Bouffant Blonde

With three dogs comes the once a year trip to the vet for shots, tests, etc. I'm always surprised that they don't lock the doors when the receptionist sees us coming. We do try to bring three people with the three dogs. I'm really not sure it helps but at least they can see we've made the effort. You see, our three are not used to being on leashes. It's what happens when you live on a farm. They get to run around and play, pooping wherever and whenever. The only road rules are those governed by fences and mama cows. They are always so excited to get in the truck. I feel guilty. I wonder if they think we're all going on vacation. Or maybe the beauty parlor. Miss Lady Bug goes to the beauty parlor several times each summer to get her long hair clipped. Maybe she tells her brother and sister stories of luxurious pampering. I have no idea. I just figure they have no clue as to what awaits them. They love to look out the windows as we drive. Little Guy got the prime...

It seems that everyone wants to garden these days. A little packet of seeds and some dirt. It's certainly cheaper than buying fresh produce at the grocery story or the farmer's market. Even the White House has a vegetable garden. It all looks so very easy. The key word here is "looks." Farming -- even the small garden variety -- is hard, hot work. First, you've got to decide what to plant. It's easy to say "peas" or "snap beans." Do you know how many different kinds of snap beans there are? I figured it would be easy to choose the type to plant. The round ones, not the flat ones. That only brought more choices. It's a good thing my father knows the name of what he plants every year. I think I need to write it down. I'll never remember on my own. Fortunately, he has a tractor and planters. It makes it go so much faster. Of course, we have a large garden. Some things though still have to be planted by hand. Tomatoes do better if they...

I hate snakes. Truly. They scare me so badly. This is the Deep South where one can happen on a snake at any moment. We watch for them in the yard, in the floor beds, in the garage. Anywhere really. That's especially true in May and June. The old timers tell me that's when snakes travel in pairs. Their version of mating season. I walked out onto the back patio the other day. I was minding my own business. Okay. I was minding the dirt dobbers' business. I'd watched them building away while I washed dishes and I was going to tear their dirt mess down before more dirt dobbers could hatch. I do this on a regular basis. I'd like to believe that we have fewer dirt dobbers because of it. I'm not sure though. We have a lot of dirt dobbers. I glanced at the top of the screen door that leads from the laundry room to the patio before I stepped outside. A few years ago a snake was resting on top of the door and struck my father. Fortunately, he has a hard head and it didn...

It's officially summer in the South. Okay. Maybe not officially. The calendar still says May so that must be right. But with 90-plus weather and humidity that just seems to hange in the air, it definitely feels like summer. The dogs park themselves either under a vehicle or in front of the garage fan. Little Guy thinks that fan belongs to him. His sister, Sunshine, was lying in front of it. She's a big girl. Labs tend to be big. Little Guy, while not really small, is about half her size. He simply eased in front of her and plopped down. Completely blocking the air flow to her. It says a great deal about her pleasant personality that she merely got up and walked away. I would have swatted him had I been in her place. Miss Lady Bug has decided the laundry room is the place to be. Unless laundry is being done, of course. That fan was blowing her ears and hair back, almost like she was riding in a convertible with the top down. This was one happy dog. And for those who think we...

My parents love to travel to the beach. It's a fun day for them. My father especially likes to travel different routes -- every time. Years ago my aunt and uncle made several trips to Pensacola with my parents to see a sick relative. My aunt told me that at first she'd tried to pay attention so she would know the way next time. She laughed. "He goes a different way every time we drive down there. I get so confused. I finally threw in the towel. If we ever need to go on our own, I'll just have to use a map." I know the feeling. We went to Destin and Ft. Walton Beach yesterday. We went on country roads until finally the interstate loomed ahead and we -- thankfully -- headed up the entrance ramp. Of course, we had to exit and travel more miles just a little ways down the interstate but those roads I knew. They were good roads. Not pig trails. For those not familiar with that Southern expression, pig trails refers to a narrow road. The asphalt is generally crumbling ...

I love strawberries. They taste great. You can eat them plain. You can blend them with a little sugar and make a terrific sauce for ice cream. Strawberry Pie is yummy. Fruit salad just isn't fruit salad without strawberries. I could go on and on. Unfortunately, I'm not the only one who likes strawberries. Last year my dad bought several strawberry plants and tended them. He got bored I guess because they require a good deal of work and yield very little at first. He thought all the plants had died. This year I uncovered a few surviving plants. The key word here is uncovered. They were hidden by an old gate and lots of grass and weeds. I removed the gate and carefully pulled the grass and weeds away. I've been watering and tending. And I was so surprised! Lots and lots of blooms. Then lots and lots of strawberries. I waited patiently for the berries to ripen. And just as they would turn that brilliant red, they would disappear. My mother suggested the culprits could be the...