Seattle drought, pirates and princesses, crooked chicks,peeing in the woods,mean rooster attack, home movies

Drought in Seattle. Who would have thought that we would ever hear those words?  Its killing my garden. I mean it really is killing my garden. I normally plant  a lot of cool weather veggies that grow well in the PNW.  Broccoli, spinach,lettuce, snow peas are all close to fail this year.  Squashes  and cucumbers  are doing fabulous.  Green beans are hit and miss depending on where I planted them. All the berries this year are dry and  tart.  I cant say  that warmer weather is doing  the gardeners in the PNW any good.   None of my gardening neighbors are having any luck with their carrots this year.   As for me? I'm wilting as well. Once it  hits 90 degrees,  all I can do is sit in a puddle of my own sweat and dream of the day  it is overcast and 78 degrees.  The kids came for an extended visit  during July. They have been in one of the southern states for the last 7 years and the weather was to hot even for them.
While they were here I incubated a few eggs for  the little ones.  Best choice ever.  Out of 6 eggs, 3  developed to  maturity.  I was surprised at the results.   The first one was a pretty little  blue laced wyandotte.  The second one took a full 24 hours to hatch and has some issues. Everything on her is a little bit crooked. I was concerned that she would/would not survive but, here we are at one month and she is  thriving. Not sure how I feel about that.  The last one was a complete surprise.  A coal black chick with a white butt.  Jimmys  itty bitty mean rooster is  obviously the daddy. Bantam roosters are not supposed to be able to do that with full size hens.   We named them Daffodil, Rosie (the crooked one) and Snowbutt.  And that's what happens  when you let a three year old name chickens.  In a couple of days  the three new ones will be moving outside to  climatise in the  integration pen before joining the  others.  The  leghorns I picked up  early in the spring are doing well.  They bonded with Arnie pretty early and he watches over them.  They should be laying by the end of august.
July was delightful at Mystic Cedars.  While the grownups were busy  grown-upping the little ones were enjoying  Mystic Cedars  at its finest.  By week two we had developed a routine of  walking the yard daily and snacking on berries, plums and whatever else we could forage for.  We fed the chickens and hunted for eggs.  We put a couple of swings in the trees and built a cardboard castle fit for any princess to play in.    Papa Jimmy decided  the castle needed to be besieged by pirates (guess who the pirate was) and built two cannons out of five gallon  buckets, one for the castle and one for  the pirates.  He then showed  a two year old and a 3 and half year old how to throw rocks at grownups.  Papa Jimmy is a terrible influence and must be kept from small children.  Except  the small children idolized him and followed him everywhere which is how the  oldest learned to  pee in the bushes.  Papa Jimmy neglected to instruct her..... that for effective  peeing in the woods,  one must first  pull down ones pants. Her mom was not happy with that particular tutorial.   Papa Jimmy also found them  a nice patch of dry, sandy dirt for them to play in, which resulted in their first ever hosing off, before they were allowed in the house.  It took a good week for Jimmy to realize that they were following him everywhere and peeking around corners to see what he was doing, which is how they found his secret chocolate stash.  Marlow was in  heaven while they were here. He followed the little ones everywhere vacuuming up  their toddler-food shrapnel.  He dined on spilled mac n cheese,  abandoned pb&j's (and sometimes not abandoned) pieces of hotdog and  many other  foods he would not normally have access to.   For the first two days  after they left, he refused his kibble and waited under the table for treasures that wouldn't drop again until next summer.  Did I worry about him not eating? Not this time.   Did I feel sorry him? Not really?  I figured when he got hungry enough , he would eat.  He did.
The cats, of course, pretty much disappeared while they were here.  Nothing terrifies a cat more than  a tiny,high pitched voice, exclaiming excitedly...'KITTY!!!!!!!!'.
Many adventures were had at Mystic Cedars this July including a large family BBQ.  I need to stop here and apologize to my sister-in-law .  Jimmy decided at some point  during the BBQ, to add to the chaos by letting  the big chickens out.  My poor, unsuspecting, sister-in-law  was strolling   the back yard when Arnie jumped out  from behind a bush  and attacked her.  I hate that bird. The screaming  brought us all running to the rescue and  she wasn't injured but, still... I'm sorry!
Does anybody want a really mean teeny tiny rooster? For free? I'll even bring him to your house. 

And now time for  some home movies... I hope. I've never tried to add a video to my blog so I hope it works. This isnt everyone at the BBQ.  Most of them were scattered all over the property and a few even wandered down to the creek but, this video will give you the flavor of our  get together.

Rooster attack, I told you so, Bad wife, Rags to riches karma

This week at Mystic Cedars:  You will be happy to know that the second rooster (the one that fought so hard to get away from being dinner) was rescued by Nurse Jenny.   She read of his plight in my last blog and intervened to change his destiny.  And change it she did. He is now living  in a casbah with 14 ladies to call his own.

Rescued Rooster - Happy at last!

Nurse Jenny named him Larry and he is happy at last.  From dinner to dynasty builder...Don't you wish you had his karma?  (I did have to have a conversation with him during transport about being grateful to Nurse Jenny for sparing his life and giving him a new start.  He was being a bit contrary about being boxed up for the ride.  I  do hope he is behaving himself.)

And then there is Arnie.  The  tiny little attack rooster that quite frankly ...I hate.  It takes a lot to make me hate a chicken but this one, I hate. He is mean...just plain mean.
Jimmy has been telling me for months that his rooster isn't vicious and that his attacks are not meant to harm, just to gain attention.   In an attempt to prove to me that Arnie  is  gentle and loving  Jimmy approached him and reached out to  pet him.  What followed next was worthy of any slasher film.   In a flurry of feathers and spurs Arnie attacked.  He  must have hit a vein in Jimmy's hand because there was actual blood spray. All over Jimmy's face and clothes.  It wasn't just one well placed peck either.  Jimmy came away with several  cuts and two puncture wounds.  All in less that five seconds.  I couldn't even begin to describe the look on Jimmy's face when he realized what his 'loving' pet had done to him.  The slightly green tinge around his jaw turned veridian when he realized that I had witnessed the entire thing.  I know that you will all be surprised when I tell you that I waited until  Jimmy's wounds were disinfected, medicated  and bandaged before I said "I told you so".
Some could say that I am a bad wife.  I simply could not generate any sympathy  for him.  Not when he was bleeding. Not when he yelped in pain when we poured alcohol  over the wounds.  Not when his hand swelled up and became unusable for twenty four hours.  His  rooster has been attacking me for almost two years and  every time he attacks me and I complain, Jimmy  tells me that Arnie is just being affectionate and showing me chicken love.  He tells me that I need to work on my relationship with  Arnie.  Well, I'm not interested in an S&M relationship  with anyone! Pain doesn't turn me on , it pisses me off.  But, I am not going to interfere with Jimmy and Arnies relationship especially now that the we know who the bottom is.   Sheesh!

And then there are MY hens. The two new leghorns are proving to be very sweet and very trainable.    They seem to have bonded with one of the barred rocks who has taken on a watchful motherly  role.
Last night she refused to go to roost until the young ones were in the coop.  My chickens are so much better than Jimmy's.
Yesterday was a great gardening  day both on the lunar calendar and for me.  Jimmy's hand was sufficiently healed to help put the  vertical  garden boxes on the side of the house.    I planted bush beans in all three of them.  By august we should be  swimming in green beans.  I also  pulled up another crop of failed beets and replanted the bed with lettuce, spinach and snow peas.  I don't know whats wrong with me. Beets are supposed to be  one of the easiest vegetables to grow and in 9 years of serious gardening I have yet to have a successful crop. I guess I just need to put beets in the same file with sourdough bread.  The missing gene file.
When I'm not  keeping up  with the garden or  tending Jimmy's  chicken inflicted wounds ,I'm picking raspberries.  I thought after the way I cleared out the patch this winter that this years crop would be smaller but they just keep coming.  I will have enough for several batches of jelly, some raspberry vinegar and possibly a gallon or two of  wine.
There are a lot of things going on at Mystic Cedars these days   but I only really have time for the highlights  today.  .  .