Digger of Holes
The skies have darkened and thunder is beginning to rumble across southern Missouri - and I hope that rain will follow.
I have been scratching holes and trenches in the earth the past few days in an attempt to get several dozen flower bulbs into the ground. I built a new flower bed last week, and this week I planted it with elephant ear bulbs. I have also put in three new peonies - along with three old ones that are now about three inches tall, three patches of caladium bulbs, a long row of cannas, and a string of gladiolas. In addition to all of that, I have planted two packets of four-o-clock seeds, a flower with which I have had much success over the years. Once four-o-clocks take hold, they keep reseeding and coming back year after year.
The groundhog is still in residence in the barn. He comes out a few times a day to scamper about and then always rushes back inside as soon as he sees me. The squirrels and birds are everywhere, with grackles, robins, and cardinals being especially thick. My first chore every morning is to move about the yard filling the bird feeders.
I still haven't seen any deer, but a wild turkey took a leisurely stroll across the yard two days ago. He seemed to be right at home, and I am certain that from his perspective, he was.
Two dogs visit on occasion - a black-and-white mongrel who has learned to sit on the back porch and beg, and a yellow lab resembling Ol' Yeller. Both appear to be young males, just at that playful stage and always looking for a scratch behind the ear or a handout - or both. Ol' Yeller took a walk across my new flower bed and got a good butt-chewing from me as he sashayed on down the road.
Two nights ago I was in bed reading with only one light on in the entire house, when someone began banging on my door. I live in a semi-remote area and was not too anxious to get up and open the door to strangers. I ignored the knocking. It stopped and then started again, very insistent. When the knocking started a third time, I got out of bed, threw on some clothes, and went to the door. The lady at the door introduced herself by her first name, said she was looking for her dog, a large yellow female, and said that somebody told her that a yellow dog had been playing in my yard that day. The lady was nice, but came across as somewhat accusatory. I think she thought I had her dog captive in my house. It took some talking, but I finally got her to go away.
Unexpected visitors late at night worry me. I guess I should have never read In Cold Blood.
Well, it has rained enough to wet the ground and set the bulbs. This afternoon I am picking my grandson up when he gets out of school, and we will go find something to do in the big town of West Plains. Life is good!