Tag Archives: maine

Junior is back.

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Momma Chuck has been visiting off and on for a few weeks now and while I’m not sure if she’s moved back in under the man cave/barn… it’s a distinct possibility.

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I threw out some carrot shavings for her yesterday when low and behold…

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Junior showed up as well.

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Last year when Momma had her babies, there was a runt who was constantly by her side. We worried that he wouldn’t grow big enough to make it through the winter, but it looks like he did.

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Although having a pesky teenager following you around could get old quickly.

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Have shovel, still traveling.

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More trees were replaced/planted yesterday…. this time as far away from the house as is possible.

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And after all the rain we’ve had, I don’t think watering them will be necessary for a while.

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There’s a reason none of the trees my husband plants in our far back yard live and it’s called clay. While there’s nice topsoil near the house, our property slopes down to the woods and eventually to the banks of a river…. and around here that means clay. Saturated with water in the spring, cracked bone dry in the summer… but that doesn’t deter my husband. No sir.

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Two of these beauties were purchased and planted.

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Marrying an eternal optimist makes for a lot of work.

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Whether theses trees will last any longer than the previous elms, oaks or apples he planted is any one’s guess.

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Momma Chuck is in da house.

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It’s official… Momma Chuck is back, fresh out of hibernation and voraciously hungry.

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It seems she had no trouble remembering where the salad bar was located.

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And if you’re wondering how I know this is Momma Chuck and not one of the four babies she had under the barn last year…

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I’d say it’s the decided lack of that 18 hour bra I recommended last season.

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🤣

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I may have set a dangerous precedent.

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The husband’s weekly Sunday pool game is still in full swing and I fear I’ve doomed myself to a full day of cooking, serving and cleaning from here on out.

I’m hard wired to feed people when they visit, and though technically no one is visiting me… the men come over to play at 9:00am and don’t leave until 3:30 – 4:00pm which means lunch. Whipping up something in the crock pot works well because it meant less trips back and forth, and with no kitchen or running water in the man cave I’m not serving 3 course meals. But it also means I’m up and cooking at 5:00am every Sunday so it’s ready at noon. Back and forth to the barn with cutlery, plates, serving utensils etc. … setting it all up, feeding them, clearing up, running it all back to house to wash. This is not my idea of a relaxing weekend.

But the sweet little (competitive as hell) old man is a widower so now as well as feeding him lunch… I’m boxing up leftovers for him to take home.

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Creamy ham and noodle casserole was a hit last week. As was my plate of strawberry crinkle cookies I made the night before and had to post off limits before the husband ate them all.

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I keep telling the guys once summer heat is in full swing the meal train is apt to stop, although the widower’s disappointment is almost palpable. No one wants chicken and dumplings in July… and besides, I’m rapidly running out of crock pot recipes.

🥴

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Have shovel, will travel.

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Hard as it is to believe after the apple tree planting fiasco of 2021, my husband was back at it the other day … ripping up the dead apple twigs and filling the holes with bigger and better new trees.

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He came home with a beautiful flowering cherry I would have loved for the back lawn where I could see it every day….

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So naturally he planted it on the far side of the barn where it’s completely blocked by the building and out of line of sight from our house.

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It will however be prime viewing when playing pool in the man cave.

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It’s a pretty tree and was an immediate bee magnet. In no time flat they were circling and we were stepping away.

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I might just have to buy another for my viewing pleasure.

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Making himself at home.

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Our resident fox is feeling comfortable at the buffet.

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They’re such beautiful creatures and I love seeing him trot up from the woods every evening.

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While he comes for the seeds and nuts spilled from the bird feeders, I also feed him mealworms, apples and berries which he loves.

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And small breed, high protein, grain free dry dog food with taurine. It’s the closest I can come to the fox food they sell on UK Amazon but won’t ship to the United States. Boo to that.

I’m hoping if he makes himself at home the law of averages will let him cross paths with a certain… oh so scrumptious… red squirrel who shall remain nameless.

😈

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Epic Sangria fail.

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With warm weather approaching a lot of local bars have started serving white wine sangria and I’m making it my mission in life to try them all.

A girl has to have goals.

Not being a huge fan of the heavier red versions, I looked forward to this one…

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Kiwi, pear and apple? Yes please.

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I should have known something was off when it was served with an orange, and true to form this was the most horrible concoction I’d had in ages.

Do not put Vanilla vodka in Sangria. Ever.

Blech!

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That’s the ruination of perfectly good fruit.

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Mother Chucker

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Big momma woodchuck is out of hibernation and stuffing her face at a rapid pace.

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I’d thrown out bread for the birds earlier that morning but when I saw her arrive and start munching, I quickly gave her lettuce instead.

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You know, the head of iceberg lettuce my husband brought home from the store after I specifically wrote “green leaf, red leaf, Boston or romaine…. anything but iceberg!” on the grocery list.

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Even as hungry as momma chuck was….

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She left most of the tasteless crunchy white parts.

🤣

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Quack snack.

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You never know what kind of birds will show up at our feeders in the morning.

Cardinals? Check.

Bluebirds? Yup.

Ruby Throated Hummingbirds are back and I saw the first Baltimore Oriole yesterday. But this morning?

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It was a pair of Mallard ducks.

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They’re comical to watch as it’s mating season and the male follows closely behind the female everywhere she goes. She leads him on a merry chase and you know she enjoys it immensely.

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I am not a pioneer woman.

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Not traveling for the past 2 years has been tough. It seems we were just getting into the swing of navigating our time share resort catalog… culling the ordinary and finding some fabulous spots… and then Covid slammed the door. While I’d be up for getting back on the road, my husband is still hesitant so we’re sticking close to home for now. I’ve been slowly researching some New England escapes my spouse might be comfortable with and the other day I came across this:

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Let me state for the record… unequivocally and without a doubt… I am not a camper. I have absolutely zero pioneering spirit and require hot and cold running Egyptian cotton sheets.

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While I love nature, the outdoors and hiking during the day, ( before my knee injury, damn it ) I prefer to sleep in air conditioned comfort on a king sized pillow top not sweltering in a 12×6 wagon with mosquitoes large enough to carry you away.

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Trust me, it’s not. And I wouldn’t.

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The words magical wagon and camp grounds are not used in the same sentence, not in my world.

And when I heard they rent for $1,500 a night? Yeeha! That’s a hard pass.

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