House Husbandry

Just Peachy

Since the tradition started last year, I felt obligated to do my part to keep the tradition alive. With last years attendees out of town for my father-in-laws birthday in North Carolina, the mantle fell upon me to fetch the peaches for the eventual syrup and jam and associated mess.

My morning did not start out so that the rendezvous point would be easily achieved. My son (the original and younger of the Chick-Fil-A boys) needed to be at work at 9:00. The meeting point was 25 or more minutes away from the restaurant. (This was assuming good traffic and none of the dreaded “special weekend construction projects”.) After picking up cash from the ATM (they don’t take cards at the orchard), I got him to work. The traffic was very cooperative, but not too cooperative. I pulled into the Cracker Barrel at about 9:25. My friend is not know for being early. In fact, rarely does he ever arrive early. If not for his very disciplined spouse, he would have an even worse reputation. A quick text to him, gave me the expected and undesired response:

Me: Here
Friend: On the way
Me: How long?
Friend: Well, about 20-30 minutes or so.

Since he lives about half an hour away, it was clear what happened.

I am known to go almost nowhere without my book. Considering the company I keep, this does keep me from going crazy. Fortunately, he did arrive within his allotted time. He had to transfer water jugs to my car (we wanted to have room for the peaches). I grabbed my boots and hopped in his car. The car we were blocking in was patience with us as we loaded up and moved out.

The driving conversation to the orchard was light. We were driving up 35 heading to Oklahoma. My daughters have attended quite a few cross country meets up this way. My friend encouraged me to “lie” to him as to when he should arrive at all future meetings to try and compensate for his inability to properly plan his time. I poo-pooed the idea, but did not entirely dismiss it.

We eventually drove off the main road with a country kind of zig-zagging toward the Red River Peach Orchard. Besides many scrap yards and other businesses that often accumulate in somewhat rundown areas, we met these guys by the road.

By the time we arrived at the orchard, it was nearly 11:00. The cool weather was supposed to turn hot later. Since we went north and it was still early in the day, we hoped to have our buckets full before the day got too much older. Lots of things to see there. These are the things that stood out:

As soon as I got there, I went to the bathroom. The bathroom was fine. After washing my hands, the towel was a shared hand towel. And, tucked in where the towel was hooked was a spider nearly 3 inches across (not the body, but from leg to leg). He/she scurried up the wall. They were willing to share. Being a country boy, I dried my hands and felt inclined to warn the Asian lady w/ child who followed me in the line.
We received buckets to put our peaches into. They were not the cleanest things. My only real instruction was if you fill the bucket, it will be about 15 lbs. Having been told to get 30 lbs, the math worked out pretty easily. Once both my friend and I had our buckets, we went straight back even though we were told the pickings might be a little better behind where we parked. As we wandered into the peach trees, my friend who had been along when the tradition began the prior year commented on how the peaches appeared quite a bit smaller. The “lack of pruning” theory was proposed by me. We later found out the drought was the largest part of the problem.
SOOOOO many peaches on the ground. We understood we were not part of the “early pickers”. In fact due to our schedule, the tradition would have died if I have not able to go on this particular weekend. Whether the peaches fell directly to the ground from being overly ripe OR they were picked and discarded after a bad spot or worm hole was found OR they were picked and found to be not quite ripe enough to meet the pickers needs, the accumulation of peaches was fermenting very nicely. (Not being much for alcohol, I did not enjoy the smell.) The smell was so pervasive, it made the whole experience quite a bit less enjoyable. Whether it was whole peaches or peaches trampled under many different feet, the smell will be one of the first things I will think of when preparing for my next visit to the orchard.
I am not sure if the phenomenon was worse this year than other years (the owner assured me it happens to some extent every year). Nearly every tree had branches snapped off from the trunk. A few trees were completely leveled. None of their branches exceeded 3-4 feet in height. All of them completely snapped off from the base. The peaches remaining on the branches may have still been ripening. I chose to pick fruit more solidly plugged into the mother tree.
A.) The wildlife did find its need to be orchard dwellers, too. (bird, hoppers, spiders, worm laying bugs) The grasshoppers were hard to miss every step within the knee high grass disrupted some gorging or other malevolent intent. The well-fed jumpers were found covering trees and gnawing annoyingly on many beautiful peaches just as if they were doing that licking techniques older brothers do as they claimed their pieces of chicken etc. Once the “mark” was noticed, I know I wouldn’t pick them. There were more than one broken branch covered in grasshoppers. Other than the obvious consuming of leaves and marking the fruit, their congregating by the dozens made no sense to me. (Are they telling some gossip or just ridiculing the orchard owners for letting them so dominate the place?) A person I spoke to the other morning said chickens are good to have around when the grasshoppers are so thick. Not sure how all of those exoskeletons would have affected the eggs…..a little extra bounce in the yolk…??? B.) The birds were not being the natural predators they should have been! Yes, chickens could have been imported. The dining was plentiful, but the diners were few. There was one lonely dove who was being a good mom to whatever she sat upon. C.) Many of the bugs were assumed to be present. It was only in the later stages there presence was fully felt. Many peaches appeared perfect until the little hole was noticed in the otherwise nearly perfect complexion. In most cases, these nearly sinless tree spawn were tossed into the fermentation basin. Of those that made it into bucket and eventually home, any mercy shed on the imperfect fruit was regretted. In many cases the pit had a fine-wiggly friend tickling the inside of the peach’s inner pit-iness.
As we walked into the orchard of peach, our eyes were most immediately drawn to the fruits at eye level. As our eye filters became better capable at zeroing in on the “better” rather than the “good”, we realized much of the good was not going to find admittance into our buckets without a little help. Assuming my telekinetic skills were not choosing this moment to reveal themselves to me, it looked like a ladder or climbing skills were going to be necessary. (Based on many of the trees inability to hold securely to their limbs, climbing seemed to be a decision of last resort.) My friend mentioned the orchard last year seemed to have multiple ladders running around. (If this tradition continues next year, the phrase “this year” needs to be much more present. Based on what I experienced this year, a repeat next year will make picking peaches from a bin at a grocery store a much more rewarding experience.) As we got to the back corner of the orchard, a few ladders (maybe 3?) were hidden in the branches of a few of the trees. As we decided which trees to set the ladders up under, the closer we got to the trees, the more difficult it was to find a location where the “top hangers” could be collected. Once the ladder was placed and the obligatory couple of peaches were sacrificed to the fermentation pit by the ladders careless movement, we climbed the ladder and looked at the fruit at eye level. Somehow many of the succulent orbs of flavor became much less desirable treasures when our hands met them. Of course, much of the fruit was deemed at minimum good, and it took up residence in our buckets. The most difficult challenge was claiming a ladder after our first bucket was emptied. The trees at the front of the orchard seemed to have some fruity family members who were destined for a fruit cobbler. My task of securing a ladder to make their wish true ended up taking 10 minutes–the orchard had filled up and others desiring to see if the top fruit might be everything they fantasized it to be. After pushing an older couple off the ladder and telling them peaches were the original forbidden fruit (not really), I wandered back to my friend. The picking finished pretty well with the exception of constantly having to push the would be thieves off or our ladder. (We did pass it on to they guy who asked first.)
As we checked out, I openly admitted to eating a peach while picking. I had picked a peach with a bad spot. The guy who would eventually take over our ladder when we left, told me to open it up and see it was bad in the middle. Once it was opened, I saw the peach, despite its less than perfect complexion, was perfect for quenching my peach appetite. Apparently, the admission of this fact granted me a discount. My friend whose peaches weighed less than mine ending up paying a little more for his box of peaches.

The drive back was similar to the drive to the orchard, but different. My friend can talk to anybody about anything for an almost endless period of time. So, a little drive was barely a challenge for him. We parted knowing the job of blanching the peaches would be something we both would have to do alone.

While driving home, I did cross an overpass full of citizens waging a poster campaign against illegal aliens. I did honk in support. If they knew about the peach orchard and all of the peaches going unpicked, I wonder if they would have found some other way to spend their Saturday afternoon?

Sod Replacement Therapy

As a relocated midwesterner, sod was never much of an issue when there were any problems with the lawn. We knew the rain wasn’t going to be much of an issue, and we sprinkled some grass seed (likely blue grass) down in the spring, and were pretty confident any “naughty lawn” places would grow back in nicely.

In Texas, we do not have this luxury. We need to buy a piece (or pieces)of St Augustine sod (one of really only a couple of choices in lawn greenness in Texas) to fix the bad spots. Due to our winter being extra cold and somewhat dry, it seems the ugly spot ratio was much higher than normal in most lawns this spring. And, as much as we want the HOA award for best yard, we will just have to be satisfied not being the house people say, “as least it is not our yard.”

As I did some of my own sodding this year, these are techniques used by myself and others:

Plugs: This is like one of the pictures above. As I view it, there are two ways to get to effectively perform the “plugs” technique. First, you go back to a healthy part of grass in your back yard. You take up a few hunks–not too many from one spot, but taking a few from here and there. You then transplant these pieces to the less than appealing area–likely the front yard somewhere. Secondly, these “plugs” may come from the dissecting and dismembering of a purchased piece of sod. Somehow, you can’t seem to commit to using a whole piece of sod in a particular area, so you spread out your luck over a larger area with more pieces. Certainly one of them will take off!
Lay in: Although not described above, this method is more an approach than a specific technique. When new sod is placed in your yard, an area is created for it. The old, dead grass is cleaned up and the new piece of sod should fit right in. You may backfill a little once the “sod-space” is removed to account for any low spots, but the goal is to get the new sod as close to the Texas dirt/sand/ants as possible.
Lay on: This approach competes with the “lay in” method. And, maybe “layout” is a better term to describe it. It seems this technique is pretty popular–likely because the LACK of work necessary. If you have a spot with dead grass, there is no problem. Just put the sod right on top of the dead grass. It makes it obvious to all who pass that you have new sod in your lawn, and if anybody wants to bury a body, these kind of lawns are ideal!
Kill it all: This seemed to be less popular, but I did see at least one neighbor who used it. Our yards are laid out with a little grass next to the street, the sidewalk, and then the rest of the front yard. Apparently one neighbor was SO disgusted with his appalling lawn and the ugly glances from those passing his house, he decided it was better to admit full defeat then to try and claim partial victory. It appears he used a weed/grass killer on the whole section between the street and the sidewalk. And, once it all died, He probably had 50 or so pieces of sod that found a new home in his yard. Unfortunately, it appears some of the sod has also chosen to go “brown” rather than stay green. I hope they bounce back before the summer is out—good luck to him!

Irrigation is a key to any sod replacement therapy technique. Due to tweaking of the sprinklers, I hope my sod will claim green as its favorite color for the rest of the summer. If not, we can see if the therapy works better after summers heat has fizzled. Or, we can embrace the cactus and other “lovely” plants that thrive on low moisture OR we can move….

Plenty Salty Here

We love our pool, but it does have a few maintenance jobs I am not fond of. I survived one of them a couple of weeks ago. The pool filters got all plugged up, and the pump stopped working. This was cause for an emergency filter-spray-out party. The girls get their suits on and help get all the junk out of the filters. It takes some time, but we usually do it in the spring and fall, so we have it down pretty well. Its urgency may sneak up on us, but we know how to handle it.

My issue of the other day was not quite as simple. About 3 years ago, we put in a salt water pool system. It saves having to mess with chlorine. The chemicals are pretty easy to deal with (We take a sample to the local Leslie’s. They test the sample, and tell us what to do with the water. They tell us what order to put the chemicals in if we have been excessively negligent.), and the bags or salt are usually the only big thing to worry about.

Recently, the light on the salt converter had been reading the salt was low. Knowing it had been off a bit in the past, I ignored it for a couple of weeks. As the red (green is good) persisted, I finally gave in and yielded to its request. Within a few hours of putting in the bag, I was glad to see the indicator go green. However, the green soon went back to red. Getting the water tested confirmed my concern–the indicator was broken. Our salt was about 20% higher than it should be. A call to the pool pump installation company put them in agreement with the previous testing. So, now we get to the picture…..

Within the salt converter are little fins where the salt is converted to chlorine. The cleaning process involves muriatic acid. It has to sit on the fins for a bit to digest/eat/loosen the buildup on the fins. After getting creative and accidentally flicking some of the acid on my once dark purple t-shirt, the muriatic acid did its work. Unfortunately, after a few hours, the indicator still showed low. Since the pool company mentioned a possible need to re-calibrate the salt indicator, I let them know.

As with many things, time does fix them. And, 24 hours after, the indicator is working fine, my shirt has regained some of its original purple, and I have captured this ordeal to supplement what every deteriorating memory challenges may await me.

Knuckle Injuries

Trying to be a good husband last weekend, I committing to moving some plants and planting some new plants in the flower bed. While executing the plan, I neglected to plan for the injuries that so often accompany these landscaping moments.

The knuckle on the middle finger was created while using a pick to try and take out a very large root from our now non-existent magnolia tree. While lifting up the pick handle, my finger, although wearing a glove, became wedged between the handle and a barely visible sprinkler head. The other injury (on the top knuckle of the pointer finger on the same hand) was caused when I grabbed a tool out of the tool rack. This finger was slit by a sharp edge of one of the other tools. The “how” of the injuries is not really important. It is the challenge of living with injured knuckles until they heal that is the real point.

These are the things injured knuckles have made more difficult:

Tucking in clothes: Most people don’t tuck anymore, but I still do. So, it can be a knuckle-bumping opportunity.
Hand washing: The washing is not ALL bad. The soap may burn a little. It is the drying that is the worst. The knuckles tend to get a little abuse during the drying process. And, being a little nutty about germs, does cause frequent washings.
Flossing: My flossing technique has me wrapping the string around my top knuckles of both pointer fingers. While doing the “flossing” thing, the injury does get irritated. I am a big boy and can handle it. Finger injuries are just not forgotten while they heal.
Tying shoes: Again, fingers can be swapped while the knots are being made. Until the knuckles are healed, I am reminded many times during the day that my fingers are VERY valuable.
Digging into front pockets: I have to be careful here so I don’t dig into my pocket with the knuckles unprotected. If I dig in with the knuckles “tucked in”, they don’t rub against the inside of the pocket. If I don’t tuck, the scab is scraped off leaving a trickle of blood coming from the re-injured area.
Going outside when it is cold and your knuckles dry out: This happened just this morning. Even with gloves on, my knuckles bled. They were so dry a small amount of blood trailed off in the knuckle wrinkles.
Buckling seatbelts: It will hurt more depending on which hand the knuckle injury is on. In my case, OWWWWWWW!!!!

Do I mean to whine? I am trying to do a sub-par Andy Rooney impression? No, I am just doing a brain dump and capturing a few thoughts. I appreciate you reading. I will try to do better next time!

Proactive Coke Rewards

Today’s outing (No, I didn’t drink all of these. It is recycle day, and I was going through everyones bins to collect the points. I do have some pride–I won’t dig too deep or dig down too many layers if the bins are stacked) consisted of 4 large cases, 10 small cases, & 9 lids. It almost cost me a set of keys (they fell out of my jacket pocket while I was scrounging).

What are Coke Rewards worth? Besides my wife’s undying gratitude, they buy her free Shutterfly albums. With the nearly 200 points accumulated today, a large dent was put in the next album.

Happy wife – happy life!

Somethings are still almost free…

We have lived in our house for nearly 10 years. And, as all things start to wear out, we have experienced a few of these issues lately. And, surprisingly, some of them were free….

The first one was NOT free – Our ice maker on the refrigerator has continued to work fine. (We developed a theory about the cleaning lady and how her appearances correlated to the dispensers performance, but that is not the subject of this post.) BUT, we had an extensive period of having to drink water from the sink when the water dispenser (yes, it dispenses filtered water) moved from “fickle” to absolute revolt. And, after procrastination, two visits from 2 gentlemen who had less than a rocket science education and the parting with a few dollars, it was fixed.
Keys can be replaced – The Gruenbaums like to take vacations. And, when we do, our kids rebel if they need to sit on the suitcases. (And, they seem to not be as safe when buckled to a suitcase.) So, we often have our luggage carrier mounted to the top of the van. And, this has proven to be a very good solution for keeping parents and kids happy. However, since the luggage carrier needs keys to lock it, it is essential that the keys be located when the carrier is being used. Unfortunately, we have had the opportunity to test bungie cords as a key substitute, and they are lacking in many areas. When necessity dictates, a phone number is often available to provide hope to those who are concerned their inability to pack lightly enough. And, as I found out recently, it is usually as simple as providing the number engraved on the lock. The charge for news keys is FAR less than a new luggage carrier.
I need a sprayer to spray off the dishes – I will never be accused of loving to wash dishes, but marriages are not always about my happiness. So, I do find it necessary to get in there occasionally and “bust out a few”. Prior to the spraying trigger breaking, this was no problem. After it broke, my appearance before the dual porcelain dispenser of cleanliness were much fewer. As I tried to alleviate this problem by visiting hardware stores and searching websites, I did not have much luck. The phone again came to the rescue. On the back of the faucet is a style number and after correctly guessing “Almond” as our color, we had a new sprayer 2 days later. (This is not the venue to discuss style changes since we bought the original 10 years ago and the difficulty in changing the hose out under the cramped sink.)
Shiny hardware is important – What started out as a small leak on the top of the foundation in the basement resulted in us getting a storm door on the back door. (Since I have been understating quite a bit, I will just say our builder wasn’t perfect.) After the door had been on awhile, the outside hardware began to tarnish. Since tarnish doesn’t bother me, it didn’t get my attention until it stopped latching entirely. (Others in my household to get more upset with tarnish, though. ) And, after visiting the same hardware store and being told none of the hardware matched, I was told, “Call the manufacture and give them the serial #. And, if though the latch doesn’t work, tell them it is tarnished, and they should replace it.” And, they did–I think. The new hardware should arrive within the week–NO CHARGE.

House maintenance items don’t always come in such bundles. But, when they do next time, I will be much quicker to grab the phone, and look for answers on what is broken.

Walking Down Life's Road With Andy