Botanic Gardens, Santa Barbara

Chromometer, an antique method to measure the blue in the sky.

Spring day rates a million at SB botanic garden, sharing the joy... 

Spring garden

 I feels like spring in the garden

I'm dreaming of all the ways I can bring my flowers outside and to my new balcony. I hope some of these images will inspire you to plant in different types of pots. Use a log, use recycled objects, hunt for some free containers and have fun.

Fall Simmer

I love Fall

Simmer garlic, onions, peppers and squash...

Vegetables picked before I let the chickens out at dawn.

Shush don't point to poultry there's feed in the lower garden.

You'll find it strange if I tell the names of the chooks.

Dixie is a speckled Sussex. She's first. 

Dixie leads a chick band, though she isn't the largest or a rooster. 

Dixie is the daughter of my neighbor's male from his rogue visit.

Yesterday I picked the last pumpkins up from the raised beds, 

they stand guard outside the front gate. 

Chickens will eat pumpkins before Halloween if inside.

Last night coyotes yelped and hollered at three A.M. 

With mag flashlight in hand, 

I went out to have a meeting with them.
They know I have a shotgun.

"Want me to drive down to the barn and settle this?" I yell.

They gather, silent. No snickers about my nightgown.
Answer came from Dr's barn in the canyon where 

puppies cry and the big dogs growl.

Ursula Major and Minor point towards

solar lights in the valley below. 

Glow shares from stars to crescent moon,
platinum against a cloudless dome.

Coyotes look up with me in that moment.

The pack's paws crunch on ash leaves,
scattered on rocks, now become softer.

Coy wolves leave without argument. 

"Try luck with bucks grazing in the oak grove," 

I whisper to their long gone tails. 

Copyright October 8 2016 Caroline Gerardo

Recipe:

3 garlic cloves cut very fine

1 whole onion (type you have) chopped well

1 bell pepper chopped up (more coarse than the first two)

1 carrot chopped fine

saute above in cheap olive oil on medium about a tablespoon of oil

1 cup chopped squash - you pick the type - but peel it

add squash to saute and cook a minute

add 2 cups vegetable stock or chicken stock (don't tell my chickens about the stock)

tablespoon thyme leaves yes not teaspoon

1/2 teaspoon oregano

tiny sea salt to taste start with 1/4 teaspoon depending if stock is salted then none

tablespoon of soy sauce

hot peppers to taste (this amount and type up to YOU)

Allow to simmer

do you have a hot soup blender? use it to cream half the soup

You don't have a soup blender then use your fork best you can

If you like creamy add 1/2 cup greek nonfat yogurt at the end just as you serve

slice basil in threads and place about a tablespoon on top

Yummy soup is ready

Happy #NationalFarmDay

My neighbor's pen

Squirrel War

Shared first tomato from the ranch today.
Piggish to slice it into a salad.
Co-workers enjoy the peppery
heavenly joy of organic produce.
I did not work this hard to feed ingrates.

Included here are pretty photographs but the remains of this
post chronicles my war on squirrels who killed my baby chickens. If you're squeamish, or you love fuzzy tails, or
want the second amendment appealed, don't read. This is war on a nasty pest.
Almost eighty days in my new home
Compost piles cook, 17 tons of oak mulch disappears as I wheelbarrow it in place,
hugelkultur shrinks peppers climb on top.
Invested weeks of physical labor.
Don't mind the birds stealing half
the seeds I plant but these are murderous
critters that kill for sport (they don't eat the
chickens just bite them multiple punctures.)

What God created grey ground squirrels?
I'm losing a war with rodents.
I'm not in Aleppo without food or water;
but it's harder than planned.


I purchased these "solutions":
Haveaheart- zero results
what was I going to do with live angry pests?
After reading the instructions about drowning
them I gave the trap to my neighbor (3 miles down
the gravel road). He smiled about the battle.

Squirrelinator -the  male with striped panels
is able to open the door for his friends so they
can enter, enjoy a snack, relax in the shade, and exit.

Rat traps- 3 versions X 9 = no catches but one
empty jar of Skippy peanut butter

Wildlife Control Tube trap-
have reset the trigger nine times, last
time I didn't refill with peanuts as I think I
am feeding the offspring. Zero catches.

Airsoft gun, a Winchester one
I am able to hit a marshmallow on top of a can
at 90 yards BUT the creatures see the gun.
For hours I sat with a camo scarf over my head.
A cardboard wall in front hides my body.
Dark sweet Slemit cherries and peanuts wait in the
meadow.  Dam squirrels see me.

I upgraded my rifle to a better 12 gauge with
bird shot. Neighbor ranchers chuckle when I
hike up the mountain with the gun slung
on my back.
After practicing and becoming expert, I'm ready.
Buggers hide from the sound when I open the locked case.

The squirrels seem to rise at 11:00 AM then saunter home.
Rats with mink tails now work on more nests and get into
my attic.  They are asleep at 5:00 P.M.. It's a leisurely life.
There are plenty of tomatoes, okra, eggplant and squash
to gobble up and bury for later.
This morning I leave the ranch early for the office.
There one the hood of my car. A fat bushy tailed girl
stands upright eating a ripe tomato. I swear she flipped me off.

Don't suggest poison. Everyone says they are too smart, and
it will be the Great Pyrenees dogs that eat vile second hand.

How do I encourage Coopers Hawks and Red Tailed Hawks
to visit and stay?

See vase squirrels broke

Ranch Home Off Grid

Front yard BEFORE PHOTO Weed cutting

My new life on the ranch. Off grid.

Days roll along stealing time. Long lists on yellow pads flow as rivers. Try to limit daily chores to achievable ends. Lists reappear next day to be re-written. Good, keeping mind and body busy.

I grieve loss of Honey. Her presence at home for fourteen plus years was sweet. She’s the kindest soul in the universe. Because of moving and repairing new digs I'm home more often. The hours when she followed me about as our family Nanny ache in my back. I pretend I still have requirements to get up early to take her out to relieve herself. But she isn’t here on earth.

The lot below the house is cleared. Weed whacking the acre took two days. My hands hurt from the vibration. Running a mower over land untended would toss boulders into the blades and ruin the machine. This is gloves on hands shovel work. With the first course of cut, pile, and dig out roots now black tarps blanket the soil. On top of the inky river cardboard boxes from moving add weight. Cover the soil to kill seeds and make it uncomfortable for rabbits, voles, rats and snakes.

Next duty is securing the chain link fence. Before moving I toyed with cutting truck loads of willow branches and weaving waddle fences to hide the industrial appearance of metal wire. I have elaborate drawings of my gorgeous waddle fences as if I’m in a temperate Irish hillside. Those dreams are on hold. For now it is urgent to secure the fence from the National Forest and her critters. Small pests attract predators who pose real dangers. I’ve seen two rattlesnakes, a bobcat, and a mountain lion. Other creatures- couple male deer, coyotes, rabbits and raccoon s are visible but less ominous. On the yellow to do list is to dig an eight inch trench under the chain link fence, add fine gauge wire under and up in an L shape then bury with concrete and rocks.

Blair and I picked up pullets over the hill at Kohoots. She didn’t want to mail order baby chicks. She thought it cruel to ship them across the country in a cardboard box. I didn’t have the heart to tell her, and I don’t really know but I think the fuzz balls are born in a hatchery. Our main ranch has egg layers. We plan for a small flock of chicken pets who are interested in eating bugs up at the house. Daughter is set on raising Silkies and mild mannered Polish. She tells me as if reading from the Farmer’s Almanac, “Bantams means small home pet style chickens, it’s not a breed Mom.”

I Will post photographs of the baby chicks today.

I’m pleased with my make do clothes line. Again I researched then adapted plans to real life. Amazon has numerous upright cage clothes lines. Cost around two hundred dollars to four hundred. Forget it. I read a lovely blog post about Amish clothes lines. Ah, the aroma of summer in sheets and the music of children laughing as they hand their Momma pins. Stop. Okay so I had some 2 X 4’s left over from repairing the chicken coops. These long poles will stand in the rear of the house to hold up my three dollar Wallmart canvas line. Not as romantic as a pulley system from my kitchen window, but functional for now. Cost for clothes line -$3.00. I will make a rock step to access the hillside in coming months, for now there is the old ladder. (Reminds me about accidents on ladders…) Plenty of rocks here, perhaps this land was an ancient river bed?

After driving around abandoned lots across Ortega Highway looking for their office I contacted Sierra Compost. Her email says, “we closed the commercial lot, no longer have offices for cost savings.” Sierra Compost will deliver five yards when I'm done with the fence security next week.

Big on the list is to install phone reception. Cell phone isn’t working at home. I bought two different boosters (junk doesn't work.) Called ATT 17 times from my office. They say they will send me an operable micro something to boost the cell service. According to Public Utilities Commission since they are my only emergency phone possible they should provide access. It remains suspenseful IF the booster box shows up at Post Office Box.

What else shall I share on my list? Son comes home from college next week. Blair sorting her boxes emptied. Living room disorganized. Paintings wait to be hung. Plumbing issues ninety percent operational. Losing the war on critters.

BUT having fun! No electric bill, no so Cal Gas bill, no Cox cable bill and debt free.

Much love from my new home, the Rancho - Off Grid

Copyright 6/5/2016 Caroline Gerardo

C G

Front yard before I moved in

Front yard organic solarizing the weeds and seeds

Black plastic tarps kill weeds

Simple clothes line

Add caption

Peony

Peonies Poem

Sweet peas open over hillsides of the dump.

A closed landfill, named for a historic battle 

where Natives buried unaccounted.

Methane feeds flowers, glory sunset, 

launching torches of perfume.

Peonies are my 'besties;  

I've rose patents

certificate Master Gardener, 

but children won't listen

when I strum Richie Blackmore.

Peonies don't care for heavy metal.

Farmer's Almanac spouts herbaceous  

require certain cool nature.

My parents were screamers.

Never hit mine. 

My knee required stitches, 

after two weeks 

dentist said, 

"OOH, too late for pediatrician,

sewing was needed."

Wounds heal with care - not time.  

Treasures prefer relaxing Epsom baths.

Ghosts jump from 

blue plastic tarps brittle, pillows

and bobs needing recycling.

I worked, planned, cried, 

worked planned

did I do enough 

by myself?

Peonies 

Please

tell 

them

your

secrets.

Caroline Gerardo copyright 3/28/2016 Peony Poem