Gator Head

It's great to be back on the blog! My business has been thriving the last few months, which is wonderful, but that means that I've been more or less connected to my Macbook 7 days a week, and my left index finger and my right thumb started to complain a couple of weeks ago. As I chose my keyboarding carefully, the blog had to go for a while, but I am blessed with work!

When we last left the koi pond, a large bird was threatening the fish population. A new casualty turned up almost every day for a week, culminating in the discovery of one of our 9-year-old koi floating one morning. We had not yet run out of ideas to combat the great blue heron, however, and our latest weapon in the arsenal was on its way.

Last weekend, when we were in the midst of a visit with Pappy, Mommadrool, The Fred and StickiBunScotti, a box arrived at our front door. As DH and I played with the kids and Mommadrool showed us Zoo Boo photos, Pappy announced, "I want to unpack the Gator Head."

Three generations of men excitedly assembled the floating decoy, which has glaring eyes that will--we hope--follow our friend the heron until he, being easily spooked, flaps his magnificent wings and leaves the premises.

Gator Head was a big hit with SBS, who pointed at the new addition to the pond and babbled enthusiastically in complete sentences of some description.

We're not sure if this latest measure will help. Actually, I haven't seen the bird in the last couple of weeks, but winter is his big season around here, and we don't want to lose any more fish and hope Gator Head will do the trick.

Pappy added helpfully, "It'll probably scare the fish."

Dirty Jobs

One of our favorite features of our home is our pond. Actually, we have two ponds—a small upper pond and a large lower one with koi swimming in it. It’s so relaxing to sit out on the patio with a good book, listening to the waterfalls bubbling nearby.

Of course, every home amenity comes with a responsibility. I was the one who wanted a swimming pool, so I take care of the pool. And, once a year or so, DH gets to clean out the ponds and cut back any overgrown foliage. This is a relatively brief but very messy job. Actually, that doesn’t do it justice--today, he could have been on that Discovery Channel program called Dirty Jobs.

Suffice it to say there will be no photographs of this particular activity. No one sees us this dirty but each other.

The large pond wasn't bad--DH hacked away at an overgrown plant and handed chunks of it to me while he stood in hip-deep water. But when he got into the small upper pond, which had heavier mucky debris in it, he had to heave that wet, heavy goops into the wheelbarrow next to the pond. After one of those tosses, the wheelbarrow tipped over.

DH: Oops! Can you tilt that wheelbarrow back up?
TS: No.
DH: Could you try?
TS: Sure. Okay, no.
DH: Well, you have to admit that was a half-hearted effort.
TS: Sweetie, you’re thinking I have upper body strength like a man. Look at these little arms.
DH: Well . . .
TS: I’ve told you before, you should have married a woman with a big strong back, somebody like my great-grandmother Clarissa Joiner.
DH: Who?
TS: You remember her—we have that ancient picture of her. She rode on horseback from Louisiana to South Carolina while pregnant with her first of twelve children. She looked like a man. You should have married someone like that.
DH: I like being married to you better.
TS: That’s the right answer.