Today is my grandson's birthday. Gavin is 8. We have been here almost 8 years. I know this because we moved here when Gavin was barely a month old. I cried most of the way and was sure that I would be blazing a trail back to Minnesota every other month or so. After all, how hard could it be to run a kampground?
I was so very naive. While I miss my kids and their kids tremendously, there are advantages to living in the middle of nowhere. This morning I went to check on the Killdeer (her name is Hildee and his name is Henry, by the way) eggs. Hildee was sitting on the eggs and Henry was close by. Kamper Martha was with me with her faithful canine, Buddy. Hildee began screeching as we approached and Henry was was on the embankment of the pond flapping his wings and making noise. I saw only two eggs!! I got as close as I could and saw the two new birds. I came back for the camera. Look closely under Hildee's legs and you will see her babies.
She looks proud and fierce all at the same time. Do hatchlings have birthdays? Or are they called "Hatchdays"? Whatever it is, Gavin shares his birthday with Hildee's babies.
She finally stood up and walked a few steps forward so I could see the little ones. Wish I had a camera set up to see the other two as they peck their way out of the eggshell that surrounds them. Must be awfully tight in there!
She walked away and let me get a closer look, but still stayed close. All the while Henry was screeching from the pond embankment.
So tiny and perfect. Hard to believe that they were just inside those eggs!
He who hunts stray animals found one of little Martha's siblings and brought her to me. Why? I don't know. He should have left her in the place he found her so that her mother could tend to her. Little M is none too happy about this development, either.
Little M is somewhat of a princess here at the kampground. She has her territory to roam. My office area and my sewing room. She rides the golf cart with me while I water and garden. She likes her status as the only little feline. She will play with the dogs and if things get a little rough, she will use her claws to defend herself. The dogs all know to not hurt her, lest I get out the flyswatter.
The new kitty looks exactly like her, a tad bigger than her; having had the benefit of her Mom's milk longer. Little Martha knows her name and will come when I call her. She knows how to eat solid food and use the litter box. And she knows I love her.
First thing she did was to hike her back and hiss at her long lost sibling. The little kitten is scared, doesn't know how to lap milk from a bowl and the litter box is a new concept. My Martha will not allow her to eat from her bowl. She attacks her and bites her! She tried biting me, the hand that feeds her and got a good thump to her head for her efforts.
While I am glad that she will defend herself, I am not happy that she is so territorial. Or maybe I am, because, when he who brought me another cat awakens, one little kitty will go to the pound. Little Martha has won my heart, but you will note that the other kitty has not been named.
Little Martha is growing fast. I don't notice it so much because I see her every day. He who loves to rescue came home yesterday and was amazed at how big she has gotten. Should be no surprise, considering how often she eats ....... and how much! She is no longer on a bottle. She chewed the nipple off, then decided to use my chin as a chew toy. She is still on the formula for kittens, but with solids. She has also mastered the litter box.
I am so happy to have my husband home. Such a relief to not be responsible for everything. The pool is his chore and he has it down to a science. He e-mailed instructions for back-washing and I tried. I really did. I got a little hung up on the very first item on the list, though. One pump is down for the count and the replacement is on the way. I knew that, but there are two breakers in the electrical box. One to each pump. His instructions said to turn off the 20 amp breaker ......
They are both 20 amp. However, one was actually labeled "20". I couldn't get him on his cell. So I decided that he would have phrased it that way so that I would turn off the one with a label. The rest of his instructions were based on the location of the tanks in proximity to the pool. My reasoning was that he would have said to turn off the breaker closest to the pool had he wanted me to turn it off.
I was wrong. I went on to the next step, which was to press down on the black handle atop the pump closest to the breaker box, then rotate it to the "backwash" function, turn the breaker back on and then let the water run for so many minutes or until clear. Then repeat the process backwards. Sounds so simple.
I could not turn that handle. Harvey was here and it took both of us to do it and then put it back to filter when we were done. I found out later that the water pressure was what made it so hard, because I had flipped the wrong breaker. I did manage to clean and organize the pump house while I was there, though.
Apparently, my method screwed up the works, because as I was filling the pool with a hose to bring the water level up to proper height and water was still coming out, faster than I was putting it in. Finally got he who backwashes on the phone to tell me I had done the whole process wrong and how to fix it. I appreciate his presence so much more now! His mom was doing better when he left. Thank you all for your prayers and concern.
Little Martha likes to go out with me in the morning to explore. We were watering the dry gardens this morning when she discovered a leak in my set up. Like all cats, Little M is curious.
So, she went under to check it out. She didn't fix it, though.
We figure that Little M has only 8 lives left after her fall from the big bucket. She is wary of engine noise and will flatten her little body to the ground if she hears one. But, in the early morning she likes hanging out with me in the great outdoors. We went on the golf cart this morning to set the sprinklers in motion on some sites that have new grass and new plants, then we checked on the Killdeer eggs, still unhatched.
When I stopped to set up the watering on my gardens she got down on the grass. In the sun. It is hot already. If I can't spot her I will call her name and she will meow until she spots me, then run to me. This morning she didn't. She hit under the golf cart in the shade and just watched me. My Little M is growing up!
No pictures today, just words.
I have been just busy enough all day long to keep me from doing anything constructive. He who travels had to make a sudden trip to see his mom. She is in the hospital in Georgia. Now, you may think I am on my own here at the kampground ......
I am not, though. I have my very own support system. Kamper Jackie and Kamper Julie have fed me. Even those here for the very first time have inquired about my mother-in-law and offered their assistance. When my husband left yesterday he was worried about leaving me here, but he need not have.
After last weekend, the kamping world has been redeemed! No shenanigans this weekend, just good thoughts and help.
Little Martha is quite the little imp. She loves to be on the loose in the store to enchant those checking in. She will peek around the counter, then scurry back to safety of my feet. I put her kennel under my desk so that she can see me. When she is hungry she will cry super loud and climb the door of the kennel. I was under the impression that she did not like being locked in, but after she had roamed the store today, following me around as I did my chores, I suddenly realized that she was no longer with me.
I called her name, she will follow the sound of my voice, but she did not answer with her little meow and I could not locate her. No one had been in the store and I was fairly certain that she had not walked out the door with anyone. I searched over and under and finally checked the kennel. She had gone in on her own and curled up on her blankie and gone to sleep!
Yes, she has me wrapped around her little sharp claws! She will nibble on my thumb, but stops short of actually biting me. She still wants her bottle and refuses to lap the formula out of a saucer. I wrap her tightly in her little towel and she pops out her little arms and grabs the bottle to guide it to her mouth. I still have to squeeze it for her when she is really hungry. Her little ears move as she swallows and she gazes up at me with her big blue eyes. Yes, I am in kitten love.
Oh, by the way ....... I am allergic to cats. Don't worry, she is not going anywhere. I will just have to bathe her often. She had three this week ....
She is growing, my Little Martha. She follows me around outside. She seems to like to walk around me as I garden. She climbs over rocks and stumps to get to me, curious about every weed I pull. If she loses sight of me she will cry out plaintively until I call her and she can follow the sound of my voice.
And yet, she refuses to lap up the formula out of a saucer. She has eaten a little wet food mixed with the formula and definitely knows how to lap it up. But she wants the bottle.
She won't suck, though. I have to squeeze the bottle and when she gets a good stream going, she will wrap her tongue around the nipple and drink, her ears wiggle when she hits that rhythm. The rest of the time she expects me to keep a steady drip going in the side her mouth while she chews on the nipple. She is very demanding when she is hungry. Amazing how much noise such a tiny little thing can make.
She has learned to do without a middle of the night feeding. Good thing, since I had decided that she could live without me getting up!! She purred for the first time today. I purr for her while I am feeding her.
Back to the holiday weekend. I never filled the park. I usually have to turn folks away, but I had empty sites. In spite of that, we went through over half a case of toilet tissue. Never, ever has this much tissue been used, even when we have the church group all in tents on Labor Day.
Saturday night found me cleaning the nastiest bathrooms ever. The walls of the ladies room were decorated with feces. Some one managed to loosen the drain under the sink and instead of reporting the water issue, the sink was still in use. I grabbed a mop after I removed the art work and sanitized the wall. Trashcans were overflowing and I repeated my actions of the morning and left the bathroom spotless. The men's room was equally disgusting. The toilet paper dispenser was ripped from the wall and used tissue littered the floor. More puddles of muddy water graced the floor and I repeated my morning routine in this one, too.
I was exhausted and disenchanted when I finally made my way to the kitchen at 9:30. I was so tired and mad I forgot to take my meds. Went to bed and woke at 5:30. I made the caramel sauce and got the cinnamon rolls ready to rise. They have to rise at least 45 minutes and no longer than 75 minutes. You can tell by the way the dough looks. I was tired, but afraid to try a nap.
I went out the side door. The grounds were littered with white stuff. Turned out to be paper towels, probably a roll and a half. I picked all that up and approached the doors to the restrooms cautiously. After the night before, I was not going to rush in.
I prayed that it was mud on the floor, but ...... my prayers were not answered. Despite the fact that I had stocked the bathrooms with paper product the night before, there was no tissue in either and a partial roll of paper towels were on the floor next to the toilet in the men's room. I suppose I should have been thankful that the paper towels had not been flushed. That fact provided very little consolation as I again did a major cleaning in both rooms.
Throughout the day I would check paper goods in the bathrooms and restock. Little did I know that, like an elf in the night, good kamper Patrick was checking them for me, too. The only thing we can figure is that the rolls of tissue were being stolen.
Ever stay in a hotel and assume that they wanted you to take all the complimentary products left for your convenience? Really, they didn't. They were left there in case you forgot something from home. All these things have to be paid for by some means. It all factors into the overall cost of your stay. I admit that I had never considered the cost of these things until I was the one who had to purchase them and then watch them go out the door.
Did you know that kittens burp?
I over slept this morning and didn't drag myself up out of the bed until 9. I was up at 6:30 to take the dogs out and since all was quiet in the kitten kennel I crept back to my bed ........... intending to just lay there a bit longer.
Little Martha was frantic for her bottle by then and the dogs were jealous of the kitten in my arms and had to have treats and I am just now having my first cup of coffee. I am now 2 hours behind schedule. No leisurely cup of coffee today.
So, as the kampground was filling up on Friday, the first requests for snow cones came in. I dutifully grabbed the ice and trudged to my trusty machine. I filled the hopper and turned her on. Made all the noise it usually does, but refused to shave down the ice into the bin. Had to turn them away. He who is wont to fix all things and leave behind parts after reassembly came in to refill his ever present Bubba mug with nectar of diet Coke.
"Honey, the snow cone machine isn't working." He marched over and flipped the switch. The motor came on and he said, "It's working." as he rushed out the door. Thank goodness the master of all things mechanical happened in. Rich is a genius at tinkering and came to my rescue. The thingy that turns the blades had come loose. Rich used different words than "thingy".
While we had it apart and he showed me what was wrong and how to fix it (okay, really, if it happens again and he is in the park, does he really think that I will fix it?), I discovered a sticker atop the machine that had a local distributor of syrups and supplies. I ordered mine and had to pay shipping! In my defence, I am short and have to have a platform to stand on to even reach the hopper to put the ice in and that is why I never saw the sticker before.
Thanks to Rich, I sold about 100 snow cones.
First day of the holiday yielded a big catch. This skinny legged man is he who will try to take credit for a catch. Says he is only holding the fat grass carp to "weigh" it. He proclaims "might be 25 lbs".
Is it me or does this fish look curvy? Maybe it is a female fish laying on what used to be MY golf cart. It has so many tools and crap on it now, that everyone knows who uses it most.
I got a shot of her face. She does looked surprised, doesn't she? After all the attempts on her capture and the near misses and great escapes ........ I bet she has a story to tell.
The killdeer is still alive and her eggs had not hatched as of late last night. That mean old possum is still in residence here at the kampground. He has lost most of his hair and is hunch-backed. I spied him headed to the eggs night before last. I gave chase in my tool laden golf cart. Mama Killdeer was on the job and had screeched her way to the embankment of the pond. As I approached, she went back to her eggs safe in the knowledge that I was there to rescue her. I chased the ugly old possum into the cattails by the pond. I almost ran over him at one point.
This possum has been here forever. He has the audacity to stand his ground and hiss at me! He likes cat food and I once saw him leaving the lair of the old kampkat Spooky. She shared her food and her makeshift shelter with him. How long do possums live? I guess they live long if they live in a kampground where food is readily available, as well as shelter; eliminating the need to cross the road. He is currently residing in the barn where the fish food is stored ....... and apparently shared.
The pool is open. Here I am. Stuck. In the office. Until 7. Forecast for rain must have been a deep secret to the clouds over my head. I was so looking forward to a good down pour. Not only do we need it for the grounds and the gardens, but it would prevent swimmers from flocking to my pool and I could really use a respite after the holiday weekend.
Holidays are hard work for me. This one has been trying. Even though I failed to rent all my sites even with travelers off the road, it was hectic. I won't enchant you with my bathroom tales today. Really deserves more than just a mention.
You may be wondering about the picture above. It is a rescue story with a happy ending ........ I think.
We have had a trio of cats that we put food out for. We try to feed them sparingly to encourage them to eliminate the never ending mouse population. I had assumed that the solid black female was spayed since I never saw any evidence that would lead me to think otherwise.
A yellow striped tabby was the constant companion of the black cat. I call him Tigger and I call her Pooh. They will approach me and ask for food, but will not allow me to pet them. I was making a little progress with Pooh, but she has been absent for a couple of weeks. He who drives through the park with his eagle eye to detect trouble informed me that he had witnessed Pooh going into the woods with a large kill in her mouth. He thought it was a rabbit. Eagle eye, indeed.
I encountered a gray and black tabby awhile back on the sidewalk leading to the restrooms. I had been cleaning and still had a broom in my hand when he approached me and looked up and meowed loudly before rubbing his body against my legs, as cats will do. I reached down and gave him a good head rub before leading him to the cat food bowl on the front porch. He had quite the appetite.
During this same time, we noticed that Tigger seemed to favor one leg. Looked like he had not been victorious in some sort of altercation. I wanted to look at his wound, but he was having none of my help. Pooh would come and beg for food and he would stay several steps behind and only eat when she did.
During a site clearing adventure, the front end loader was about the task of scooping up some underbrush and when the bucket raised, this tiny kitten fell to the ground. She was rushed to my office wrapped in a shirt. Her tiny eyes were glassy and she was scared. I took her out of the shirt and went into my house with her. My three canine children noticed her straight-away. Toni Louise leaped up to see what her mommy might be holding so tenderly. She investigated the kitten ALL over and she promptly pooped in my hand .... as kittens will do when stimulated by their mothers.
I headed to the bathroom and gathered my supplies for a cat bath. She was not too happy with her introduction to water and soap, but wisely succumbed. She is a wise kitten. I removed three ticks from her tiny body and by the time we reached the rinse cycle she was grunting with pleasure under a stream of warm water.
Wrapped in a towel (a dog towel), she snuggled down and went to sleep. I thought of my Sweet Emmy Lou as my fingers stroked her soft, sweet smelling head. Emmy was equally soft and it was her shampoo I used, so she now smelled like my Emmy, too.
All day long I tried to find this kitten a home. She was inspected by many little kamper hands. Oohs and aahs filled the air and everyone agreed that she was the cutest kitten ever. No takers, though.
Her tiny blue eyes gazed at me as she meowed pitifully. I trudged off to find the powdered formula that was left from the rabbit fiasco. I mixed it, then drew it into a syringe (wishing I had a bottle with a tiny nipple). I swaddled her tiny paws (claws) and slipped the tip into the side her mouth. I squeezed out a drop and she licked at it and swallowed. Took about 10 minutes to get a teaspoonful of formula into her and she spit and sputtered at times.
I held her close and made a purring sound as I wiped her tiny bottom with my finger and some terry cloth. She rewarded me with her pee and then tucked her little head down and went to sleep.
Her name is Little Martha. Named after one of my favorite kampers. Martha is currently tending to her youngest daughter and her first baby. A beautiful little girl. Both Martha and I were bemoaning the fact that none of our children had named a child after us. Good solid names, Martha and Kathryn!
Not to worry, Martha. I have solved that problem. Your name-sake is a feisty little kitten that survived a great fall. She is worthy of your name!
The man holding her and kissing her sweet little head is Martha's husband, Tom. Or Crazy Tom as we like to call him. He is very entertaining, our Tom. If the kampground were a bar called Cheers, you would hear a chorus of "Tom" every time he showed up!
I must go and mix more formula. Little Martha is quite adept at slurping down an ounce at a time.
I checked on my bird today. I was hoping that the eggs had hatched. She was not happy to see me. I seem to have ruffled her feathers.
She screeched at me and I mimicked her until the feathers went down. She allowed me to get fairly close and the eggs are still there. Maybe tomorrow. If she is still there in the morning I am going to move a big rock close to her so that a tire won't roll over her eggs. I am afraid to bring too much attention to her plight. I will be full of holiday hooligans and would go to jail if I saw an egg fight. He who would try to protect me says I have a tendency to over-react.
This what the pool looked like as I was raking up some stuff last night. It is a lot fuller now. I slipped off my flip-flops and waded in awhile ago. It is quite bracing! Took my breath away. We have a fire hose to fill with, but it sucks the water pressure out of the entire park. Should be full by morning.
My lilies are blooming. Hope they don't get picked this weekend.
Iris about to bloom, too.
Recycle ....... this is for cans. It should say cans, not aluminum. Have to speak plainly here in these parts!
Mr. Frog graces the wishing well. I planted some sweet pea in there, hoping it will climb, since the petunias don't seem to want to wave.
Despite the wind and storms, my peach tree is still heavy with peaches. So much so that I had to put a support under one limb. It was on the ground. I was lucky to find this limb in the wood pile. It was all notched and ready to be of service.
Just a few things to finish and I will be ready for the weekend. Remember Herman's Hermits? They sang that repetitive song about Henry VIII. That is how I feel every morning when I drag myself up and out of the sweet confines of my bed. Second verse, same as the first.
No alarm clocks needed here. Wall-E gets up up every morning at 7. He was off a little this morning and got me up at 6 instead. All day long I have been longing for that last hour of sleep. If this happens again I will be getting the dog a watch!
