Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The Last Laugh

Daddy said to never plant green stuff in a vegetable garden until after Easter due to late freezes.

Never one to hold to conventional wisdom, your inveterate dumass planted Tin Star tomaters/peppers long ago....followed by a 28 degree morning (dammit).

Wasn't nuthin to do but truck to town, buy up more high dollar plants, and repeat the process (with mumbled pissivity bout how the grocery store is cheaper and easier???).

Got the second batch of puppies on their way only to get up this morn and see 36 on the thermometer. (Yeah Dad, I heard ya laughing at the near pooped drawers thinking the normal temperature drop at dawn could re-assassinate the ranch veggies???).

Bottom line: it's more than two weeks til Easter and Dad may get the last laugh yet?

Monday, April 4, 2011

Blue Hole

Wright City once boasted a legendary local swimmin' place known as "Blue Hole".

Local lore held that this ubiquitous farm pond sitting in the middle of a pasture had limitless depths. Many had tried, or so the story goes, but none could hold their breath long enough to find the bottom.

Lately the gosh darn moss has near taken over the Tin Star Ranch pond. Eschewing herbicides, the ole fat boy decided to dump a dye in the water to block the UV light and halt photosynthesis by the moss.

The industrious salesman at Tractor Supply solemnly promised satisfaction with no actual discoloration.

The "salesman" lied like a tall dawg.

The water is now the deepest color blue on the planet and history has repeated. We got a Tin Star "Blue Hole" for all the world to see.

(Now if the damn moss will just cooperate and "die")

Friday, April 1, 2011

Bantam Weight Bruisers

The ranch hand's earliest memory of fishin' was a bream safari.

The preparation weren't nuthin but gatherin' up a bamboo pole with a black braided fishing line, cork, and hook slapped on it. All that remained was to hustle grasshopper bait through Grandaddy's back pasture to Uncle Reggie's pond.

We caught gritty red ear, blue gill, goggle eye, and sun perch til grins near covered our faces.

The ole fat boy has pursued various finned creatures over the years with sophisticated/expensive gear, but somehow, catching those bantam weight bruisers on a "cane" pole still tops the list for thrills.

Yesterday your humble scribe decided to ease to the ranch pond and float an impaled wriggly worm under a cork to see if the hybrid blue gill bream planted last year were in the mood for groceries.

Five brawny Tin Star Ranch panfish answered the "call" and the rest is history.