I Am Become Blade, Destroyer Of Shrubs

Just inside Twig Forest, looking back to the "road".

Earlier this year, we applied for a little grant to help small tree farmers manage their forests. We did not get it, but the process brought the county forester out to walk Twig Forest. She liked what she saw, said our trees were in good shape.

Concerned about fire, I asked her about the gallberries and palmettoes that fill in much of the gaps between the pine trees. She said those weren't such a concern, but it would be a good idea to whack taller shrubs and hardwoods that were creeping up here and there.
They had the potential to take a relatively harmless ground fire up into the canopy, which would be disastrous for our timber.

So, last week, on a cold day that promised no mosquitoes, I headed into twiggy with my machete ... and my big ticket snakeproof boots.

Mrs. FC bought them for me about a year ago and mostly they sit in the closet because I am forgetful.
I did slip out of my sneakers and into their protective embrace after parking the JEEP on this day.

Actually they were pretty comfortable and allowed me to just plow through palmettoes, rather than picking my way through, looking for rattlesnakes.

It sure beats the way my cousin Rick and I went through palmetto patches as kids. Playing in the woods behind our houses, the standard procedure when you encountered a bunch of palmettoes was to run through it as fast as you could, hoping that your feet never touched the ground long enough for any rattler to get his act together and strike.

It seemed to work, as we are both still here,


Here's an old JEEP trail through the planted pines. Sometimes this stretch is flooded and it seems to keep the palmettoes from growing here. I hacked my way to it and then enjoyed a leisurely walk, stopping only when I spotted a wax myrtle that had grown tall enough to be a fire threat.

Like this one.

This is a before picture.

Myrtle is a soft wood and yields easily to a too dull machete.
Note to self: Sharpen before next trip and bring file along.

After.

This shot is the same scene as in the "before" shot, a few pics back.

I only spent an hour or so walking and whacking. It wasn't a work day so much as a pleasant walk with occasional chores.

From now on, each time I visit, I'll take out those taller bushes that threaten our tree crop.

I'm due back soon as I need to rake some pine needle mulch for my blueberry bushes who are even now resting and dreaming of the berries they will make for me this spring.

Dillo Dance

Click for a smile.

Now, don't you feel better?

Busy As A Carpenter Bee

One of the few things my Mom asked for this year was really a gift for Dad. An old birdfeeder he had made was finally falling apart ... could I make him a replacement?

The old one was nothing more than a square top and bottom made of plywood with hole in the top for adding seed. A paintcan lid pinned by a nail swivelled back and forth to cover the hole in the roof. His was surrounded by wire in an attempt to keep the squirrels out ... but over the years, they have surrendered to the squirrel cuteness factor and actually feed them.
The wire didn't keep them out anyway, there was always a squirrel sitting inside that feeder.

So, I left the wire off when I made the replacement feeder above. I kept the hole in the top concept in case they ever wanted to wrap wire around it again.
I also made mine round instead of square as Junior had recently smacked his head on the old one as he chased Bear past the old grapefruit tree on which it hangs.

I made this one quick, it is functional, but no work of art. The three cedar uprights are from a cedar log that has been perched in my barn rafters, just waiting for a use.

Only ... it wasn't really waiting all that time.


Somebody else was using it.

When I cut the cedar into the 3 ten inch pieces I needed, I sliced right into their tunnel system.

Above is a view inside lit only by the light coming in a side entrance hole.

I find it pretty astounding the way they bore through wood. They seemed to prefer the red heartwood as only the entry tunnels ran through the white sapwood.

Seems odd to me ... isn't heartwood the hardest part?

A little to the side and they could have avoided the heartwood all together.

Cedar is generally known to be one of the more bug and rot resistant woods also, so it's curious that they would choose this type of wood for a nest.

As I handled the pieces for a photo, an irritated buzzing began from deep inside the log.

It wasn't long before a really grouchy carpenter bee emerged and flew off. I suppose that may be bad news for him ... being kicked out of your den in the dead of winter is probably not a good thing.

Turn up you volume to get an ear full of bee swearing.

If you speak bee, you don't need me to explain what's beeing said (heehee). I won't be translating due to the family safe nature of Pure Florida.

Wat U Si Is What You Get

heehee ... okay, admit it, that was a pretty clever title wordplay.


Every time I drive home to see Mom and Dad, I pass these Watusi cattle in a field near Hastings, Florida.
Every time I do, I think, "Dang, I should stop and photograph those bodacious bovines for Pure Florida ... Three Collie would get a kick out of these."
I tell myself I'll get the shot on the way back through Hastings, but it's always dark, rainy, or I just plain forget about it.

Hastings bills itself as "The Potato Capital Of The World", although at this time of the year, it is more of a cabbage capital. The fields surrounding the tiny, but growing, farm community are brimming with almost ready, future cole slaws.

Open fields are freshly plowed and neatly rowed, awaiting the seed potatoes to come. The dark rich soil, so rare in most of sandy Florida, awaits another chance to prove itself ... as it has been doing since at least the late 1800's when Mr. Flagler's railroad and the tourists it brought created a demand for fresh veggies in St. Augustine.

A few years ago, they "improved" SR-207, the road that runs through Hastings on it's way from St. Augustine to Palatka. A formerly nondescript, farm to market road is now a wide 4-lane highway with fancy palm tree medians in the middle of potato fields.

If the developers weren't greasing the wheels of that road project, well, then FC is really a recent transplant to Florida from Iowa who lives in a beachfront condo.
No doubt, the same "pave it and move on" crowd that created the hideous"World Golf Village" and all the 1/8th acre subdivisions in NW St. Johns county were salivating at the cleared, level, farm fields surrounding Hastings.

No matter that those fields are some of the richest food producing soil in the sunshine state. Already a large "U-Store It" facility has been built on a field that will never produce potatoes or cabbage again.
I can hear future generations, shaking their heads in disbelief ... the way we do when we read about earlier generations stripping virgin forests, slaughtering buffalo, or exterminating Carolina Parakeets.

" You took food producing farmland out of production ... to STORE YOUR EXTRA JUNK?!!!"

How will we answer them?

Whatever we say, we probably won't say it with our mouths full ...


This was supposed to be just a short Sunday, photo post about some pretty cool cows.
I'm back on track now.

I did make the U-turn yesterday, right after I passed the Watusi herd. The light wasn't optimum, and the brown bull is a little soft, but aren't they the neatest (excluding Florida Cracker Cattle of course) thing?

I obeyed the sign on the fence, partly out of a desire to live, and partly out of respect for the livestock owner.
I can't share any other details on this tiny herd, because ... I don't know them. It's only a few animals, so it may be simply a hobby herd, or it could be a gene pool for cross breeding ... UF does a lot of agricultural work in the area.

Whatever the reason for the Watusi herd, one thing is sure ... they look a lot better on that agricultural land than another mini-mart, church, or gas station.

Beary Christmas!

Shhhhhhh.

Bear is concentrating all his caninotelepathic powers to send you a Merry Christmas message.

He wants me to channel him as he has problems with the keyboard. I should be getting the message soon ...

... nothing yet ... hmmm, ... he may have exceeded his telepathic bandwidth allowance, and is being punished for 24 hours by Hughesnet CaninoTelepathic Services. If so he will only be able to send messages to me at slightly higher than dialup speeds ... something like 75 kesp's.

I can relate since I exceeded my Hughesnet Internet allowance yester ... Wait! Here it comes...

Bear says to tell you all, (even cats ... but not feral ones) Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. He wants you to know Flounder is doing just fine for an old, blind, deaf, wobbly, dog and will be enjoying his 14th Christmas this year.

I guess that's it ... wait, there's more ...

He's excited about the gravy prospects for this evening as there is a 24 pound turkey to be roasted this afternoon. (FC did not get any turkey sandwiches this Thanksgiving and that is not going to happen at Christmas.)

He's also really excited that all his kids will be home to wrestle him and shower him with adoration this Christmas ... plus, Max is coming over to play. It will be a Christmas dogapalooza and he can't wait.

Okay, I think he's done. Like the old Outer Limits show, he has returned control back to me. It gets weird having a telepathic dog, but what are ya' gonna do? We just love him and accept the fact that occasionally we will be under his influence.

I ( ...and this is FC ... I think ... what if ... naahhhh ...) hope this season brings you and yours joy and peace. It is peaceful here. The roosters are crowing, but that is about the only sound right now.

Today is already promising to be a spectacular Pure Florida winter day with sun, blue skies, and a delicious 55 degree temperature at this time.

I will be spending it here. There are some Christmas projects to finish in the wood shop, a turkey to roast later, and kids to tease.

And of course, Bear to wrestle.

And wrapping ... I said I would not be wrapping on Christmas Eve, but here I am with a closet full of secrets that need to be wrapped.

I need to get that done before supper, because I do not want to miss a moment of "A Muppet Christmas Carol" or " The Christmas Story" with my kids.

It is our tradition.

Merry Christmas to you all and thank you for stopping by Pure Florida during the year and sharing your comments with me.

And now, the woodshop calls me ... hohoho.

Now, THAT Would Have Put A Damper On Christmas

Happy Christmasy hubub has been slurping up my expedition time ... you may have noticed the dearth of posts.

Today, I grabbed an hour and zipped off to Devil's Hammock for a few warbler shots and maybe a sunning gator. With so little time, I zipped directly to a spot where an old logging road slips through a swampy area. The road itself is grassy and elevated, but it has water on either side with lots of warblerly bushes and gatory holes.

I parked the JEEP and started walking quietly, stopping to pssssst the warblers from time to time. They came zipping in, but not near enough for a shot and I was aware of my limited time, which was making me antsy.

Maybe getting to the gator hole would be a better use of my time. Even that usually sure thing, was iffy today. The swamp water levels were high and the gators were probably dispersed. I walked quietly, peering through the willows, hoping for at least one gator shot.

I had one chance as it turned out, a six footer sunning on the bank. Only problem was, a screen of willows separated us and I needed to get closer. Up ahead was a hole in the branches. If he would just hold for a second .... SPLASH!!

Oh well, scratch one gator shot.

The logging road I was walking abruptly ends in a willowy thicket that signals the end of dry ground and the beginning of a log strewn swamp. A narrow game trail leads off the road and into the mucky swamp at that point.

With time and road gone, I decided to follow the game trail just into the willows to try psssssting for another shot at the warblers.

That's when I almost stepped on the girl below.


Not being dramatic here, but this was as close as I've come to getting a dose of hemotoxin in long, long time. With my eyes on the warblers and still being on relatively high, dry ground, I was totally unaware of this very large moccasin until she hissed ... in just the position you see above ... locked and loaded.

I really, REALLY, appreciate that hiss as her spot was the landfall of my very next step. As it was, the land fall of my very next step was about two feet behind me immediately after the hiss.
And ... WORDS were said , ... words I won't repeat on this family safe blog.

Of course, as soon as my feet did return to Earth, I started shooting pictures ... got a little video too and if I can, I will post it later this evening ... after soccer practice.


Perfect moccasin habitat ... this is where the game trail led ...

... and the direction she fled.

Watch your step out there.

Guess Where I'm Heading ...

That's right ...


... I'm soaring over to the ancient city ...

... flying solo, so I may have time to land somewhere wild,

... or, I just might keep soaring.

So Close

It was pretty close yesterday at my girl's soccer game. For the first time all season, we made it to the half without the other team scoring at all. The girl's were stoked, bright-eyed and exhuberant during the halftime break.

They told me this looked like the end for my beard ... (remember, I'm not shaving 'til they win).
The whistle blew, they ran back onto the pitch and the other team scored almost immediately, which took some of the wind out of their sails.

At that point, I was glad I had held my tongue during the half when I was trying to fire them up. I had considered telling them, "The team that makes the first goal in this second half will win the game."

As it turned out, I was right, We lost, 0 to 3,
It was our best game all season however, since we have received multiple clobberings.

Another first, I had my first parent of a player drama when a Dad complained about the lack of playing time for his daughter. This happens in varsity sports, of course. I'd love to play every kid every time, but in such a close game, we could not get to about a couple of our 19.

The complainer went away unhappy after our "discussion".


It's funny. When I took on this soccer coach role, I had so many teachers and coaches tell me, "Oh you poor soul, prepare for drama, coaching a girl's team is one crisis after another!"

My experience has been exactly the opposite. The ladies are ... well, ... ladies. They get along, they support each other, they are respectful to me and my two parent volunteer coaches.
Essentially, they are a class act. They are disappointed when they lose, as they should be, but that game immediately becomes an event in the past and they don't carry that burden forward.
They beam when we praise them, listen when we teach them, and try harder when we criticize them.

It's like having 19 daughters.


So ... anyhoooo, enough of that. The other close call I wanted to share is illustrated in the picture below.

At Payne's Prairie, this blue heron came stalking out of the tall bushes behind him and wandered dangerously close to a large, almost hidden alligator. I watched him for awhile, even shot some video, thinking I might catch the gator in an ambush strike.
Alas, the heron stared at the "log" for awhile as if pondering the possibilities, and then he moved off away from the gator.
So, no dramatic gator chomping a blue heron video ... sorry, maybe next time.


On the same day, this pretty little blue was stalking a narrow opening in th e emergent plants.

A gallinule was nibbling and flitting about nearby. There are so many gators in this stretch of water near the Alachua Sinks that it must be a risky place to be a plump, juicy, water chicken.

These pics were taken about a month ago. Between soccer, school, and lots of grey weather lately, I haven't got OUT THERE much, but Christmas break has arrived ... finally!

Something is bound to happen.

The Effects Of Liquid Nitrogen On Human Skin

WARNING: ICKY



Tuesday, I went to see my perky, cute Dermatologist. Six months had gone by and I was due for a good once over to monitor and mitigate the effects of a life in the sun.
She's cut on me a few times in the past ... MOHS procedure so I return once or twice a year to make sure we catch things early.

I'd much rather sit through frostbite inducing micro blasts of liquid nitrogen than surgery. My appointment was for 7:35 am and by 7:45 I was sitting shirtless in the waiting room. When Doc walked in, I mentioned her cute kid pictures on the wall.
She beamed of course, then she said that the new one was only 7 weeks old.
7 weeks old?
This model skinny woman had a baby less than two months ago?

Now, at this point in my post I will take a walkabout ...

Ladies, I ask you ... how is it that some women can have a baby and struggle with the baby weight for some time afterwards, while others get a pass on the extra poundage.
Fascinating.

Back to the liquid nitrogen post ...

Doc made small talk and tech talk at the same time as she simultaneously chatted with me and dictated stats to the two interns that were observing.

The she grabbed her can of liquid hell and started zapping some precancerous spots.
It stings a little at first and then, right after you pay the bill and leave the office, they all begin stinging at once.

My nose got a spritz, my eyebrow, the top of my head where deforestation is occuring, ... the usual sunny areas. These were quick stings, but when she got to my neck, she laid down a withering fire of liquid nitrogen on one particular spot.

That's the one in the pictures below.


Above is your locator shot.



Here's a closeup.
Pretty gnarly looking now, but kind of neat in a nerdy way. Besides the plasma filled blister, I can see tiny yellow grains of subcutaneous fat ... FAT!

I showed it to my students today ... they love gross stuff. Then I launched right in to my "Here's why you MUST wear your sunscreen " mini-lesson.

They have watched enough movies where the bad guy gets frozen in liquid nitrogen, so there was a "cool" factor coupled with the gross factor of an ugly, swollen blister.
The combination of "gross coolness" seemed to hold their interest... maybe they'll slap on some SPF 50+ this spring, or say no when someone mentions trying a tanning salon.


Postscript: I received a good report and Doc said I don't have to come back for a full year.
Go Me!

WWSD?

Yes, what would Spock do?
He sure as heck wouldn't laugh at us ... not unless he was under the narcotic effect of spores from that weird lily on that weird planet.

I suppose he would just raise an eyebrow quizzically at our fascination with near Earth space "exploration" and space stations that serve no real purpose except to suck money from planetary exploration.


Spock wasn't there in the parking lot of our school on the day of the most recent shuttle launch, so we can only imagine his view of things.
I sent out an email that morning reminding teachers that the launch was that afternoon and the weather conditions were about as good as it gets for viewing. When the time came, I almost missed it myself due to the pile of paperwork I was shuffling.

I made it to the parking lot with about two minutes to spare, and then, there it was!

I think all of us who happened to be in the parking lot that afternoon were thrilled by the sight of the shuttle tearing across the sky.
I know I was.
I've watched everything from Apollo Saturn V's to the current space truck and I never get bored with them.

Below is a short video taken from our location, about 150 miles from the launch site. The narrative is provided by random folks in the crowd.

And Then He Fluffed ...

I was wordy enough yesterday.

I think this blue heron says it all without any help from me.

Katie's Birthday and The Weekend So Far

Friday, from 5 to 7 pm, ten of my nineteen soccer girls practiced in 47 degree, misty conditions for two hours, and then it was hop in the JEEP and head to Chiefland for Junior's basketball game.
According to the schedule, I should have arrived at the gym just as the varsity boys game was starting, but other previous games had stalled and delayed his game.

I was relieved at that news as it meant I could hit Mcstarbucks for some pretty decent coffee and a chance to just chill for 30 minutes or so.

When I pulled up to McD, the bike and bike trailer below was parked directly in front of me.

Confession: At first, I thought that said "BikiniDon" and actually texted a friend that. I thought that blonde underwear wearing, guitar playing, singing Cowboy dude was in McD's ... although, a damp 47 degree night did not seem conducive to that form of dress ... even in Florida.


So, it turned out to be "BikinDon" not "Thong Don" or whatever someone in underwear only might call themselves as they desperately seek attention.
Anyway ... That is BikinDon with his back to us.

I landed in a booth next to him and since he was talking on the phone, I got an ear full. It sounded like he was warming up and updating friends as he made a bunch of calls. I sipped my coffee and watched as students and former students of mine filtered in and out, grabbing their fries and burgers, or just hanging out. I had forgotten how busy a fastfood joint can be on a Friday night.

At some point, with my coffee almost gone, and a basketball game to get to, I heard BikinDon tell someone on the phone that he was going to continue biking that evening and try to make Lebanon Station.

It was windy, cold, and wet outside and Lebanon Station was another 20 miles through forest and swamp. I had already garnered via his phone call conversation that he just camped along the side of the road when he was ready to stop.

I stood up to go and spoke to him, telling him that he might want to set his sights on the Waccasassa River bridge near Gulf Hammock if he wanted a good spot to spend the night. It wasn't too far from his goal, and there was a vacant old house right next to the bridge. He could pull around behind to get out of the wind and out of sight of the highway.
Just a thought...

He liked that idea and found it on his folded, well worn map.

I wished him luck and went off to my son's game.



This game went like the last few had, our guys played hard, but the other team played better. When it was over, I went home and crashed, until Bear awoke me predawn for a walk.

After a cup of coffee, I woke Junior up and we loaded "Tyrion" the fair pig for her registration and ear tagging. It was raining and cold, but it went pretty smoothly and we managed to do the job with minimal stress for her. We rigged a tarp over the front of the trailer to block the wind.

I tied the tarp on the passenger side of the trailer, Junior tied the tarp on the driver side.

After about 4 miles, his side was loose and flapping in the wind.

"Way to tie those knots, NonBoyscout."

I guess we will have to have a knot tying lesson. (For the record, I was never a scout)

After we returned the pig to her home pen, I went inside to check on you bloggers for a little while and try to get a post up.

I was sitting right here, like I am now, when the clothes dryer made loud thump.
"The dryer isn't turning" said the laundress of the moment.

I popped the top off and sure enough, the belt had broken.

DANG IT!

No store locally carried the part, but a store in Gainesville had a bunch ... 40 miles away.

Oh well, I had to go there anyway much later in the day for Katie's 22nd birthday. I cleaned up quick and zipped off to the big city in a hurry since they closed early on Saturday.

Once I had my part, I killed time in Books A Million and a few other stores, trying to avoid the Christmas shopping hordes and traffic.
I'm buying almost everything online this year and I am LOVING it.

Eventually, it was time to celebrate the birthday girl, so I headed to one of the local Japanese Steak Houses ... her choice.

The first and last time I ate at one of these was when I lived in Savannah, before I had kids. That should convey how I feel about them.
I believe cooking should happen in the restaurant kitchen. Also, I do not want to sit with strangers or have the chef two feet in front of me throwing eggs and knives around ... even if he was a funny guy.

Plus, if your seasoning repertoire consists of sugar, salt, and soy ... well, I can do better.

That's not to say it wasn't a fun dinner, we had a very good time.



Here are my spawn and I poised next to the koi pond at the restaurant. The birthday girl is next to me.
Just for the record, today is Katie's actual birthday.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETIE!
Among other things, we gave her a copy of "The MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL" movie. She was thrilled. She texted me later that evening and told me she was watching it already.
That's my girl. Muppets rule.



I was a little (alot) distracted by the koi. They were huge! The small ones in this picture are six to eight inches long.

Today, the birthday girl and her beau, Conner, are off to Disneyworld. She gets in free on her birthday, and as a future teacher, she knows the value of a bargain.

I will be going to Dryerworld in a few minutes. The laundry is starting to pile up.

If you read this far, that is the weekend at Pure Florida so far ...


Oh one more thing, we didn't do the usual cake with candles, blow out the candles, make a wish sorta thing, so we substituted a gong strike, or two, or three, or four ... I was afraid the manager might come kick us off the premises.

You go girl!

A Little Basketball On A Friday Night

I'm late posting today due to my schedule, so how about a little Friday night basketball?

The ball got away from Junior in this shot, but DAMN! Does he look studly or what?


Here he is surrounded.



... and here, getting ready for someone to shoot a foul shot.

If that kid next to him looks like a famous Gator basketball coach, well, they share the same DNA ... and haircut.

Rock Beach

When the ocean waves at you, ... wave back.
It's just good manners.


Black Friday's beach trip did not end at Fort Matanzas. It was too beautiful a day, and there was still one more beach hopper special I had to get to, while the other shoppers were in the malls and big boxes.

A few miles south of Marineland, there's a state park called Washington Oaks State Gardens. (Google it Miz S, and add it to your list). The park straddles both sides of A1A, but I was only interested in the east side this time.
What makes Washington Oaks so worth the trip is the fact that there is a rocky beach here ... a natural rocky beach, not some granited armored jetty, built by humans.

True rocky beaches are pretty rare in Pure Florida. There are some way down south, the worm rock beaches near Hutchinson island and farther south some limerock outcrops pop up too.

The rock here is Coquina, a natural shell stone that my ancestors used to build their forts and any other important buildings in old St. Augustine.


The beach "sand" along this stretch is composed mostly of shell fragments. This "red sand" is very treacherous to autos, and even 4 wheel drives mire in it sometimes. On this stretch of beach south of Matanzas Inlet, there is no beach driving, but you have to be careful if you drive down on to the beach north of Matanzas.

Avoid the red sand.
Trust me.


Near the wave sculpted rocks, the beach is almost all shell bits.

The willet came here to eat, I came back for the scenery and to soak up some very pleasant memories of "Rock Beach".

I climbed over them as a kid, practiced my photography here as a teen, and I let my own kids clamber all over, under, and through the eroded rock passages when they were small enough to fit.

As always, this beach rocks.

Culinary Throwdown: Take Pride In Your Sodium Chloride

The lovely La Diva Cucina is hosting the current Culinary Throwdown, ... and the theme is SALT.

My schedule lately hasn't allowed much culinary exploration, so I went a little nerdy on ya.

I know, ... what a surprise ...




The ribs on Katies plate are flavored with Kosher salt and other seasonings, but if I could only have one, I would keep the salt and lose the others.




I am a late comer to the world of Kosher salt, which is merely a coarse, large grained salt. I had to buy some last year when we made the amazing Dinosaur Barbeque Pickles. After the pickle making, it sat there in it's box, awaiting the next batch of picklemakingmadness, when I happened to catch Bobby Flay cooking steaks on some foodnerd network.

He liked Kosher salt, thyme, and black pepper on his steak.

I tried it and now, Kosher salt and coarse black pepper are all I need on my steak. I'll save the thyme for gumbos and chowder.


Next to the ribs on Katie's plate is a pile of our family recipe, Selmo's salad. The dressing is a family heirloom, with some neat history, and contains no salt.



Instead, you salt the salad just before dressing it. In fact, the word "salad" literally means "salted greens".


Here too, salt is essential, although, I use regular table salt, since I want the salt to dissolve.

I can't tell you how many times someone has said to me, " I tried to make that Selmo salad dressing at home, but it doesn't taste as good as yours."



To which I always reply, "Did you salt the salad first? "



"Well, no, ...mumble, mew,mew whimper ... it seemed like a lot ...whine, whine ..."

"Ya gotta salt the salad ... WELL! Now, GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, YOU RECIPE DOUBTER!"


Salt is amazing stuff when you think about it ... combine a poisonous green gas (Cl) that would corrode your lungs in a single inhalation, with a highly reactive metal (Na) that explodes on contact with water, and you get a harmless seasoning (NaCl) to sprinkle on your popcorn.


Chemistry is wonderful!


...Yes, salt is harmless.



It's not the salt in your food America, it's the AMOUNT of salt in your food. Quit eating at fastfood restaurants and you won't have a salt problem. They dump it in and call it flavor.


Case in point ...


As a teenager, I remember working at the Maryland Fried Chicken restaurant in Crescent Beach , south of St. Augustine. We marinated the chicken pieces overnite in a "SECRET" blend of spices.




The SECRET seasoning mix was surprisingly uniform and white. It was salt, with very little else.


Did the chicken taste good?


Heck yeah!


Did a single chicken breast have a days worth of sodium in it?


Heck yeah!



Point is, if you stay out of certain restaurants and avoid processed ready made foods, you can afford to sprinkle some salt on your steak or your fresh salad and not worry about your blood pressure shooting up to danger levels.



In fact, salt is a necessary nutrient,


Katie's plate of food is not the only salty thing in the top picture. My baby girl contains about 7 tablespoons of salt in her perky little self. This would be in the form of sodium ions and chlorine ions dissolved in her blood and cytoplasm.



Perhaps the second best use of salt, besides making sweet people like Katie possible, is the recipe for seawater, 35 parts salt to 1000 parts water.



No salt, no Gulf of Florida ... and that, would be a very sad thing.

Spanish Moss

Certain things just shout, "Southern", and Spanish Moss is one of those things isn't it?

Just like real maple syrup shouts "Northern". (Southern cane syrup just can't compare)

You can Google Spanish Moss and get all the biological particulars. My personal persepective is ...

1. It's beautiful.
2. It does NOT kill healthy trees, but will grow thickly over the bare, dead branches of dying trees, giving the illusion that the moss killed the tree.
3. It's an epiphyte, not a real moss.
4. Down here, we grow up learning that it is loaded with red bugs. I don't know that it really is, or why it would be. Chiggers find more food down in the understory.
5. When it's damp, it makes great smoke on a campfire ... when you are 7 and need to send up smoke signals, all you need is damp Spanish moss and a palm frond to separate your puffs.
6. Dry, it makes pretty decent tender, and I've used it along with a flint and a steel striker to start a fire ... back in my reenactor days.
7. When I first moved to my current side of Florida, many of the country kids I taught made extra money "pullin' moss". They pulled it from trees, cleaned it of sticks, bats, and ratsnakes, and then sold it to craft store suppliers. It's been years since I have heard anyone mention pulling moss.
8. In the seventies, it was dying out throughout the state and this received alot of press. Seems fine now.
9. Way back before my time, it was used for stuffing chairs etc.
10. I like the way it signals the seabreeze is about to kick in.

That is all, I moss get to work.

heehee

Stick Figures

It was late, almost too late for decent light, and a low ceiling of clouds threatened to filter out any stray photon trying to make the 8 minute trip from Sun to Earth.

In short, I thought my trip to Paynes Prairie might be a photoless one.

But then, the Sun slipped just below the pesky cloud layer ... light!

Just enough to illuminate these stick figures with a soft, autumnal glow.


"I want to be like you, Mr. Log."
"Stick to it son."
(heehee, I slay myself sometimes )



Off-white Ibis dibbling.

The light didn't stay long and neither did I.

Nipple Replacement, New Pigs, and Bear's Project

Junior and the new show pig getting acquainted.

Yesterday went smooth, even when one of his girl FFA buddies called and asked us to pick up her pig for her ... ahem, that's an extra $190.

"Tell your Dad I'll pay him back on Monday."



She spent today getting familiar with her surroundings. It's probably her first time on dirt and she did a lot of rooting about. I'm sure her powerful nose can read that soil like a book and it's telling her of other pigs that lived here too.

Unlike a book, she can not flip to the back and read the ending, which is a good thing of course.


We have a nipple waterer of course, but she has to find it first.
I take it off in the nonpig season so I can use the waterline for irrigation, but I replaced it yesterday.
They usually find it pretty quick.
In the meantime, we set a bowl of water in the pen so we could be sure she had a drink.

She wowed us by blowing bubbles in it. I did get a little of that on video and will try to load that later this week.




This is a view through her pig shelter. She has a fine rear end and the long body that show pig judges desire ... when I say desire, I just mean it's the kind they like to score ... no, wait, what I am trying to say is this body type is what wins fairs.

Shhhhhhhh.
She had a big day yesterday and today has been grey and cold, so the pine shavings and heat lamp of her piggy penthouse felt pretty good.

She's eating well and is still wary of us, but with apples and back scratches, we will soon win her over.

Since you are wondering, Bear has expressed only passing interest in her. Last year was his first pig and this one is soooooo, you know ... last year and all.

Bear is too busy to live in the past. He's got a big project going online.

What? Your dog doesn't surf the web?

Weird ...

Bear is working on a 2010 photo calendar called "A Year Of Bear".

You know you want one.