Scratch that off the weekend to-do list . . .

So, I've discovered the trick to getting the lawn mowed around this little corner of heaven is to risk annoying the neighbors by getting out there early.

Not, TOO early, mind you.

8 o'clock is my own self-imposed limit.

But, we only have a very narrow window of opportunity to get this chore done before it gets too beastly hot around here.

So, if any of ye socks were annoyed by the roaring engine, you have my apologies . . . but, not my promise to abstain from said behavior again next weekend!

What are those little brown dots?!

You know things have gotten out of control with the hedges when their appearance offends yours truly.

I'm pretty forgiving of vegetation that takes on its own shape rather than conforming to society's dictates.

In fact, I thought it was pretty cool this spring when two flowering vines began to weave their way thru the bushes in front of my screened porch. One had red blossoms on it, the other pink. And, they kinda brightened-up things around this little corner of heaven.

Recently, though, their life cycle must've come to an end. Because, instead of the colorful blossoms, all I had running thru the hedge were two dead, brown vines.

So, yesterday I got up at the crack of dawn to beat the heat and tackled the necessary pruning.

The problem is that it is now evident that I should have used gloves before I tried to tame the jungle.

I say that because I discovered my hands are covered with little brown dots this morning.

No, they're not freckles, and attempts to scrub them off have failed.

Perhaps an allergic reaction?

So much for my hand modeling aspirations . . .

That'll wake ya up!

Yours truly is a creature of habit. There, I've admitted it.

The morning routine involves checking ye olde email on my computer in the upstairs office.

As soon as I can see the sun peeking over the tree line across the street, I know it's time to power things down and head out the door to conquer the world.

So, this morning I'm following this routine to the letter, when I catch a glimpse of glowing light emerging from the eastern horizon.

Surely, it's still too early for the sunrise, I think to myself.

Before I could turn to scrutinize the world beyond my window, though, the panes started rattling in their frames. It was an awful lot like I suppose a train would sound like if it jumped its tracks and decided to barrel its way down Elizabeth Avenue into the waters of Lake Ivanhoe.

Then and only then did I remember: DUH! Space Shuttle Launch!!!

Oh, the wonders of living in this little corner of heaven . . .

Jungle update

OK, ye socks can stop worrying about it. Yesterday's rainy weather has blown away. Ye olde Briggs and Stratton got fueled-up. And, yours truly finally got out there and mowed the yard. No longer the neighborhood pariah!!

Outta gas . . . literally!

Pretty frustrating day, ye socks!

Started out alright, but quickly went downhill.

Ye olde jungle, otherwise known as my yard, finally requires some taming.

Yep, winter is over. Gotta start the mowing regime again.

Yours truly must admit he was a bit nervous that ye olde mower might not crank after sitting idle for so many months.

Good ol' Briggs and Stratton, though. Fired up on the 3rd pull.

That's the good news.

The bad news is . . . I forgot to check the gas tank.

After mowing a few strips in the back yard, the engine conked out.

Easily remedied?

No.

Ye olde gas can was bone dry, too.

I give up.

My neighbors can hate me for another day, but this yard is gonna have to go one more day before it gets mowed!

Cat vs. Squirrel

Allow yours truly to disabuse ye socks of any notion ye might have about just how urbane College Park might be.

Some pretty primal stuff is going on around this little corner of heaven! All you have to do is keep an eye out for it.

For example, today I was at the stop sign at New Hampshire and Gerda when I noticed a grey blur streak across one of the carefully manicured lawns.

This was closely followed by a slightly larger blur.

Both ended up in a nearby hedge, and a brief flurry of leaves and twigs erupted.

Then, nothing, just a return to a peaceful late winter scene.

That was until a cat trotted out of the hedge bearing a big ol' Cheshire grin. And, dangling from said grin were the limp remains of one of the neighborhood squirrels.

Struck me as a miniature re-enactment of one of those old episodes of Mutual of Omaha's "Wild Kingdom" . . .

Dense Fog Warning!

Today, yours truly found himself in the heaviest fog he'd ever encountered.

I didn't notice it much as I stepped outside to head off to work, mostly because it's always dark and gloomy that time of day.

But, then the security light went off. It always does that, and I'm glad for it because it helps me to find the keyhole so I can lock the deadbolt behind me.

Today, however, said light struggled to illuminate the threshhold . . . much less the narrow space between my service door and the neighbor's wall.

I had second thoughts about even getting in the car at that point, figuring it was just too dangerous to drive in these conditions.

But, after peeking around the front hedge, I realized that it was just a particularly heavy pocket of fog that had settled in between the houses. It was a little thinner in the unusually quiet streets of our neighborhood. Just a LITTLE thinner, though.

Anyway, I decided to brave it, and stuck to the side streets instead of getting on I-4. Glad I did, too. Even at the slower pace, my knuckles were throbbing by the time I reached the office!

Be safe out there!

The Great Christmas Light Debate

Ok, at the risk of opening up a huge can of worms here, I have to ask ye socks where ye stand on the subject of multi-colored versus clear strands of lights.

Particularly as relates to ye olde Christmas tree.

I finally got my atificial version of said holiday symbol assembled in my living room over the weekend.

It's one I've had for at least a decade, before the pre-lit versions were easily affordable. So, I have to untangle and string the lights myself every year.

No big deal, except this year only one strand had survived the 11 months of exile inside the ubiquitous plastic storage container in my attic.

To make a long story longer, I hiked up to the handy neighborhood CVS where I discovered the poor folks there had been completely wiped-out of clear light strands.

They did, however, have an overabundance of the multi-colored strands.

I left without purchasing any, though, because my preference has always been for the clear variety.

The CVS shelves indicate that most folks must share this preference.

Where do ye socks stand on this very important issue?!

Backalley bandit caught in the act!

So, yours truly was minding his own business, watching some Sports Center recaps last night.

Then, all of a sudden, the north side of my house was flooded by spot lights.

That's not an entirely unheard of circumstance, as the motion detectors I have out there cause the lights to come on as soon as someone pulls into my driveway.

But, there wasn't a car in the drive this time. And, I didn't see anybody on foot when I looked thru the windows.

Maybe some strong wintery winds were blowing branches? Nope.

What could it be?!

Kinda freaked me out when it happened the 2nd and 3rd times. I even went out there to try to figure out what was tripping those motion detectors, but found nothing. Hallowe'en was a month ago!

Didn't get much sleep last night, worrying about what I might have creeping around out there.

Then, as I was sipping coffee this morning, I spotted the culprit: the biggest raccoon I've ever seen was gingerly making his way across the property wall.

I wonder how he got so big?

Probably from going thru so many post-Thanksgiving trash cans in the alleyways of College Park . . .

Well, at least the mystery is solved and I don't have to worry about the paranormal explanations that were running thru my head!!

Happy Hallowe'en!

So, what's a sock to do when he runs out of candy at 8:30 pm, and there are still trick or treaters roaming the streets of this little corner of heaven?

OK, so what if he didn't COMPLETELY run out of candy, but had like three Reese's peanut butter cups left in the candy bowl and had just gotten sick of answering the door?

Is hiding out in one's upstairs office, blogging in the dark and checking out your facebook page completely wrong?!?

So, what if it is?!? Pass the peanut butter cups!

Ye Olde Wine Cellar

One of the mid-range goals after moving into my new home over a year ago was to convert the utility basement into a funnctional and asthetically pleasing wine cellar.

Well, ye socks, a great leap forward occurred today.

The Key boys went to work down there while I was obliviously slaving away at my office.

When I got home this evening, I discovered that they had successfully removed the sooty old oil furnace.

Tomorrow they begin stucco work.

Then they will replace the two screened crawl space access points with real windows.

I'm thinking by the weekend I may be picking out new wineracks.

I'll have a 10x10 blank canvas to work with. Wall height is 76". Open to any suggestions!

I knew I was forgetting something!

Just remembered that I am meeting with the folks from First Baptist Church of Pine Castle tomorrow, and they asked me to bring any old family photos that might be of interest for the history book they are working on.

So, here I am up past ye olde bedtime hunting thru my attic the night before when I could've gotten this little task scratched off the proverbial checklist days ago . . . and at a more decent hour.

Oh, well, at least I'm sure the effort will be appreciated, and it's for a good cause . . .

Painting update

For ye socks who have been following the progress of the most recent home improvement project, yours truly finally finished painting the entryway this evening.

Definitely looks a lot brighter (and, thus, I hope more inviting) than the old siding that used to grace the walls in there.

Looks bigger, too. But, that probably has something to do with removing all the artwork and furniture . . .

As always, one project leads to another.

In admiring my handywork, I've decided I now need to paint the inside of the front door. Just looks to shabby now with the crisp new paint all around it.

Ah, well, at least I'm doing my part to keep Home Depot in business during this recession . . .

I thought I was being neat . . .

So, yours truly was sitting at ye olde abode watching the usual mindless Monday night line-up, when I got the sudden urge to paint the entry way.

Don't ask where that came from, haven't figured it out myself.

Anyway, I thought I was being extra careful not to spill, splatter, spatter, drip, or otherwise get paint anywhere except on the intended surfaces.

So I thought.

But, after I'd put everything away and went to take a shower before jumping in bed, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

Right smack dab in the middle of my favorite ball cap was the biggest, ugglest splotch of paint.

Oh, well. The headgear may look ghetto now, but at least the entryway looks a heckuva lot nicer . . .

A not so quiet morning

Even ye socks who only know me thru my posts in the dryer are aware of the Saturday morning routine in this neck o' the woods.

Especially in the heat of summer, I like to get out to do the yard work before conditions become too intolerable.

Ok, maybe "like to" isn't quite accurate.

At any rate, I try to get out there and do quiet things like weeding, raking, pruning, etc., until about 8 o'clock. Then, I crank up the mower. Any earlier just wouldn't be neighborly, I suppose.

This morning, however, while I was busying myself with the quieter pursuits, the tranquility along Elizabeth Avenue was disturbed by one of the engines from the nearby fire station.

We are fairly accustomed to the comings and goings of our city firefighters around here. But, there was something odd about this morning's disruption to the peace and quiet we typically enjoy.

For some reason, the engine was emitting a long, slow siren as it practically inched down our little residential street. The only time I've ever seen something like that was when the driver was having a difficult time spotting a street number while responding to a call. But, that didn't appear to be the cause of the odd cruise this morning. The engine just continued crawling down to the foot of the street, and took a lackadaisical turn along the shore of Lake Ivanhoe, siren mournfully wailing the entire way.

I know there are a coupla firefighters who read these posts. So, what's up with this?

Hittin' the bricks

Well, ye socks, I just completed one of my least favorite chores out in the yard: weeding the brick sidewalks.

Sometimes, I wonder if all the little green sprouts only bother me . . . but, after letting things go the last few weekends, I was pretty sure they must be offending others.

So, I made sure I got up at the crack of dawn to tackle this little project. Wanted to get it over and done with before the summer sun became too intolerable.

As it turns out, the sun wasn't so much my enemy as the bricks were themselves.

While, I was able to dispatch the vast majority of the green invaders, I managed to brush up against the brick edges enough times to burn some pretty nasty looking blisters into the first joint of both index fingers, and the corners of both thumbs, and the outside edges of both hands.

Guess this is why smarter gardeners wear gloves?!?

When good things happen to good people

So, I got home from work today to find the regular bunch of junk mail waiting my perusal.

One item very nearly ended up in the trash can, because it was clearly a mass mailing addressed to "College Park Homeowner."

I don't know what made me open it, but I did. Here's some of what it said:

Thank you so much for opening your home for the historic homes tour last November . . . During the tour, I met a lovely young woman who was a docent in one of the houses. I don't remember the address . . . but, it had an enclosed porch to the left of the front door, and there was a beautiful Duncan Phyfe sofa . . . When I laughlingly commented that I had a sofa just like it, the docent exclaimed that she had been trying to get the homeowner to sell her that couch. I gave the young woman my telephone number and asked her to call me about my sofa, but she never called.

If any of you know this young woman, please ask her to call me. [I] need to find a good home for my Duncan Phyfe sofa. I know this young woman will love this sofa, and she will not be able to beat the price . . . I am willing to give it to her for free, because I know she appreciates the history and quality of this type of furniture.

Of course, the letter writer was referring to my house, and my sofa. And, the "young woman" she mentioned was a very good friend who I had suckered into helping me out that day. She really *has* been trying to get me to part with my Duncan Phyfe for years. Now, it looks like she will soon have one of her own as a result of her generosity!

The right to dry

So, I was watching my regular Sunday Morning show on CBS today, when I saw a segment on clothes lines.

Apparently, there's a big brouhaha brewing out in Bend, Oregon, because some happy homemaker out there has taken to stringing clothes lines in her back yard.

She's not just trying to take advantage of the fresh summer breezes, but to save money and the environment at the same time.

But, some of her neighbors are seething, sneaking onto the poor woman's property in the dead of night to cut her clothesline to ribbons.

Nice, huh?

I have to confess that I do most of my clothes drying in my conveniently climate-controlled laundry room.

But, I do have a clothes line in my back yard. It's a really cool one, at least in my opinion, because one half of the support comes from a grapefruit tree. And, especially this time of year, I like to hang ye olde bed linens out there so they can capture a little of the aromatic Confederate jasmine that drifts across the street from the neighbor's yard.

So, today, while my socks and other bits of personal attire shall remain indoors, I have resolved to show my solidarity for that poor lady in Oregon by airing some of the other laundry around here . . .

Taming the jungle

If any of ye socks had asked me twenty years ago about my feelings toward yardwork . . . especially on the weekend . . . the answer would have been far different than it is today.

Back then, it was all about forced labor on a dusty, Texas-sized parcel of land.

The infrequent reward was a ten dollar bill. More often than not, however, I was told to be thankful for the roof over my head and three squares a day.

Oh, how times have changed.

Nowadays, I actually enjoy working in the yard. At least, early in the mornings. Any other time of day, and it's just too hot in this little corner of heaven.

I guess one of the reasons I've grown to enjoy it so much is because it's one of the few times left in this hectic world where I can unplug. I'm no longer the slave of a computer or cell phone, just the unruly botanical encroachments on my (thankfully) postage-stamp sized patch of green.

Lately, I've been trying to fight the war out there with "earth friendly" tactics. I use a push mower and edge with a hoe. Both, are decidedly less convenient methods, but I can use the exercise. And, in addition to the cut in carbon emissions, I'm enjoying the reduced fuel costs and decibel levels around here.

Also, I've been trying to use organic methods to ward off the annoying little sprouts that creep up between my brick walks. Unfortunately, they have been a decided failure, requiring yours truly to get down to the bruising and scraping task of trying to fight the battle mano a mano.

I get a lot of thinking done out there, though. At least until the neighbors start waking up for their morning strolls. They either want to chat or let their canine companions christen my horticultural palate. A few interruptions like that, combined with the growing intensity of the Florida sun, generally drive me back indoors well before lunch time.

Such is the state of affairs on this particular kick-off to the weekend . . .

Is that a patch of blue I spotted up there?!?

Yes, ye socks, the rain drops quit falling on my head for a brief moment this morning, and I really didn't know quite how to react!

Will it hold off long enough for me to fire-up the lawn mower?!

The yard could definitely use a good trimming. All this precipitation around here has turned the once-manicured lawn at Ye Historic Halley House into a veritable jungle. And, the weeds are creeping up between the bricks in the front sidewalk. Curses on them!

Ah, well, I suppose I should just be thankful that said lawn and walks are in this particular little corner of heaven, and not up the road apiece in Volusia County, right?!?