Sunday Stills: Halloween

This is the largest pumpkin from our garden this year...well, to be honest, ever...and it was one that came up entirely on its own in the sweet potato bed. (Our best gardening is always accidental). It was harvested in early summer (which isn't normal) and it has since begun decomposing into this interesting face with big lips...kind of a happy goul.

Farmer Rick was sick all week and I've been making lots of homemade soup. Last night the solenoid in our heat pump got stuck--as it tends to do the first time we turn on the heater each season--so it was 36 degrees outside and we were basically running the air conditioner all night--frightening! Now I am sick again. We've spent the day trying to get it un-stuck to no avail so we've set up the electric blanket for tonight. It will likely be a couple days before the repair man can come to once again show me how easy it is to fix myself.

For a good scare visit Sunday Stills!

Water Canto

Dear Saint Isadore the Farmer
I don't believe we've met, seeing as how I'm not in your flock
but farmers are a family of sorts, so I thought you might
understand our predicament

The neighbor's new, deep well has so much pressure it keeps bursting hoses--theirs and ours. Farmer Rick repaired ours late the other night and connected it to the pumpkin patch--which we located at the furthest reaches of our property as recommended by permacultural practices, with the assumption they need little tending--HA!

Emily Dickinson said water is taught by thirst
yet our parched land can't seem to command the clouds
and our well is bone dry--nothing down there
but echoes of better times

After adjusting all the spray emitters to the new pressure, I got back to the source and discovered a huge loss of water at the repair site. One inquisitive touch sent parts flying and a geyser of water up my nose, drenching me before I could reach the lever to turn it off. Then, it was off to the tool shed to repair it again.

I thought I'd start with you--
kind to animals, patron saint of farmers and rural communities
--because I like the looks a saint with a shovel
and water springing forth

After completing the mend I had to walk back over to the pumpkin patch and reset all the emitters to yet another pressure. By now the 103 degree temperature has rendered the water in the black irrigation hoses to scalding. It's burning my hands and probably not making the plants too happy to have their thirst answered like this. I feel awful about it, but what can I do?

D.H. Lawrence said water is H2O,
hydrogen two parts, oxygen one, but there is also a third thing,
that makes water and nobody knows what that is
(I believe God knows)

Because of the mineral content that clogs the emitters, each one has to first be turned on full blast to clear the holes, then turned down to reach only the plant roots, no more. But the last one scalds my hand and I inadvertently let go, blowing the emitter cap to the heavens or at least into the surrounding grass where I cannot find it. There is now another geyser and I scramble to turn off that lever.

Who made it follow the path
of least resistance, yet strong enough to carve a canyon
there is a lesson in there somewhere for us
if we would stop to ponder

I go in search of our stash of irrigation parts and do not have another. The nearest one is a three hour round trip away. I apologize to the pumpkins for our lack of preparedness. It is now noon, and I have spent the better half of a day spraying myself in the face while my vegetables are wilting.

Loren Eiseley said if there is magic on this planet,
it is contained in water, but I think it is spirit he's talking about
like the angel of the flower contained in each seed
that brings forth the fruit

I spend another half a day getting the parts, and a few extra. Now a pond from the back pressure begins to form in the neighbors yard where the spigot lives, where this kind gift of water originates from, where their daughter is getting married this weekend. We decide a solution is perhaps to turn down the pressure on her side and up the pressure on my side. This means going back to the pumpkin patch and readjusting all the emitters. It is 104 degrees outside, the water much hotter. Both the plants and I groan accepting the only water we have.

Your prayer is for all Creation
--the fields, the plants, living water, fresh air, all creatures,
love for one another--this has been my prayer, too
we both know the worth of water

If there ever was a time Farmer Rick wanted to talk me in to relocating to a cooler climate, like the one he grew up in, this would be it. I'm frustrated and exhausted, and I can't even find the towel to throw it in. I'm hot, thirsty, sweaty and a magnet for west Texas dirt. I'd like to cry but I don't think I'm hydrated enough to make the tears.

So, I'm throwing some dirt in the well
tierra bendita that came from the Santuario de Chimayo a place of miracles
asking for clouds and rain to keep our well replenished
and our souls succulent

The well service calls to say, no, they can't deepen a hand dug well. Just to get the rig out to dig another shallow well is $4,500, but eight others already called before me and there's no guarantee in this alluvial gravel. All the new wells drilled around us are at 800 feet or $15,000 dollars deep.

And if your compassion can be so moved, Saint Isador the Farmer,
for our fields, plants, and creatures, to drive your spade
we'd be very thankful for the water!

The Great Pumpkin

Today we planted this Giant Pumpkin seed that I received from gardener Jim, who got it from a woman from Tennessee. It came from a 790 lb pumpkin. He suggested we only let one pumpkin develop and to be sure we have a pallet under it so we can move it with a fork lift.

Tonight we planted it in the garden by the light of the 97% full moon, with the Myotis bats swooping overhead. So, I'm expecting a 766 pounder!

What is it and how can I stop whoever you are from eating it?

Wish I could tell you this was my latest fiber art project as the textures and colors are fascinating. It's certainly inspirational. Can you guess what it is?


Instead of being creative I've been trying to deter varmints from the cucurbit patch we planted across the creek in May. As soon as the vines began to sprawl we noticed a few nibbled off and instantly suspected the resident cottontail. My husband valiantly erected a knee-high bunny fence around the area in a day. The vines blossomed, and hordes of bumble bees arrived.

Each morning we would survey the patch with our coffee cups in hand, smiling over the beautiful melons, winter squash, and pumpkins that were forming.


Did you guess pumpkin? They are a French heirloom with a hard to pronounce name. Here's the whole fruit from which the detail was taken. These babies are really tactile and fun to explore with hand and camera! I just hope they taste good, too.

Back at the patch, we noticed something was now eating Hokkaido squash and Tigger Melons. We didn't think it could be the bunny, so we placed the half eaten orbs into a large Have-a-Heart trap expecting a raccoon. But the culprit(s) continued to feast in the trap without springing it.

The thief was obviously smaller. We pushed a Ketch-all into the mouth of the other trap, and the next morning we had the cutest, plump field mouse in possession. He/she was relocated across the river. We proceeded to catch two more, but unfortunately the fire ants found them before we did. If you have ever experienced fire ant bites, you will know this is not a preferable way to go.

The damage was continuing to increase, and we were running out of patience, ideas, and time. I remembered WalMart sells fox urine in its hunting department to mask the scent of sportsmen (or, at least that's what they claim). Wouldn't that smell deter a bunch of pesky field mice?

As we sprayed the patch I tried not think about caged foxes being fed diuretics whose urine was probably being collected in third world countries by children, now being sold by uninsured low wage American or illegal workers putting mom-and-pop fox urine stores out of business. When your pumpkins are being devoured, you might have to briefly turn a blind eye to political correctness.

My husband said he could smell it, but I couldn't. Apparently the mice couldn't either because they continued their nightly gorging. Somehow they knew it smelled of trickery. Too bad Bunny Foo Foo was not bopping them on their heads!

Then, something altogether unexpected happened....a grey fox showed up inside the fenced patch to eat the mice! We had all been tricked!

From the looks of the half eaten things, our cucurbits were ripe. This is what was harvested yesterday. Not bad for our first attempt at pumpkins even if we lost half to the wild residents. We just hope the fox does not discover our chickens.