Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

This is our old pear tree being revived by Philip's cunning skills with the pruning blade. I love this picture because it really does make it look like we have a farm. Well, we do, it's just a micro-mini farm. Almost as small as a micro-mini skirt is, can you see my yard's underwear?* This pear tree reminds me of the aged plum tree we had in my yard when we lived in Ashland. There was a rickety bench around the trunk where I would sit and watch our chickens scratch and chatter.

I loved that plum tree so much that when my parents chopped it down (because it was dying) I was crushed. I wrote, (if you can believe this) about a hundred poems and pieces of prose dedicated to this plum tree over the years. I mean, I was still nostalgic for it when I was eighteen years old and living in San Francisco. Is that madness, or what?

This pear tree has got life left in it so hopefully we'll have it for a long time. I have decided not to be too attached to this house since we have yet to make a steady income and the clock is ticking. I don't want to be devastated if we have to sell it like our last house. Yet, I have to say that it seems so right to have landed in a humble** house with an aged fruit tree in the back forty(ft). If we start to do well by this summer, I think I will put a bench around it's trunk. Putting one there now would seem like an arrogant act of self confidence that I will be here a long time. I don't want to attract the attention of the evil eye with cocky behavior.

There are two colors that I am not famous for loving: coral and salmon. However, these coral tulips have completely charmed me. It's a beautiful lush clump at the base of the pear tree.

I can understand how tulips became such a commodity in the seventeen hundreds. (Or was it the sixteen hundreds?)

This is Ozark the grumpy old cat. He was born fighting feisty and has never changed. Well, he's a lot slower now and sleeps all the time. So I guess he's changed a lot. But he still lets us know he hasn't stopped fighting with the world. We've had him since he was a sick five and a half week old kitten who had a fifty percent chance of living.

Portrait of Chick: the dog I never saw coming. Isn't it just like life: the type of dog I was most scared of all my life becomes the dog I love the best in all the world. I didn't even know I had it in me to love a dog at all.

I was trying to delete this picture because it's almost the same as the one above except not as good, but Max intercepted and insisted that I keep it here. I obliged him because I couldn't think of a good enough reason not to. So here she is again.

Here's my research project for today: find out how come I can't find any seeds for Chipoltle chilis? Are they called something else before they're dried? (The way a Pablano becomes an Ancho after it's dried.) Does anyone know? I grew enough Cayenne last summer to last through another year, so I don't need to grow any this year. At $24 per pound for the dried Chipoltles at my local health food store, I thought maybe I'd grow a few. I also might grow some Jalapenos and Serranos. I don't eat sweet peppers so I don't grow them. I also don't eat peppers that can be described as being "hotter than the hinges in hades". A Jalapeno is fine for me, thanks.

Max is calling. Spring break you know. So I'm off to wrestle with the monkey and his idea of fun stuff to do.

*I realize that many people don't even have a yard, I'm not unthankful for what I have. I just hope I get to keep it is all. I have dreams of bigger property, but I really do count myself lucky to have what I already have.

**Architecturally devoid of any interest.