Driven

Mountain folk are a unique kind of driver. That old song I heard as a child, "She'll Be Comin' Round the Mountain" comes to mind. As we round a mountain only to suddenly find ourselves behind a slow moving car or worse, a loaded log truck, I just cannot help but yearn for the long straight four lane highways in the plains. In the Ozarks, people take driving an automobile to a whole new art form. Creeping down a mountain riding the brake, then suddenly accelerating on the way up the hill where a passing lane is provided. Some are even courteous enough to move over to the "slower traffic" lane as they generate a burst of speed thought impossible from the look of the vehicle. Others will follow one of the slow moving cars to the beginning of the passing lane, then move to the fast lane only to drive just beside the poky one until seconds before the extra lane must merge back in. A speed of 55 mph is the normal limit on most state highways around Dogpatch. Local residents see no reason why one should indulge in pushing that limit. Cruising around the mountain at roughly 40 mph seems perfectly adequate for most. Sometimes a turn is preceded by a signal as the car is beginning it's turn, hand signals are alive and well around these mountains, but for most a turn just gradually happens. After all, everyone knows he's always lived down this road. I still haven't seen those six white horses though.

Flowers, Feeders and Varmits

Busy summer days can be satisfying. Geraniums are blooming profusely thanks to weekly fertilizer, daily watering and "deer stopper" sprayed around the perimeter. The purple salvia is attracting hummingbirds and the marigolds are prolifically insulting the deer. Flower season didn't begin well. Preparation of a flower bed for daffodils that bloomed while we were away was successful but disappointing as we returned to waning blooms bending over in the wind and rain. The orange day lilies that bloom just beside the steps down from the kitchen were devoured by the deer (and I don't mean dear ones!) who usually just nip off a bud here and there. This year, they ate them down to the ground. Some of them must have developed a taste for the "not deer friendly" plants.

A bird feeder just outside the front window attracted a proliferation of birds from tiny finches, tufted titmouse, cardinals, and small to large woodpeckers. At least until the squirrels discovered it. Ol' Abner made several passes daily to shoo them off until the arrival of his new air-rifle. Now he sneaks around the corner and drops them like rocks with one shot. He's still quite a marksman. Unfortunately they all scatter quickly when one is shot, but they must run into the woods without warning others of the danger. Another group shows up to indulge in the bounty within hours and the panic begins again. Downside of the project is the disappearance of most of the birds. I guess they've decided to move to feeders without so many hazards.