Spring time will soon be here....again...Thank God!

I have been in this house for 36 years and I have fought the bind weed every step of the way.  Elm trees are my nemesis, especially when they grow in the fence line or sprout up in the middle of the Choke Cherry bushes.  But last year, I noticed that I am now blessed with cacti.  They are the flat leafed ones and I forget what they are called, but they have that fruit on the end of the leaf.  Prickly Pear.  I first encountered this little fellow 50 years ago when I lived out by the airport in Garden City, Kansas.  We had friends named Don and Claire .  She was of Mexican descent and wise in the ways of foraging for delicacies.  She came by one day and told me she found a field of Prickly Pear Cacti and wanted to go harvest some of the new tender leaves for food.

Since Duane was at work, I agreed and we loaded the kids up and away we went.  Oh, and I took a pair of Duane's leather gloves because she told me they were deadly sharp and we would need them.  So we picked a big basket full and then went home.  Since I had no idea what they were I let her take all of them with the promise that she would fix something really good to eat.  I carefully put his leather gloves back where I got them.  Bad mistake.

The first time he put them on he began to cuss.  They were full of something very sharp.  Oh, oh!  I of course confessed and I know they say confession is good for the soul, but trust me, it was not good for the ears or the body.  I had ruined his good gloves for nothing!  He was not going to eat that damn cactus and that woman better not ever show up at our door again and Don was an idiot for ever marrying that piece of what ever.  Any way.

So imagine my surprise when I went out behind the garage  to the area that was home to 500 million goat heads and 300 Sunflowers and lots of bindweed and found the cutest little Prickly Pear Cactus.  I was tempted to just leave it grow, but thought better of that and got the shovel out.  I cut the root and tossed it into the milk crate.  Then I saw another.  And another.  And soon the big double milk crate was full.

The survivalist  in me rebels against killing anything be it a cactus or a big tall Sunflower.  I could eat the cactus if need be for survival and the birds could harvest the sunflowers.  The strangest part is that I see no signs of cactus growing any where and the field out back is planted sometimes to a cash crop, so I doubt it they worked their way in from there.



Another mystery is the Centipede and how it manages to slither in my house when there are no visible signs of cracks, but slither it does nonetheless.  That is second only to how the bull snake manages to get in the goose house and eat the eggs!  I have actually drilled holes in the eggs and blown them out so my daughter could paint them and it is no easy chore!  First it is way bigger than a snake mouth and the shell is very thick..



So I guess, my biggest problems out here on the Mesa are the snakes, cactii and the myriad of cats that now occupy the neighbors garage.  Guess I will just set right here and let it all sort itself out.  If this is the worst that happens to me, I guess I am pretty lucky!

Meanwhile, back at the ranch!

To say my life here on my little acre is boring would be an understatement.  It seems like there is always something going on...well, not during Jeopardy!  Everyone knows what happens to me when I set back in my recliner with the cat on my lap and pull an afghan up over me so I do not get cold.  I watch Jeopardy! at 3:00 and again at 6:30.  Sadly, I have yet to see a full half hour.  If I manage to stay awake it is imperative that someone call  to ask just one quick question.

Now yesterday, I stopped at Big R to buy goose food since there is a storm coming and I do not want the geese to miss out on a meal and I hate unloading 150 pounds of feed in a blizzard.  So, I pulled into the back acre and started in with the first bag.  You should know, the neighbors have a Billy Goat Gruff with big long, curled horns.  He does not know where he actually lives so he spends a lot of time ripping things out of the ground on my side of the driveway.  As I started into the shed, I had to bump him with the feed bag to get inside.  I emptied that one, chased him off and grabbed another only to repeat the same scenario.  I do not even like goats and that is why I do not have one.  Third bag was tossed on top of the barrel and the goat chased off again.  I drove out and closed the gate behind me with him glaring at me from his yard.

To make a long story short, I got busy doing something and it was almost dark when I went to put the geese up for the night.  I let them in the outside wire enclosure and they were acting funny.  Since they usually do, I did not give it a second thought.  Then I remembered I needed to open that third bag and dump it so I opened the big door and took 2 steps inside and stopped.  Holy mother of God!  Inside the shed was dark and I caught a glimpse so something out of the corner of my eye.  It was big!  It was not a goose!  It was that damned goat curled up in the corner of the shed.  He was settling in for the night.  In order to get inside the shed he had to squeeze himself through the little door I have in the side of the shed designed for a much smaller animal.  Even the geese have to duck their heads to get inside.  Dammit!

Luckily I have a very good flashlight, so I went over to Mr. Goat and nudged him while shining the light on his path to freedom.  He could have cared less.  So I got him by one of his horns.  It became increasingly clear that he did not want to go home.  I finally got him out the door and that was as far as he wanted to go.  So I went next door to the house he actually lived at.  Cory came with me and between the 2 of us with a hand on each horn, we got him into their yard.  It was clear also that in the leap over the fence into my yard, he had hurt his back leg.  So I missed Jeopardy! at 6:30.  Dammit!

So, Michael brought up the subject of gardening a few days ago and I explained that I would not be doing that this year.  Why?  It seems that the last few years I have had a snake infestation.  I do not know how many times  there was a snake in the goose house.  I reached my limit when I was harvesting my zucchini and as I reached to move a leaf, I saw a snake curled up under it.  Centipedes love my basement.  Wasps build their little nests in the corners of my deck.  Spiders watch me from the shadows.  Farm living is just no longer conducive to my lifestyle!  I want to be where the lights are shining in my window and the jukebox is blaring from down below.  Well, not really.

I do love my solitude out here, but there is a lot to be said for the wild life that makes itself at home here on my acre.  I realize goats, spiders, snakes and centipedes are not exactly wildlife, but you do remember how the foxes devastated my duck farm.  But yesterday at the Big R, I saw my first signs of Spring.  They have three tanks full of baby chickens and they are so damn cute.  Maybe if I had chickens they would keep the snakes away.  I know they eat grasshoppers.

Something to think about.

Snake #3, or as I laughingly named the folder, Friday snake.

 

 

 Ok, kids, this is what happens when you keep catching the snakes and relocating them and they keep coming back.  This is the third snake in less than a week.  Just more than I can handle.  This one was just under 5 feet.  Bret thought he would like to take this one home, but Amanda thought better of it.  This one was very mean.  The one night before last was rather docile, but this sucker was wanting to eat some one and I did not want it to be me.  I do not think this was the great big one and I am hoping it does not come back. 
I will keep you posted and in the meantime know that I do not like killing a snake, but this is getting plum ridiculous.  I ought to be able to walk in my own yard without them scaring me.  And when I throw a pebble I would very much appreciate them slithering off and leaving me in peace.

Well, we are starting this week off right!

This is Jimmy at my house doing the same thing he was over here doing 4 days ago, only this time the snake was much smaller.  Now I have no idea what I have done to attract all these snakes, but I am here to tell you that I may be moving into town and into a high rise.
I seriously think that the first snake was the father snake.  I think he came out from under my patio.  I think this one was the mother and she just woke up.  I fully expect to walk out there in the morning and find the babies headed for the goose house.  How many babies does a snake have for crying out loud.
The only thing that would make my life perfect at this point is for a great big tarantula to crawl in through the doggie door.  I may be getting too old for this farm life.
 

Oh, those silly geese!

For several days the geese had been acting strange.  Now I been herding these geese, thirteen of them, around for several years, so I know strange when I see strange.  Their living quarters consists of a wooden shed about 10 feet wide by 14 feet long.  This has a big door on the west side that I go in to fill the feeder and such.  On the south side down low is a small door about 12 inches wide and 20 inches high that leads to a wire enclosure that is the same size as their house and is covered and has a big door that they enter and exit from.  When it is just dark I go out with my flashlight and they all go into the wire part.  I close that door and secure it and they are snug and tight for the night.  They can go into the house or sleep out in the wire part.  Every night this happens like clock work.  In the morning I open the wire door and they all come running out and over to the water tank which serves as their pond.  Not so the last few days.
They began by being afraid to go in the enclosure.  When I got them herded inside they would cower in the corner.  The first night I actually went into the goose house to see if perhaps Brer' Fox was lurking their.  Nothing amiss.  The next morning they did not rush out as usual, so I just latched the door open and in due time they ventured forth.  Same scenario that evening and the next morning.  I was beginning to be concerned and checked everything I could think of to make sure nothing was able to get near enough to frighten them.  It was a mystery and it really upset me to see them act like they were terrified.  Yesterday was the clincher.
I opened the wire door and no goose came out of the goose house.  I could see them in their milling about so I went and opened the big door.  They cowered in the corner and my eyes finally spotted the "intruder". Yes!  That is it.  A piece of blue plastic cord that fell off of a tarp!  That was blocking the door!  I remembered it laying on the ground in the wire enclosure. 

 

It sure seemed harmless enough to me, but then, I am not a goose.  Did they think it was a snake?  I am a thinking I would have been getting the hell out of there if I were them.  Geese have the herd mentality and I do not know how they communicate, but they were all 13 of them scared to death of this piece of cord.  After I took pictures of the offending item, I dropped it into the burning barrel.  I think the geese now look on me as some sort of hero because they gather at the fence around the yard and stare at me.  And then they take thier naps.  So I take my cue from them and dose in my chair knowing that once more all is right in my world!

 

 

 

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This is the novel I have for sale . Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains