That is an arachnid.

 And when I start screaming and clawing at the front of your shirt and trying to crawl on top of your head, it is called arachnophobia.   And yes it is a very real mental condition, and yes it can be controlled.  Death of the human suffering this condition will cure it, pretty much. How do I know it is real?  Stick with me here for just a bit.

Now, many of you know me.  You know that I fear nothing.  I have walked through the very fires of hell and came out the other side smiling.  Now that might be an exaggeration, but I have seen my scary things in life and for the most part been unaffected.  I can see a snake slithering into the goose house and still manage to go in and do my chores.  The only snakes I kill are the ones who get aggressive with me and that only happened the one time.   (Course that can also be said for a few husbands who were not smart enough to know when to stop.)

When I came to Colorado I was married to a guy named Charlie and he had a son who was pretty much grown.  Of course, they wanted to show me the high spots of Colorado and one of them is Beulah.  Since we had a two door car and they were both big, Susie and I were in the back seat when we were coming down from Beulah.  Suddenly Charlie pulled over and stopped.  There was a tarantula crossing the road and heading into the ditch.  When I saw the size of that thing, my eyes glazed over and purple lightening was flashing inside my head.  

Now, a note here to my friends in Kansas.  These things are BIG!  I swear to God that one had to be a foot across!  It had teeth!  It was looking at me in the back seat.  It wanted to eat me.  When David started to open the door to "get it and take it home for a pet" my world went suddenly black.  I shit you not!  I had both of those guys by the collar and raised up out of the seat.  At that point they decided they really did not need a spider for a pet.  I still have flashbacks when I think of that day.

Years passed and I never encountered another spider of that size until I married Kenneth.  One evening  after supper Jackie and Jim walked into our house.  Jimmy carried a paper cup and had something to show me.  I knew!  Instinct kicked in and I told him not to do it, but being the California boy he was, he was proud of his catch and wanted to show me.  When he dumped that spider out on my table, I lost all sense of reason.  The next thing I clearly remember is him begging me to forgive him.  Here to tell you right now he is still on thin ice.  Ask him about it.  Today we can look back and laugh, but that took a year or so.

And now I do not even think about tarantulas, unless something kicks in and triggers me.  Hiking at the reservoir the other day was a challenge to me because it is breeding season and they are migrating to the breeding grounds.  Oh, dear God!  My hiking partner was quick to tell me that  if we saw one he would not catch it and he understood I would not like  a closer look.  And no he would not kill it just because it wanted to go in the bushes and have a little spider fun.  Watching for rattlesnakes was not an issue, but the thought of beady eyed spiders became one!  Luckily the man did not have to witness my descent into total paranoia!

So there you have it.  The worst things I had to contend with in Kansas were millipedes.  They are about an inch or so long and have millions of legs.  They scurry up the wall and then hide so you can not kill them.  The spiders are mostly granddaddy long legs.  Couse the Black Widow likes to build a web in your basement window and hatch out her babies.  The Black Widows with babies are always females because they eat their husband after sex.   Preying Mantis females eat their husbands head off after sex.  Gives a whole new meaning to "losing your head over a woman!"

So, now you have learned a new word, arachnophobia, and a little lesson on the sex life of those innocent looking little insects that inhabit our earth.  Just remember this:

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing!

Peace!

Holy crap! Can you say arachniphobia?

I know humans in other parts of this world will not understand the phobia that is now in process here in southwest Colorado,  but I do and it strikes fear in my heart and causes me to stick a little closer to the inside of the house.  To make it short, I am scared shitless of spiders.  That fear is known as arachnophobia. Right now the Tarantula migration is in progress and if you think I am going to venture very far from this sanctuary I call home, you are sadly mistaken. I just watched a news cast that only adds fuel to my already Saint Vitus dance fear.  The lady was explaining how the Comanche National Grassland is home to thousands and thousands of Oklahoma Brown Tarantulas'.

Now she explained how sweet they are.  They are not really migrating, but they are looking for a mate and then they will hatch out a whole bunch more of these things.  Their biggest enemy is a thing called a Tarantula Hawk.  (That vision ought to make me sleep better at night.)  The Tarantula Hawk is actually a giant wasp and it swopes down and paralyzes the spider, drags it to the burrow and lays eggs in it's back.  It also feeds on the live, paralyzed spider for weeks while the eggs are hatching.  Gross!

I have always been scared spitless of spiders and the list of which ones I am scared of more then others varies from which one I am seeing at the moment.  I did see a Tarantula crossing the road up on 25th lane once.  I did swerve to miss it, not out of compassion for the spider, but I was afraid the car would turn over if I hit it or worse yet if I straddled it, the thing might jump up on the crankcase and make it's way into my car and then there would be a lot more screaming going on!  I am pretty sure that they creep around this house when I am not looking, but I am alright with that as long as they do not let me see them, but if one wants to wave his legs around there is going to be some blood curdling screams emitted from the depths of my soul.  I do not know if they have ears or not and for the most part I really do not care.

My fear list begins with spiders and then comes centipedes, followed by snakes.  Rabid dogs and bats are alright as are most birds.  I do buy my insecticide by the gallon.  See, all that stuff belongs outside and my two lower levels tend to be pretty much a toxic waste dump.  I gave up my garden because I saw a snake under one of the squash plants.  I am here to tell you people that I may not be normal, but I do love most of you and I am a compassionate person at times.  That having been said, I shall start my day and see where it goes from here.

If you want to see the migration, you need to drive out to La Junta and head towards Trinidad.  I will not be joining you.

 Here is the link.

A Black Widow Spider by any other name....

This is a Black Widow Spider.  It is round like a marble.  This is the female which is larger than the male.  After she has mated with the male she kills him and eats a good portion of him.  I am scared of spiders of any kind but I am scared shitless of this mother!

I learned very early in life to spot this lady.  She likes to build her nest in dark places and behind doors.  Spider webs are soft, but the web this spider builds is very strong.  I can spot one.  I have lots of spider webs in the garage and around the yard, but this one is special.  When you look at it , it looks different than the little webs of other spiders.  I take a stick and catch a part of the web and tug just a little.  If it is a harmless spider web, it will break, but the Black Widow web is strong and will crackle when I tug at it.

By simple showing you this picture and telling you about this mean spider, I will have nightmares tonight.  I have managed to get through my life with out a spider bite or so I think.  I read an article once that told me how many bugs and such the average person swallows in their lifetime and I can not dispute them.  I can live with sharing space on earth with the harmless little garden spiders and even the one that lives in the front yard and carries all her babies on her body so she looks like a fur  ball until you step on her and 659 millions babies run off in every direction.

Now I do not know just what brought on this blog about Black Widow Spiders and I am not going to try to figure it out.  Just rest assured that this is one mean mother, so stay away.

And, oh yeah, sweet dreams!

A place for every plant and every plant in its place.

Living with Grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield was definitely challenging.  They had a place for everything and everything was in it's place, especially in the summer.  All year long the little house plants set in there place in the house where ever it was they belonged.  The Oleandars lived in the basement and were not watered from fall until they were brought out in the spring.  Always surprised me that they survived.  One was white and one was pink.  They had the sweetest aroma rather like vanilla only sweeter.  Maybe with a tinge of almond.  What ever.  It was hard to believe that they were deadly poison.  But I digress.

When Spring arrived which was usually late April in Kansas, the basement door was opened and the Oleandars were drug up the steps by what ever hapless  cousin was around.  It was usually cousin Carl.  He was the farmer boy and lived just outside of Plevna so he was handy.  And Aunt Lola usually came and picked up the laundry to take it home and wash and return.  We did not go through the clothes back then like we do now.  Now I wear something a day and throw it in the hamper.  Back then the same outfit was good for a week.  Back to the house plants.

The Oleandars were placed on either side of the steps in the front of the house.  We never used that door.  It was the front door and that was its job.  We used the side door which opened into the dining room for most of our comings and goings.  The only exception was when one of us needed to make a trip to the "outhouse" or the trash needed carried to the burning barrel.  Then we used the back door.  The trash was kept in a wooden hamper by the back door and there was a damn good chance that there was a mouse in it when I dumped it so I would carry it very carefully, slowly to the barrel.  I would gently place the edge on top of the barrel and then quickly push it over and wait for the mouse and the trash to empty and then grab it and run for the house.

After the Oleandars were in place the other house plants were carried out one by one and the first was placed by the front sidewalk and then each next one got a little closer to the house until all of them were setting outside and then I could begin watering.  And I watered them every day because the Kansas sun is very hot and dry.  This ritual continued until Grandma Hatfield saw signs  of  an  early frost.  Then the whole process was reversed.  I often wondered what happened to the Oleandars when Grandma Haas passed and Great Grandma moved to Coldwater.  Sadly there is no one to ask.

I have a few houseplants but they are all big.  I do move them out to the patio in the Spring, but sometimes I have to carry them all back in, because Colorado weather can not be trusted.  Oh, and spiders build homes in the stems so that sucks.  But mostly I got to have green stuff around me for one reason or another.  I have a pink Oleandar if anyone wants to come by for tea.

It is all becoming a blur to me!

It seems it was only yesterday that I was poking in the soil to see signs of life in Mother Earth.  The next day we were in the middle of a stretch of 100 degree days.  This morning I am wondering if I should have unhooked the hoses last night so they would not freeze.  Oh, and some where during the intervening days I recall mowing and cutting weeds and cleaning the goose house and planting seeds and wondering where they went after they came up because the garden was shoulder high in weeds last time I looked.  Spring and Summer are a complete blur. 
I meant to take a vacation and go back to Kansas, but I must have forgotten, because it did not happen.  I meant to go on several hikes, like the Manitou Incline and up Tower Trail in Beulah to get seeds from the Sage plant, but I think it is too cold up there now.  I know it is pretty chilly when I go out in the mornings and I have that dew on my car windows.  Leaves are starting to fall in the yard and spiders are making their way in through the cracks.  Where did the summer go? 
I recall one of those pattern books with the  cute little sayings that can be embroidered in cross stitch.  I actually made several of them and God only knows where they went. I could use them now.  The first one was "When you are over the hill, you pick up speed."  That is the truth if I ever told it.  Seems like some where in the far recesses of my mind I was a kid and the days crept by as slow as molasses on a cold day.  I do not recall summer or winter affecting me as far as the creature comforts of warm and cold.  I do recall walking home from school behind my older brother and sister who broke a trail through the snow.  And I recall sleeping on the floor at school because we could not get through the snow.  It must have been very cold.  I remember those damned itchy wool blankets we slept under.  I recall jumping in the creek or horse tank or a mud puddle when it was summer, so I must have been hot. 
I remember the hayloft and how hot it was up there in the summer.  Sometimes if the hay was just a little damp the pile would start smoldering and the hay would have to be pitched out on the ground to save the barn.  I also remember how warm it was in the winter.  Course I also remember the mice and the cat. There was invariably a litter of kittens which would grow up to eat the baby mice.  Also spiders.  Damned spiders were every where.  Black Widows were the scariest.  We learned early to recognize the web of the Black Widow.  It was shiny and if I touched it with a stick it would crackle.  Sent chills through my bones.  And I could always see the Widow somewhere with her round marble body, shiny black.  Sometimes I could see her dead husband trapped in her web.  She killed him after they bred and that is why she was called a black widow.  There was one that lived behind the door into the chicken house.  Very scary.
(Why does everything always revert back to Nickerson, Kansas and my childhood?)
The other thing I cross stitched was one that said "Of all the things I have lost, I miss my mind the most."  That was my mantra for many years until I decided that I had not really lost my mind, just sometimes I let it go on vacation without me!  I have been told that I should write my life story and I gave that a lot of thought, but that will not happen and here is why...
When I set down to start to write my mind wanders off.  I started to write about how fall is in the air and I had beautiful pictures in my mind, but then I started thinking about how the city fathers have now decided to remove those stupid bike lanes down on Fifth Street.  This started me thinking of how I learned to ride a bike in Nickerson, Kansas and that made me remember school there in the big two story brick building. 
I usually call this "digressing", but I guess if the truth be known, it is just the old adage "All roads lead home."  And I take great comfort in that.

The good old days are alive and well in Florence, Colorado.

When we went fishing the other day in Florence at the Founders Park, we happened to stumble upon this little artifact.  For those of you who have grown up with tiled floors and enameled fixtures in your bathroom, you are in for a rude awakening.  This is what is known as an outhouse.  The out house is a little house behind the big house where you lived.  We have come a long ways since these days and I did not even dream there were still such things around.  Here is living proof.

This is the floor of said outhouse.  Now be aware that beneath this floor is a very messy pit where human waste is/was collected.  I do not know if this is a working outhouse and I did not step inside and peer down the hole so I can not even venture a guess.  No, I am curious, but not that curious!

The wood looks old and weathered enough to make me think this is the authentic outhouse, but since there was no sign of a homestead any where near here, I think it was placed here more as a piece of history.

And there you nave the bench upon which one perched to do one's business.  I myself would be scared to assume that position since I am deathly afraid of spiders and I am pretty sure this would be a perfect place for one to lurk.  Probably a very large family of the arachnids could be located under that bench.

So, kiddies, what do you think?  I do know that visiting this little building the other day sort of knocked my longing for the good old days right in the keester.  I long for the tranquility that came with the life we lived back then such as no ringing phone, no blaring television,  no interstate outside my door, but I have become quite accustomed to running water, both hot and cold, and the gentle swish of water when I flip the chrome handle of my pretty white commode.   I can stand for hours under the hot shower and never miss that aluminum tub on Saturday nights.

Yep, I have become a slave to modern conveniences.  And so it goes.