for during the spring months perish in the parched conditions, the unyielding sun burning everything beneath it. The drought was considered extreme. It was really bad. 

So a few days ago when the rain finally ended, I was disappointed. The result of our many rainy days is renewed hope for my garden, which is now thriving and producing. My flowers, some of which I feared would die after becoming lunch for the deer, have recovered and are now blooming again. The rain was like waving a magic wand over the landscape. I plan to enjoy the benefits until we receive our next rain event. Until then, I don't mind watering. It is one of my most favorite chores.

Gardening can be a challenge

Springtime Azaleas 

One of my favorite summertime tasks is watering the gardens. That is a good thing, because it never seems to rain at our house. I cringe when I hear news of flash flood warnings, 30 miles to the north or south of us. Here, nary a drop. This lack of rainfall is becoming habitual. We sure could use the rain.

While watering is my favorite chore, calling what I have 'gardens' may be a misnomer because since moving to the Ozarks, I have been completely garden-challenged. I used to pride myself on having a green thumb, but that was in Illinois, the land of perfect tilth in a rich, deep layer of topsoil. I really do miss Illinois dirt.

I have gardening successes now and then, such as my herb garden that is sporting a rosemary plant so healthy it may take over the entire back yard or the vinca that stands up to anything and grows and spreads wherever it can. I let it have its way, because it is alive, pretty, green, and has flowers. Besides, there are snakes living in it and I see no reason to disrupt their happy home. I can also grow hot peppers extremely well, which is one of my favorite things to grow and to eat. However, high achievement generally is not the norm. When I set out my first plants with all the hope and expectation of a new, novice Ozarks homeowner, I never counted on the animals that live in the woods eating everything I put into the ground or the extremely hot conditions that turn healthy plants into crispy critters, or the nitrogen-starvation in the soil that prevents anything other than trees to grow in my woodland landscape.

Still, I try. I will conquer this gardening thing!

I thought I solved my tomato gardening escapades when my husband built a lovely raised bed garden for me. Last year, I actually ate tomatoes, albeit not as many as I had hoped. Tomatoes will generally grow anywhere, except at my house.

The current condition of the many different heirloom varieties I've planted are now just sticks. Something is eating them, although I have no idea what. I can't find a single tomato hornworm, and I have checked at various times of the day. Thankfully I have tomatoes planted all over the place in pots on the deck, the patio, on the stairs--places the deer haven't gone yet. I refuse to be tomato-free this year. Whatever is eating the leaves is very curious. There are little drills in the dirt that look like ant hills, but with a large shallow hole the size of a marble in the center. I have no idea who is making those. I don't even know if they are coming from the surface and escaping under ground or if they are living under ground and coming up.

Flowers don't do much better at my house. My husband and I just spent some quality time moving landscaping bricks from the backyard herb garden. He recently enlarged it, to accommodate the rosemary. He used landscape timbers. Our aim was to build a small retaining wall, since our front yard is heavily sloped. We have tried various plants, but so far, the only thing that grows are lilies, daffodils, and irises. But there is another problem. The deer help themselves to every flower they see. They have even walked on the front sidewalk and onto the porch to grab something.

A flower garden in the making

Deer just make themselves at home here. I'm flattered, but stop eating my flowers!

I just planted some cone flowers--native plants--thinking they will do well. I've tried amending the soil with bone meal to add phosphorous and blood meal to add nitrogen. The plants were actually showing signs of life. I watered carefully every day during the hot weather. I woke up one morning and the flower heads which were just about to show color, were gone along with most of the leaves. It is my rogue deer friend, Sarah. Not only does she drink from the bird bath, as state in a previous post but she helps herself to flowers too. She and her friends have eaten every living thing that I've put in the ground. We have sprayed all kinds of natural products that promise to repel deer and snakes and chiggers and ticks, apparently to no avail.

This is disheartening, but it is also a learning experience. I will not give in. I will grow beautiful flowers and vegetables if it kills me.

My life is becoming all about healthy food

My idea of a perfect breakfast 

Despite this not being a perfect picture, this is an image of a perfect breakfast.

It consists of two eggs over-easy, yolks in tact, swimming in hot sauce. The fruit are fresh, organic, homegrown peaches, I picked myself.

I've decided, that in my quest to eat healthier, I would forgo the toast with butter and jelly for a piece of fresh fruit to go with my eggs. I eat whatever is available. Sometimes it is fresh strawberries, but with these luscious peaches available, they made for a great morning addition. Who needs bread, gluten, unhealthy genetically-modified wheat when I can eat fresh, organic, homegrown peaches. To me, this is the kind of no-brainer that has become the guiding principle of my eating healthy lifestyle.

Unfortunately, there are setbacks. I am married to a junk-food junkie who still brings me my favorite potato chips from the grocery store. I'm not complaining. It is a lovely gesture. And the bags are the single-serve size. No matter the size, bags of chips are mostly air these days, so I don't think it is hurting me too, too badly. And for some reason, I love the flavor of Ruffles Sour Cream and Cheddar potato chips.

I will atone for eating them by making a great big salad for supper and no lunch. I don't mind combining lunch and supper. That seems to be the natural thing. I'm not really hungry for lunch, especially after such a great, delicious breakfast.

I have a little guilt over those beautiful peaches, though certainly not from eating them. My guilt is from picking them. This is the first year for our tree. I've since read that fruit should be pinched off the first couple years in order to establish the tree's roots. Well, here in Arkansas, I'm not sure I'll get another year, since all the deer in the neighborhood will probably eat the thing--they are eating everything else. I can't really complain too much about that. After all, we moved into their forest. We are fortunate they let us live here.

Because we just planted that peach tree last year. I was astonished that it had flowers this year, let alone

Home grown, organic peaches

peaches. I looked at it every day. Though it was quite a ways from the house, I could see the peach-colored fruit across the yard. I knew the dozen or so peaches on it were starting to get ready to be picked. Every day I looked at it until the other day, I didn't see my peaches. I thought the worst. As it turns out, I didn't see the peaches because the entire top half of the tree was leaning toward the ground, heavy with the ripening fruit. Immediately I picked them. They weren't quite ready, but I figured they could finish ripening on the counter. They did just that. The tree is now standing tall and proud once again, and my breakfast plate has a perfect companion to my over-easy eggs. Bottom line--life is good in the Ozarks.

Latest gardening challenge in the Ozarks

Such a busy springtime in the Ozarks this year. Weather has been the watch word of this season with such monster tornadoes in too-close-for-comfort, neighboring Oklahoma. I spent half my time hoping the storms wouldn't come here and the other half hoping they would, with all the rain and  none of the accompanying fury, of course. 

Here in north-central Arkansas, we haven't really gotten much rain. There been an inch here and an inch there, but nothing that will make up for the hideous deficit we carried over from last year's drought. Last weekend we got 1.75 inches, which was quite welcome. It was the remnants of the storm that blew through Oklahoma and drenched most of Missouri. I guess we were lucky to get as much as we did. It usually just blows on by. 

This morning, Brandon Beck of KY3 News, reported that most of the station's Springfield, MO viewing area was far ahead--with upwards of 13 inches--over last year's rainfall totals. The area where I live however, was not even an inch above last year. That isn't good, since last year was desert-like. 

Still, I can't complain too much. This Spring, while not swimming weather, has been gorgeous. It started out rather cool, but the days of late have been nothing short of perfect. The garden is growing; flowers are blooming; I've renewed an interest in the color of my thumb--I'm hoping for bright green to match the woods during a heavy downpour.

Gardening in Arkansas is not without its challenges, even in the best of times. The biggest challenge this year is what to do about the Mock Orange. 

We have two of them, purchased and planted at the same time. Only one has ever bloomed. It is pictured above. It filled the front yard and porch with a fragrance that is so sweet it should be bottled. The other bush, which is not pictured has been relegated to nothing but a bunch of sticks. So far, it is still alive.It never has bloomed. This year, it was infested with tiny worms that ate all the leaves. Hungry buggers; had I not intervened they would have completely defoliated it. I refuse to spray poison, so I squirted them with the heavy stream of the hose. That worked for a while, but they they must have run back the moment my back was turned. The next day, the leaves and branches were loaded again. I sprayed them with the hose again. Only this time, I did a very heavy pruning as well. I hope the plant lives. Burning is my plan for the pests. I suspect they are sawfly larvae, although I'm not exactly sure. All I know is, they are the enemy.

Bill Clinton; moving

President Bill Clinton, President of the United States. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I am proud to be living in the state that produced Bill Clinton. He is one of the reasons I'm here.

I have never gotten the privilege of meeting Bill Clinton, but I came pretty close once. It was 1992 when he he was running for President. Al Gore was his running mate. I was a part time correspondent for a daily newspaper at the time--a Republican leaning one.

I was new to politics then, but was learning quickly. In my off hours, I was also an activist, fighting against the State of Illinois' efforts to build a new airport close to the tiny town where I lived.

When I heard that Bill Clinton and Al Gore were coming to Chicago, I made up my mind that I wanted to go. My friend Michelle, who was also my anti-airport partner joined me. When we got downtown, we had never seen so many people. We walked toward a raised platform surmising that it was the place they would stand. We got closer to see the area was cordoned off. Suddenly, we were stopped by a big, burly Chicago cop. I quickly shoved my camera case at Michelle and said, "here, take this."

The cop asked for credentials. I told him I was with the press. I didn't have special credentials. I had only a press pass issued by Will County, but I showed it to him. If I remember correctly, we had to do a little fast talking too. We were like two giddy school girls about to meet the high school football jock. No one was more surprised than as that he grinned and gave me a nod. He looked at Michelle and asked about her. I said she was with me--she's my camera man. He let us in.

We walked to the front of makeshift stage. where we laughed at the encounter and our own brazenness. It wasn't a lie. I had planned to cover the event, take notes, write a story and submit photos to the paper. We really had every right to be there. We waited a very long time until finally, we saw a bus in the distance. Out stepped Bill and Hillary, Al and Tipper Gore, former Sen. Carol Mosely-Braun, then Mayor Richard M. Daley, as well as singer Michael Bolton who was traveling with them.

The crowd was electric. They each delivered a short speech. We were close enough that we could have touched him.

When it was all over, the crowd began to disperse. There were so many people pushing and shoving; that at times, I no longer stood on my own two feet. I was levitated by the crowd. I am short--only 5'-1" tall. Everyone around me was taller. I almost felt helpless. It really was pretty scary. I vowed I would never put myself in a situation like that again. Yet, I was really glad I did it this time.

When I got back to the paper, I submitted film. I wrote a story, which did not interest them. I really had to talk fast to get them to print a picture with a caption at least. I told them this man was going to be the next President of the United States and they were really lucky that I had his picture for them. They may have just been pulling my leg, because the picture appeared the following day.

I had one more near Bill Clinton experience--in 1996 when he was running for a second term. The venue was outdoors at the Homewood/Floosmoor High School football field. A friend of mine who was working for the local Democrats got tickets and asked if I'd like to go with him to see Clinton. I was thrilled. We watched as the helicopters flew overhead. I recall Clinton talking about building a bridge to the 21st century. He stood before posters and graphics illustrating that bridge. I was star struck; I still am.

When my husband and I came to Arkansas on vacation, it was during the time that Clinton was being impeached. We stayed at a resort, but we didn't have much fun. I refused to leave the television set at the cabin. I was riveted as I watched what I thought was a terrible injustice to my President.

Finally when my husband retired, he was already certain he wanted to live in the Ozarks. We were looking for a place to move. We had really considered moving to Missouri. It seemed as though it was a little cheaper to live there. We looked for houses in both states. One night I told my husband that I didn't want to look in Missouri anymore. I really wanted to live in Arkansas because it was the state that produced Bill Clinton. We moved here in 2005 and never looked back.

Hearing Bill Clinton at the Democratic National Convention last night was just like déjà vu for me. I felt the same exhilaration that I had felt during his campaigns and while he spoke from the White House. The happiest political moment was the day he was inaugurated. Michelle came to my house and we watched together. Both of us sat in silence, hanging on every word, a box of kleenex between us.

I have always been a fan of Bill Clinton's. There was just something about him. He is quick-witted, smart, and ambitious, not to mention easy on the eyes. He has the ability to hold millions of people in the palm of his hand when he speaks. Yet while he talks plain and has an unassuming demeanor, his mind is sharp as a tack. There is no one like Bill Clinton and there never will be. Who knows, perhaps one day I will even get to meet him? That would be such an honor.

Drought is taking its toll at our house

The Arkansas Ozarks remains the darkest red color on the map, which illustrates our exceptional drought. Moisture is about a foot less than where it should be at this time of year. That is frightening since we don't get all that much rain in the summertime anyway.

We have had to water to keep things going. I've managed to save  tomato and pepper plants; they continue to produce, for which I'm very grateful. I've planted some new seeds for a fall crop of beans, cucumbers, cilantro, arugula, Swiss Chard, lettuce, radishes, and some other things. They are starting to sprout now, so watering remains essential.

The understory of the woods is coming back, due to a recent quarter-inch of rainfall. It is amazing what that small amount of rain can do to help what some people call weeds. To me, the only "weed" we have is the Bermuda grass that invades everything and is nearly impossible to pull out of where it doesn't belong.

Everything else, to me, is a wildflower or wild vine--but that's just me.

The local deer population has made it a habit to feed wherever they can during this dry spell. Here, a doe drinks from our rain barrel. It sits next to a garden where she has helped herself all summer. 

Watering the flowers was a mixed bag. I worked hard to keep my flowers alive, but they represented the only greenery around. So, I could hardly be upset Mama Deer eating them when that was the only food she could find. The result is that I have no flowers left, but the deer are happy.

The same is true for these cute little fawn siblings. They actually make a daily trek to our front porch-literally onto the front porch to do their grocery shopping. 

I am starting to wonder if they want to come inside to watch a little TV or play a board game with our cats. 

Even though the weather is improving a little, meaning it isn't over 100º anymore, it remains very hot and dry. We have had less than one inch of rain since last May with the most being a half inch. 

Hurricane Isaac is due to visit the Ozarks in a couple days, bringing us a valuable gift--lots or rain. We will be very grateful.

Rain, rain, beautiful rain

This summer has been so oppressive; I've felt like a shut-in. Since moving to Arkansas, I've experienced hot, but this has been over-the-top hot. It has been deathly hot. Since the heat began in May, there have been only a handful of upper 90º days. The rest have been well over 100º. In the past 24-hours though, we have had a reprieve--a tiny respite from the dry, triple-digit heat. 

Rain is over for us now,
but more could be coming!!!

We have watched the radar with laser-like intensity, holding our breaths and feeling hopeful whenever any green color appeared anywhere in the vicinity of our state. For most of the summer, there has been no color on the map whatsoever. Meteorologists say we have been beneath a dome of high pressure that is too strong to allow any moisture to penetrate it. At times, a front would move through or the jet stream would cause a shift in the upper level atmosphere, allowing for rain to form. So often we watched it come oh, so close, but never make it to our house. I was starting to wonder if we didn't have some kind of anti-rain device installed on our roof. 

I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky in a way. Many of the areas that received rain this summer also had accompanying destructive winds. There was lots of damage because of strong storms. Nevertheless, it was disheartening as we watched clouds form and then come close only to disappear. I could look out the window one minute and even hear thunder, only to watch it all dissipate right before my eyes.

This was our last really good rain--April 16th!
All that green in this picture is now brown and dry!

I've experienced hot and humid summers, but never such dry heat. This is unlike anything I've ever felt. While the mornings and evenings were somewhat cool, the heat during the day was so extreme that it burned every living thing in the plant world. Even with watering, the excessive drought we have been experiencing has done little to keep precious plants alive. I am hoping they are just dormant and not dead. 

Then yesterday afternoon, the radar showed rain, one little line of what the weathermen called monsoonal rain that originated in the Pacific ocean. It traveled from the southwestern states in an arc up to Colorado and around, then back down--right to our house. The rain was very gentle, and at times was no more than a spitting from the heavens. But at other times, it was a good, steady downpour. Because of the day of cloud cover, the temperature cooled to a comfortable 79º. I was able to open a window,. Hearing the rain was therapy for a severe case of rain deprivation. It felt like Spring! I felt the same kind of jubilation after it started to rain as I feel during springtime, my favorite season of the year.

Almost as soon as the rain began, the tree frogs started to sing. The forest awoke for the first time in so long. A more jubilant melody came from the birds.

When I awoke this morning, I couldn't see out of the windows. With the air conditioning cooling the inside of the house and the hot humid air outside, the windows were completely opaque. I stepped outside and it was raining, ever so lightly. The air was thick with moisture. The rain has stopped for now, but the radar shows more moisture on the map. I hope it follows a similar course. We have been missed all summer and really could use it. We planted some small trees earlier this year. They have lost all their leaves, despite our keeping them watered, I fear they will not survive.

None of my flowers are alive, despite my keeping them watered too. The deer have had nothing to eat, so they have been attracted to the green succulent stems and leaves from my geraniums, hostas, coral bells, petunias, and others. Even those on our front porch have been discovered by mama deer and her fawns. We've seen them munching on flowers and drinking out of the bird baths that we have worked hard to keep full and cooled. I couldn't stop them. Poor dears had nothing else to eat. We've had to bring in all our bird feeders because during the night, the marauding beasts seemingly followed the deer path to our front door. They didn't just eat, they were destructive. I hope they are somewhat happier now and perhaps some of my plants will recover.

Brutal heat and extreme drought affects the Ozarks

So this is extreme drought, eh! Make it stop.

                                  This is my backyard, where lush green is transitioning into brown.                                             All growth has stopped as the trees struggle to survive.

Extreme drought is what they call the transition from a beautiful green landscape to one that is dying before my eyes. The redbuds that line the backyard in the spring seem to be the first ones to lose their leaves in these hot, dry conditions North-central Arkansas has experienced since mid-spring. I believe where I live, there has been just a half inch of rain since April. Rain has occurred in areas all around us, but we are at a little higher elevation. It must be drier up here. We also must be closer to the sun because the temperatures have also been higher here than elsewhere around us.

It isn't just the redbuds, but other trees are losing leaves as well. Some of them are visible in the distance. What is normally a palette of lush, green colors is being replaced by the dead look of drab brown.

Bushes and plants aren't faring much better. Pots of marigolds, zinnias, petunias, and newly-planted trees continue to wither despite daily watering. The joy I once felt from just sitting on the front porch overlooking all the growing things in the yard has been replaced by the need to stay indoors where it's cool.

The string of triple-digit temperatures combined with weeks and weeks of no rainfall is not just hard on us humans.

It is also hard on the flora and fauna.

Tufted Titmouse

This poor little bird is trying to cool off by keeping its mouth open.

We keep several bird baths full at all times in both the front and back yards, refreshing throughout the day, just for our feathered friends.

This guy is sitting on a pot of marigolds which doesn't look too great either. It has been very difficult to try to keep  flowers alive in this brutal heat, even though they are out of the full sun. Even the pots in the shade of the front porch or along the north side of the house are drying out.

A White-tail deer forages for food

I followed this deer recently. She was foraging in our front yard, getting dangerously close to a young Bradford Pear tree and a pair of lilac bushes. That is not acceptable, even though she thinks she can help herself to anything that grows. We don't always agree.

Moments before, she was right next to the front porch munching on my flowers. By the time I got the camera, she had ambled this other garden area.

It seems that all animal behavior is altered by the excessive heat and arid conditions. Squirrels are more frenzied than normal in their desire to eat as much bird food as they can grab. In the past two days they have destroyed two bird feeders. One feeder which they had been unable to pilfer for the past eight years, has finally been squirrelized. They dragged it up to the roof of the house where they promptly ignored the squirrel baffle and feasted on its contents. Then, they proceeded to throw it to the ground. Needless to say, we went bird feeder shopping. Same story, another day.

Ruby-throated hummingbird

The hummingbirds have continued their zeal for the sugar water we make for them when needed.

There don't seem to be as many hummingbirds as in past years, but the ones that are here remain hungry. This little guy perches atop what is left of a red geranium. I thought about trimming it,  but this little hummer has taken to sitting on that tiny stem, so I decided to leave things as they are for now.

At the moment this picture was taken, his mouth was closed. Often times, they too open their mouths to cool off. It is like panting, and helps to expel the warm air from their bodies. Birds will also fluff their feathers, allowing heat to dissipate. Poor little things have no means of sweating to keep them cool.

I see by the radar, that rain is in the area, even though it is a hit-or-miss proposition. I'm always hopeful!