Been a bit soggy and cool here in Beautiful West Michigan lately. Guess that’s to be expected in mid-October, right? However, I didn’t really expect the thunderstorm we had the other night. And I really didn’t expect miniature globs of ice to fall from the sky yesterday. There I was, minding my own business, on the couch enjoying some coffee, when suddenly a dark grey cloud zoomed in from the west. “Oh, here comes more rain,” I thought aloud. Sure enough, it began to pour, but then I noticed the “raindrops” looked oddly large and were bouncing off the deck. That’s because it was hail!! No damage mind you. Just little globs of ice.

I took a few pictures and posted them on the BookFace. Several people reacted, some saying “Ohhh I’m not ready for that!!” I replied that one can’t really prepare for hail… it can come pretty much any time. Apparently they mistook the hail for snow, even though the top of my post stated that we “Just got a load of crunchy raindrops!” I’m beginning to learn that lots of people don’t read the text for posts at all, they just look at the pictures. So one of these days, I’m gonna post a picture of a bowl of ice cream and put some text above it like, “My wallet ran out of kidney beans last November.” Just to see if anyone actually reads.

Anyway, we really did get some snow sometime last night, as evidenced by a slight dusting on the deck and the tarp on the woodpile. More like snow globs… but snow nonetheless. At least that’s what I called it. Didn’t get cold enough last night for it to stay very long, but there it was, an unsettling reminder of what will soon be falling from the sky.

Called a friend of mine who is taking a paid separation from work. Cost cutting you know. Called me yesterday but I couldn’t talk. He did say he’s actually OK with it, but I just wanted to check back with him to make sure he was doing alright. The topic soon shifted to the recent weather changes. When I described the blobs of snow he said, “Oh yeah, they call that graupel.” “Huh?? I thought it was just sleet…” I replied quizzically. “Yeah, that’s the name of that kind of snow.” “OK,” I continued, “but I think I’ll just call it snow globs.” After we hung up, he texted me, “Look up graupel.”

So I did.

Sure enough, in the Merriam Dictionary (online) it’s defined as “granular snow pellets — called also soft hail.” While on the Merriam Dictionary site, I clicked on the little speaker icon and learned that it’s pronounced GROU-pel. This intrigued me, because my high school German classes told me that the “au” combination is always pronounced “ow” in German. Off I went to Google Translate, clicked in the box set for “Detect Language,” and typed in “graupel.” Google said that Luxembourghish was detected. OK… interesting right? On the other side of the screen, the English translation said, “hail.” But the snow globs from this morning didn’t look like hail. OK, now for some more fun. I set the language selector on the left to German, and then “graupel” was translated into some obscure English word called “sleet.”

THAT’S WHAT I SAID, DARN IT!! Too funny. So Mr. or Ms. Meteorologist Person, please forgive my desire to remain old fashioned. I will continue to refer to graupel with my favorite single syllable name for snow globs: sleet. But I do like snow globs better, only because it’s sillier. I like silly. Therefore, Ms. or Mr. Meteorologist, if you don’t like my animosity toward graupel, try sending us some better forecasts if you please. I still have lots to do outside and I don’t like getting clunkified by graupels or sleets or any other ice globule face biting frozen rain projectiles. I mean really, who ever heard of graupel?? Anyhow?? Although I can foresee a fun conversation where I will impart this newfound knowledge to my grandsons, and pronounce graupel with a very guttural rolling of the r.

In the meantime, I hereby reserve the right to call them snow globs.

Thank you.

Here’s an old classic about the weather we’ll be getting soon. Keep your wood dry!!

“Today I have good news und I have bad news. Die erste Hörster das nicht verstehen was ist jetzt eben gesagt haben; und die zweite Hörster weiss noch immer nicht was ein Earschplittenloudenboomer ist.” And so goes the introduction to the Steppenwolf song, “Earschplittenloudenboomer,” which is anything but an assault on the eardrums.

HUH??

Yes, it’s real. The rock band Steppenwolf preceded the the song with John Kay saying silly stuff, the beginning of which was English. “Today I have good news and I have bad news.” Then he broke into German, the translation of which is (roughly) “The first listener doesn’t know what’s being said right now, and the second listener doesn’t know what an Earschplittenloudenboomer is.” And yes, it’s a real song, but as I mentioned before it’s pretty mellow for a hard rocking band like Steppenwolf. So, speaking of IMAX. Weren’t we speaking of IMAX?? Well it’s in the title, right?? Pay attention!! Oops… sorry I’m grouchy but my ears still hurt from das IMAX Earschplittenloudenboomer!!

There we were, minding our own business, going to the IMAX in Grand Rapids to enjoy Moonage Daydream, the new film about David Bowie. We went to the 12 noon show to avoid the Covid crowds, and that was very successful as there was only one other couple besides us in the whole theater. So here come the commercials. Pretty loud. VERY loud. Ouch with the ears awreddy. Then come the previews. OH MY THAT’S TOO DARN LOUD!! I was sure the speakers in the place were about to spew their innards at us!! I called the theater on my smellphone and asked them to please remove the auditory anguish from our ears. The (not) happy theater employee grudgingly said she’d tell the projectionist, who apparently listened to our plea.

I know we are old retired people, but hey, we are Officially Receipted Volume Veterans (O.R.V.V.). All you have to do is take a gander at our album full of concert tickets. We’ve seen loudenscreamers like Slade, Joe Walsh, Hollywood Vampires, Foghat, and even David Bowie (twice times). And that’s just a small fraction of the list. So it’s not like we’re wusses or anything. We’ve had our cochlear hair cells flattened lots and lots of times.

For whatever reason, this time was different. Maybe it was the lack of bodies… previous noise kabooms could have been absorbed by the crowds around us to some degree. Maybe it was that we’re not getting any younger. Or maybe it’s just because the IMAX audio was just too damn loud! Lately, my Beautiful Girlfriend and I have asked each other to repeat things while we’re trying to converse; then both of us lament that our ears are still in shock. Typical conversations have been dismantled into nonsensical exchanges. For example:

“I’m going to the store, do we need any cheese?”

“Not sure why it matters but I brushed my teeth a few minutes ago!”

On the other hand, one of us will say something that is completely incomprehensible to the other. Solution: we get closer and face each other to watch lips move, then ask, “WHAT??”

Ah well. We very much enjoyed Moonage Daydream. We might go back to the IMAX some day, but we might also bring some ear protection. At least until I can call and ask for them to turn down the audio to avoid another Earschplittenloudenboomer.

This video has nothing to do with the film, but it’s quite an imaginative way to associate video with David Bowie’s Moonage Daydream.

It’s almost the middle of September outside already!! That of course means something very sad: summer is on its way out. This makes me cry in my noodles, because although I have Norwegian blood in my toenails, I love summer time!! I’d rather sweat than shiver any day of the week. And these days, that means I can live outside and get mosquito bites so I can have the West Nile virus. Isn’t that nice??  I’ve always wanted to visit Egypt…

Anyway, Michigan summers also mean there’s a lot of free food to be had in the woods and fields, and yes, even on the roadsides. And no, by free food on the roadsides I don’t mean that I encourage people to steal from roadside veggie stands. I’m talking about all the fruits and wild foods that sprout up around these parts.

I’m amazed (and grateful) at how many people miss them. Dunno about you, but when I go for walks, I keep my eyes peeled for snacks. That’s because I’m a food addict and I really love to eat. Once in awhile I find a half eaten McBarf burger or maybe half a bag of fries that someone kindly tossed out the car window. I generally do not eat those. Ok, I never eat those. But I have become pretty good at locating the berry patches and fruit trees that live near our house; and I make it a point to check on them occasionally to see what’s cooking. Strawberries are usually first, but there usually aren’t too many of those in the wild around here. Then come the black cap raspberries, then the red and yellow (yellow?? Yes, there are yellow ones too…) raspberries, and then the blueberries, and then the blackberries.  Nearly all the berries are finished berrying by now, but there are a few blackberry stragglers left on our favorite walking trail.

The only problem with blackberry hunting is this: if you hunt for blackberries in earnest, you’re gonna get stabbed. Pretty much no likelihood that you’ll get away with no owies, unless of course you don’t want very many berries. Many times I’d find myself going on a hunt, in my protective berry pickin’ clothes: shorts and a tank top. I’d zero in on a marvelously loaded patch, and commence to getting all nicely scratched by blackberry vines.  I filled up a quart yogurt container in nothing flat; and stuffed my face with a few handfuls on my way out of the patch. Then the skeeters found me and wanted my blood, so of course I simply had to get just a few more handfuls before making a break for the car.

I was in heaven.

The next day, I was sitting with some friends and they asked me, “Holy Cow Ken!! What happened to your legs??”  I had to think a minute, then I remembered I was picking blackberries.  Might sound unbelievable but when I’m focused on getting Nature’s Candy, I really don’t notice the leg scratchings.  Well OK, sometimes I might yell “OUCH!!” during a berry picking excursion, but I continue on, oblivious to the status of my ouchy legs.

Berry picking just plain makes sense. You get outside, free and very healthy snacks go ploonk in your pickin’ bucket (in spite of those pokey-ouches), and for this berry picker at least, it sets the mind free for meditation. When I’m out in one of my favorite patches, my mind is focused on just one task: picking. That gives my brain a much needed rest, and allows me to revisit the past when my Dad used to take advantage of our small size and send us into the thickets to get the big ones. Dad was always very intent on making jelly every time he heard there were ripe berries. So being the fine kids we were, the four of us soon learned that if we didn’t want to spend a whole day or two picking and cleaning wild fruits, that we might just forget to tell Dad that we found any.

I’m often astounded at the lack of knowledge out there about these natural candies. In previous years I’d go picking during my lunch hour and bring my bucket full of goodies back to the workplace. Upon my return, I’d offer friends and neighbors some berries. Some dig in, and others say, “what the heck are those??” Then I tell them, and they might ask something like, “are those washed??” “Well, Mother Nature washes them every time it rains,” I’d reply. After a few careful peeks into the bucket, several of my coworkers have shrugged and said, “no thanks.”

There’s only one logical response in such a situation.  I’d tell them, “that’s ok, that’s more for me!”

Well, I looked for a berry picking cartoon, but found this old classic instead.  Here’s why you should consider planting onions in your garden!!

So there I was, using the Magic Bullet Blender Thing, making Cream of Half and Half Egg Soup for our poor hospice kitty cat, when I noticed that as I removed the blending doohickey all kinds of leakage was happening because I didn’t set the seal properly and Holy Cow what do I do with this now; the Soup is oozing out of the bottom of the blender motor thing so all the stuff seeped down into the motor machinery mishmash and how the heck-a-laney do I get that out but you know that’s quite enough of this run-on sentence that described a real event but is way too long and suffering from questionable punctuation.

I think.

What the hoodley-doo do you do with such a mess?? Anyhow?? Being the human I am, I thought to myself, “Self, I guess since the Soup went all the way through I should rinse it out, yes?” And my self answered, “Yes!” And I did. And the very hot water went from creamy pale white to clear. Then I noticed all the warnings on the side of the blender. In English. Numbered for your convenience. And of course the one (probably somewhat important) numbered item that I completely ignored was: “DO NOT IMMERSE IN WATER.” Well, technically I didn’t immerse the thing in water. I just flushed it out!!

After reading the “DO NOT IMMERSE…” instruction I began to wail loudly with hearty crying noises, which were followed immediately by my dropping to the floor, rolling about, and shouting, “OH GOD!! OH GOD!! WHAT HAVE I DONE?? WHAT DO I DO NOW??” Well OK maybe I didn’t really cry and roll on the floor. But I was of course a bit annoyed with myself by the whole thing. I’m pretty sure, though, that there are no electronics that would die from all this wibble-dee-boo. Not like you find in a smell phone for example. Therefore, I vigorously shook the blender thing to get as much water out as possible, then popped it in the oven at 1,750 degrees for 91 minutes.

NO!! Not really.

I found myself grateful that our ultra-precise (I hope a little precise…) electronic oven controller has the lowest temperature setting of 170 degrees. I placed the blender on the center rack without a baking sheet because I prefer a crispier crust. Oh wait, that’s pizza. But seriously folks, in the oven it went, and yes on the center rack. Turned the oven on and watched the preheat countdown until it was up to temperature. Then I turned the heat off and I’m hoping for the best. I’ll probably goose it with more heat before I hit the hay.

Speaking of hummingbirds… oh wait… who was speaking of hummingbirds?? Well we are now!! We love to feed them, and have a nice glass feeder made by Parasol. Here’s a picture for you… what is not shown is the little plastic container above the feeder. We keep water in there to prevent ants from getting into the feeder. Very effective!!

Also not shown is the raccoon who likes to pull the shepherd’s hook that’s mounted on the rail of the deck to bring the feeder down for its enjoyment. That’s because I’ve never gotten a picture of the rascal, I’ve just seen the feeder on the ground with one of the little red glass flower inserts broken. Fortunately, I was able to find replacement flowers; but needless to say I bring the feeder in when it gets dark now.

Remember that ant deterrent I mentioned earlier? Well it works great for the army of carpenter ants that patrol our grounds. We have several trees that are getting hollow but hanging on; and around our house trees don’t get cut down till they die. Carpenter ants, of course, love these dying trees to make their homes. But they are always on the prowl for food; and they often literally wait at our doorstep for a chance to sneak inside. Apparently, several of these little boogers were successful; because they like to crawl inside the hummingbird feeder when I set it on the counter for the night.

Because we are both tree hugging, Nature loving hippies, we have often caught any rogue ants and tossed them outside for another chance at life. However, after awhile this gets a bit old, so we ask Mother Nature for forgiveness and send them back to their maker (in other words, we squish them). I’ve made a sugar water trap for the ants; and that’s working pretty well. In the meantime, when the feeder is brought in, I stick it in the microwave to keep the ants out.

No cooking occurs.

Oh… gotta go check to see if the blender is done!!

Maybe I’ll ask Betty for some cooking tips…

Everybody ready for the 40th Annual Mulch Run?!?!? I’m pretty excited. Gonna get my refreshments (fill my water bottle), hop into the Toyota Sienna Racing Van, hook up the trailer, grab a seat, and GO!!!

And I always win.

Aaaahhhh summer time. The garden is exploding, and the weeds are doing really well. Seems like the seeds I actually planted just got going, and all the weeds I didn’t plant (not intentionally anyway) are growing so fast I can barely tell the beets from the purslane. Sure you can eat purslane, and I have. Pretty good in salads and even cooked in Chicken Cockamamie. But it volunteers itself all over the place along with lamb’s quarters and lots of other weedy greens; and if left unchecked the seeds I bought and spent so much time planting will be overrun.

Normal garden process at my house is:

1) Pull up the garden waste from last year in late fall or early spring. OK… usually early spring.

G) Till the garden as soon as the mud from the snow melt is dried a bit.

27) Let the ground dry a bit and also allow weeds to germinate.

*x) Till again, then

4L) Carefully plant the tomato, pepper, eggplant and marigold plants I adopted from the greenhouse; and finally

M#) Make the rows and beds and plant, plant, plant the seeds.

I’ve learned the hard way that if I mulch too soon, the slugs stampede (albeit very slowly) into the garden and chow down at night and hide under the mulch during the day. Not very funny.

So, I wait… then of course the weeds go nuts because hey, I have a life and can’t always get motivated to put my hiney in the garden after a day with friends or family.. That, of course, means I do “catch up” weeding and mulch as I go.

A few years ago, I used hay for mulch. Seemed to work pretty well but it was a bit expensive and I have this silly suspicion that many weed seeds from that year are STILL COMING UP. Straw works but it tends to rob nitrogen from the soil… not a good thing if you’re an old organic hippie like me who refuses to buy chemical fertilizer. Hay actually adds some nitrogen, but again, there’s that weed thing.

So it’s back to basics this year. For 40 years I’ve been gardening here… and have managed to turn sand into pretty nice soil. Primary reason: mulch runs. I had a truck for awhile but switched to a trailer many moons ago and that will probably be what I use until I can’t chew my milkweed anymore.

Or something.

For several years, I’d cruise around the ‘burbs and “steal” their bags of grass clippings and leaves right out from under the suburbanite’s noses. Most are very grateful I’m taking the stuff away from the curb. One year though, I had a strange encounter when I pulled up to a house that seemed to have the mother lode of leaves. A grumpy old man came out to his porch and barked at me,

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!?!?”

“I’m stealing your leaves,” I replied in an impish tone.

“WHAT’RE YOU GONNA DO WITH THEM??!!??”

“Well I’m gonna use them in my garden, which means I’ll be eating them eventually.”

“OH, alright…” he snorted. He lowered the volume on the last retort as I found my head spinning with ideas on how a person could get into mischief with stolen leaves.

“I’m sorry to alarm you,” I said in a more apologetic tone. “You want me to put them back?”

“No it’s OK,” he said as he went back inside.

Don’t look now, and I must apologize:  the 40th Annual Mulch Run has come and gone.  Numerous times!!  Sorry if you missed it, but there will be plenty more opportunities down the road if you’d care to join me.  In other words, I intend to go again because I’m an opportunist.  You see, I don’t need to cruise the neighborhoods anymore because lo and behold, the Dalton Township Transfer Station (a.k.a. The Dump) has many tons of leaves and grass clippings for the taking.  I bring my recyclables (and occasionally some trash) (because we try to recycle as much as we can so there’s usually not much trash) (oh and the veggie waste goes into the compost pile so…) (so… that’s way too much use of parentheses!!). 

One stop shopping!!

Much of what I collect is in the form of oak leaves, often mixed with other clippings.  There is a misconception among many that oak leaves are bad for the garden.  NOT SO!!  Contrary to popular belief, they do not make your garden soil acidic.  For one thing, earthworms love them and worm manure is alkaline.  The end result is really good soil.  And although gathering all this mulch involves a bit of manual labor with a pitchfork, believe it or don’t I actually find that rewarding.  I do a fair amount of manual labor in the forms of pitching mulch, digging in the garden, and stacking wood.  I tell my friends, “it’s my gym membership”.

I hope I haven’t hurt anyone’s feelings by not inviting you to enjoy a mulch run this year.  All is not lost, please feel free to contact me about Wednesdays or Saturdays and we’ll get together for a ride to the dump!  I will even provide some PRW (Pillon Road Water) and maybe even some snacks!!  Of course, you’re welcome to fill your pockets or other receptacles with just as much mulch as you can gather for your own garden.

In the meantime, please enjoy the outdoors!! But if it’s stormy outside, maybe Grampy can help you have an outing indoors…