You Don't Have To Go Home But You Can't Stay Here

It felt wrong to displace a mother on the day before Mother's Day. To spend time on Mother's Day weekend, of all time, destroying the nest of another mother. But, DANGIT, these pigeons are driving me nuts, eating the seed and keeping the finches away from the feeders.

This feeder is at eye level to the window in our laundry room. I can see the feeder as I stand at the washer and, in fact, have to fill it from there, through the window with a scoop mounted on a stick. Either that or it's a ladder operation which gets tedious, especially in the winter when the ground is soggy. In the past season, I've renovated my gazebo feeder progressively, to discourage what we see as flying rats. I've added horizontal strips of wood to make the entrance smaller. This only slowed their escape. Plus it made getting the scoop inside to fill it almost impossible. I added some chicken wire on the bottom half but that did nothing to deter them. This week, I've noticed one smaller pigeon sitting. In bird-talk, that means "I have made this my nest and I've got babies". Dammit! I had to get this opportunity closed off before it was too late.

So I waited through the week, chasing her out of the nest...I mean feeder when I saw her. I noticed that she had a companion that would stand guard on the roof and I finally figured out he was helping her build a nest. Dammit!

I decided the Farmer's Market should wait. The plan was to add vertical strips of wood between the uprights, making the openings too small for pigeons but big enough for the finches. I got the Mikita, the pliers (to remove the useless chicken wire), got a reminder on how to use the chop saw to cut the wood strips....after chasing her out a few times from inside, I decided to take a couple pictures, just for posterity. I climbed up on the washer and she flew out....leaving....an egg. DAMMIT!

I'll see you at the Farmer's Market, I guess.

The Mother and Child Reunion.....

I woke up this morning and was treated to breakfast (waffles no less) by Hope and Glo. I don't require much for Mother's Day -- I told Mark to take back the diamonds he had surely bought for the occasion -- except for a break from cooking and cleaning up. I actually enjoy cooking but it's really nice to be the Princess for a change. Once a year, I get to spread out the Sunday papers, have my morning mocha and let someone else cook. Yummy waffles, girls. Thank you.

I forgot to pickup marigolds this week, my annual Mother's Day tribute to my mom. It was not unusual to find Mom in the garden and we had a variety of plants but, for some reason, I remember marigolds. When I catch the scent of marigolds at the nursery, I picture mom with a flat of the puffy little bronze flowers, on her knees in the back yard. I try and pick up a six-pack or two to plant on Mother's Day. This year they'll be a bit late.

My mom, Aggie Limandri, was the youngest of nine kids born to the Goettlichers in Eau Claire, Wisconsin -- five of which had come over from Austria with my grandmother in 1910; I still haven't found the manifest from my grandfather's earlier trip but I haven't given up. My mom and her friends would often take Sunday drives and take pictures of each other in their new outfits. Seems odd but I'm grateful I have so many pictures like these...that's her on the right, cuttin' up with "Beets and Art". Seeing nicknames like "Beets" written in my mom's hand, make me smile every time I go through these pictures. We lost Mom to Alzheimer's a few years ago but Mother's Day is still hers.