How much rain?
Seems like about 4.6" fell on the Cow Barn this week. What happened to that rain? Easy that, the ground soaked it all up. That’s right. The ground was so dry, it could have been blotter paper. There was no runoff. Now, sadly, the rain has stopped. The rain has stopped again, alas.
Not long ago some huisache seed fell under my aegis. Now huisache is pretty much the wetland Acacia. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Huisache likes saturated soil. Yet I figured, what the heck, might as well grow some huisache at the CB just for the heck of it. I can water my huisache, Crumby surmised. That’s right. I shall water my huisache and thus deprive the little children of water. Yes. Those little children shall shit out little turds. But then alas, those turds shall petrify in the commode. Alas. No water shall come to float those turds forward to a temporary watery destiny. No. No Dillo Dirt destiny for those turds. Those little nasty turds shall become Paydirt for some archaeologist, many moons from now. What do you call petrified turds that the archaeologists find eventually? Not Hittites. Uh, Hellgrammites. No. Trotskyites! Course not. What the heck is it? Wait! Hold it! It’s uh coprolites. Yes those petrified turds the archaeologists shall find in the commode at the elementary school are called coprolites.
So I put up some huisache seed in a plastic bag. The very same plastic bag a newspaper once came in. See, recycling.
Then like yesterday, all of a sudden there were all these little crazy beetles in my huisache seed bag. Yes. Beetles had been in many of those seeds all along, disguised as baby whatevers. What the heck do you call baby beetles? Not maggots. What? Uh, Jebusites. No. Uptities, Baptites, or Methodites. No. No. No. You call them, grubs, maybe?
Yet those tiny vermin or grubs had chewed their ways out of the seeds. Once out there was nothing left to do but metamorphosis, from a grub to a beetle.
Dern it! I should have taken some pictures of those diminutive beetles before I let them loose. Well, there’s more where that bunch came from. I shall get some pictures of those beetles anon, maybe.
Yes. Those beetles ruined or ate more than half my huisache seeds. However, there were still some intact seeds left over so I put a few up in four inch. We shall see if any, hatch out.
I bet a great many different bees like huisache. That’s good, because lately, I have taken a keen interest in the shocking diversity of bees that seasonally inhabit the CB. Bees, bees, bees and more bees. What’s aggravating is, I can’t even identify a majority of all those different bees. But like much that many take for granted, that could change.
Not long ago some huisache seed fell under my aegis. Now huisache is pretty much the wetland Acacia. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Huisache likes saturated soil. Yet I figured, what the heck, might as well grow some huisache at the CB just for the heck of it. I can water my huisache, Crumby surmised. That’s right. I shall water my huisache and thus deprive the little children of water. Yes. Those little children shall shit out little turds. But then alas, those turds shall petrify in the commode. Alas. No water shall come to float those turds forward to a temporary watery destiny. No. No Dillo Dirt destiny for those turds. Those little nasty turds shall become Paydirt for some archaeologist, many moons from now. What do you call petrified turds that the archaeologists find eventually? Not Hittites. Uh, Hellgrammites. No. Trotskyites! Course not. What the heck is it? Wait! Hold it! It’s uh coprolites. Yes those petrified turds the archaeologists shall find in the commode at the elementary school are called coprolites.
So I put up some huisache seed in a plastic bag. The very same plastic bag a newspaper once came in. See, recycling.
Then like yesterday, all of a sudden there were all these little crazy beetles in my huisache seed bag. Yes. Beetles had been in many of those seeds all along, disguised as baby whatevers. What the heck do you call baby beetles? Not maggots. What? Uh, Jebusites. No. Uptities, Baptites, or Methodites. No. No. No. You call them, grubs, maybe?
Yet those tiny vermin or grubs had chewed their ways out of the seeds. Once out there was nothing left to do but metamorphosis, from a grub to a beetle.
Dern it! I should have taken some pictures of those diminutive beetles before I let them loose. Well, there’s more where that bunch came from. I shall get some pictures of those beetles anon, maybe.
Yes. Those beetles ruined or ate more than half my huisache seeds. However, there were still some intact seeds left over so I put a few up in four inch. We shall see if any, hatch out.
I bet a great many different bees like huisache. That’s good, because lately, I have taken a keen interest in the shocking diversity of bees that seasonally inhabit the CB. Bees, bees, bees and more bees. What’s aggravating is, I can’t even identify a majority of all those different bees. But like much that many take for granted, that could change.
posted by ray pistrum at Sunday, September 13, 2009
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