"At the edge of the pool stood the muskrats' house. It was taller than Laura, and far larger than her arms could reach around. Its rounded sides and top were rough, hard, and gray. The muskrats had gnawed dry grass to bits and mixed the bits well with mud to make a good plaster for their house...Pa was shaking his head. 'We're going to have a hard winter,' he said, not liking the prospect. 'Why, how do you know?' Laura asked in surprise. 'The colder the winter will be, the thicker the muskrats build the walls of their houses,' Pa said."
- excerpt from The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder
A muskrat house - or the beginnings of one - has appeared in our front pond. If I go by Pa's logic, it will be a mild winter indeed!
There's a lot of life and activity in this pond. We know that there are shrimp, fish, giant snapping turtles, muskrats, nesting blackbirds, and all sorts of frogs. Herons stalk this pond for prey. Bats and birds skim mosquitos from it nightly. But we rarely see anything, although the pond is easily visible from our living room window. If I walk down, I hear the outraged plops of scores of frogs from all around the pond's rim...but I never see anything but bubbles.
We've started keeping a pair of binoculars in the living room, but I think I'm going to set up a trail cam here. I'd love to know what goes on here at night!
I don't know exactly what's going on
there at night, but I certainly know what's going on
inside the house. It's been a chaotic week, because we're dealing with a dog slipping into senility (a short trip, to be sure) and barking endlessly at all hours. Added to the mix is a
new cat!
We couldn't keep Klaus, because he so aggressively play-attacked our older girl, Tabitha. No amount of "diversion playing" could keep him away. But Tabitha didn't do well while we were away on our northwest trip. She cried for a week when we returned, and I knew that she wasn't meant to be an only cat. The search resumed, and we finally came home with this guy:
He's not pretty like Klaus: his ear was shredded by an unknown assailant. His front leg was broken and not set, so it's a bit crooked. His mouth hangs open most of the time, like a resting alligator. But he's a sweetheart. He's a cuddler, so he wails in agony if he wakes up alone. His loud howls of protest accompany every shower that I take, because although he wants to be close, he doesn't quite dare to clamber in. He stays close, purring and headbutting and taking every opportunity to bare his stomach for rubs. He is unbothered by loud noises, inspecting corgis, and constantly-shifting legs in a bed. Unconcerned, he lazily rolls to avoid an errant foot. He's a champion sleeper!
Tabitha is supremely annoyed as he watches and occasionally follows her, but makes only gentle attempts to play. The midnight dust-ups have gradually decreased, and for the first time, I've started feeling like they're going to be a good pair together.
We cycled through several names, but nothing quite fit. Then I remembered a name from a college history course: a 12th century scholar who wooed and then married his student, and was then castrated by her uncle. He became a monk, while she was forced into a convent. Following a series of much-lauded love letters, the student decided that perhaps marriage was a bad idea and that she preferred to be left alone. Castrated male bothering uninterested female? Perfect fit for us. Welcome ABELARD!
("A" as in TAB...ell...ard)
As we focus on the tempests in teapots within the house, the season marches on outside. The late-season sunflowers are astoundingly high.
(Todd is 6'1" or a bit taller, for scale!)
Despite near-complete neglect, my pumpkins are showing growth! I planted a row of tall sunflowers on the other side of a cattle panel for some additional support, and they're taking full advantage.
Dahlias are growing in a great sea of weeds. I'll have some nice bouquets this week!
Bees are frantically collecting every last bit of pollen.
Actually, this patch of celosia is quite the lovers' lane. Large numbers of paired Goldenrod Soldier beetles bustle around, oblivious.
Another great sign of an advancing season! Goldenrod Soldier beetles are great for a garden. They're pollinators, of course, but they also eat predatory aphids and caterpillars. Instead of hard-shell wings like most beetles, theirs are leathery! This female will lay her eggs in the fall leaf litter, and her offspring will be back to assist in the late summer, next year.
I'm probably just being fanciful, but Seth Brundle's quote from The Fly came to mind as these two stared (glared?) at me: "Have you ever heard of insect politics? Neither have I. Insects...don't have politics. They're very brutal. No compassion, no compromise." Eh, I prefer to think of them happily working around in the garden, a la the happily singing dwarves in Snow White. Here's a big job for them: a nice stem of aphids to snack on!
Inside, I've very slowly made progress on a quilt. I hadn't quilted for months and months, but I started picking away at my confetti quilt, a few squares at a time. Suddenly, the top was done! It was meant to be a jumble of shapes and colors:
This felt a bit too jarring, though. I carefully rearranged the squares (somewhat laboriously, due to an overeager assistant)...
...and came up with something more pleasurable.
I still need to work on the arrangement a bit, and then they all have to be "squared up," or cut down to exact size. I've already started on another big project, so this will again be put away and slowly fussed with as the mood strikes. This low-pressure method appeals to me!
Other knitting projects on the horizon, and I'll have some embroidery to show soon, too. Fall is a great inspiration for textile work!
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