Stalled…

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

blissfully unaware...

blissfully unaware…

I had big plans for the day, which really were no plans, perhaps do some fishing, get my sailboat out, chase a golf ball, float in the pool. Instead, as the heat index reached 100 (that’s about 38 degrees for my Celsius friends), I found myself shoveling dirt in a horse stall.

the problem...

the problem…

With our farrier making his monthly, bimonthly, six-weekly, visit tomorrow, I found myself under the gun to get the main run-in stall back in decent enough repair that I could hold reins and not be terribly embarrassed by the condition of the barn.

You see, the flies this time of year bother my boys terribly. Hell, wouldn’t you be? The damn flies bother me terribly too, but I least I can scoot into blessed air conditioning when the going gets too tough. No such luck for the horses, so what they do is paw up dust to keep the bugs away. Paw enough when you’re big enough and soon enough there’s a mighty fine hole in the ground and a mighty fine weekend of plans of doing nothing much goes bye-bye.

on the mower...

on the mower…

through the woods...

through the woods…

barn dirt...

future barn dirt…

loaded up...

loaded up…

dropped off...

dropped off…

shoveled out...

shoveled out…

the end result, one stall, one side...

the end result, one stall, one side…

collateral damage...

collateral damage…

Bear with me, just a few more comments.  The whole job would have been easier with a backhoe, instead of the front-end loader, but I am too cheap to buy one, and have no place to store it if I did own one. It is amazing how tight a barn stall can get, especially when you’re on top of a tractor. Things might have been easier if I had taken off the mower deck, too lazy, too hot, too bothered…

 

 

Time Passages

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

rip, tommy…

Has it really been close to two weeks?  My, oh my, time really does slip away.  The recent death of the last Ramone, Tommy, set me to thinking, well, contemplating sort of, the completely existential existence thing we call life.

we were all younger then…

Youth, what a strange, fickle, ephemeral state, it is and though it doesn’t work as well as it once did, together we can take a trip down my memory lane.

which to choose…

During the Ramones heyday of the early eighties, I think I was spending a lot of time around M1 Abrams tank sights, living the dream of firepower, little money, and lots of partying.

m1…

After my stint with tank sights, I found my way back to Athens, Georgia, and University.  An earlier attempt having resulted in a glorious flameout, my second effort would only be marginally better.

through this arch all dreams come true…

At the time a very popular local band, REM, was making good, and to my mind captured the moment best, “Ooh, we were little boys, Ooh, we were little girls”.  HaHa, what a wonderful line!  There was so much music, so much art, so many young, pretty people.  The rent was cheap.

169 barber street home…

The food, and alcohol, and drugs, were even cheaper.  I embraced everything, soaked it up, believed in it, cared not for the future, understood not the future.  Went to class; didn’t go to class, fell in love; fell out of love; had lots of sex, had no sex; cared, didn’t care.

made famous…

And, true story, became a character in a song, from an album, by a band.

in here somewhere…

Now, of course, it is a hazy, distant memory, though I do wonder if I’ll be like those elderly ones who remember way back when so clearly, as if it were yesterday.

hazy memory me...

hazy memory me…

School’s Out…

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

Gosh, can you even remember no school, no worries, no problem?

Or, as the fabulous Miss Ella and Mister Louis would put it, “summertime, and the livin’ is easy”.

the heir to the throne...

the heir to the throne…

the spare to the throne...

the spare to the throne…

the heir and the spare...

the heir and the spare…

The good news is I know where they are.
The bad news is I have no idea what they did.

How does that song go?  Oh yes, “be young, be foolish, be happy”.

 

Ooh, Ooh That Smell…

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , ,

A week or so ago, The Wall Street Journal ran a guy article on the ins and outs, the do’s and don’ts, of wearing cologne.

so that's the secret...

so that’s the secret…

Crazy enough, the day before the Journal article came out, one of my favorite internet gent sites, A Suitable Wardrobe, discussed manly spring scents.

Then, to top it all off, right before the Fourth, another favorite, The Average Guy’s Guide to Style, devoted a column to the very same subject.

Something is in the air.

This is the deal. In my never ending quest to be fashion forward, hip, and groovy, I do my best to slavishly follow the advice offered by these cyber man-stylists. Off I go, in search of the most perfect bespoke suits, the most perfect bespoke shirts, the most perfect bespoke shoes, the most perfect bespoke hat, all accompanied by the most perfect accessories in socks, ties, pocket squares, braces, cufflinks, underwear, and cologne. This is the self-image I desire.

someday i swear it…

So of course I went out and bought a bottle of Creed Tabarone, which promised me “a sensual yet very masculine scent”, perfect for the Gentleman Farmer.

now in storage...

now in storage…

Only it didn’t work out that way. In the end, it’s the smell. Who would have thought, right? Cologne smells, which means I smell, and not in a good way either. No matter how I apply it, whether direct to the skin, wafted into the air, scented on the pocket square; it’s no good. I end up like this guy.

me and pepe

Not good…

Slight programming note, I’ve added an audio player to share music, because, well, why not, just another insight into the mind of the Gentleman Farmer. Like everything in life, there are a few “technical” difficulties. Based on my experience, the player works well enough with Safari and Explorer, not so much with Firefox. Please enjoy my Recent Background Noise.

Picky, Picky

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Most folks call it a vegetable garden.

most say this is a vegetable garden…

Others prefer to use kitchen garden.

some say this is a kitchen garden…

Me, well, for me I go old school; it’s a victory garden.

i love the smell of veggies in the morning…

Here at Totem Hall we let our freak flag fly and do our best to live the whole granola crunching organic lifestyle. Let’s see, for this year’s edition of my victory garden, I planted corn, yellow squash, zucchini, cucumbers, peppers, basil, eggplant, tomatoes, watermelon, and, for the sheer heck of it all, potatoes. All are organic, with a big percentage of my garden being heirloom varieties. In case you’re curious, I do talk to my plants. Why not, it works for Zonker.

zonker’s down with it…

On solstice day, I had the first picks of the season. Yeah, yeah, I know the harvest should be earlier, but what can I say, I planted way too late, a victim of well, my tendency to do this or that before doing this or that.

in search of zucchini...

in search of zucchini…

our first squash...

our first squash…

picking bush beans...

picking bush beans…

and the end result...

and the end result…

 

It’s Summer, So…

Tags

, , , ,

Breathe deeply and appreciate the moment.

like the sign says...

like the sign says…

Cut out from a package we got in the mail, so I guess it’s supposed to mean something, probably for a reason, and probably not worth the cosmic, karmic, implications of ignoring.

Flower Porn – Just One

Tags

, , , , , , , , ,

More than the swimming, more than my French 78’s, more than my grilled King Salmon, or my witty banter, the guests at our first pool party of the season were all about a singular flower that I had never noticed before.

i'm guessing lily...

i’m guessing lily…

I so do get it…

Adjust This, Cowboy…

Tags

, , , , , ,

My bar needs adjusting. There, I needed to say that, just for laughs and giggles, and well because my bar really does need adjusting.

the adjustment bar...

the adjustment bar…

For those who just can’t get through the day without knowing, the adjustment bar helps with a mower deck’s angle of attack. You see, most folks tend to have the front of their deck too high in relation to the back. This will lead to backside dragging (a problem whether you’re a human or a machine), which results in blown out, abused, and otherwise perfectly trashed back panels. A little adjustment here, a little adjustment there, and before you know it, the front side has the most is the perfect pitch to the back and you get the most loveliest of mows.

no saggy back end here...

no saggy back end here…

At least that’s how it works in theory. In my reality, I adjusted too hard, cranked one too many times, which, as you can see by my ruts in the dirt, led to a not particularly aesthetic finish. Adding insult to injury, my nut froze to my bolt. The only solution: saw it in two.

those damned ruts...

those damned ruts…

frozen...

frozen…

I leave you to think about that for a bit…

 

Magic Carpet Ride (Part 1)

Tags

, , , , , , , , , ,

childhood living…

Growing up as I did a child of the 70’s, shag carpet stretching from corner to corner in colors not found nature were as much a core tenant to my existence as the 8-track cassette, Pong, and for that matter, bongs.

As I gained awareness and said goodbye to my platform shoes and wings haircut, I swore that never again would I live with wall-to-wall carpet, shag or not, and for the most part, I haven’t. Here at Totem Hall, our floors are overwhelmingly heart pine. To protect the floors, to provide comfort, and, of course, show off interesting visual patterns and textures, we use area rugs, mostly old, mostly well loved.

First of a series, I’ll start today with pattern snippets from the rugs of the master bedroom.  Please excuse any obvious need for cleaning or vacuuming.

my bedside, one of a matching pair...

my bedside, one of a matching pair…

foot of the bed...

foot of the bed…

my dressing area...

my dressing area…

not my dressing area...

not my dressing area…

 

 

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 40 other followers