Bunnies in the Garden

I love living out in the country.  It's so peaceful and pretty out here and there's always something new to see.  Every morning on my way to work, or even on the drive back home, I get to see so many neat things that I wouldn't get to see if we lived in town.  This morning I saw a cute little turtle crossing the road with his neck all stretched out in front of him like he was straining with all his might to pull himself across the road.  I saw two newborn baby calves standing by a fence and when I pulled up close to them, they both jumped and ran around kicking up their legs.  I saw some squirrels chasing each other around the base of a tree, some deer eating their breakfast in a pretty green field and a whole family of yellow baby ducks in some one's front yard, pecking in the grass with a bunch of chickens like they all belonged together.  The blackberry bushes are already blooming and you can see them everywhere all along fence rows and clumped together in the middle of farmer's pastures.  Everything is so pretty and green and lush.  The ivy is covering the front of the big red barn across the street and flowers are blooming everywhere.

Last night, I was cleaning the kitchen and while standing at the sink, I looked out the window and saw three bunnies running all around in the yard.  They were just running all around like they were chasing each other, hopping under the trees, through the bushes, across the road and back again, through my bed of irises and back underneath the trees again.  I never saw such active bunnies and it was so cute.  I went to get my camera so I could get a picture and then I thought I glimpsed the neighbor girl outside, so I thought to myself, "Oh, Belle would just love to see those bunnies!"  I looked closer to see if she was watching them, but she had her back to them and was standing there with her fingers in her ears.  I thought this was weird, so I looked closer and saw her Daddy was crouching behind a tree and he had a GUN and was SHOOTING THE BUNNIES!!!!!  No wonder they were running all around willy nilly through the yard!  They were running for their lives!

I ran out the back door and yelled at a grown man as if I was scolding a two-year old boy!  "No! No!" I yelled, shaking my finger and stomping my foot.  "You're bad!" I yelled.  The neighbor man looked over at me with a sheepish grin on his red face and said, "I'm sorry Miss Toni, but the rabbits are eating my garden."  (They moved here from Florida, so maybe they aren't accustomed to country living and this is his first garden.)  I asked him please not to shoot my bunnies, and I told him they lived under my barn and I feed them carrots and lettuce in the evenings.  They are like my very own, even though I know they are wild.  While we were talking, one of the poor little bunnies came running right up to me and came within about two or three feet like he was coming to me for help.  He was shaking like a leaf and I could see his ear was all bloody where the man had shot him.  Poor little sweetie.  I crouched down and called him to me and he stood there looking at me, then scampered off under the barn.  I told the neighbor I'd go inside and look on the computer to find out what he could do to keep the rabbits out of his garden.

I went inside and googled "rabbits in the garden" and found a site that said if you sprinkled black pepper or chili powder around newly planted veggies, the rabbits wouldn't come near them.  It also mentioned bone meal, or blood meal, and putting up chicken wire.  I went back outside and told the neighbor so hopefully he'll try one of these remedies instead of shooting my poor little bunnies!  The last thing I want to see when I look outside my kitchen window is dead bunnies in my yard!

So much for a peaceful existence in the country!  Now my neighbor probably thinks I'm a nut and I feel like a fool for yelling at him.  Maybe I'll stop at the store tonight and buy him a big can of pepper and some chicken wire and take it over as a peace offering.  I guess it couldn't hurt, and maybe my bunnies will be spared.

TV Time with Tubby

Last night there was absolutely NOTHING on tv but repeats.  I can't believe we have over 200 channels and I couldn't find anything worth watching.  I finally settled on Little House on the Prairie and actually found it to be an episode I don't remember ever seeing as a kid.  It was one of the later shows with Albert, the adopted son, and a more grown-up version of Laura.  They had dressed up as Indians for a Halloween party at mean old Nellie Olson's house, but before they left, Ma made them take a nap since they would be up so much later than usual.

As Laura lay sleeping, Albert was reading a book called Massacre at Stony Pass.  As he went through the story, which apparently was about Indians, he fell asleep and proceeded to "dream" the episode.  The comical dream-episode showed he and Laura walking to the party and being mistaken for young Indian braves and captured by another tribe.  There were wild chases on horseback, Indian war cries and whoops and hollers, brightly colored headdresses and faces with warpaint and crazy scenes where the US Cavalry sends in the Blue Coats to save the day, horns trumpeting and gunfire galore.  Quite the entertaining episode, but much more so because Tubby, our sweet, floppy-faced bulldog, was sitting on my lap the whole time watching the screen intently and "woofing" all throughout!

He was absolutely enthralled with those brightly colored Indians and whenever they let out a howl or screamed like banshees, he about fell out of the chair.  His eyes were glued to the screen and his ears kept moving back and forth as he listened to all the different voices and noises.  When the horses were on the screen he sat up straighter and actually shook with anticipation.  He loves horses!  If it hadn't been so dark in our living room at the time, I would have tried to take a video.  I did manage to take a picture, but when the camera went off, Tubby jumped a foot and I started giggling uncontrollably.  Poor old Tubs probably thought one of those wild Indians had snuck up behind him with a hatchet.

He settled right back down though, and finished watching the show.  When all the fun had ended and the show was over (Albert woke up and he and Laura were home safe and sound), Tubs laid his head down on my feet and started snoring away.  I guess all that commotion tuckered the little guy out.

Hot Tamales!

Hubby's Mama paid us a nice long visit earlier this month and boy did we ever have fun!  All we did was cook and shop the entire time she was here.  The first day she was here, we made about four dozen flour tortillas.  I never make a batch that big and it seems like we stood in that kitchen for hours!  She never used measuring cups or spoons, just throws it all in a big bowl and somehow it turns out perfectly.  I, on the other hand, have a little recipe card tucked away in a wooden box and follow the instructions line for line and my tortillas never seem to turn out as good as hers.  Her mounds of dough, which she kneads in her hands one by one, are perfectly formed and ready to roll.  When she rolls them out, they all become precise circles of identical sizes, whereas mine are all jagged around the edges and tend to lean more toward the shapes of the states than round like they're meant to be. 

The next day, Hubby had a friend over and she cooked a crock pot of beans, a big pot of rice and made some carne asada with some of the venison we had from his last hunting spree.  The boys filled their plates and feasted!  Later that night, Mama put two big pork roasts to boiling on the stove and for four hours they cooked until the meat was falling off the bone.  We cooled the pot in a sink of cold water and after the meat had cooled enough, she pulled the meat apart with her fingers and set it aside in a big bowl for our cooking tasks the following day.

The next morning around 10:00, we decided to tackle the tamales.  Mama had mailed us her big, huge tamale pot and tortilla press ahead of time, knowing I wouldn't have those in my tiny little kitchen.  We set up a card table and some garden benches in the middle of the kitchen floor and she put the pulled pork to simmer in a skillet with spices.  We soaked the corn husks in a sink of water so they would become soft and pliable, and Mama started on the masa dough.  Again, here she goes with no measuring cups or spoons.  She just dumped the whole bag of masa into a bowl and started adding warm chicken broth and lard until it was the perfect consistency.  She kneaded the dough with her hands and had masa meal up to her elbows!  Once the masa was done, we took the corn husks out of the sink and she plopped a gob of dough into each husk and spread it out evenly with her fingertips.  My job was to fill the husks with meat and roll them up tightly, tucking the end of the husk underneath to form a perfect tamale.  We sat there for hours filling one after another until we had eight and a half dozen tamales all stacked up on trays.  By 2:00 we were ready to put them into the pot.

Our neighbor had loaned us his outdoor turkey fryer and we used the propane burner to cook our tamales out in the backyard.  We managed to squeeze every single tamale into that big pot with barely an inch to spare, and we put it on the burner to steam.  In a couple hours, our backyard smelled heavenly!  We cooked them back there until about dark and then they were done.  Yum!

The next night, after a day of shopping in town, we made chicken enchiladas and had leftover rice and beans and fresh guacamole.  I'd never eaten so much Mexican food in one single week!  I must have gained 10 pounds in the 11 days she was here, but boy was it ever worth it!

The day after I tearfully took her to the airport for her trip back home, I felt like a zombie.  I was exhausted and lonely and didn't know what to do with myself in that quiet house without her.  It was such a whirlwind of activity for the past two weeks and all of a sudden I felt like I'd hit a brick wall.  Her bedroom was all made up as though she'd never been there, and even Tubby was walking room to room wondering where his Nana had gone.  The only sign that she'd been there was the freezer full of tamales, a few tortillas left on the kitchen counter and a heart full of memories we'd shared while she was here.  Thank you Mama, for everything!  We love you and miss you!