Author: Thomas Walters

For many of my readers, a woodchuck on the property is not a huge deal.  However, earlier this week, I noticed that one of my new, I should mention, containers had most of its petunias chewed off.  As it sits on a bench about two feet off the ground, it didn’t seem like a molestation by bunnies or chipmunks.  No, no.  This is the work of a dreaded woodchuck or gopher.  Further garden inspection saw chewed leaves on dead nettles and wholesale destruction of some beautiful yellow coneflowers I’d just put in a few weeks ago.  Now I know what it feels like when someone’s home is invaded by burglars or someone breaks into an unlocked car.  There is a sense of personal violation.  Some will argue that a rodent feeding itself isn’t quite in league in terms of malicious intent, but I have mixed feelings.  

Continue reading “Woodchuck Alert: Code Red!”

We’re reminded, bombarded actually, on a daily basis about the importance of exercise and physical fitness, particularly for seniors. It is annoying to see those seniors striding along the beach at a brisk pace, making a complete mockery of retirement. In the interests of making this blog informative, timely, and useful, I’ve developed my own regimen that I think could work on all levels for my faithful readers.  I will say that Her Ladyship, in all seriousness, does a fair bit of walking, and completes her cardio lifting faithfully every day.  She’s far more disciplined than I, but I do my bit to help out by tickling her on her way to and from the bedroom and as she gets in and out of the shower.  It’s all positive and stimulating, at least for me.  My readers will remember I mentioned the Gilbo Slapping Reflex, GSR for short, which she inherited from her grandmother, who was a champion slapper.  That kicks in here on occasion. But I digress.

Continue reading “A Senior Fitness Program”

Her Ladyship and I were watching baseball’s All-Star Game earlier this week, and I noticed a new feature of the game.  Not only has sports media taken over the game – I guess because they’re paying for most of it, but presumably the networks feel that their overexposure sells airtime maybe they’re right.  Anyway, the latest hairbrained scheme, in addition to providing commentators, color commentators, special experts and former players, is to start putting microphones on the players while the game is going on.  I know, right?  Do we need this?

Continue reading “Profiles in Stupidity”

A few weeks back, I went to pick up a take-out order from a local restaurant.  The only space available was right next to a large truck with a flat bed.  It had emblazoned on the side, “Proudly Made in America”.  (It was a domestic auto manufacturer, but odds are that this truck was assembled at one of that manufacturer’s plants in Mexico, but I digress.).  This largish truck – at least next to my little Toyota – had the engine running, spewing out diesel fumes for a good 15-20 minutes.  For this couple, love of country doesn’t seem to extend to the planet we all have to inhabit.

Continue reading “July 4th – Musing on Independence and Patriotism”

Yes, a time to remember all fathers, be they biological, father figures, surrogates, and others that have played or continue to play a role.  I often think of my father, a man left without his own at age three and left him nothing but a name, and survived two stepfathers, one of whom he connected with for a short time, and one with whom he didn’t, and of consequence didn’t really have a model.  He was an only child, and thus didn’t have any siblings with whom to share the experience.  Considering that, he did remarkably well in the parent department, raising three of us.  He wasn’t a doting, demonstrably doting parent, but we knew that he loved and cared deeply about all of us.

Continue reading “Father’s Day Renewed”

Many of my faithful readers are well acquainted with our friend, Lady Peacock. She is endearing, yet colorful and just a bit quirky.  In her latest adventure, she was preparing for the warm weather with her front porch container garden, what would be her “showstopper” were this the Great British Baking Show.

Lady P. arrived at our house, fresh from a trip to a local nursery.  I should mention that I do business there quite frequently, so I make sure I never let them know that she’s a friend.  She breezed in late morning on a beautiful day, so it was crowded.  That meant that she couldn’t park in a close, handy location.  That further meant that she’d get dust on her sandals from the unpaved parking area. Strike One.  Arriving at the check-out station, she announced loudly that “she needed help.”  One needs to understand the nuanced language of Lady Peacock here.  That doesn’t mean, “could you direct me to . . . .”  It means, “set aside whatever you’re doing and guide me to whatever I wish to see.”

Next Scene – Lady Peacock is visiting every inch of the nursery with a very patient employee in tow.  She’s on the hunt.  It has to be a certain color combination.  She manages to find secondary plants in her preferred colors – purples, pinks and just a dash of white for drama.  So far so good, but she has her heart set on ranunculus, her favorite, which Lady P announces regularly, or, as a backup, dahlias.  No ranunculus available. The storm clouds gather.  There are, however, some dahlias. These cannot be just any shade – they must be pink.  Not just any pink, but a subdued and dignified pink, not a shocking, gaudy pink.  Subtlety is her middle name.  Well, actually, Jean is, but we digress.  Color themes play heavily into her world vision.  Hence her official residence, Teale Cottage. My readers can see where this is going. So, back at the nursery, nothing suits.  Strike Two. They’re all yellows, oranges, off-whites.  I suggest zinnias if we can’t find dahlias.  They’re first cousins and remarkably similar, but no, those won’t work. Lady P. hates orange – she’s made a point of telling me that on numerous occasions, most recently as she was given an orange begonia, and routinely when I’ve been coerced into thoroughly enjoyed helping her plan her container.  Mercifully, she only has the one in mind.  If she did more, blood would be spilled.

Up she goes to the cashier station with her purchases.  You would think that the line would open up immediately, other customers clearing a path and sensing her look of resolve, so Lady P. could complete her transactions and leave, but no.  Apparently, they failed to pick up on her cues.  Two or three customers had the impertinence to be in line ahead of her.  Not only that, but they weren’t very fast.  In that delicious line from Devil Wears Prada, they “moved at glacial speed.” They asked questions about different kinds of mulch and then chatted amiably among themselves for what must have been an eternity for Lady P.  Strike Three.  This garden center, previously a favored establishment, has now dipped precipitously.  Perhaps they’ve even lost a Peacock feather or two in their rating.

Here’s the fun part from my perspective.  Lady P. arrived on our doorstep, where she deposited her initial purchases – the partial container “in progress”.  She opened the back of the car for what I frivolously thought was a viewing of her finds. No, no, again. She brought them out and informed me that it was my responsibility to procure the required focal point for her container masterpiece.  This, she told me with a perfectly straight face, would be a real “win-win” because I’d have the joy of shopping for her favorite flowers.  I’d have the further joy of combining them all into a stunning container.  She brought them over now not only for me to put all together, but also to maintain and water it while she’s away later that week. 

I may have mentioned previously, that Lady Peacock returned some flowers that she’d purchased that were just budding.  She was then away, and upon her return found that the petunias or some such had burst in the bloom in the wrong color.  They were supposed to be pink to match the wreath on her front door, but they came out lavender.  Well, back they went to the store, and the people there (again, I surmising, long suffering) were told on no uncertain terms, that they were not at all the color their buds had led her to believe.  It’s just that type of “bait-and-switch” against which Lady Peacock is ever vigilant.  (You may want, for context, to review the blog, “The Art of Return”.  It pretty much explains Lady Peacock’s vision, and most of what she holds dear.)

For many gardeners, in fact I might venture to say most, searching out new plants, new color combinations, and new looks is part of the fun.  Visiting the nurseries at this time of year is an adventure that we’ve been looking forward to all winter.  We’ve flipped through gardening magazines to see what’s new for this year.  So, it’s a bit of a mystery to me that someone asks  to put together a container of same old.  And the funny part is that they ask me to assist them because my containers look so nice.  My dear sister-in-law has a similar view of plants.  They’re something to be endured rather than enjoyed.  In fairness, my brother-in-law absolutely hates gardening, and I get that. A few years ago, I did a window box for them for the lake that deviated from the norm.  It wasn’t red and white, didn’t have impatiens, etc., etc.  She gave me a look that said “What were you thinking?”, but put it out back anyway.  By way of vindication, the neighbors all told them how beautiful it was.  Rather like the year I took over the raised bed in front of the cottage, the turf of my late father-in-law.  As I brought in the plants, he stood in the front window with his cane, pointing.  “I put three geraniums in the back, then a row of marigolds in front.”  I calmly told him that I was “going in a different direction” that year, and not to worry.  I suspect he was sitting inside fuming until Roberta, a neighbor down the road told him, “That’s so pretty – you’ve done something different this year.”  Rather took the wind out of his sails.

Like the innocent query, “would you help me with my taxes”, the next yearly event is on. The hunt has begun for Lady Peacock’s ranunculus, and / or dahlias – soft pink, hold the zinnias.  Have struck out at the next two places I’ve tried.  Not the right colors, too big for the container.  I have a few more places to try, so Herself and I will have to branch out to a few more nurseries farther away.  We’ll make a day of it. Perhaps I should charge Lady Peacock mileage.  Anyone know what the going rate is?  I’m thinking, by the time I’ve factored in anxiety, about four bucks a mile might cover it.

Following up on my insightful writings about inventors with time on their hands, I thought that more brilliant ideas are well overdue for discussion.  So, here goes. We all have items that were developed to protect us, make us safer, or perhaps even to simplify our lives. They’re supposed to free us from anxiety or fits of rage.  They’re supposed to free us from mundane tasks, or simplify our routines.  Here are some of the things that I’ve found should make our lives easier and more relaxing, and yet, I’m thinking . . . . . .

Continue reading “Good Ideas Gone Rogue”

So many of the country’s best and brightest engineers are designing meaningful solutions to significant problems – climate change, alternative energy sources, medical research, earth-saving environmental innovations.  Some, however, are not.  They’re applying their gifts to new products that, well, are of somewhat dubious benefit at best. A catalog arrived yesterday of, shall we say, high-end products that are interesting and curious.  These are pretty costly, and quite frankly, don’t really seem to be filling a niche in the marketplace.  As I was leafing through the pages, I wondered who actually bought these items.  And, of greater importance, who has or is making so much money that they really consider some of these items “essential consumerism”.  For example:

Continue reading “Inventors: Too Much Time on Their Hands?”

As America appears to be emerging from the worst of the pandemic, and at least the numbers are well down and are going in the right direction, I looked back at a blog I wrote a year ago.  At that stage, things were getting progressively worse, and the summer outlook bleak.  Schools had gone to remote learning, groceries were being delivered or seniors arose at dawn to do their shopping, Amazon was doing a huge business – and that was just our house.  People were stockpiling toilet paper and spray sanitizer.  Well, thank goodness we’re beginning to see improvements.  Lots of people have been vaccinated, stores and restaurants are cautiously reopening, and restrictions are starting to disappear.  I had to pick up a few things yesterday afternoon at the supermarket – fully masked – and for the first time, the one-way aisle markers were gone. 

Continue reading “To Mask or Not To Mask II: A Year Later”

Do you see ads for television shows and wonder, “What possessed them?”  No, really, what were they thinking, or probably not?  Do they see themselves in these ads and think, “I nailed that”? It doesn’t matter how much money they were paid, it’s not nearly enough to cover the enormous embarrassment they should rightfully be feeling, and the derision the rest of us feel for them.

Continue reading “People on TV – Why?”